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januaryembrs · 8 months ago

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YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene.

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions.

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,”

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face.

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.”

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,”

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand.

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,”

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second.

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed.

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use.

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?”

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,”

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,”

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,”

“I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down.

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?”

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised.

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

“Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,”

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion.

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,”

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,”

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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deconstructthesoup · 5 months ago

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One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives analysis #costume design #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #jenny green #esther finch #the night nurse #tragic mick #monty finch #the cat king

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em-ontv · 3 months ago

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Get a room.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly bad hunt, you were patching Dean up in the motel room, but he said he needed to be healed up the right way.

Content: fluff(?), kisses, Sam kind of being the third-wheel, no use of y/n, mentions of injury

English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 698

You and Dean had just stumbled back to the bunker after a long, exhausting hunt. It was one of those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did. Dean had taken a hit from some nasty vamp, even after you told him to be careful, but Dean? Nah, that word wasn't in his vocabulary. And while he made no big deal of the gash, you knew it was serious enough to need a little patching up.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, grimacing slightly as you cleaned up the deep cut on his shoulder.

"Ow—! Careful," Dean grimaced, shooting you a mocking glare. "You trying to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Quit being a baby," you shook your head. "You're lucky this didn't go deeper."

“I’m always lucky,” Dean responded, a smirk spreading across his face despite his slight wince when you dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

"Uh-huh. I should just leave you to bleed out next time, it would save me a whole lot of trouble." you muttered, beginning to bandage him up, nodding in approval of your work once you secured it.

Dean shifted, sighed, then flashed you a lopsided grin. "I think you missed a step, sweetheart."

"What step?" you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“For me to fully heal… there’s only one thing that’ll work.”

“What?" you almost rolled your eyes. "Lemme guess, whiskey and pie?”

He grinned wider. “Nope. Kisses. Specifically, from you. On my face. All over. Only way this wound’s gonna close up right.”

You snorted. “Right. Because that's definitely how medical science works.”

Dean winced dramatically. “You don’t believe me? It’s a foolproof healing method. I swear it.”

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging here—this is life or death." He added for good measure, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You are so full of it, Winchester.”

“One kiss. Or like… fifty. But who's counting?” He shrugged.

You sighed, fully aware you were playing into his game but too tired to fight it. You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, where his finger tapped relentlessly until you gave in.

“There you go,” Dean said, clearly pleased. “But you missed a spot—” He pointed to another area, so you kissed it too. “And there—” Another kiss. “And the forehead—” You kissed his forehead. “And—”

“Okay, Dean, that’s enough."

"Not enough. I can still feel the pain." He let out an over-the-top groan.

You sighed in exasperation, considering to either just punch him across the face or keep giving into him—you chose the latter.

Just as you were placing more kisses onto his face—the grin on his lips made him look like a love-drunk idiot—the door swung open.

Sam walked in with some takeout bags, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene: you, practically sitting on Dean’s lap, showering his face with kisses, while Dean looked way too proud of himself.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam groaned, immediately making a beeline to the table to avoid getting another glance at the two of you.

"Hey, it's a part of the healing process, Sammy." Dean smirked, looking over to his brother.

Sam blinked, then made a face like he just swallowed something sour. “Gross. Seriously, guys, get a room.”

“We’re technically in a room, you know.” you said, getting off of Dean who seemed too reluctant to let you go.

"A room that you walked into." Dean added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam set the food down, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe give me a warning first so I know not to come in while you guys are having a whole smooch-fest."

"You're just jealous."

"You two are impossible."

"Buzzkill."

Sam just groaned in annoyance again, starting to unpack the food.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit guilty—though not that guilty. You glanced at Dean, who tugged on your hand with a happy expression.

"Next time, we're giving you painkillers." you said, lifting your hand up and running your finger through his hair.

"Not a chance." Dean smiled.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #spn #dean winchester oneshot #spnfandom #spn fanfic #spnfamily #dean winchester spn #supernatural family #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction

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yoonia · 2 months ago

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tears of the sea (m) | kth

— title: The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea | pairings: Taehyung x female reader| genre: Siren!Taehyung, Smut, Mystery, Slight Horror | word count: 6,350 words

— summary: after a long time spent apart, he finally came in the night, accompanied by the soft, haunting serenade which he has been singing for you since the day you left, putting your broken souls together back into one.

— ratings & warnings: +18 / M for mature; curses, black magic, siren’s spell, mention of hypnotism, mention of pregnancy and child birth, body horror (shape-shifting), body worship (mentions of body dysmorphia), explicit smut scenes: nudity, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), breast play, clit play, public sex (sex on the beach), unprotected sex, rough sex, cum eating, multiple orgasms.

— original: The Forsaken by @yoonia — fic drop date: Oct 24th, 2024 — song companion: half the world away — written as part of my 2024 birthday bash event, 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊, created based on this request.

How many nights have you done something like this?

To find yourself walking across the beach, over the jagged rocks lining the water’s edge, with the steady waves crashing over your feet and ankles.

On most nights, you would find yourself drawn to the sea by the ghostly sounds of a tune, serenading you to come out of your shelter before it would fade into the night. Other nights, you would come out here with the hope of seeing a shadow of a movement dancing between the waves, to see the sight of a figure that had been filling your dreams, of seeing rough viridescent scales slinking across the water when you look on towards the night.

The only times you stopped visiting the water’s edge had been the night your daughter was born, and the many nights after when you were still too weak to travel out into the night and onto the seashore.

And those nights had been the most peculiar moment of your life. The alluring tune you heard kept echoing from the sea each time your newborn baby girl was crying and you were too exhausted and spent to soothe her. Yet those tunes had always managed to calm her down, just the way it eased your lonely soul, as if there was some kind of a magic force flowing through the night, through the water, coming in the waves, just to help make your baby girl—and you—feel safe.

And now you are back here, just like the many nights that have passed since six months ago, when your baby was born, lured towards the water’s edge at the sound of the same tune serenading for you to come.

Out here, there are no lights to guide you. Nothing but the glowing moonlight falling from above. You look back over your shoulder towards your cabin on the top of the nearest hill, where your baby girl had just fallen asleep in her crib.

Leaving her behind feels heavy. If not for Mira, the young local girl you recently hired to be her caretaker, you would have never been able to step out of your temporary home. The home that was built by the people of the tribe for you to reside. To welcome you as a part of them, even when you never felt like you had truly become one of them.

The island of Parram.

You arrived here one year ago in your boat after a long journey. All because of the Fountain of Life, the source of magic that would be able to restore life and prosperity. Everything that your island—your tribe, your people—needed needed for the sake of their survival.

But that long journey had given you more than one blessing.

Not only had you found the Fountain of Life and the Elder who had learned about the magic and how to use it to save your home island, but you have also been blessed with the birth of your baby girl.

The latter had been the reason why you are still here on this island, while your travel companion, Namjoon, and Elder Moira travelled across the sea to bring home the magic from the Fountain of Life. The presence of your child and your steady recovery from childbirth had been deemed too risky for you to challenge the journey home. So you stayed, even if only for a while.

Your moment of wondering about life and the mystery of your fate is suddenly disrupted by a rough, splashing sound coming from the nearby waters. It sounds nothing like the steady waves; so abrupt and violent, that it immediately draws your attention towards the dark waters by the shore.

And that is when you see it; a sparkle of viridescent scales slinking between the jagged rocks breaking apart the waves, before it slips into the darkness and disappears into the water’s edge.

Heart pounding, you hike up the front of your nightdress and hastily rush towards where the sparkle of scales had faded into. The rocks feel sharp against the soles of your feet, and the water feels cold on your skin, soaking the ends of your dress, yet you keep going, searching, until you see a figure rising in the dark.

You are breathless when you come to a halt. Your heart is pounding when you see him.

Standing between some high, unruly rocks, with crashing waves rising as tall as his shoulders and dark, wet sand beneath his feet, he stands on unsteady legs, as if being on land has taken away his sense of gravity.

And he is glowing.

The sight draws a gasp out of you. It seems magical. Enchanting. And then your eyes slowly adjust to the bleakness of the night and soon notice what is making him appear as if he is emitting lights.

Just like how his legs are still trying to adjust to land, his skin is taking its time to shift. As you take a few steps closer, you can finally see them; the bright, viridescent scales on his skin which are still present, glistening as they reflect the bright moonlight coming from the night sky above.

Slowly, the scales begin to melt into his skin. In their places, dots of redness appear, until they all fade and his skin turns smooth right in front of your eyes.

The last time you met, the scales on his skin, the gills that appeared on the sides of his neck and ribs—which had now melted into smooth skin, with nothing but fading red lines left behind—and other changes on his facial features, had all frightened you enough to let out a scream. Looking at him now, with the remnants of his true appearance slowly fading away, he looks—beautiful.

Truly beautiful.

You look up just as he slowly raises his head, quickly realising that you are not the only one who has changed. His body appears bigger, stronger, with more solid muscles growing on his limbs and chest and less scar marring his skin. His hair has grown longer, framing his face as they fall under the weight of the water soaking each strand.

You don’t realise that you have reached him until he lifts his head, and his face appears so close to you. His eyes glow in bright, golden yellow, looking inhuman for a brief moment until he blinks, and a pair of dark eyes are looking back at you. His gaze is filled with longing and sorrow, one that you can immediately feel in your chest as you return his gaze with your own.

His lips, which have been in your dreams for many nights since you were apart, twist into a smile. “You’re here,” he says in his deep voice which sounds almost like a serenade.

Just like his voice, his whole presence feels like an enchantment, a magic spell that keeps pulling you towards him, that you are brought closer and closer. Close enough that you can almost feel the warmth of his skin without touching.

“I—” You try to speak, yet the words are caught on your tongue. You have so many things to say to him that you have no idea where to start. Instead, you slowly reach up, brushing the wet strands of his hair away from his face so you can get a better look at him.

“Taehyung,” you gasp the moment you touch him. The moment you feel him. “Is this real? Are you really here? Is this not a dream?”

His smile softens as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. “It’s real. I am here,” he says with a soft hum. “I’ve travelled far just to see you again.”

You sink into his touch, and an incredulous laughter slips out of you when you hear his words. “That’s the part that is so hard to believe,” you say with a chuckle, drawing his own when you glance over his shoulder. “How—? I doubt that you used a boat to get here.”

He gently shakes his head. “I have better ways,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes.

You almost laugh again, knowing what he means. Then an uneasy tightness grows in your chest as you imagine him swimming all the way here. Another thought crosses your mind when you remember about the cave where he was confined in. The cursed place where you first met.

“You managed to escape the cave.” His gaze finds yours, surprised to know that you had somehow found out about his secret.

“I learned about your kind,” you explain with a wry smile. “You wanted to keep me in that cave.” At your accusation, remorse fills his eyes. “I know what you—sirens—do with humans. Were you planning to…did you cast magic on me so you could…”

Taehyung stops you from finishing your sentence by pressing his thumb on your lips. “My magic never worked on you,” he says, admitting his secret with a pained tone of voice.

“I wanted to keep you. I’ve been confined in that cave for so long, I lost track of time. Days blended into weeks, months, years, perhaps decades to hundred years had passed since, and I was lonely,” he continues to admit. “But it was your magic which allured me, enchanted me until I was falling helpless in your presence.”

You merely shake your head, refusing to believe him. Mostly the part where he said you have some kind of magic in you.

“I was wrong to even think that I could keep you, to even think about holding you captive just to keep me company, when it meant for eternity,” he says with a resigned sigh. Then, lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours, he gently whispers, “Forgive me.”

“You’ve already been forgiven,” you admit to him with a soft voice, and relief washes over him.

He looks at you again. “He left you here. Your friend.” There is a bite of bitterness and anger in his voice at the mention of your travel companion, Namjoon. And you cannot even blame him for it, knowing what Namjoon had done to him.

The image of Taehyung hurting, wounded by Namjoon’s arrows when he came to rescue you—who came barging into the cave, believing that he was protecting you from a monster—and left bleeding in that cave, alone, still haunts you to this day.

“He has other responsibilities, while I was—” You stop yourself from continuing, not sure how to reveal about the child that you carried after the one night you spent with him. You continue instead to tell him about how Namjoon had to return to your home island to bring home the cure to your declining land, to marry his betrothed—just like how he was always meant to—and bring Elder Moira, the grand Healer, to meet your father.

“I couldn’t travel with, so I stayed,” you continue, omitting the fact that you were too heavily pregnant to join Namjoon in his journey home.

Biting your lips, you look up to see his eyes, only to find him smiling.

“I know why you stayed,” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down to follow his hands as he lowers them to your covered torso, brushing at the slightly swollen flesh which has yet to recover after carrying the child inside you for nine whole months.

“You knew,” you can barely say those words without getting your breath caught in your throat.

“I was there with you the entire time you carried her in you, even if only in my spirit,” he says, his gaze finding yours again. “The curse that was holding me back in that cave was broken when we got together and our child was conceived. That’s how I knew.”

As relief washes through you, your hands fall from his face to his shoulders, slowly moving lower to his bare chest. You react with a gasp at the touch of his skin, having been too enamoured by his presence and his alluring voice, you have failed to realise that he has been standing there with you, completely naked. Bare to nothing but his skin, instead of the bone-coloured tunic and soft, tattered pants that he wore when you first found him in that cave.

Seeing him this way, and thinking about the night you spent with him in the cave, gets you feeling warm inside. Heat begins to coil in your belly, unfolding through your chest while drifting down south. As does your gaze, as it travels down his body, following the trail of lines of muscles on his chest, to the V-line below his toned torso, and then—

Sensing where your attention and your mind have drifted towards, Taehyung slips a hand to the nape of your neck. He gently brings your face closer to his, making you look up at him while lowering his head until his lips are touching yours.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, before he gives a deep, gentle kiss, stealing your breath, your thoughts, your everything away until it all fades into pure lust.

As you return the kiss, you no longer remember where you are. The sea fades into the back of your mind. The sound of the steady waves chasing each other becomes white noise, drowned under the sound of your heartbeat. The uneasy feeling that has been plaguing you—all from having been stuck in a land which you cannot find it in you to call home—is no longer gripping at your chest, replaced by a sense of belonging which manifests under his touch.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, your chest pressed against his, and your mouth being devoured in his kiss, you are lost in his warmth. You melt into his embrace as Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist, bending you backwards as he deepens the kiss.

With your bodies moulded to one another, you can feel his arousal pressing down against your lower belly. It draws some intense heat rising inside you, warmth pulsing from between your legs as you rub your hips against his.

Your mind grows so hazy with lust that you almost believe you are floating from the sensation of his kiss when you feel like you can no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It takes you a moment to realise that Taehyung has lifted you in his arms. You react with a gasp, breaking away from the kiss to tighten your hold around him to keep yourself from falling over.

Yet he holds you steady in his arms, with his unwavering smile on his face as he carries you away from the jagged rocks, away from the rough waves and the rising tide, and from the wet sand that has been soiling the ends of your nightdress. He carries you across the rest of the way until he reaches the cliffs wall where he finds a flat slab of rock to lie you gently down on.

Grinning wickedly, he crawls over you, pressing his lips gently on yours as he teases, “Should we take this time to reminisce our first night together?”

You cannot help but laugh, but you also cannot stop the heat rising in your skin from having the chance to reminisce and repeat that night all over again. A do-over in a new place, where you can see the ocean of stars filling the wide sky above you instead of being in an enclosed cave with nothing but walls of rocks around you.

Your laughter dies down as he once again captures your lips with his, distracting you from the work of his hands as he gently peels your nightdress and undergarments off of your skin. Soon, you are left just as bare as he is, naked as the day you were born, with the pulse of your desire building between your legs.

Taehyung pulls away from the kiss, giving you the chance to breathe. Only to quickly steal your breath again when his hand reaches down, lifting your left thigh up to open your legs. Cold breeze touches your skin, and then his fingers find your center, pressing at your slick heat.

“Taehyung,” you gasp at his touch. “Oh, heavens.”

Pressing his lips on your bare shoulder, you feel his deep chuckle as he gently pushes a finger into your hot entrance. “You are so wet, beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, and your heart stutters at the sweet endearment that he had once used to call you when you were with him for the first time. For him to be using it again brings back the memory of you surrendering to your carnal desire. To him.

“I’ve waited for so long for this,” he whispers, sounding desperate that his voice trembles.

Running your hand up the back of his neck, you slip your fingers between the strands of his hair and whisper, “So do I.”

Hearing this pleases him, and he quickly presses his lips on yours again, kissing you gently until you nearly melt to lax beneath him. At the sound of your muffled hum, he begins moving his hand, pushing and pulling his finger in and out of you, over and over again until your breath grows ragged and your body grows even hotter. With his thumb, he finds your clit, pressing on it as he adds another digit into your pulsing walls.

“Oh!” you cry out when the pleasure comes to you in waves. Building up and rising over you, engulfing you until you feel like you are floating high in bliss. He continues until you feel it coming, your legs quaking around his hips and you begin raising your hips to meet each thrust of his fingers.

While Taehyung is busy working his hand in your heat, his mouth begins to trail lower, down the column of your throat, to your shoulder, not stopping until he captures the pebbled tip of your breast in his mouth. Cries of pleasure keep slipping out of your mouth as he suckles, licks, and lightly bites on your hardened nipple. His hand remains steady, moving at a slow pace to bring your pleasure to its peak. Then he releases your nub with a pop, before moving to the other breast where he does the same.

The pleasure feels too much, it almost feels like you are falling over the edge with nothing to hold on to. Your fingers slip out of his hair as he begins to move again, crawling his way down. You watch through hazy gaze as he trails kisses down your body, still relentless in his work of hand, and then—

“Oh, dear Gods!”

Your hips rise higher as Taehyung dips between your legs, burying his face so he can kiss your slick heat. With his fingers still moving inside you, he moves his thumb away and his mouth takes its place.

“Taehyung—!”

Once again, your hands find leverage by burying your fingers through the strands of his wet hair. With your grasp, you press his face deeper, while each steady rocking of your hips keeps pushing your center onto his mouth and his fingers deeper into you.

It doesn’t take long before you finally unravel. The coil in your core snaps, and you are engulfed in the intense waves of your orgasm, with his fingers buried inside your heat still and his mouth latched around your throbbing clit.

“That’s it, beautiful. I love it when you cum,” he murmurs against your heat, his lips still ghosting over your throbbing center, as if he has yet enough to drink your essence. “You taste so good,” he says between licks, “I’ve craved for this for so long.”

You cry out once more when a smaller spasm rocks through your body at the touch of his lips on your nether region. Then you feel a void forming inside you when he pulls his fingers out of you. Still lost in bliss, you barely feel the touch of his wet lips pressing on your skin as he slowly crawls his way up, trailing kisses on your stomach—right across the stretch marks on your skin which has made you feel unconfident, as if he is worshipping them with his lips—and up to your heaving chest, brushing his lips from one breast to another, and continues his way up until his lips are on yours.

He is biting and kissing you gently one second, and then devouring you like a beast, taking everything that you have to offer while letting you taste the heady scent of your release from his mouth and tongue.

Your body heats up further when he begins touching the curves of your body with his big, wide hands. His gentle touch makes it seem as if he wants to memorise everything, even as he kneads at your breasts.

Then his hands reach down, pulling your legs wide apart so he can settle in between. You are still sensitive after your first climax that the touch of his hard shaft makes you jolt beneath him. Yet you make no move to avoid him when he carefully aligns himself at your center. He moves the tip of his cock between your slit, back and forth, coating himself with your release, and then you feel him nudging at the entrance.

“Can I—?” he asks with a strained voice, filled with need, yet still keeping himself back when he seems so unsure to proceed.

“Yes,” you simply cry out before he can finish asking, already lifting your hips to welcome him home.

At your final word, Taehyung pushes into you in one smooth stroke that stretches your walls to the point of pain. Yet the pain feels exquisite, so much so that you almost find yourself unravelling once more in the peak of pleasure. At the same time, it also feels as if you are gaining back a piece of your soul which you lost on the day you left him behind in that cave.

You look up to him to say this, only to see him closing his eyes. The relief written on his face is so profound that it almost brings you to tears. Because you know that he is feeling the same way too about this moment; of having your bodies and souls joined into one.

Taehyung opens his eyes and his forehead comes down to yours. For what seems to be the longest time, neither of you makes a move. You simply exist in this space together, your bodies joined, your breaths colliding with one another, and your hearts beating as one. As if you are bounded not by magic, but by fate.

“________,” he whispers your name as he kisses your face, your nose, lips, and hair, down to your neck, and then returns to claim your lips again. “I’m so happy to be able to touch you again. To love you like this.”

Your breath is caught in your throat, just as your words do. “Then make love to me,” you whisper breathlessly beyond the sound of your rapid heartbeat. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you encourage him to move. “Show me how happy you are to see me again.”

You rock your hips, and then he follows. His tortured moan seems as if it is being ripped out straight from the depths of his soul. There is a hint of tears forming in his eyes as he begins to move, thrusting deeply inside you, withdrawing and slamming back into you, over and over again. He hooks his arms under your legs, pulling them up higher as he starts driving further into you.

Despite getting lost in his pleasure, Taehyung keeps his eyes on you the entire time. Just like how he did it back in that cursed cave, the way he wanted to keep the moment he had with you in his memories, he does the same thing as he rocks his hips against you, taking you over to the peak of pleasure.

Soon, his forceful strokes trigger the familiar strain of your orgasm. He seems to feel you holding back, both of you wishing that you could let this continue just a bit longer. But the pleasure is too much, and he is close to falling over the edge as well to stop it.

Reaching down, he touches your clit, pressing hard between his rapid thrusts and groans, “Come for me, beautiful. Let me see you fall apart for me.”

With a cry, you allow yourself to fall into a spiral of pleasure, engulfed in the delectable waves of your release. Your body squeezes around his cock, and the pleasure unwinds, ripples going through your body in waves of pure ecstasy.

Thrusting deeply, Taehyung throws his head back, his eyes closed and his jaw tense as he joins you in his own release. The magnificent sight of him losing himself in passion immediately drives you right back to the edge again. And you are too spent to prevent it from happening. The strain from the intense lovemaking, done right here in the open space where the ocean breeze continues hitting your skin—now dampened with slickness and sweat—is beginning to wash over you. It has been so long since you ever felt this kind of pleasure, not since that night in the cave, not since him.

Taehyung remains inside you for a moment longer. Giving you slow, gentle strokes as he helps you come down from your high. And then he slowly pulls out, bringing the drops of his release and yours in his exit.

With a small smile, he crawls back down, carefully cleaning your center with his mouth and tongue. Once again, the ripples of pleasure rise from within. It feels subtle, barely a spasm, and ends just as he finishes cleaning you up.

“I’m officially addicted to your taste, beautiful,” he whispers against your lips when he returns to your side, taking you in his arms so you can rest for a while.

“Hmm, I think I’m officially addicted to everything about you. Knowing you, it seems like I’m risking my entire being to be with you,” you sleepily admit as you melt into his embrace with contentment. You smile when you feel his chest vibrating with his deep chuckle.

“Do you regret it? Meeting me?”

“Not a chance,” you quickly say to him. Especially not when you have earned something good from meeting him. And it’s not about the carnal pleasure he gives you.

As if she knows that you are thinking about her, the sound of your baby’s cry echoes through the night, calling for you.

The hitch in his breath is palpable, and you wonder what is going through his head right now at the sound of your child’s cry. His child. “May I see her next time?” he gently murmurs, closing his eyes as if he is listening to the sound of a singing tune.

“You may. She is yours, after all.” Biting your lips, you cup his cheek with your palm and turn his face towards you. His eyes are filled with the same longing you first saw when he came up from the water, and you immediately understand.

“You were here when she was born, weren’t you?” you ask him, “I felt you.”

You did. The night your baby was born, you felt intense fear washing over you. Yet for some reason, you could almost hear him, serenading a tune from the open sea until you found your courage, and the sense of calmness came over you until she was born into the world.

With an amused smile on his face, Taehyung nods. “I came at her call. She was singing for me right before she came into the world.”

Your eyes grow wide. “She…sang?”

Again, he nods. “But I heard nothing,” you murmur with a wonder.

His gaze softens as he recalls that night. “She needed me. She wanted to let me know that she was arriving,” he says, telling you a tale of your child’s birth from his point of view. “It was your magic that saved me, freed me from the curse which bound me to the cave, but it was her magic that gave me the power to find you both across the sea.”

Tears form in your eyes as you picture him finding the strength to swim across the ocean just to find you, all because of the baby’s magic pulling him all the way here.

As if he knows what you are thinking, Taehyung brushes his thumb across your cheek, wiping a stray tear away. “But I had no way of approaching you. It would have been too dangerous for me to make haste and come too close to humans.”

Nodding, you understand. Surely, it would have been hard to explain to the people of the tribe about his sudden appearance when there was no sight of a boat coming after Namjoon had left. The people of Parram Island are highly superstitious. Just like the elders from your tribe, they believe in curses and the evil side of sea monsters, and would have condemned Taehyung for crossing over the shoreline and stepping foot into their land knowing what he was.

“Do you still fear humans?”

A wry smile comes to his face. “Only some. Not all.” He sighs. “Not after I met the most beautiful star hidden among them.” He gives you a warm smile and your heart stutters. “But I still fear for what they would become once they find out how our child was conceived, and whose blood she was born from.”

Your breath hitches. “I never thought of that—”

He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and then takes your hand to kiss the back of it. “One day, when it’s time for us to be together, she will sing for you to help you find your way to find me, or to let you know when it’s time for me to come back to you.”

You find it hard to understand what he means, until it slowly dawns on you—

“You’re leaving.”

He presses his lips, hating the crack in your voice. “I must. If we want to be together, and if we want to keep our child safe, then I must find the source of the curse.”

Slowly, you push yourself up. “The curse?”

He grimly nods. “The same curse that has been hurting the sea and your home island, plaguing the rest of my kind, and the one that is threatening our daughter’s future like it did when it imprisoned me in that cave,” he slowly explains, before he launches into explaining why he had always resented humans. He tells you how many years and decades ago, a mortal from a deserted island came into the sea to poison it with their magic, hurting sea creatures and turning them into cursed sea monsters like himself, and how the same magic that the mortal used had been the true cause of your people’s suffering all this time.

“They’re all the same, cast by the same source, hidden somewhere in the wide sea,” he continues to explain, while you are having trouble letting all of this sink in.

Why had none of the elders known about this? If they had known about the presence of sea monsters, then why had they never talked about the dark spell which had been the true cause of them?

You are still reeling in the revelations—the true secret behind your people’s hardships and Taehyung’s curse—that you don’t fight him as he pulls you up from the rock bed where you have been lying on and helps you put on your nightdress again.

Once again, your baby’s cry echoes through the night. You can only wonder if her caretaker is having trouble calming her down or if she can somehow feel her father’s presence so close.

“Her voice is so beautiful,” Taehyung murmurs lovingly, closing his eyes as he savours the last moments of his daughter’s cries.

“She’s crying for her mother,” you bleakly reason with him, unable to find the right words—or any right at all—to stop him from going back into the sea. “I must go back.”

Opening his eyes, Taehyung leans down to press his lips on yours, stealing a kiss that lingers for a moment too long for someone who is ready to depart into the night. “I will return for you. For our child. For Raena.”

“How did you—” You pull back with a start. “How did you know her name?”

He smiles. “She told me. I told you, she would sing to me at night. She told me everything,” he says, his gaze softening with so much love it overwhelms you. “She shared her feelings about being born into the world, so close to the sea but too far away from her father. She always sings about her beautiful mother, who feels lonely at night yet still shows her so much love.”

He brushes your cheeks with his fingers and then presses his lips on your palm when you try to do the same. “She sang to me the day you gave her the name—Raena—so I would know what to call her when we finally meet. And I have always been singing to her since she came to the world, just like I have been singing for you since the day you left.”

Tears continue to fall as you look back on those nights when you kept hearing those humming tunes. His voice.

You remember the haunting tune you kept hearing during the nights spent in the sea to escape his cursed island. The serenading tune which broke your soul apart, to the point that there were moments that it had weakened you and nearly caused you to turn the boat’s sail back around just to return to his side again. It had gotten so bad at one point that Namjoon had to tie you against the side of the boat to stop you from trying to go back. Now, you imagine Taehyung singing in the cave all alone, serenading the tune of his heartbreak, calling your soul to return to him again.

And then there were the nights when the tune began to change. No longer filled with despair, the serenading sound you heard reverberating through the rough waves had been filled with hope and love, helping you to heal and find comfort even as you were still drifting away in the wide, open sea.

Had that been the moment when your baby was beginning to grow inside you? Was it during that time when Taehyung first felt his child’s presence in your belly?

You question him all of this, which draws a small, sorrowful smile to his face. “My soul shattered when you ran away, and the moment I felt our child’s presence inside you”—his hand drifts down, touching your stomach from over your nightdress—”all of my broken pieces were put together again. I kept growing stronger the more she grew.”

You cannot help it. Knowing that you have this invisible bind keeping you together even when you are apart breaks your heart and fills it with love at the same time. Rising on your toes, you wrap your arms around him and press your lips on his.

He returns your kiss gently. You can feel him bearing his heart and soul, just as bare as his skin, drawing your sense of longing to have a future together.

A future that seems bleak now as the dark forces hurting everything around you is still out there, somewhere.

A sob threatens to escape as he slowly lets you go. You swallow it down to beg him, “Don’t go.”

You keep your arms around him with the hope of keeping him from leaving. And yet, seeing the sight of his scales slowly appearing on his skin, you know that anything you say to make him stay would be futile.

“I’m not going anywhere far. I’ll return when Raena sings for me, or when you call me back home in time of need,” he promises with a smile, just as his eyes turn golden glow. “I’ll return once the curse has been defeated, or whenever I feel you and Raena needing me here.”

But we need you here now, the small voice in your head speaks.

“Tell me how to help,” you say to him, trying a different angle, only for him to shake his head.

“Just stay where you are and be safe. Keep our child safe.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—to make him change his mind. Your heart is already breaking apart as you see him slowly stepping back. Back into the jagged rocks, back towards the water’s edge.

Until Mira’s voice is heard from the top of the nearest valley of rocks, calling you.

“________?” you hear her shout, and you quickly turn around to make sure that she isn’t near enough to see Taehyung. “Where are you? Raena needs you.”

Her words, mixed with Raena’s cries, make you restless. It drowns the sound of the splashing water coming from behind you.

Once you are sure that Mira is nowhere in sight, you turn back to Taehyung.

“Taehyung, I—”

You wish to share one final goodbye, yet he is no longer there. You are met with silence, with nothing else but the sounds of the crashing waves hitting the jagged rocks as your magnificent siren disappears into the dark sea.

The last thing you see is the sight of a tail, covered in viridescent scales illuminated by the moonlight, slinking into the rough sea as he sets off towards his new journey. A sorrowful tune of a song echoes through the night, as he serenades his goodbye and his promise to return.

For you.

For Raena.

#twilight fall serenade #taehyung smut #kvanity #bangtanwhq #ksmutsociety #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts moodboard #taehyung

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md-intermission-archive · 6 months ago

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"Murder Drones: Intermission": A Story of Understanding

Uzi Doorman: Understanding Loneliness

I feel like during the development of this episode, Uzi was the hardest character for me to wrap my head around. To my understanding, she’s feisty, angsty, and plays up this persona of being apathetic. A sort of lone wolf thing.

She’s snappy towards her classmates who ostracize her, snappy towards adults in her life, and overall gives a middle finger to anyone who isn’t on Team Uzi. It’s a very “me vs. the world” type of thing. That, to me, just felt like the callous shell of someone who’s painfully fragile and has been hurt so often.

I will admit, I may be projecting slightly, but I honestly read her as like… a neurodivergent kid who didn’t know how to navigate social circles, so she just became incredibly bitter. Her father didn’t help her situation at all because he also treated her like a freak, literally calling her a disappointment in his business ads. Then on top of all that she had no mother figure to look up to. All of this accumulates into a habit of isolation. “No one will love me, so fuck it. I’m on my own”. She acts like she’s fine on her own, when in reality she’s so starved for genuine connection. With that in mind, in Intermission I wanted to peel back those layers a little bit. I wanted to explore self-isolation and that hunger for love.

Some people clocked this I think: the way Uzi’s attitude is toned down in Intermission. I didn’t want to play up her angsty teen act as much (and I capped her at one “bite me”) because then I’d risk falling into the trap of making her into a caricature of herself. The way I framed her in my head is “if she wants connection, then she’d be happier around people who she sees as her friends. If she’s also fragile though, she’ll make an immediate 180 at the slightest hint of meanspiritedness”. This was the guideline I gave myself when it came to bouncing her off of V and N. N melts her icy demeanor. He’s very gentle and encouraging with her. One example being how N kneeled down to her eye level when speaking to her when she was putting up her walls again. As someone who’s constantly ostracized, she needs a gentle touch in order to relax.

I made sure to keep that in mind, that while she was being treated gently, she should show more signs of happiness. Comfort. Part of that comfort is also reflected in being mischievous/playful. As for the 180 she makes if shown any sort of cruelty, that’s reflected in acts of self-isolation.

This is something I’ve observed from myself and people in my life. If someone is already deathly afraid of rejection, they won’t reach out for help and their immediate instinct will be to isolate. In the beginning of the EP when Uzi’s having her Solver flare up her immediate thought is “I’m going to put up a firewall (repress) and just not even mention this to anybody”. Then when N offers to help, she still shows signs of being uncomfortable because she’s not used to it. It isn’t until V’s comment calling her a lost cause irks her that she decides “screw it let’s give it a shot”. She hates being underestimated, so this reaction made sense to me. Meanwhile the climax of the episode is where I wanted the most overt display of her fears to be presented.

As I said earlier, Uzi’s sensitive to rejection. She attacked the only people in her life who care about her, and the worst part was it wasn’t even her fault. Uzi is a person who really wants a sense of control over her life for the sake of security, so that loss of control and the idea of “oh my god they hate me now” was the final straw for her. So, she isolated. She ran off (or in this case, flew off), she barricaded herself, and she cried.

During the scene when Uzi's found, I had a bit of an issue figuring out where to go from there with her. I had two options: I could once again lean into her badass persona and have her fight back, or I could have her fold. I decided the latter. To her, she just lost the only people who cared about her, she's a monster to worker drone society, her father doesn't care about her.

What's the point. She's doomed to be alone.

If V didn't have her revelation, Uzi would've let herself die. While I understand that's an upsetting choice to make in the narrative, given Uzi's circumstances it felt like the appropriate reaction. Which is why the events following were so important.

While Uzi's at her lowest point she's shown pinch of kindness.

While it’s true V’s initial intention was to off Uzi, her showing compassion and sympathy was what helped calm Uzi down. Rather than making her put up walls like V usually does, V was able to break through them a tad. That interaction, N pouncing at her with a hug, and the final scene was meant to cement in Uzi’s head that she finally wasn’t alone (even if V still struggled to not be prickly with her). The three are still incredibly messy, but there’s that sense of trust that Uzi now has people in her life that actually care about her despite her messiness. The mischievous attitude even comes out when she says, “you found a nanospark of warmth in your heart to care about me”. She now feels more comfortable with V to an extent, and she finally has a support system.

I think…the reason why I love Uzi so much is that she’s sadly reflects the experience of what it's like not being able to fit into society's mold of acceptable. Even if she might not be neurodivergent, the bullying and isolation she experiences is very familiar. I wanted to do her justice as much as I could with that all in mind and with the resources I had. I wanted to give her one happy ending to a day when every other feels like utter hell.

The angsty teen may be badass, but her heart is still fragile.

#Murder Drones #Murder Drones: Intermission #Character analysis #character study #Uzi Doorman #Long Post

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uchispeach · 5 months ago

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Sycamore Tree (Ch. 1)

Pairing: Dark! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, underage drinking and manipulative! Rafe…

This fic will contain dark content: such as dub-con/non-con and violence. You have been warned.

You laid on your back as you flipped the dusty pages of an old magazine. The weather was nice and the sun kept your skin warm, helping you get the slight tan you were wishing for.

Tranquility was in the air, and you were losing yourself in it just as the fence croaked. Your focus was now on the brunette stomping her way into the front yard.

“Hi!” You greeted her effusively, ignorant to the frown on her face. Your lips parted in surprise as you saw her slam the door while dismissing you with a sigh.

Your shock lasted a few seconds, quickly recovering your soft smile. You knew better than to take your sister’s actions by heart. Kiara had always possessed a tough character, while you were the calmest one.

Your father was quick to follow Kie and you soon joined the scene as the shouting coming from the inside of the house became louder.

”I’m sick of you following me around like some bodyguard. I can’t even buy some records in peace!” She shook the tote bag filled with vinyls.

“Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this…you just have to gain our trust again” The look on your mom’s face was sympathetic; her hands reached out for Kiara’s face, a gesture she quickly avoided by turning around and running off to her room.

The slam on the door made you flinch and your head felt heavy as you thought about the different ways you could comfort your sister without making the situation worse.

(…)

”Please, don’t disappear in the middle of the night with JJ” Your brows furrowed while you begged your sister to be in line.

”For the eleventh time, Y/N. I will not run away with him!..not again” The taller girl shouted as she took off her seatbelt.

You tried to swallow your concern as you both stepped out of the car, your eyes focused on the illuminated beach filled with drunk teenagers.

“Wait!” You were too late to shout as you saw the brunette slipping away to meet with her own friends. Great, you thought to yourself. A party was the last thing you wanted to attend but Kiara was pretty insistent on getting you to cover up for her tonight; and you were too considerate to ignore her desperate request.

”Y/N!” A sweet scent filled your senses as you were pulled to the side by a smiley girl. “You didn’t tell me you were coming. I could’ve picked you up!” Jennifer interlocked her arm with yours in an affectionate manner and you slowly relaxed at her presence.

Jenny was a nice girl you met during your last year in high school, and now you both hung out occasionally, mostly during the summer.

“I wasn’t really planning to-“ You were interrupted by a manly voice. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all night!” A dark haired boy stood in front of you, muscles shining under his unbuttoned shirt.

You were quick to recognize him and the two other boys who followed right behind. The black haired girl stepped away from you, all to get closer to Kelce, who received her with open arms and a cold beer.

You were a bit confused as to why your friend was suddenly so comfortable around the Kook, chatting effusively with him while a slight blush colored her cheeks. A few deadly minutes passed by, until you were again included. “Oh! This is Y/N by the way” Her slim fingers reached out for your cold shoulder, pulling you closer to the little reunion.

“Well…” she continued to talk as she sensed you tensing up “…This is Rafe, you’ve probably seen him ‘round. And Topper, he’s Sarah’s boyfriend” The latter smiled slightly at the mention while the older boy remained stoic.

You looked at the Cameron boy with surprise, noticing how his blue orbs were already glued to you. His gaze was filled with shameless intensity as he confidently scanned you from head to toe.

His poker face slowly turned into a smirk, the kind of smirk someone makes after making a great discovery. “Kiara’s sister, right?” His voice fitted him perfectly, rough and deep with such a nice touch of huskiness.

You could only nod, feeling like a wrong move would lead to fatality. Rafe’s lips only stretched further. “We should get some drinks!” Your friend was quick to interrupt, pushing you all to the crowded side of the beach.

Even with your back turned, you could still feel the burning eyes of a certain blond.

(...)

“Do you want some?” You jumped at the sudden voice, earning a chuckle from the young man. You lifted up your face, big doe eyes staring up at a smiling Rafe. Then, your gaze unsurely traveled to the Mai Tais he held in big hands. “I don’t dri-” “It’s just one, besides, I hate drinking alone” He sounded truthful, leaving you with no choice but to accept the drink from his calloused fingers.

He let out a groan when he sat next to you on the dry log, spreading his legs and consequently causing his thigh to rub yours. The sound of a can opening was followed by a look filled with expectancy. You took the hint and opened your own beverage. “You know…” He took a sip. “...I got a little upset when I stopped seeing you around the house.”

You felt the liquid trying to find its way out of your throat, making you cough. “I kind of enjoyed your little visits.” You could tell he was being honest and that just made you feel ashamed. “Well, things just got…complicated” By complicated you meant unsustainable. Because everytime anyone mentioned Sarah Cameron around your sister it was like all hell had broken loose.

It was strange, Rafe Cameron reaching out to you, just to tell you he missed all those times you would go to his house on playdates. Mostly, because you never really interacted with him, just saw his younger face every now and then behind his bedroom door or on the other side of a huge dining table.

The blond only nodded, seeming to understand what you meant. “You look cute today” Such an inoffensive compliment and he still said it with a predatory smirk. “Pink has always been your color” He took the liberty of stroking the edge of your sundress.

You felt the heat rising up to your cheeks as you looked down on his fingers tugging at the fabric. “Thanks… I like your shirt. That-That cut looks great on you” Rafe threw his head back in laughter, making you want to sink impossibly further into the hard piece of wood.

“That’s what I like about you” He looked at you through the corner of his eyes. ”You’re always so kind…always having the need to give back.” His words were said in a serious tone, no playfulness between the lines.

A strange feeling installed itself on the pit of your stomach, tickling your senses in a nice way. Suddenly, the North Carolina breeze stopped chilling your bones. You felt warm.

You swallowed your awkwardness with a gulp. Doing your best to slow down your heart rate. “And…How have you been doing?” Your eyes were deep in his.

The can touched his lips again, staying there for a long time before answering: “Nothing has really changed, at least not for good” Behind his irises you could see some emptiness, and that made your chest tighten a little.

Fights, fits, constant shouting and scolding, you remembered it distantly. The Cameron household was far from perfect and preferences seemed to have been decided since long before you met them, leaving the blond boy in a disfavored place.

“Well…sooner or later, I’m sure you’ll be able to turn things around.” You wore a shy smile on your soft lips. ”So optimistic” Rafe threw back at you with a hint of humor. “Wish others had that same level of faith in me.” A dry laugh left his throat.

Your face looked for his, getting closer in a comforting gesture. “It’s probably hard to feel like you constantly have to prove yourself…” Your tongue spoke faster than your brain. “…to others”

The older boy’s gaze was deeply set on you, the intensity of it making you back away carefully. “I’m-“ His factions were still, almost making him look upset. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know why I said that” You stumbled with your own words. The regret of making bold assumptions clouding your head.

But then he talked, deep and clear for you to hear: “I don’t mind.” A warm limb rubbed against your back, followed by the feeling of his hot breath on your skin.

The Cameron boy had you secured by his side, with one hand lazily going up and down all along your spine and his body heat wrapping around you like a blanket.

His closeness started to make you feel dizzy, totally unsure on what to think about it.

After a few seconds, discomfort started gurgling deep within you as his hefty hand prevented you from putting some distance between the both of you. With no hesitation, his strength pulled you right back by the waist.

“I-” A loud noise made you stand up with a jump. “Did you hear that?” Your brows furrowed in worry as your eyes searched for the disturbance’s cause. Screams were soon to follow, as well as curses and rough words coming from young voices. One of them you were able to recognize.

Pope dragged a pair of sweaty and agitated boys. JJ and John B rooked rough, the latter one even presenting a few bruises and cuts. Kiara was soon to follow, shouting at the trio to move faster.

Your sister was frantically looking around, and almost like an automatic response your legs moved to join her. “Hey, let me drive you.” A solid grip was quick to take you back. Rafe had a decided look on his face. “I can’t, I have to go back with my sister” You politely shook your arm, trying to liberate yourself without seeming rude. But the blond had other plans, keeping you in the same place with an even tighter hold.

“Next time?” You said with a pleading face. Rafe’s eyes, with an unreadable intensity, pierced through yours. He seemed to weigh your words before nodding reluctantly, his fingers loosening their grip but not entirely letting go. “Alright, I’ll see you ‘round,” he said, his tone almost imperceptibly softer. He let go, but his gaze lingered, a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You pushed away the goosebumps of your last encounter, only to solely focus on getting as fast as you could to the brunette’s side.

“Kiara!” You were out of breath as soon as you reached the parking lot. Pope on the old van’s wheel while JJ struggled to throw John B inside. “Hurry up! You have to get out of here” The younger girl was anxiously leaning against the vehicle’s door. “What-” You were cut short by the sight of a metallic object.

Kie’s boyfriend was quick to hide the gun under the seat. “Come on. Before the police arrive!” Your mouth was wide open, shocked by the nervous display. You were too occupied trying to decipher what was going on, that you didn’t even feel your sister shaking you hard by the shoulders.

“Y/N, we have to leave. Gimme the keys!” Kiara groaned in exasperation as she saw you struggling to comprehend the words coming out her mouth. “Now!”

A/N: Characters are aged up. Reader is 19 and the Pogues are all over 18.

#dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #obx smut #dark content #tw dark content #dark fic #dark obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x you #rafe fic

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rbfclassy · 6 months ago

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TAKE CARE! — DABI

SYNOPSIS...dabi has always been stubborn, always been trouble, so whenever he gets hurt you’re the only one willing to help him even if he says he doesn’t need it

INFO...ex bf!dabi x fem!reader, slight angst mentions of blood, kissing, makeout, groping, mentions of a breakup, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Your eyes were fixated on the tv in front your as you watched one of your favorite movies. It was late at night and you were finally granted a day off from work after working seven days straight. You were exhausted and just needed time to yourself after the last hectic week. This was the perfect way to unwind. You sipped on your cup of juice, letting a small giggle at the scene from the movie before there were three loud knocks on your door.

Quickly, you paused the movie and waited in silence as you looked towards your front door. It was nearly one in the morning and you didn’t have the slightest clue who it could be. That wasn’t until you heard their voice. “Y/n, come on! Open up!” They knocked on the door again. Your eyes went wide as you recognized who it was. Jumping to your feet, you ran over to the door and unlocked it, only to see Dabi standing there slightly hunched over with his hand holding his side. “Fuck!” He hissed.

“Dabi? What—what the hell happened?” You look to see his jacket and hand are soaked in blood and you quickly pull him in and rush him towards the kitchen. He’s stumbling over his feet and groaning in pain before he plops down in one of your kitchen chairs, eyes half open. You quickly remove the jacket and discarded on your floor, a part of his white shirt covered with his blood, but all Dabi could do was chuckle at the sight.

“Motherfucker got me good. Shit!” He chuckled. You carefully lifted his shirt to see he had me slice with a knife. It didn’t seem too deep, but with the way Dabi was bleeding you weren’t sure if he needed stitches or if he was too stubborn to get help. Probably the latter.

“My gosh.” You shook your head. “I’ll be right back.” You ran to your bathroom to grab the first aid kit from the bottom cabinet, hoping you had enough to even get this gash covered up. It look to be about three to four inches in length, but you couldn’t really make it out. When you walked back into the kitchen you placed the kit on the counter and quickly washed your hands. “Wanna tell me what happened?” You asked, voice calm. You dried your hands off before opening the kit.

Dabi looked towards you, you were facing away from him as you grabbed supplies. How long has it been since he last saw you? Spoke to you? He can’t even remember. “Doesn’t matter now.” He answered. You hummed in response knowing you could never be too pushy with Dabi and his business. He always seems to hide it anyway even when you guys were dating. You’d bet money that he doesn’t even remember the last time he was here. It’s been maybe six to eight months when you saw him last, doing the same thing you were doing now, fixing him up. The breakup with maybe two years ago now, tired of the way he lived, tired of his secrets and closed off personality.

You felt like you’d never be able to get through to him no matter what you did and you reached a breaking point. Called it quits out of the blue and threw him out of the house you two lived in. Now, it’s just you. “Keep the shirt lifted,” you ordered, putting pressure on the wound. Dabi groaned in pain, cursing under his breath as his eyes clenched shut. Truth be told, he waited an hour before finally coming to you for help, contemplating whether or not he wanted to see you again after everything that went down. But he knew no one else would be willing to help him, no one would patch him up as good as you do and he sure as hell couldn’t go to a hospital.

He remembers the breakup very clearly, remembers your frustration and anger towards him and throwing all of his things out the door. But damn you two had a good thing going. You were his girl, the one he could always count on to hold him steady and keep him safe and he’ll do the same to you. He just didn’t know that keeping his secrets and keeping his lifestyle from you would drive you crazy. He just wanted to keep you safe from all of it, keep you from seeing what life was really like for him. Overtime, he came to an understanding of how you felt, so he left you alone. That was until the first time he got into a fight and then another and then now.

“Don’t be so rough!” Dabi shouted, gritting his teeth as you cleaned the wound.

“Maybe don’t go getting into random fights and I won’t. If anything, you deserve this,” you retaliated, glancing up at him. All he did was let out a loud sigh, gripping onto the table. “This is gonna burn.” You took the alcohol wipe and placed it on the gash.

“Goddamnit! Shit!” He hit is fist on the table as his leg bounced up and down. He took a deep breath in and exhaled through his nose. The stinging pain ran deep and lasted more than a few seconds as he tried to adjust to it. You lifted the alcohol pad and tossed it in the trash beside you, standing up to walk to the first aid kid to grab a bandage and gauze. “After this I’ll be out of your hair,” he spoke.

You shuffled through the contents of the box, ignoring his words as you grabbed what you needed. He looked towards you, hoping that you’d at least say something back or even look at him, but you didn’t. He looked over your figure noticing the crop top and shorts you had on, your excuse for pajamas. He quickly looked away when you walked back over towards him. "Sit up," you demanded.

Dabi grabbed onto the table for support as you gently placed the bandage on the wound, holding it in place as you wrapped the gauze around his abdomen tightly. "I appreciate this, really." He looked down at you. You hummed in response, not even glancing his way before standing to your feet. His jaw clenched and he reacted before thinking, his hand reaching out to yours. Snapping your head back to look at him, his eyes bore into yours. "Will you just talk to me for a moment? Come on, y/n."

A scoff leaves your lips as you pull your hand away from his grip. "You show up to my apartment bleeding after not seeing each other for months, don't tell me what happened, and then expect me to act like your friend?" Your brows furrow as you stare at him. Dabi then uses the strength he has to stand to his feet, now merely inches away from you.

"I know and I'm sorry-"

"This is the last time," you bluntly state.

"You know it's not," he responded. He gets into fights on purpose, gets himself hurt on purpose as an excuse to see you. There's no other way you'd talk to him, let alone let him see you. So, he gets into pointless fights just so he could come to you to get fixed up because the truth is, he misses you. He misses your presence, your touch, your voice, he misses everything about you. Then, he tells himself he doesn't want your help, he doesn't need it, but his legs are moving on their own and before he knows it, he's at your front door. "I miss you."

"Dabi...don't." You sigh, closing your eyes.

Your feel his hands wrap around your waist. "I do. I know you feel the same way otherwise you wouldn't help me."

You stay silent, looking down at your feet, afraid to look him in the eyes, but Dabi forces you either way. His finger hooks under your chin as you meet his gaze. There's tension in the air, tension so thick that it could be cut with a knife. You already know what he's thinking, the look in his eye is all too familiar with you. It hard to resist, hard to ignore the feeling bubbling in your chest and the thoughts flowing freely through your mind.

You kiss him. You broke your own rules and kissed him. Though it's been forever, your lips still feel like they belong on his, the way your bodies melt into each other feels like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. His hands squeeze your waist, groping your skin before they sneak down to the plump of your ass. Your hands entangle in his hair, pulling him in and deepening the kiss. Before he could think, Dabi pushed towards the counter, lifting you onto it without breaking the kiss.

"Dabi-"

"Shhh." His hands move up under your shirt, caressing your skin. "Let's just have this moment. Together."

You break away from the kiss, panting heavily. "But, you're hurt. I don't think-"

"I don't care. I need you."

#—☆classyrbf #anime #mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #mha angst #mha x reader angst #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki #dabi #mha dabi #touya x reader #mha touya #touya todoroki x reader #dabi angst #dabi x reader angst #touya todoroki angst

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 6 months ago

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EWAN MITCHELL TALKING ABOUT AEMOND TARGARYEN IN EPISODE 4 FOR NUEVA MUJER MAGAZINE.

(video of the interview comes out this week)

AEMOND, AT THIS POINT, IS THE MOST INTERESTING AND COMPLEX CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SHOW. AT THIS POINT IN YOUR HISTORY, WHAT ARE YOUR INTERESTS?

"I love exploring the dark side of Aemond and delving deeper into his vulnerability."

"At the end of season 1, with his dragon, Vhagar, he knows he's made a mistake and lets his emotions get the best of him."

"It's good to see that feeling again and it breaks down and takes away that one-dimensionality: there's something more underlying beneath the surface that, in part, motivates it."

IT IS CLEAR THAT AFTER WHAT HAPPENED, A CONFRONTATION BETWEEN AEMOND AND DAEMON IS GOING TO HAPPEN. WHAT CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT THAT?

"Sure, but at what cost? Everyone saw the damage the three dragons did in the battle."

"After that moment, all of Westeros already knows what it is to fight with dragons and what they can do."

"Now, with Aemond and Daemon, if they sat together in a room, any item in it would be a deadly weapon."

HOW DO YOU DEFINE THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN AEMOND AND AEGON? IT IS VERY CLEAR THAT AEMOND IS INFINITELY SUPERIOR THAN HIS BROTHER AND HE KNOWS IT.

"Yes, I think he has always seen Aegon as someone who is inferior to him."

"He feels like he doesn't have the drive to be a king and the perseverance to be a leader."

"While Aemond was training with the sword and studying with the masters, his brother was probably in some Flea Bed brothel squandering his inheritance."

"So Aemond, although he was the second son, always felt that he should have been treated as the first and always prepared himself for that."

"He also feels that he would probably make a better king than Aegon."

"He hates his brother, but he loves him at the same time, because he is his brother."

"They share a heritage."

"He wants to love him, but Aegon gives her plenty of reasons not to."

BUT DID AEMOND WANT TO KILL AEGON?

"When we are in the battle scene, and when Vhagar attacks Aegon and Rhaenys, the question arises as to whether he intentionally tried to hurt his brother, or if he was in his way or if he was just collateral damage."

"I think it goes back to the previous answer: I think of them as Michael and Fredo Corleone, at the time when the latter betrayed his brother and plotted against him."

"This is because although they hate their enemies, there is a deeper hatred towards someone who should protect and care for you."

"And Aegon never did that. In fact, he led the bullying. Aemond “forgives”, but never forgets."

NOW THAT YOU'VE ALSO RECORDED 'THE LAST KINGDOM', AND, COMPARED TO YOUR CHARACTER, OSFERTH, AEMOND TARGARYEN IS CRUEL AND RITLESS. WHERE DID YOU GET INSPIRED FROM TO INTERPRET IT?

"It's interesting that you mention Osferth, because in many ways he is the antithesis of Aemond, in the sense that they are children of royalty who were marginalized and have been treated unfairly by their brothers."

"Aemond himself, because he has been sidelined, has a lot to prove."

"He is the second son who will inherit nothing and recognizes that whatever he wants in this life he will have to go out and get it himself, by hook or by crook."

"He has tremendous power in Vhagar."

"And, of course, he recognizes that he can do things that no one else in the kingdom can do."

"And that's why he sees it as a call to greatness, to write his name in the history books."

AEMOND IMPOSES FEAR. IT HAS A DANGEROUS AURA. HOW DO YOU TRANSMIT THAT SENSATION TO THE SPECTATOR, THAT SOMETHING TERRIBLE CAN HAPPEN TO SOMEONE LIKE THIS IN A PLACE?

"I think that in the first four episodes, Aemond is still not very much at the center of the conflict."

"You see it with Criston Cole plotting and trying to manipulate the council because they know war is inevitable."

"Now: Shakespeare said the eyes are the windows to the soul, but in Aemond's case, what does it mean to have one and the other a safari? Do you see less of his soul? There is silence."

"A lot of silence on your part and in those moments you say a lot without saying anything."

"I love those moments, because as a viewer, you can project your own interpretation on the character about what is happening through his or her gaze."

BY THE WAY, WHAT IS THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN AEMOND AND ALICENT?

"Someone asked me if I thought Aemond had problems with his mother and I don't think so: he just wanted to be loved by her a little more."

"He is an empty child and children need that unconditional love to be balanced beings and develop a vision accordingly."

"And since he never had that, he had to look for solutions in other beings. In Vhagar. At Mrs. Sylvie, from the brothel."

"Children need to be loved unconditionally: if a child is not embraced by the village, they will hug them to feel their warmth and seek validation through other means."

"In Aemond's case, it's war."

"And of course, if he finds out what Cole, his best friend, has been doing with his mother, I don't know how he would take it."

HE'S A PRETTY BROKEN CHARACTER. HOW DID YOU EXPLORE THAT?

"That's one of the most fascinating aspects of playing him."

"Because beyond that image that has been created, he is in a very different physical and psychological place from what we saw last season."

"He has cultivated this facade - almost homage - inspired by Daemon Targaryen."

"Now, there is a movie called 'Fire vs. Fire' starring Robert De Niro where he has a code to protect himself."

"Aemond has something similar."

"That's why it's so easy for him to reject the madame in episode 3, because he knows that in her world there is no place for love, since it is a weakness."

"He has to be seen as this 'Terminator' who scares everyone and is all-powerful."

"So it's interesting to see what's behind all of that, to see this abandoned boy who is still there."

DO YOU THINK THAT AFTER THIS BATTLE HE WILL HAVE SOME KIND OF GUILT LIKE WHAT HAPPENED TO LUKE AND ARRAX?

"He knows that there is no turning point this time."

"What happened with Luke and Arrax, he knows was a mistake."

"It wasn't his intention."

"He let his emotions get the best of him and lost control of his dragon."

"Here he is in complete control and knows what the dragons can do."

"In episode 5 you will see all the consequences of this."

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midnightsslut · 7 months ago

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A Guide to Red - The Quintessential Taylor Swift Album

After the release of The Manuscript, the role of Red and Red (Taylor’s Version) in Taylor’s life and discography has been highly discussed. A lot of people have referred to it as her magnum opus and most formative album. I have decided to compile a condensed list of about a dozen key interviews, performances, speeches, posts, and videos from 2011 all the way until 2024 that illustrate the importance of this record for Taylor’s personal life and career. I’m putting the list under a cut because it got pretty long. You don’t have to go through all of these, obviously, but I would suggest at least one per era. The bolded ones are essential in my opinion.

Pre-Red - These interviews hint at Taylor’s emotional state at the time and thus the content that will be explored on the Red album

2011 The New Yorker profile

Taylor Swift reveals new album is all about heartbreak - Extra TV

Bonus: an article going through Taylor’s arm lyrics on the Speak Now World Tour, which she described as mood rings for any particular show

Lover diary entries from the making of Red (credit to @cabincreaking for the scans)

- All Too Well lyrics first draft (February 2011)

- Random bursts of happiness and anxiety during the Speak Now Tour (June 17, 2011)

- Red (September 8, 2011)

- Holy Ground (February 2012)

- Nothing New (March 2, 2012)

- Working with Max Martin (June 10, 2012)

Red era - Listen to the original sixteen songs on the Red album at this point.

Red announcement livestream + Q&A

Red prologue

2012 Rolling Stone interview

2012 The Guardian interview

2012 Billboard interview

2012 Esquire interview

Sirius XM Town Hall - an hourlong interview from the day Red came out

Good Morning America - this is the first mention of the ten-minute version of All Too Well

Red track-by-track descriptions

Random interview where she discusses the connection between writing Speak Now and Red

I Knew You Were Trouble music video

Diary entry about how love is fiction and she might move to New York after all (January 6, 2014)

Diary entry from Grammy night (January 25, 2014)

Red Tour London performance of All Too Well - any performance of this song from 2013-14 will work here, but this one has a pretty comprehensive speech

Final performance of All Too Well on the Red Tour - just listen to the speech here

Post-Red era - Over the course of these interviews, you’ll see her relationship to the album evolve.

Taylor’s description of Clean (skip to 11:18)

2014 BBC Live Lounge interview

1989 World Tour interview where she mentions thinking she’d never sell as many albums as she did with Red before 1989 came out

Clean speech - a lot of these will work, but these two best describe her relationship with the Red era and heartbreak in general

All Too Well (The 1989 World Tour live)

2015 GrammyPro interview

All Too Well Super Saturday Night performance

Reputation Tour All Too Well speech

Red into Daylight performance - 2019 City of Lover concert in Paris

Re-recordings era - at this point, listen to the red vault

2020 Rolling Stone podcast

Red (Taylor’s Version) prologue

2021 Saturday Night Live performance

All Too Well: The Short Film + Behind the Scenes

Seth Meyers interview

2022 Tribeca film talk OR TIFF (both are equally good. I have a slight preference for the former, but there are some interesting new details in the latter). You could also watch directors on directors from the same year as a bonus, but it’s less comprehensive.

2022 Graham Norton - How All Too Well (10 Minute Version) came about + how the re-recordings inspired Midnights

Also listen to Midnights

The Eras Tour

All Too Well speech (Glendale Night 2 & Atlanta Night 1) - any of the speeches from March and April 2023 will work, but these two really illustrate how she feels about this time in her life now and how the fans changed the Red album for her. Obviously credit to @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes for the transcripts!

Maroon first ever live performance (‘This is a song about something that happened a long time ago, but it took place in New York’)

Aaaand finally listen to The Tortured Poets Department, especially The Manuscript

This is a lot, but it’s worth it. Enjoy!

#I really think this is just key to understanding taylor swift as an artist and a woman #red era #red tv #midnights #ttpd #maroon #old interviews #the manuscript #red #all too well 10 #all too well short film

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 19 days ago

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dorm leader riddle vs cater

adfiblafyofayfa OKAY, before the first of the book 7 Heartslabyul updates comes out... I wanted to take a look at Cater's new SSR and compare it to Riddle's Dorm Uniform SSR (since many fans are speculating that Cater's card + dream will involve him being dorm leader).

Let's look at the initial card art for our two contenders! You can tell right away that the shots are framed very differently:

The camera is looking UP at Riddle (ie a worm's eye view), which conveys the subject with tons of power and presence. Riddle in a mainly white outfit adopts a very action-oriented pose too, stepping up on a platform (which makes him more intimidating + makes up for his short stature), granting his full attention, and pointing his scepter at you, as if delivering a verdict. You can see that he's being an active participant in the trial; Riddle has stepped down from his perch on high to make a big announcement.

The lighting is similar to a spotlight, casting Riddle as the “main character”. This is further supported by him being the ONLY character in the artwork. Even the rose petals scattered around just serve to indicate that Riddle commands this scene and the courtroom. Bro’s dominating every second you’re looking at the card.

Finally, as I'm sure many of you can recall, Riddle's Dorm Uniform SSR is known to be a very strong attacking card with three powerful fire spells. It suits his fiery personality and temper... how flames can quickly spiral out of control, taking down everything in its path along with it.

Cater, by comparison, is almost Riddle’s complete opposite. We look at Cater from above, which places him at a bird's eye view. It makes him appear demure and passive--and even his pose is relaxed, legs propped up on the judge's bench. Cater doesn't seem to be paying attention to the ongoing trial either. He has tooons of distractions around: his skateboard, his phone, and not to mention the full pizza, a soda, and a bottle of hot sauce out. Truly, living in excess… Notably, the pizza seems to be over up documents/a book which... um??? You think he might need to look up the rules and render a fair verdict?? But again, he's not really paying it any mind. It all definitely gives the impression that Cater is a way laxer leader than Riddle is. He has power, yes--but is he truly present and in the moment? Cater isn't even looking at the mob student, doesn't have the gavel in hand for a verdict.

The lighting in Cater's card is concentrated on one side of him. It's actually much darker overall in his composition than Riddle's, at least from a glance. I can't help but think that's intentional... especially considering that Cater himself isn't even fully lit, which fits in with how he has that cheery persona (the part exposed to the light/the public) while the more depressed persona (the part shrouded in the shadows/kept private) is hidden away. Gone are the rose petals too, even though those flowers are so synonymous with Heartslabyul itself. It's almost like the flowers don't want to (metaphorically) bloom for Cater, the false dorm leader. (You'd think someone as Magicam-oriented as him would want to aesthetically jazz up the courtroom, no?)

Cater’s outfit is also interestingly predominantly black instead of Riddle’s white (the latter of which is closer to the original Heartslabyul dorm uniform color). Riddle is following tradition laid out by his predecessors whereas Cater is setting a new standard with his black, which makes him really stand out from his peers. This denotes the “black and white”, “guilty and innocent” nature of the law, but could also represent how polar opposites his and Riddle’s ruling styles are. I think it’s also telling that Cater’s card has way more students in it yet Cater is the one who always feels alone as the Spectator of Diamonds. He may be “king” now, but in reality he is no different than one of the many mobs in the dark, waiting in the wings.

Now, Cater's spells are very interesting. His M1 and M2 are both water. Cooling, calming water--the opposite of Riddle, much like how Cater is the relaxed one whereas Riddle is very strict and stern. But then his M3 spell is cosmic/null. Why? I think it's because that water he puts up is his "front" (especially considering that water and emotions are associated with his star sign, Aquarius), and the cosmic/null represents how Cater truly is... that part of himself he doesn't share with anyone.

... Anyway, this analysis will all be very embarrassing if it turns out that Cater ISN'T the dorm leader in his dream :DD We shall see when the update drops!

#twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #Riddle Rosehearts #Cater Diamond #book 7 part 12 spoilers #jp spoilers #notes from the writing raven #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #twst character analysis

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jarofstyles · 8 months ago

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The Favor 6

Hello and welcome to the favor part 6! We are getting into juicier stuff now.. let me know your thoughts! 😈😈😈

Check out our Patreon for early access to the next part and 170+ exclusive writings!

The Favor masterlist

WC- 5.1k

Warnings- exhibitionism, slight degradation, teasing In public, BDSM elements, mention of unhealthy relationship, Dom/sub dynamic, choking, spanking, mention of edging hehe

——-

Leaving Harry’s house was difficult.

Even knowing she was going to see him on Wednesday for lunch and she was staying the weekend next week, something felt so wrong about going home to her empty place and just continuing about her week like she hadn’t just had a mind blowing experience during the weekend.

Harry had taken incredible care of her. Not only had he bathed with her, tied her hair up in a scrunchie he had, washed her body with a soft washcloth and fed her fruit from his fingers, but he’d thrown one of his shirts over her body and brought her into a freshly made bed where he had her lay on her tummy and he rubbed salve into her ass that was still very much sore. He’d taken care of her, brushed her hair back and cuddled her as they spoke about what they did and didn’t like in the scene- which was overwhelmingly positive. Y/N had found out she especially liked his hand around her throat and when he’d pressed her face into the bed like he had at the end. She wasn’t sure about the edging quite yet but she was open to trying different scenarios and it was hard to admit that, but Harry’s overwhelmingly sweet reception of her hesitance made up for the nerves. He had said overstimulation was his choice over the latter in terms of subs, but he liked to edge himself more than anything and was open to trying different scenarios. Orgasm denial seemed more like a punishment to her, which he noted very clearly.

The next morning she’d woken up with a freshly showered Harry who had finished his workout when she was sleeping. He’d woken her to check on her bum, but somehow it had turned dirtier. With Harry’s fingers tucked inside of her cunt, easily wet for him as he coaxed an orgasm from her with her hands pinned above her head and her body writhing under him, his palm slapping over her clit and her head light as he licked his digits clean afterwards.

He’d made breakfast of eggs, toast and yogurt parfaits, remembering her affinity for strawberries from the night prior. He’d also remembered her chamomile tea, making sure it was steeped by the time they’d gotten settled in his dining room, Buttons sitting at her bare feet to keep them warm.

Leaving had been hard, the man quick to give her a squeeze and kiss to the forehead after walking her to the car and putting her duffle in her backseat. He’d promised to text her during the week, which he had, but it didn’t do much to help her missing him that night. If anything, she felt lonelier than she had before she even met him.

Speaking of, Danny had been really irritating her. He’d barely texted her that weekend but as the week went on, he’d been texting her about some sports games, gossip at his job, shit that she really had no interest in. Not once had he made a real attempt to ask how she was doing. He made no attempt to see her, which was both a blessing and a curse. She wasn’t sure how she’d react to his touch right now. The thought had been floating in her mind if he truly grasped how intimate of a thing she was doing with Harry. If he knew, if he cared, even. The longer it was going on, the less she felt steady in a relationship she had been so desperate to keep afloat just 3 weeks ago.

His name sent a sense of annoyance through her when she saw it on her home screen as she put her car in park, but the name above his had her tummy erupting in butterflies.

Harry: Hi, love. I’m here, I got a table outside if that's alright?

Y/N: I just pulled in!!! Sorry a train was going over the tracks again. So annoying.

Y/N: I’ll be there in just a minute :)

Fluffing her hair, she adjusted her lip stain and hoped she didn’t look too disheveled as she got out of her car. Harry had brought up seeing her halfway through the week and she’d been looking forward to it since she left in the early evening on sunday. It’d only been 3 days and yet she felt giddy, walking into the patio and seeing Harry sitting and watching her as she approached.

The outfit today was a simple navy dress with a tie in the back. Professional enough but casual to the touch, making it one of her favorite dresses to wear. It highlighted her body but in an appropriate way. It showed the dip in her wait and the flare of her hip, hitting right at the knee. Her brown flats were boring, sure, but she didn’t need blisters today.

The tall man stood up to greet her, immediately wrapping her up in a hug she didn’t realize she’d desperately needed. Y/N had always been a pretty independent person in her life, not one to rely on people. She didn’t lean on anyone, kept mostly to herself and found it hard to let go- which is why she thought this weekend was probably so impactful for her. Letting Harry make the decisions had felt so good, so freeing, that she was craving it yet again.

“Hi.” She mumbled into his chest, melting into him as he rubbed his hand against her back. His embrace was warm and safe, enough of a relaxing effect to make some of the tension she’d been carrying melt off her shoulders.

“Hi, Darling.” He hummed, pressing his lips to her forehead. A sweet greeting that the sweet girl deserved. “Y’alright?” It was a trick question because he knew the answer.

“Yeah, just been a bit stressed.” She admitted. Harry didn’t want to admit just how relieved that she was giving him honesty over the fake ‘I’m fine’ smile she would be sure to give everyone else.

“Yeah?” He frowned, smoothing his hands over her shoulders. “M’sorry about that. Why don’t you sit down and we can talk about some of that? I got you a smoothie.” The girl visibly perked up, looking at the pink drink on the table.

“Strawberry Banana?” She questioned, thanking him for pulling out her seat for her. At his hum of affirmation, a weird feeling settled in her stomach. It was so odd for someone to notice the little things about her. Harry remembered the smoothie she’d gotten with him last time, he remembered her general love of strawberries, and he’d seemingly be interested in knowing the intricacies of her stress. It felt a bit weird, maybe, to be cared for on this level by someone. Someone who wasn’t even her boyfriend. “Thank you.” Her eyes were lighter as she watched him sit down across from her, his gaze locked on her face as she took a sip of her smoothie.

“You’re welcome.” It had been the hope that she’d like it. He’d been keeping his little notes in his head about things she liked. Y/N had quickly become a bit of a staple in his life and he liked to make her smile, even with something as simple as remembering what smoothie or berries she liked. “Now tell me about what’s been going on.”

Y/N usually wasn’t one to vent- but the floodgates opened. She felt weirdly comfortable with the man, deciding to let him in on things happening with her work, how her mother had been pressuring her to come home more often when she didn’t really want to considering she knew it would just lead to questions she didn’t want to answer, how she’d been forgetting to eat because work stress had been irritating her and taking over the forefront of her mind and only remembered when he’d text her and ask what she ate that day. A lot of it was trivial and she knew that, people out there had it much worse than she did, but Harry didn’t make her feel judged in the slightest. Instead, his fingers stroked the back of her hand in a soothing motion as he studied her face.

“And then Danny…” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she met Harry’s eyes apprehensively. “I’m just beginning to see things that I didn’t before. He’s not once asked me how I am, how the weekend really went, how I feel about it. He’s texted me to bitch about work and sports and ask if I was coming out this weekend with the lot of them, but there’s no.. there’s no interest in me. It’s all about him or trivial things and I’m starting to wonder why I haven’t noticed it before.” Her voice was small, wavering slightly as she broke their eye contact to look at the smoothie gone 3/4ths of the way.

Harry pursed his lips as his hand flipped hers over, instead letting his fingers stroke her inner wrist as he thought of how to respond. It was something he’d noticed too. Danny had never asked how Y/N was that weekend, if she was alright. His phone had sat empty- like he didn’t care and had just dumped her on someone else with no second thought. It had pissed him off too but he didn’t feel he had a right to bring it up first. It wasn’t his relationship, even if he felt some type of way about it. He didn’t want to appear as if he was positioning her to make any sort of decision. It was all her, and he didn’t want her to think he was trying to swoop in and take her away…. Even if that had been a thought a time or three.

“I’m sorry.” It was how he chose to begin the conversation because in all honesty, he was. He’d been in a situation where he’d felt uncared for not too far in the past and he could remember the emotional wounds- wounds that were still healing. “I know I may not have the most helpful things t’say and I don’t want you to think m’trying to push you in any sort of direction, but let me just say thing.” A large inhale was taken before he continued, hoping she wouldn’t take it in an offensive way. “I don’t understand what he’s doing. If I’m being completely honest with you, I’ve been baffled on how he’s letting this happen,how he even asked me to touch you. If you were mine, I’d never in a million years want anyone to even graze your skin. Let alone do the things m’doing to you. It would drive me mad to think of someone else knowing how you taste, how you look when you finish, and thinking of you saying someone else's name…” A bitter laugh exited him. “I’d be homicidal. So, I can’t wrap my head around how this has happened. But what I can say is that you need to take a look at your relationship and what you want objectively. If it was your friend being treated this way, how you’d feel. Go back and think on how you’ve been treated this whole time.” The next part was going to kill him to say, but he had to. He had to try to be good and supportive. “And I think you’d need to talk to him and tell him you feel neglected. From my eyes it does look that way, and it looks selfish, but perhaps being in a long term relationship makes him a bit lazy.” Harry couldn’t fathom slipping up like that, but again… everyone was different.

“Bottom line is I want you to be happy, Darling. You’ll still have a friend in me regardless if you’re dating Danny or not. Relationships come and go many times in your life, and just because you’ve put years into it doesn’t mean you have to settle for poor treatment. Okay?”

Harry’s heart ached when he saw her misty eyes, frowning as he motioned her to come sit on the chair next to him rather than across. The patio was mostly empty anyways, but he didn’t care either way as he pulled her into him for a hug. She didn’t fully cry, but he could feel some dampness on his skin as she nuzzled into his neck. Calming circles were ran over her back, letting her catch her breath as he stayed quiet. He was walking a fine line here.

“Thank you.” She said, muffled by his shirt. She stayed there for a little bit before pulling out, Harry’s hand lifting to wipe away a few tear stains from her cheeks and smiling when she leaned into his palm. His heart skipped a few beats as he watched her eyes close, relaxing into his touch. God, if she was his he’d plant kisses all over her face and get those giggles back. He’d do anything in his power to make sure the only tears she cried were from pleasure. How could someone be so stupid? “I missed you. Is that weird to say?”

It had only been a few days since she left but she’d missed him quite a bit. Sleeping with him for two days, her own bed had never felt more cold. Never felt less comfortable. There was no knit throw at the bottom of her bed to throw over her shoulders as she made her way downstairs to see him making some sort of breakfast for her. There was no anticipation on what he may ask from her next, if he’d ask her to get on her knees and make him cum. It had only been the first few days and yet she felt addicted to his touch, how he made her feel.

His smile was warm, thumbing over her cheek as he shook his head. “It’s not weird to say, Pet.” He mumbled, watching her breathing hitch. He’d missed her too. He wanted her back in his bed, back in his kitchen. It had been a tiny hint of what could be and his brain couldn’t stop thinking about if they’d had a proper shot. If he could take her on as not only a full time sub, but as his girl. If she’d sit pretty waiting at home for him when he went out, if she’d follow him around the house like a pup like she had the last day he had her like she was aching for any sort of pet or scratch. “Only two more nights and you’ll be back with me though, hm? Coming right t’my place after you're finished with work?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, eyes wide as she looked up at him. There it was again. That shift, so subtle in his tone but the energy could be felt between them. “I’ll come right to you, I promise.”

“I know you will, Pet. You’ve already proven you’re my good girl.” His voice was soft as he felt her lean further into him, watching as she nearly melted at the term of endearment. Y/N was just so fucking sweet, he was going to get a toothache. “You’ve been behaving, hm? Not touching yourself like I asked?”

“Promise.” She whispered. “I was sore for the first day and- and then I remembered what you promised me if I listened. It’s been hard because…” Her face flushed. “Because I keep remembering what we did and how good it felt and then I get all worked up but… I want t’be good for you, sir.” Her voice was soft so it could be kept between them, but Harry knew he was starting something dangerous. His cock twitched in interest as he looked at her slightly wet lips, remembering how he’d felt slipping between them. How she’d been so needy, wanting to take him all the way inside of her throat.

“I believe you, Puppy.” He chuckled under his breath. “But I hope you know you aren’t the only one who’s been thinking about it. Not only about how good it is, but how many other things I want to do t’you. Just got a bit of a taste for it and my mind’s already running rampant with filth.” He moved his touch to her lip, brushing over the bottom as he let out a sigh. He wanted to hear her cum for him again. Wanted to feel her clench around him, smell her scent on him as he went back home. “So if I tell you t’go to the restroom and wait for me, you’ll be a good little Puppy and do it?”

Her heart rate picked up as she picked up what he was laying out. Oh, god. She hadn’t expected to do anything like this today but she’d never deny him. Maybe that would be a fault of hers later on down the line but there was no way she could say no to him or his touch. “I’ll go right now.” She nodded, standing up on shaky legs the moment his touch fell away. Grabbing her bag, she placed it over her shoulder and walked briskly towards the bathroom, feeling herself heat between her legs as she did so.

Public play and risky touch was something she’d wanted to experiment with and she was sure Harry remembered that too. It amazed her how much he paid attention to detail and how thoughtful he really was, all things considered. Her legs felt shaky as she stood at the mirror, waiting in anticipation for the man who’d been taking up the majority of her mind the whole week. It had been near constant thought of him when she hadn’t been texting him, talking to him more frequently than her own official boyfriend- but she was more connected with Harry than him at this point in time. She winced at the thought of not being with him in the future, but she never allowed herself to think of the fact that her and Harry had an ending date, even if neither of them knew it.

The focus now was pleasure.

Her body jumped as the bathroom door swung open, the man confidently striding in and pointing towards the biggest stall. Wordlessly she nodded, following the unspoken instruction to get in there.

It moved a bit quickly after that, or maybe her head was just fuzzy from the dominance leaking off of the man. His large hand gripping her jaw and tilting it up so he could kiss her the way he wanted, tasting him on her tongue with a soft moan as he pressed his other hand against her ass and began to ride her dress up.

“Did it on purpose, didn’t you?” He growled, tugging it up until her ass was exposed to the open air. Her thong was doing her little favors as his hand came down in a sharp smack, making her whimper against his lips as his fingers dug into the stinging flesh. “Wore a cocktease of a dress yet again so I’d take you in here and make you cum. Puppy wants t’be a whore for me?” He pulled their lips apart so she could properly answer.

“I-I didn’t mean to, but I want you, Sir.” She blinked up at him with hazy eyes, gasping when his hand swatted the other side of her ass.

“Didn’t even wait for the bruising to go all the way away before you got a hand on that pretty ass again. You’re filthy.” He clicked his tongue, holding on to the heated skin as he laid another kiss on her lips. “What’s your color, Puppy? Can I play with you in here?”

“Green, so green. I promise.” She swallowed, near close to begging. “I- I want to try this, anything you give me. I’ll be good, I’ll do ask you ask. I missed you, Sir.” Her insistence obviously did something to the man, his features softening slightly at her words.

“I missed you too, sweet thing. M’not gonna give you my cock today because m’gonna keep myself at the edge this whole week. We’re having plenty of fun this weekend… but since you’ve been such a good little plaything for me and listen so fucking well, m’gonna let you cum on my fingers. A little reward.” He pecked her sticky lips again, releasing her ass to slide his fingers towards the front. “Is that good enough for you, Pet?”

“Mhm, anything Sir, Anything- Oh.” She gasped as her panties were tugged roughly to the side, his digits sliding through her slit and making her breathing catch in her throat. The moment he got her hands on her she knew she was turned into mush, pathetic and wet, but Harry seemed to enjoy it.

“I know. You’ll take anything I give you, not like y’have much of a choice. I’m in charge of you and your greedy holes.” He whispered, thumbing over her clit. “Got so fucking wet in such a little amount of time. Or did you get worked up just by the sight of me?” He theorized correctly. “Remembered what we did the last time we were together, how good my cock fucked you out… Is that what happened?” His words were taunting, slightly condescending as she rolled her hips into his hand. He’d pushed her back against the wall, the cool brick making her shiver slightly- but nothing could compare to the heat he was making her feel.

“Mhm, I-I couldn’t help it.” She felt like her tongue was twisting as it usually did when she fell further into this headspace. “I always think about how good you make me feel, Sir. It’s so amazing.” Her voice slurred slightly as he pushed the first finger inside of her.

“I know, sweetheart. It is amazing, how your body turns you into the filthiest whore I’ve ever met the moment I walk into a room.” He sighed, slipping knuckle deep inside of her as she squirmed. “God, got such a greedy cunt too. Sucking my finger right in. Know it’s been hard for you to keep those dirty hands off, but your cunt belongs t’me now. M’so glad you’ve kept enough smarts even when you’re horny and gagging for it t’know that I’m the only one who gets to touch.” Harry loved knowing that, actually. She had given herself over to him and made it so he was the one in charge of her orgasms, he was the one who was going to make her feel good and no one else. Y/N had slipped into being a sub for him so easily he had to wonder how she hadn’t ventured into it earlier. She was a natural.

He watched her eyes flutter shut as he slipped his grip from her jaw down to her throat. He didn’t squeeze quite yet, instead holding her as a form of ownership. If only she knew she owned him just as much. “I’ve been thinking about it too, pretty pet. Been thinking about how much m’looking forward to taking you to the club this weekend and showing you off, how lucky I am to get t’train such a perfect little sub. You’ve been incredible, y’know that?” Slipping some praise in there had her cunt quivering around his finger, making his smirk grow.

“Oh, Puppy likes being called good. I knew that, but how are you going to feel with all those people watching you prove it? Gonna make them so jealous that you’re so good for me, that you take my cock so well.” Harry purred the words out, rubbing his cock up against her hip as he entered another finger into her sopping cunt. She was drippy and slick, just the way he liked it. It was a shame he was a glutton for his own punishment, but he knew that his orgasm this week was going to be fucking incredible.

“Sir…” Y/N didn’t even know what she wanted to say, her mouth opening and closing as he curled his fingers right into the spot she needed. It was almost embarrassing how quickly she was coming to an end but she had figured out that he liked that. Harry loved giving her pleasure and making her orgasm, so he was pleased.

“I know, my needy pup.” My, my, my. Y/N’s brain focused on that claiming title, making her whimper. “I know, you’re gonna cum all over my fingers like the perfect slut you are. M’obsessed with this cunt, you know that?” He laid on some more compliments. “Perfect for my cock, so snug and hot… gets sopping wet just for me. Love the messes you make. If we had more time I’d slip myself into you and use your cunt to make myself cum, let you walk out of here with my spunk dribbling down your leg. And you’d love it because you love everything I give you.” His fingers applied some pressure on the sides of her neck, giving that headrush she’d been craving ever since she got it last.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes- anything.” She babbled, eyes watering as his fingers nailed right into the spot and the heel of his palm smacked against her clit. It was only a moment later that the door opened and someone obviously on the phone came in, making her eyes widen. Harry instead, though, shook his head.

“Keep fucking quiet and cum.” He whispered into her ear. “Don’t want the nice woman to know you’re being finger fucked in this stall, do you?” He nuzzled his nose against her cheek. “C’mon, sweet pup. You can do it, be nice and quiet for me. If she listens close enough she’ll be able to hear how wet your cunt is around my fingers, we don’t want that do we?” His taunts were pushing her up and up…

Harry felt drunk in this moment, overly smug and in power. Y/N was loving every single bit of this as she clung to him, her arm over his shoulder keeping her from falling down on weak knees. He could see on her face how close she was, her eyes watering slightly as he kept the same pace up. It had been ages since he’d indulged in anything like this, let alone with someone so deliciously reactive to him, and he felt an addiction begin to grow as he felt her tighten around his fingers.

“There we go, you’re right there. Cum for me, baby.” He coaxed, groaning quietly against her skin as he felt her let go. The gush around his fingers, her body trembling as he moved to cover her mouth with his own and the nails digging into his shoulder as she squirmed in his hold.

The sink went on, the woman still on the phone as she washed her hands and the sound of the automatic paper towel dispenser rang throat the bathroom as he kept his grip on her throat, waiting patiently for the door to close before he released her. A shaky, loud inhale sounded in the echoing room, Harry pulling her into his body as his finger slowly pulled from her cunt.

“There she is… You did so fucking good, angel.” He whispered, rubbing the back of her neck as he let her recover. “You’re so amazing,y’know that? Kept so quiet for me. Bet that felt so good, didn’t it?” He pulled back to look at her face, cooing at the fucked out look on it. The pride he felt for being the one to put that look on her was filling his chest. It was an honor that she allowed him to do this sort of stuff to her, that she placed all her trust in him to make sure she was safe and felt good. It wasn’t something he took lightly despite the teasing he could give her while in it.

“So good.” She whispered, her head thudding against his chest. He let out a laugh as she lifted her other arm, wrapping it around his shoulders and leaned into him which he fully allowed. Hugging after such a filthy thing was something she would have prior assumed would be awkward, but it wasn’t in the slightest. She felt safe. Cared for. His hand running over her back as he held her, whispering praises. “That was amazing. I… I always wanted to do something like that.”

Harry remembered that. His lips pecked over her hair, letting her regain strength from her orgasm before moving to grab a bit of tissue. “I remembered. I told you I wanted t’give you all the things I could.” Gently he wiped her clean, apologizing when she winced in sensitivity. “M’sorry, sweetheart. Got to clean you up.” He had to make sure she was good. “M’gonna leave you in here while I wash my hands and I want you to use the bathroom, yeah? Need to be safe.” It was better for her to use it now that to wait.

“Kay.” She sighed, not thinking twice before leaning up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. When she pulled back she froze, blinking with wide eyes as she looked up at him. “Oh, shit. Is that okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it. I don’t know if you want to keep that just in scenes or if you wanted me to-”

Lips cut her off. A deeper kiss was pressed to her mouth, answering her question for her before he even pulled off. “Don’t overthink it. You can do that whenever you want.” He mumbled, wiping the corner of her lip for her.

While washing his hands Harry knew that he should have made a boundary there. They shouldn’t be kissing outside of scenes, they shouldn’t have this casual affection, but he would be damned if he ever rejected her in that way when he craved it just as bad. Perhaps allowing that sort of thing was setting themselves up for a world of hurt, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to care. Y/N wasn’t getting what she needed from the very man who pushed her into his arms to be an experiment for her. It wasn’t his fault that they had overwhelming chemistry.

He already had a hard time denying her. Y/N had quickly become his weakness, one he hadn’t expected. But when being with someone felt this good, it was hard to imagine it being anything but right.

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