#nothing fucking worse than the reminder that you cant lean on anyone

[fallish]

[parkersbliss]

Part of The Crows

pairing: the crows x reader (all platonic)

warnings: shadow & bone spoilers? cursing?

wc; 800 ish

synopsis: the life of a crow trying to kidnap the sun summoner is not easy

a/n; this was fun to write will probably do more if anyone likes it :D

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

first things first

how did you become a part of this?

well..

lets just say you were an assassin

like the best one in ketterdam

and assigned to kill mr. brekker himself

you have full confidence that you can

but when you sneak into his office

he’s just standing there, leaning on his cane

“whatever he’s paying you, I’ll double it.”

“what?”

“join my crew.”

“you do understand I’m here to kill you, right?”

kaz shrugs, sitting on his desk

“I’ll double it.”

you were never going to say no

no one says no to kaz brekker

“yes, okay.”

“good. first assignment, go kill your old boss.”

and now you’re kaz’s personal assassin

you met jesper the next day

the first thing you do is fawn over his gun tricks

and he is more than happy to show off

“someone here finally appreciates me.”

kaz rolled his eyes

“is he always like that?”

jesper shakes his head. “he’s worse.”

then, you met inej

and as soon as kaz lead you to meet her, it was awkward

not awkward for them

but for you as you stood there and watched them just look at each other

there was something there

you coughed

“right. this is inej.”

you two instantly became best friends

you loved going places with her

more specifically, missions

she did the spying, you did the killing

and of course, we come to the big reveal

“one million Kruge?”

“to cross the fold?”

“money isn’t anything if we’re dEAD”

kaz shuts both you & jesper up with one look

“I have a plan.”

“do you now? just a reminder cant exaclty just walk through it.”

sometimes kaz wishes you came with a “very sarcastic” warning

obviously you guys take the job

and spend the entire fucking night trying to find a way across the fold

that’s eight hours of sleep you wasted with kaz of all people

running around ketterdam

which turns from let’s find a way across the fold to heartrender

and then you find the heartrender

take her to dreesen

“criminals.”

you resist the urge not to laugh

was it THAT obvious?

“mr. brekker, no business man worth his salt hires his first applicant.”

*cue threat from kaz and jesper showing off his gun*

“you wouldn’t.”

“no business worth his salt would bargain for what he could take.”

you cross your arms, smirking

oh it felt good to be the ones in charge

“two weeks ago he crossed through the fold on foot.”

your eyes bug out of your head at that

and now you’re supposed to kidnap the sun summoner?

you, jesper & kaz share the same look of “utter bullshit”

“her name is alina starkov”

BANG

milana screams

no one else flinches

“you have until sunrise.”

oh great, another late night expedition

“he doesn’t have a way across the fold, you guys know that.”

you shrug, “it’s kaz.”

“just take the bet,” jesper whines

inej takes a shot

“he’s obsessed with taking down pekka rollins.”

“well of course he’s obsessed with taken down the guy who’s paid off stadwatch to get away with murder.”

“It’s more than that. I’ve seen the way kaz looks when he says his name. He wants revenge.”

you raise a brow at jesper, you thought kaz might’ve told her already

then inej is being summoned

“you want company?”

“No.”

“I meant to-,”

“Just shut up jesper,” you said, patting him on the back

then in strolls mr. brekker himself

you don’t comment on the bruise forming on his face

“you all right, boss?”

kaz takes a shot, one that was YOURS

but you don’t say anything

“no. we’ve been wanted off the job.”

“by who?”

“who do you think?”

“did he recognize you?”

“if he did, I’d be dead.”

kaz checks his watch, “five hours till sunrise.”

“we’re off the job tho, right?”

god, that boy is so stupid

“never make a decision out of fear jesper, only out of spite.”

“well, greed always worked for me.”

“I prefer for the fun of it. or you know, sweet revenge.”

“you just like showing off your skills.”

“so do you.”

silence then “both of you, leave.”

you roll your eyes, nudging jesper

“lets go before kaz has both our heads on spikes.”

anyway

you’re functioning on no sleep running around ketterdam

and then inej asks jesper to kill someone for him

and then kaz finds a lead

and now you’re playing distraction with jesper as charming as ever

you’re so lucky you found the conductor

only after inej almost killed him

I mean seriously

“Don’t,” Kaz said

and then there’s a knife like inches from your head

“I’ll need 20 pounds of alabaster coal, a pack of majdaloun jurda and uh… a goat”

you begged to go get the goat

I mean literally begged

“kaz, pLEASE PLEASE PLEASE”

“(Y/N)…”

“Kaz.”

“Mate just let her go get the goat.”

“fine-”

“YES”

“You’re with me.”

“Oh for fu-”

anyway you get the goat

kaz grips his cane and looks at you with raised eyebrows

you’re just like clutching this little goat

with all the love in the world in your eyes

and kaz cannot understand WHY

but that’s kaz

then of course you see the conductor making deals he shouldn’t

“kaz you have your scheming face.”

“I’m not-”

“I don’t like that face.”

“For the record, you don’t like any of my faces.”

“I dislike this one the most.”

if kaz could, he would punch you

“yOU GAMBLED?”

addiction is real

jesper is a perfect example of this

“ITS FINE”

“THERE ARE PEOPLE CHASING YOU”

“THATS NOTHING NEW”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP AND GET IN”

land mine go boom

“please tell me you have 20 pounds of coal?”

“so slight snag in the plan…”

“we know you gambled it,” kaz deadpanned.

“I lost a little bit of money”

kaz gives him the look

“I lost all of the money, BUT I managed to steal 20 pounds of alabaster coal”

“this is sixteen”

“SIXTEEN pounds of alabaster coal”

“can we do it in sixteen?”

“never been done before.”

cue the dirty looks from everyone at jesper

you sit across from inej next to kaz

and then the tracks aren’t connected

mass panic, mostly from jesper

arker explains that it’s all fine as long as the volcra don’t attack

spoiler alert, they do

and one gets stuck on a spike

it just goes downhill from there

the coal is gone

“tHiS iS hOw wE dIE”

“jesper, gRAB THE GOAT”

“I’m not throwing out the goat”

“GRAB THE DAMN GOAT ITS NOT BAIT ITS FOR YOU”

inej grabs her knife and starts praying

“HUG THE GOAT AND SHUT THE HELL UP”

and then arker casually says you’ll definitely die with the volcra weight

BUT JESPER SHOOTS THEM ALL

so now everything is fine

then a volcra rips open the top

and now arker is screaming

Inej is praying

jesper might as well be aLMOST crying

kaz looks unfazed

and you’re

well you

you’re screaming AT kaz

“kAZ BREKKER I WILL HAUNT YOU IN THE AFTER LIFE”

“THIS WAS THE STUPIDEST IDEA EVER”

“HOW ARE YOU SO CALM?? DO YOU REALIZE WE ARE GOING TO DIE”

you don’t die

jesper shoots it

you lived

for now

you get off the train

brush yourself off, pretend like nothing happened

kaz coughs looking at you

“my promise stands true, by the way”

“is that so?”

“I will haunt you if I die”

“I have no doubt”

“asshole”

[forever-rogue]

request: some christmassy idea where marcus moreno brings presents he bought for missy to the shop to get wrapped up bc he cant wrap for shit. And he wants to flirt with reader whos the one whos gonna wrap the presents but for the love of the above he cant. hes stuttering and hes flustered and its cute. And reader is like okay mister "i can use the force", heres my number, call me so we can shedule a date. And hes so shocked about it 😄😭😭😭 thank u patricia! 🌟

I see it's time to write for Mr. Moreno? Excellent 😌 Enjoy!

Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he reluctantly returned to the store, the bag of presents in his hand a sign of defeat. How hard it could possibly have been to wrap a few presents? Apparently too hard for someone like Marcus Moreno. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried, oh no, he’d spent several hours the previous evening after Missy had gone to bed attempting to wrap the clothes and other oddly shaped boxes perfectly. But instead of success, all he gained was frustration. 

Instead of another vain attempt at the wrapping, he gave up and threw everything back into the bag and made his mind that he would go back to the small department store and ask...beg if you required it, for you to wrap the gifts. 

He might have been able to save the world on several occasions, but apparently his talents ended at Christmas gift wrapping. Well, he huffed to himself as he pulled open the door, the soft twinkling of bells meeting his ears, everyone had a limit. His just happened to be a little more pathetic than others. 

Super Hero, he reminded himself with each step, he was a fudgin’ super hero for fuck’s sake. But alas, when it came to more domestic things, such as cooking, and wrapping apparently, he was far from super. He was working on it though - spending time each day to make sure he was learning - doing enough - to be the father Missy needed. For her, and himself. Things weren’t always easy, but they were always getting better. 

Although tired from a long day at the office, throwing swords around, as Missy had dubbed it, his face instantly lit up when he spied you behind the counter, an almost bored expression on your face. The last of the Christmas rush was almost over, which meant business had slowed down, which was both a blessing and a curse at the same time. Marcus would have been a liar if he said he didn’t have an ulterior motive for coming back; sure - he wanted the presents wrapped, but let’s be honest, the man was smitten with you. Any excuse to come back and chat with you, even if it was just five minutes was good enough for him. 

He’d known you, casually, for a few years now. You had been Missy’s teacher at school last year, and he knew that you worked the summers and holidays at your parent’s store to give them a hand with the rushes. Sometimes, being the sneaky Heroic he was, he’d made up excuses in the past to come into your classroom to spend a few minutes here and there talking to you. It was hard to believe that anyone could make him nervous, to make his heart flutter and beat like a nervous schoolboy, but there you were. Managing to do it every time. 

But he’d never act on it. No, no, no. That would be downright outrageous. After all, why on earth would you be interested in Marcus Moreno? He couldn’t even wrap a present.

Almost as if you sensed his presence, you looked up from the counter you were organized and offered him a dazzling smile, accompanied by a small wave. He was positive his heart stopped at the sight as he had to remind himself to breath. After a quick inhale and exhale, he marched over to you, ready to be firm, and hell, maybe today he’d finally ask if you wanted to get dinner sometime. Why not, after all? But then he took a good look at your eyes, those soft eyes and that gentle smile and he came undone.

“Hi Marcus,” you beamed at him as he did his best to give you a normal smile in response, “what a pleasure to see a friendly face. How are you?”

“Hi,” he managed to choke out as he calmed himself. How did you have this effect on him? He was a grown man, a man with plenty of experience in dating and love, and yet this one he couldn’t seem to nail down, “I’m fine  - you know what, why lie? I’m tired and I can’t wrap presents for shit. I hate to ask, but could you help me out? I’ve seen you do it for other people and I’m afraid if I try again, it’ll be worse than the first time. It’s been awful - oh my God, I’m so rude. I’m rambling - you look pretty - nice - how are you?”

“Marcus,” you giggled at him, watching as a nervous tinge of pink flushed his cheeks. You put your hand on his, effectively getting him to calm down and shut up, “slow down. It’s okay - I’ve got you covered. I assume work is busy?”

“That’s one way to put it,” he was instantly relieved as you took the presents from and grabbed some wrapping paper to display to him. He nodded at your choice and watching in awe as you made quick work of grabbing the first present and getting to work, “I was about ready to just leave him in the bag and give them to Missy like that.”

“Ahh, it’s not a big deal,” you shot him a quick wink, “it’s easy once you get the hang of it. But then again, I’ve been helping my parents with this stuff for years. Maybe sometime I’ll show you how.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he exhaled as he leaned against the counter and tried to pay it cool. His heart was thumping in his chest so rapidly, he was sure you were able to hear it as well. If you noticed anything out of place, you didn’t show it, “I’ll pay you - whatever you want.”

“Marcus,” you waved him off, “there’s no need. Besides, what are friends for?”

“Friends,” he almost choked on the word as he grinned at the delicate look of concentration on your face. Your brow was furrowed, your tongue peeking out from between your lips as you made sure to get all the measurements just right, “how’s everything been? It’s been a while…”

“I know,” you agreed as you started some ribbon to start curling it, “I miss you coming into my classroom all the time, I miss Missy - it’s not quite the same without the Morenos.”

How much could hint at it before he finally got the bait? You’d harbored a crush on the man for years now, even before you became Missy's teacher. He was a Heroic after all - handsome, funny, smart, and kind. Who wouldn't fall in love with him? You'd hinted at your feelings a number of times and you thought he reciprocated a few times, but you could never be quite sure. And neither of you ever seemed to make a move. You'd come close a few times, but somehow just hadn't...quite gotten there.

“I miss it too,” he agreed quietly, turning his attention to his hands, “Missy doesn’t like her teacher as much this year.”

“That’s because I’m pretty cool,” you teased gently, “you look nice too, by the way. The all black thing - pretty sexy.”

Marcus was sure his heart stopped at your words; you couldn’t seriously have said what he thought you said. Right? Right. He looked at you with wide eyes as you refused to look up from what you were doing in case you had completely overstepped any remaining boundaries. 

“I, umm…” he paused for a moment, chuckling at his own nerves as he moved to stand in front of you, “I’m shit at this. But I, umm...I like you.”

“Marcus,” you stopped what you were doing and set the scissors down to meet his soft brown eyes. He had a small smile on his face, nervous as he watched your expression to try and get a read on the situation. Honestly? He’d rather have taken down another horde of aliens than wait for your response, “it’s about time you said something. I was beginning to think you never would.”

“Oh,” he let a nervous chuckle as your words set in, “oh. Oh?”

“I like you too, Marcus,” you admitted as a warmth flushed over you, “I just...I didn’t know how to say it. I was…”

“Nervous,” you both blurted out at the same time as you both laughed. At least you were on the same page. 

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he confessed as you nodded in understanding, “I feel like an old fool more than anything...but I’d like to take you out. On a date. A real date. Like you know not just...this, and I’m sorry if this is awkward. Missy’s been telling me to ask you forever and I just feel like -”

“Marcus,” you grinned at him as you reached up and held up a finger to his lips, “you’re rambling again, silly. I’d love to. I’d love to go out with you.”

“Seriously?” his eyebrows raised in surprise as you just nodded. Needless to say, he was not expecting this - any of it. 

“Seriously,” you confirmed, “come on, Mr. Force Hands, give me your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

“Okay,” he looked at you with nothing but soft hope in his eyes as he fished out his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. You let your hand brush over his as you took it and quickly saved your number for him, “I...yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” you agreed, “but don’t actually forget to text me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathed out easily, “besides, I owe Missy twenty bucks now and she’ll never forget it. We made a bet - she said I’ve never get the nerve to ask.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” you grinned at him, “now come on. Come around the counter and I’ll show you how to wrap properly.”

Marcus shuffled around the counter and you pointed to the spot you had previously occupied. Moving behind him, you paused for a moment before reaching around him to put your hands over his and help guide him. He swallowed thickly at your tender touch, trying to keep himself composed. 

“Now,” you said softly, “do it like this.”

It was definitely not what Marcus had expected to come out of this evening - but he was so glad it did. Finally. 

Maybe not being able to wrap presents wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[mightymorphingayagenda]

cant wait for lethal combination chapter 5! and loved the holiday nessian fic you wrote!

then you shan’t have to wait! and thank you so much, nonnie. the fic they’re talking about and all previous chapters of lethal combo can be found here,  x

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” 

Nesta kept her gaze on the wall of oak opposite her.  

“Is this the part where I tell you to get on your knees for me?” She asked.  

Humourless. 

And she could practically feel the feral rage radiating from him. Bleeding through the grate to her left like he were trying to smoke her out.  

“This is the part where you-“ 

“Shhh.” 

A lean shadow, a head of auburn hair, muted in the darkness like the decayed verdure of autumn, barely distinguishable through the latticed window no bigger than her hand.  

She’d made Eris wait almost a day.  

In Nesta’s experience teenage girls understood psychological warfare better than any CIA types she’d met. And rule one in the handbook was never call him back right away.  

Eris might as well have been a cute boy from home room, the advice stood fast.  

She’d also chosen the time and place for their meeting, giving no concessions in authority. Picking the church as unlike her he’d inherited both the egregious wealth of his family and their faith. Irish Catholic. Meaning he’d find himself here every Sunday evening regardless, and providing not only the guise of normality, but the cosy anonymity of a confessional.  

The only people who did secrecy better than assassins, were the Catholics.  

It was perfect really, the perfect plan. Undistracted Nesta had been able to work it out pretty quickly after Cassian had left. Leaving her all those hours between four in the morning and her meeting the following evening with nothing to do but hate him.  

Avoiding returning to the bed he’d screwed her in. Glaring at his jacket which still hung beside her front door over a bottle of vodka.  

It was a blow to her pride to be sure. The closest thing to rejection she’d ever received from a man. Whatsmore, some gooey part of her she’d pushed down had been upset.  

Too worked up to sleep she’d spent hours tucked into her armchair and entertaining plucking his teeth from his mouth like the petals of a rose. He loves me, he loves me not. Because worse than revealing himself to be a complete ass as most men did, Cassian had done so subsequent to fucking her better than she could have dreamed. And she’d had that dream. Multiple times.  

Wet dreams that couldn’t hold a candle to the way he’d had her dripping down to her knees, begging for his cock, trembling on legs he’d thrown over his shoulder to lick out her cunt like it was the reason he got out of bed in the morning. The man had spoilt her rotten.  

Nesta knew she probably shouldn’t have been thinking about sex in a church. Her mother was likely burning with a fury hotter than the flames that surrounded her down below, but she couldn’t help it. Because while she hated the sinner- ever bronze buffed, tattooed inch of him - god did she love the sin.  

“The adult is going to talk,” she said quietly. “If you want to throw a tantrum you can do it on your own time because as of this moment, I’m officially off the clock.”  

Eris’ silence said he knew better than to interrupt her. Perhaps he was smarter than she was about to give him credit for.  

“In fact I stopped working for you as of the moment you chose to question my methods and profess concerns that I may have jeopardised our venture because I lack the professionalism to keep my legs shut,” she said.  

“So if you want Helion Day neutralised, you’re going to have to find someone else to do the job. Though I seriously doubt you’ll be able to.” 

Cue phase two of the plan.  

Because she may have hated Cassian, but she wanted the monopoly on causing him emotional anguish.  

Like hell some other pro was going to put a bullet between Helion’s eyes and devastate his bodyguard. Making that man cry was Nesta’s prerogative. 

“I have made it clear to anyone in my field you might attempt to solicit that you are a impertinent, trust fund brat, who insists on micromanaging the work of other’s despite your incompetence in an attempt to feel important beyond the breeding mummy lied and told you made you special.” 

“I wasn’t aware you also specialised in character assassination.” 

Eris’ voice was charred with a sweetness like wealth; earthy and rich it reminded Nesta of muscovado sugar.  

He was right. She was being unprofessional. But she was tired and hungover and out of a gorgeous lay so fuck him.  

“My specialities are no longer any of your business, Mr Vanserra,” she replied. “My displeasure however, should be of great concern to you.”  

“Is that a threat?” 

“I wouldn’t do you the courtesy of warning you if I intended to kill you.” 

Eris said nothing.  

“You can consider it incentive if it helps you sleep at night though,” Nesta continued.  “To do as you’re told.” 

She gave him strict instructions.  Wait five minutes then leave. Never contact me.  Forget we were ever in correspondence in the first place.   

“Murder is cheap, Mr Vanserra. You don’t want to learn the cost of disobeying me. It’s not the kind of thing daddy’s wallet can cover.” 

She emerged from the confessional, slim shades obscuring her eyes and the deep bruises beneath. Her heels clipping against the stone floor as she made her way toward the station of votive candles at the back of the church.  

Each glowing stick a prayer for a lost loved one. Matches and and a few unlit offerings still available.  

She lit herself a cigarette on a flame.  

And Nesta couldn’t have missed the fresco above those colossal doors of oak and rustic gold flake even through the plumes of smoke that curled upwards as she stalked lazily down the isle:  a depiction of the Heavenly Father himself.  

She didn’t bother flicking a glance behind her to the confessional.  

Who’s your daddy, now?  

- 

She’d collapsed face down into already rumpled sheets.  

They’d smelled like sex and heaven and she’d smelt like cigarettes and a church and that was all she knew before the exhaustion caught up with her, the world went black, and she was waking up in exactly the same position . Vex’s fluffy tail swishing against her ear. The tickling sensation plucking her from the bliss of pure nothingness.  

Nesta groaned a little as she rolled over and pulled herself to sit up. Pleased to find she’d had the energy to take off her clothes. Unlike her makeup.  

“Damn it,”  she hissed as she saw the smudged mascara on the pillow.  

Not that the sheets didn’t need washing anyway… 

“Ugh,” she huffed, dropping flat onto her back again.  

She’d been awake less then seven seconds and a man had already ruined her day. Just thinking about him…  

“Ugh,” she said again, louder.  Like she was angry with the ceiling for not acknowledging her the first time. 

Vex meowed, his little head nudging at her bare arm. As though he were trying to coax her bra strap back up to a respectable position on her shoulder.  

“Hi, baby,” she grumbled, picking him up for a cuddle. “You hungry?” 

He meowed again.  

Padding down to the kitchen she’d made them both breakfast (technically lunch, she’d slept in till almost one) and carrying her plate of fruit back upstairs to draw a bubble bath he winded between her ankles, catching her attention as he hissed at something in the living room.  

“What?” she inquired, looking down at him before tilting her head to follow his own.  

Cassian’s jacket.  

Uhg.  

Now she was thinking about him again.  

Childish, dumb, insecure little prick. How he’d had the fucking nerve to call her a coward was truly a mystery.  

He was so crippled by that fear of not being good enough he’d immediately presumed she wanted rid of him. Lashing out defensively- God he was infuriating.  

She looked back to Vex who was now staring up at her. “If that thing somehow ends up on the floor,” she said, “you have permission to piss on it”. 

He purred.  

Vex truly was the only boy worth his salt. Something he proved yet again in hopping atop her bathroom counter and guarding her like a fluffy little gargoyle as she sank into the bath.  Opening m the window to let out the smoke of her cigarette so as not to bother him.  The sound of rain slipping something comforting through the January chill, twirls of smoke and steam visible in fatigued plumes.  

Another lethal habit she’d picked up from Aunt Ripleigh.  

The thought gave her an unpleasant feeling in her heart. Like a worm writhing in the rotted meat of an apple.  

Ripleigh wasn’t actually her aunt. But Nesta avoided her much like she did the rest of her family and that was what really counted. Besides, spilling blood together arguably made for a closer bond than just sharing it.  

Like Nesta said, not really her aunt.  

Aunt Ripleigh – initials AR, an homage to the assassin’s preferred weapon the AR-47, American hybrid of the Russian Автома́т Кала́шников, A.K.A the AK-47.  

Some mothers left their little girls pearls, or scrapbooks packed with baby pictures and the lingering scent of their perfume. Angelina Archeron had left her’s a Mafia assassin’s cell number.  

Of course Nesta hadn’t known that.  

Not until she’d found herself with her hands caked in something dark and sticky, her boyfriend’s skin stuffed beneath the lip of her nails and a taste in her mouth like hot rust.  

She’d been seventeen the first time she’d killed a man.  

Not a man. A boy.  

A few months her senior, Thomas been a child just like her.  

Her first crush. Her first boyfriend, her first love, and her first.  

Nesta had known Thomas was using her for sex.  Just as she’d been using him for his money, and wasn’t that what love was? Finding the gratification of your needs in someone else? In Thomas’s case he’d needed to get his dick wet.  In Nesta’s…it was more than embarrassing but half the time all she’d needed was a hot meal.  

She couldn’t count the number of times she’d called him in the dead of the night to hook up in his Porsche so she could sleep there instead of at home, where the windows screamed freezing air from their shattered mouths and the electricity bill was rarely paid.  

But one night Nesta hadn’t felt like earning his kindness. And so he hadn’t offered it. 

Instead he’d held her wrists, ripped at her shirt, forced his hands into her jeans. Pushed up against the bonnet of that Porsche by a lake in woods she’d torn through his face, her nails splitting through the waterline beneath his eyes as she’d kicked and screamed, blood pouring, his hand on her neck, throwing her head against the wing mirror. Heat spilling heavy down her jaw and neck from somewhere which had smelt like lose change.  

She remembers blood in her eyes and the taste of soft, smooth skin and a kind of rubbery strength between her teeth as she’d bit down hard until something had popped or burst or split with a squirt or a tear. She remembers spitting out whatever of Thomas’s ear she’d torn off between her teeth and something swinging into her lower ribs so hard one broke. She remembers the sounds that had been both of them and then at some point just her. 

Her screaming.  

Her sticky, disgusting face, stinging with every horribly wet sob and shriek. The shrieks that hadn’t choked to shaky breaths until she’d pulled herself to sit back against the wheel of the car. Clutching at her ribs which had only hurt so much worse when she’d thrown up right next to her boyfriend’s body.  What looked like a pint of blood glowing in the dust. His face…his head.  

It’d looked like a Halloween prop. Like dark jam. Like a brutalised seventeen year old dead in the dirt.  

And sometime after noticing one of his teeth in the dust, Nesta had realised how fucked she was.  

It wasn’t much of an achievement when you considered Grafton, Vermont had a population short of seven-hundred: but the Mandrays had been quite possibly the most well connected and well off people in its less than seven-hundred square miles.  And despite keeping Nesta’s name out of their sneering mouths through referring to her almost exclusively as “that white-trash bitch”, that population short of seven hundred didn’t give a shit about her.  

Didn’t give a shit she’d been top of her class with a place at Georgetown. Because Nesta could never have afforded to accept it.   

And it certainly didn’t matter she was a pageant queen when everyone knew the petty cash prizes were the only thing that paid the rent on their shitty one bedroom. Especially with things barely breaking even.  In spite of Feyre’s making use of their father’s rifle and sourcing for the butcher any chance she could.  

A too skinny child in the woods with a gun and blood in her braids.  

Nesta’s efforts to keep food on the table had always seemed to pale in comparison to that. But she’d never felt bad about it. Wouldn’t bother hating herself when everybody else was already doing that for her.  

Nesta Archeron was the cheap fuck that nice Mandray boy was messing around with. The gold digger with the dead commie mom and daddy issues. 

No one would have ever believed he’d tried to rape her.  

And she’d had no money for a decent lawyer- she hadn’t even had anyone to call. Not her dad, not a fourteen-year old Feyre nor Elain, sixteen and the last person she’d ever want wrapped up in something like this.  

Nesta had been desperate and vulnerable and jaded for as long as she could remember but she’d never felt as terrified and broken as she had in that moment. Crying alone and hugging herself tightly, she’d just wanted her mom. As cold and neglectful and dead as the woman was.  

“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” 

 Her mother’s last words.  

 Ten numbers.  

 Nesta had somehow gotten to her feet, only realising Thomas had broken a few of her fingers when she’d tried opening the car door.  All but collapsing inside once she’d managed as she’d fumbled for her phone.  

 “три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” she’d repeated to herself, voice hoarse and wet and cracking as she’d dialled.  

 Ten numbers. Ten numbers. Ten numbers.  

 Like a phone number.  

 No doubt concussed Nesta had deemed it logical enough.  Her mother’s dying breath a kind of atonement for leaving her children with nothing in the whole word but a father that could watch his girls starve and go into the woods with his hunting rifle and whore themselves out like they meant nothing.  

 A life-line in the deep waters opaque with clouds of blood.  

 “Здравствуйте.” 

Those three syllables had been like a punch to the gut.  

Nesta had made a noise that might have sounded like “mom?” or the creaking of a damn as it ached under duress. She’d obviously known it wasn’t her mother, but she hadn’t heard a woman speak Russia since- hadn’t heard Russian at all in years.  

“Who is this?”  

Trying to pull herself together Nesta had taken a breath that had rattled, dripping wet and slightly wheezing. Everything was going to be okay. She’d been right. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Of all the phone numbers in the world what was the likelihood that the voice on the end of this one spoke her mother’s native tongue?   

“I’m- I’m Angelina Archeron daughter. She gave me this number I don’t know what to do I-” 

The specifics aren’t as clear after that. Like a jigsaw left out in the rain or soaked in fresh hot blood, the pieces, the details, they’d melted to mush.  

 A mess she’d held in her hands and wondered what the fuck to do with.  

What do you do with a dead body and the knew found knowledge your mother was a boyevik for the Russian Mafia? What do you do with her retirement package which contained nothing but the contact for an assassin working for the New York arm.  

Nesta had only known what she wasn’t going to do.  

Go down for murder.  

Aunt Ripleigh had told her what to do over the phone, instructing her on how to deal with her injuries and Thomas’ pulp of a body.  How to explain the state of her face and ribs and fingers and head. What to do with his car and how to speak and sit and and react when then police came asking questions about Thomas’ disappearance. How to get away with it.  

 Nesta had followed each direction flawlessly.  Consoled in finally having a definitive plan. Even a plan that started with “buy meat cleaver, trash bag, battery powered blender and bucket, with cash from dead boyfriend’s wallet.” Even a plan that got progressively worse from that point on.  

 Filleting chunks of a body that had once been inside her. Hauling a trash bag of boyfriend smoothie to the river with broken fingers.  The thick slop sinking almost immediately just as Aunt Ripleigh had said it would. Before she’d told Nesta to burn the bones and roast marshmallows over them.  

 “If it had not been you it would have been next girl,” Ripleigh had said. “And she might not have had your fight.”  

 “You mean she might not have been disturbed enough to kill her boyfriend?” 

 “Killer instincts, Anastasia. Is not disturbed, is talent,” Aunt Ripleigh had said. “Cannot be taught but what can be taught you learn quick. No whining. Like very good puppy with very sharp teeth.” 

 “Woof,” Nesta had said dryly. 

 “Stray puppy though, no? Is why you have no manners.”

 “You offering to adopt me?” 

 “I have pet already. And my husband is funnier than you.” 

Nesta’s compromised rib had punished her for finding that funny.  

 “But you ever want job, you call me.” 

 Needless to say that was not the last time she’d called Aunt Ripleigh.  

 Three weeks later and four months shy of getting her high school diploma Nesta had turned eighteen and moved to New York in order to “pursue modelling”.  

In reality she was doing coffee runs with a dash more arsenic than normal and luring prosecutors to hotel rooms they’d never leave. A personal assistant of sorts to Aunt Ripleigh.  

She had kept the mafia, the Bratva, at an arms length whenever she’d been able. Paying off the shitty house she’d left her sisters in with one less mouth to feed and not wanting their address in any files accessible to people with skill sets like her’s.  

And while working with Ripleigh had been a mortiferous riot, two gals shattering the glass ceiling in their industry and slitting throats with the shards; Nesta had developed expensive taste from the fringes of high criminal society. She’d cared less about the art of killing than she had about the art she could hang up in a penthouse apartment if she were in private practice.  Her lust for comfort winning out after two years or so at which point she’d gone freelance. Assisting in a few heists before getting in with a crowd of Nazi hunters for a bit, all the while keeping in touch with her mentor.  

Until Feyre had moved to the city.  

 Then she’d given up on the more dangerous antics,  selling out for safer and even more lucrative bets like CEOs and cutting ties with Aunt Ripleigh. Terrified if not a little paranoid of something happening to her sister. Which had been shit.  Because Nesta hadn’t had any other friends. Like, at all.  

 At eighteen Feyre was still as bitter and proud as she’d been when Nesta had left. As Nesta herself still was.  

 Elain had tried bridging her sisters’ relationship once she’d moved to New York but she’d had better success career-wise. Working at a florists before eventually graduating to a self employed wedding planner. 

 Nesta had kept her thoughts on the psychological tells of a girl jilted at the alter becoming a wedding planner to herself. Mostly because Elain was always brining her cake samples she’d stolen and Nesta wasn’t going to sabotage her supply of free cake.  

 Feyre on the other hand had gone about far less conventional means of making a living. The child was a force to be reckoned with if for nothing but her resourcefulness and almost objectionable will to survive. Fiercely independent and clumsily capable she’d taken a crack at everything while selling her art on the side. It was a piece she’d modelled for that had delivered her to true economic grandeur however.  

 Well, “modelled” maybe wasn’t the word. Her sister had essentially been used as a human stamp. Her naked body detailed with intricately painted swirls then pressed to canvas.  

 The work had been showcased somewhere high brow and had caught the eye of one Mr Rhysand Velaris, thirty-one and the sole inheritor of his late father’s worldly possessions. Among which were several millions of dollars.  

 Half of which now belonged to her sister thanks to a very reckless prenup on his part.  

 Though Nesta had briefly wondered if he’d spent at least that on the engagement ring.  A glittering iceberg that seemed to only glare brighter next to the stark black band tattooed just beneath it, a matching tattoo on Rhysand’s own ring finger. Because of course they’d eloped in Paris and gotten tattoos instead of wedding rings. 

 If Nesta had been closer to her baby sister she imagined she might have felt betrayed on some level. But as things were, Nesta wasn’t entirely sure she would have received an invite even if they’d had a traditional wedding, planned to perfection by Elain. 

 It was probably the worst part of her job. The distance she had to put between herself and everyone she had the potential to care about. A distance she could never close even if she decided to retire right this minute because the damage had already been done.  Nesta had become a liability to their safety the minute she’d moved here and started in this line of work.  

 She took another chocolate from the box she’d snatched from downstairs on second thought. Her supply already dwindling thanks to the rather depression freight train of thought she’d embarked on.   

That and the fact they were really very good.  

Cassian may have been a prick, but she couldn’t deny he had great taste.  

In chocolate, and women, she thought smugly.  Sinking deeper into the basin.  

A heat flushed up her neck that had nothing to do with the bath as she unwillingly remembered how he’d softly coaxed one of these lovely little parcels between her full lips. The drunk hunger in his deep brown eyes and what he’d done next, snapping her lace thong between his teeth-  

Her music stopped. Only to be replaced by a buzzing thrum of her phone.  

Leaning forward Nesta checked the caller ID before swiping across the screen to accept the call and sinking back to her earlier position.  

“I’m not in the mood,” she hummed dismissively, head tipped back against the lip of the tub and eyes closing. She’d known this was coming, better to get it over with.  

“When I supply you with handsome, rich, and eligible men, I do not expect you to break them!” Feyre castigated through the phone, and anyone might guess she were the elder sibling.   

Feyre indeed thought herself wiser and more worldly than both Nesta and Elain, and getting married hadn’t helped diminish her false sense of maturity. Thrusting her character into some weird sarcastic seriousness that mirrored her husband’s demeanour perfectly. It made Nesta cringe so thoroughly she was mildly concerned about getting wrinkles.   

“And I thought we’d grown out of sharing toys, but it seems both our expectations were thwarted.” 

“Humans aren’t toys!” Feyre reminded her. Not that Nesta didn’t already know that. No vibrator had never made her cum as hard as Cassian had.  

“And if you resented me setting you up with Cassian then why did you fuck him ?” Feyre asked. And she said fuck as though it were synonymous to stab or poison.  

“Was it to punish me? Because if so you did a spectacular job. He’s crazier about you than ever and won’t stop moping. The second-hand embarrassment is painful enough without the added agony of how annoying it is.”  

If he likes me so much why was he so eager to assume the worst of me? Nesta thought spitefully. 

It didn’t matter that she technically was lying to him. He didn’t know that.  

“You told me to give him a chance.”  

“And you couldn’t have decided you didn’t like him before having sex with him?” 

Nesta wasn’t surprised Feyre had taken Cassian’s version of things at face value.   

Her husband’s family were unimpeachably wonderful in her eyes. Meanwhile Nesta remained just another reminder of a time Feyre couldn’t have afforded the plane ticket to get to New York, let alone a town house on the upper east side. A cold bitch who hadn’t begged to join the weird cult that was the Velaris family and their innermost circle when Feyre had married Rhysand last year.  

“Oh I’d already worked out he was an ass by that point but I thought he could at least make up for putting me through the date. Not much going on in that head but he quite clearly had it all going on- 

“Ew ew ew!” Feyre interrupted. “One, I need this conversation to steer clear of anything anatomical, and two, do you have to be so horrible?” 

“You’re the one pimping out your friends, I just took you up on the offer.”  

“Ever heard of the third date rule?” 

“Didn’t you marry Rhysand on the third date?” 

Feyre sighed.  

“Cassian’s a good guy, Nes. It takes a lot to come out the other side of what he’s been through a good man and he deserves the world so-” 

“So why did you send him my way?” 

Nesta knew what Feyre thought of her. And if she hadn’t then this conversation would have made it very clear.  

“Because Nesta! You’re twenty-four and already a crazy cat lady! I’m sorry I tried to save you from dying alone and having Vex eat your corpse.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes.  

“Have you ever considered I choose to be alone because I like it?” She asked. 

Feyre sighed again, but it was softer this time, sad more than exasperated.  

“You’re not alone, Nesta,” she said. “You’re lonely.” 

It was annoying enough that she was right, she didn’t have to be so pretentious about it aswell.  

“I’m fine,” Nesta said.  

“You sound just like Cassian,” Feyre grumbled.  

“Well I’ve been smoking.” 

“I’ll be sure to put how funny you were on your headstone when those things kill you.” 

“I’m racing Rhysand to the grave, he has more cigars than I do shoes.” 

“He only smokes them on special occasions.” 

“And how do you know this isn’t a celebratory cigarette on account of you calling me?” 

“Because instead of saying hi you said I’m not in the mood.” 

“Oh so you did hear me?” 

“I hear you, Nesta,” Feyre conceded, disappointment weighing on her words. “Loud and clear. Have a good week.”  

She hung up.  

“You too,” Nesta said into the silence.  

When the silence replied she sank beneath the water. As though she hoped it might act as the cushioned walls of a padded cell meant to protect those who posed a danger to themselves.  

It didn’t. And that unpleasant ache didn’t go away. It never did.  

Worse than the dull pounding in her ears and tightness in her chest as she held her breath.  

But it would be nothing compared to the devastation of seeing Feyre or Elain hurt. The tender ache of keeping them at arms length, knowing they were at least there to brush her fingers against, was worth avoiding spending the rest of her life reaching for someone taken from her.  

Perhaps that was also why she’d wanted so fiercely to dislike Cassian.  

Nesta re-emerged with a gasp, her chest on fire.  

What an unpleasant notion, she thought, running her fingers through her wet hair and  sinking back as she took a slower breath. That she’d been looking for a reason to dislike him even after overcoming the minor detail she was going to kill his friend and client.  An excuse to throw in the towel as soon as she could.  Because it was just easier.  

Easier than accepting she was fundamentally terrified of keeping him around.  

Easier than keeping him around and seeing him get hurt.  

Fuck.  

Her being mad at him had been a cop out.  

Because yes he’d been a petty, insecure idiot;  but hadn’t she told him she was going to fuck and chuck him? Hadn’t she been at typically fast to get in a fight with him? Substantiating his insecurities.  

Nesta might have been furious at his calling her a coward, but he hadn’t actually been wrong. 

She’d let some subliminal fear convince her to sabotage things.  

A subliminal and blissfully irrational fear she realised because, Cassian, a monument of pure muscle, could definitely look after himself. He’d been marine corps for Christ’s sake. Not to mention she’d seen him take down Helion enough times in the ring while still working for Eris and the fact the man literally specialised in keeping people safe for a living! 

Nesta felt a weird and almost unfamiliar lightness in her shoulders. It felt a little like hope. Which was also terrifying.  

But she wasn’t going to the let the fear control her this time.  

 — 

 Cassian had ignored her calls.  

All three.  

Which was fine because she’d been stalking him for the past month. She knew exactly where he’d be that evening and doing things in person meant she could kill him if he kept up the asshole routine.  

Nesta’s platform stiletto boots clipped against the laminate flooring as she emerged from the elevator.  Stalking lazily through the top floor of the Illyria building.   

Even if she killed Cassian he was going to die happy.  She looked good enough to eat. Thick hair fastened back into a high ponytail, the details of her face were subject to full attention. Her eyes appearing almost wider and lashes lavished with a black like her jet thigh-highs and tied coat. Plump lips softly lined and shaded, she looked drop dead fucking gorgeous.  

Though it was what she was wearing under her fastened coat that was the real killer.  

Nesta didn’t uncross her ankles from where they’d flicked over one another as she let herself lean against the doorframe of Cassian’s office.  

It was wide open. No privacy needed when everyone else had gone home around four hours ago. The night detail on Helion allowing Cassian time to catch up on work as he had every night and well into the morning for the past month.   

“All work and no play?”  

Cassian looked up from his desk.  

“I can fix that,” she said.  

He’d never looked more handsome.  

Hair bundled into a dark band, his shirt cuffed at his forearms and a bit of scruff marring his chiselled jaw. A pair of slim reading glasses were pushed up his slightly imperfect nose and it was such a turn on Nesta was glad she was leaning against something.  

He looked a little exhausted in a kind of brooding and adorable way.  

It gave her this awful pining to massage those sculpted shoulders as he let loose a deep, tired sigh, arms folding across that powerful chest causing his white shirt to hiss as he leaned back into his chair. It was a fucking massive bit of furniture. But then it had to be to accommodate him.  

“What are you doing here?”  

Rude.  

Nesta pushed off the doorframe and into his office.  

“You ignored my calls,” she said by way of explanation. Making her way to the bookcase and running her fingers across a row of spines. It was mostly files, but she noticed a few novels as well.  

“You kicked me out of your bed at three in the morning.” 

She turned to find him watching her.  

His words were dismissive and effortlessly confrontational as usual. But there was an edge to his voice. And it wasn’t arousal. Even if his gaze caught on her boots and lingering there for longer than he’d probably care to admit.  

Nesta leaned back against the bookshelf, inspecting her manicure with an eye roll.  

“You’re still upset about that?”  

“Not at all,” he said with a smirk. Reclining back against the chair a little further, hips rolling and arms casually folding. Too casually. The dangerous grace of it speaking to the emotion that no doubt roiled beneath his bronze skin. Belied by that bullshit cockiness which grated her to the bone. “It seems I dodged a bullet.” 

“Oh really?” 

“The whole hot but mean cliché is one thing, but crazy hookup who stalks me-“ 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered.   

She’d seen hints of this before. The rugged and crude act meant to cover up the insecurity she’d also been treated to.  

“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot you can’t ever admit what it is you want.” 

“You don’t have a clue what I want.” 

“I have several, Nesta.” He looked her up and down pointedly. 

The way he said her name. Even like this it made her weak in the knees while her fingers itched to choke him.  

It was all very conflicting.  

“Oddly confident in your last performance for someone so insecure,” she quipped lazily.  

Cassian rose his brows with a mean a laugh.   

“What do I have to be insecure about?” He said. “I didn’t hide behind a half-ass lie to throw someone out of my bed. And I’m pretty sure even your neighbours can attest to how good of a time I gave you,” he smirked again.  “You’re not a good enough liar for the way you moaned my name to have been an act.” 

The white hot fist in her stomach folded in on itself as it melted to a stickiness despite the misguided insult. She certainly hadn’t been putting it on Saturday. Every sound he’d drawn from her dripping with sincerity. Every moan and whimper well deserved.   

“You’re right,” she said.  

Cassian blinked.  

Nesta prowled toward him and hummed, “those, four, orgasms, were about as fake as my emergency.” 

The sultry softness to her voice thickened to something less affected at those last words.  

Cassian scoffed. Though there was something withdrawn and careful to him that hadn’t been there a second ago. Like a snake recoiling in case it needed to strike.  “Your emergency, of course. Which was?” 

“Nothing to do with you.”  

He shook his head, laughing bitterly.   

“Seriously, Nesta? You’ve had two days to come up with something now.”  

“You’re not listening to me,” Nesta slipped atop the corner of the desk, perching there with her long legs crossed over one another. The blade of a stiletto heel close enough to brush up his calf if she wanted to make him shiver.  

But she didn’t. She just wanted him to listen. To understand what she was saying so she didn’t have to say anything more because for fucks sake he was the one who’d acted up and yet she was here putting her pride on the line again.  

“It had nothing, to do with you,” she said slowly.  

A weighted silence settled like snow between them.   

Until Cassian took a blow torch to it.  

“Shit.” 

His head fell into those large hands.   

“Shiiiiiiiit,” he cursed again. “Oh god, how badly have I fucked up?” He groaned, looking up.  So humbled and distraught it was almost comical.  

“Irredeemably.” Her eyes flirted with the notion of a little smile even if her mouth remained unquirked as she propped her hands against the desk behind her and leaned into them to more comfortably watch him suffer.  

“I’d beg you not to tease me but honestly I think it’s the least I deserve- fuck.” 

“Like me teasing you isn’t the highlight of your day.” She rolled her eyes.  

Cassian laughed, pained and almost sheepish, which shouldn’t have been hot but god it made her blush.  

Keep your cool goddamn it. She wanted a little more bang for her buck where grovelling was concerned before she let on how eager she was for things to get back on track.  

“Want to flat out abuse me and make it the highlight of my year?” 

She was struggling to keep the smile off her face even as she said, “I’m not in the habit of rewarding bad behaviour. You’re a man, you get enough of that already.” 

“Nesta,” he took his glasses off, setting them down on the desk beside her thigh. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I’m, really, really fucking sorry I’m an idiot.” 

Nesta slid of the desk.  

“Go on,” she instructed.  

“A moron a fool a stupid, stupid son of a bitch.” 

Taking a step forward she was stood between his thighs. Picking up his glasses and pushing them back on his nose. Missing the sight of this hulking, powerhouse of a man in spectacles.  

“I’m sorry.” Cassian was looking up at her with those big brown eyes, and the bastard actually leaned into her palm.  

“Oh for fucks sake how did anyone discipline you as a child with those damn puppy-dog eyes?” She growled softly, furious.  

“They didn’t to be honest,” he admitted with a breathy laugh.  

“I can tell.” 

She slid her hands to his shoulders, fingers curling soft and possessive over the stacked muscle and palms pressed to his upper chest, stepping tighter into him.  

“I guess I’ll just have to do it.”  

Cassian swallowed.  

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he tried. Intoxicatingly deep, trying to maintain that arrogant and playful edge in a way that made his words all the hotter. The simmering ache he attempted to push down all but throbbing in his voice.   

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she returned, brows arched. Battling a smirk off her face.  

“Can I ask you to do something for me, then?” 

“If you say please.” 

“Please don’t screw around with me.” 

Nesta faltered.  

Those warm hands came to rest on her lower back, long fingers curling slightly into the fabric and coaxing her that last bit closer so that her thighs brushed against the edge of his chair and her stomach was brushing up against his.  

“I’m really into you,” he admitted.  “You’re smart and you’re beautiful, and at first I thought the whole hard to get thing was an act but woman you are genuinely hard to get and it is, so sexy. But whatever it is that’s holding you back, that made you wait a week to call me, that made you claim all you wanted was a hook up; I’m clearly not cut out to compete,” he confessed. “It got in my head, and that’s on me and me lashing out at you the other night that’s on me too and I’m so, so sorry Nesta. I need to know where I stand with you though. I need to know if you’re actually interested in me. Because I like you. But I’m too old for games.” 

The silence was so thick she could have cut through it with a knife.  

Nesta’s hands fell from his chest slowly.  

“That’s good,” she assured him at last. “Because I’m not a toy.”  

She brought her fingers to the belt of her coat and pulled slow and deliberate.  

Black glazed her figure with a gorgeous intimacy. The dress hugging at what little it concealed with perfection enough to make up for its lake of mercy. Long legs sheathed in those thigh-high boots, the item was short enough that a decent length of her thighs could be seen. Interrupted at the last possible moment by sleek jet as though she’d been dipped in oil of purest night.   

Cassian’s eyes blew out to sticky treacle behind those glasses.  

“I’m human, Cass,” she hummed, tossing her coat onto the desk behind her as she spoke. “Which means I make mistakes.” He swallowed as she sighed softly, her cleavage swelling a little with the motion.  “And that I have needs. Needs you can be the one to fulfill or not.” 

She slipped into his lap, straddling him, knees bent either side of his thighs. The corded strength of which pressed painfully and exhilaratingly apparent against the soft seam of her inner thighs and she was genuinely suffering from some kind of contact high. Every inch of him seizing up subtly, deliciously taught at her touch in an effort not to respond and yet it only revealed just how much she affected him.  

“Nesta-“ 

“Shhhhhh,” she interrupted. Hands cupping that ruggedly handsome face and titling it back to tuck her’s against him slowly. “But I want it to be you,” she purred against his jaw, tracing her nose up the stubbled curve. “Let me show you how bad.” 

“Someone could come back-“ 

“I don’t care,” Nesta murmured against his mouth. “I want you.” 

His eyes fluttered shut. And she felt his cock stir in those immaculately tailored slacks.  

“Nesta-” 

She could feel every muscle that licked up his stomach tremble with a drawn out contraction as she said it again, her hands slipping down to his broad shoulders. 

“I want you,” she purred again.  

He might have tried to breath.  And it might have rubbed up something uncomfortably nice in her lower tummy.  

“Say it,” she whispered, tilting her face so that the tip of her nose brushed up the side of his. Her breath hot on his stubbled Cupid’s bow and hands running down the solid power of his upper body, burning up through his shirt. “Say it, Cassian.” 

His brown eyes like cognac and magnolia were hooded behind his glasses as he conceded.  

“You want me,” he breathed.  

She grazed her mouth against his. Lips parted suggestively and an almost silent, utterly cruel noise escaping her.  

The length of his thick cock pressed up against the seam of her plush sex as he grew to full, hard attention in his slacks. Warm and thrilling even through her panties and their open mouths melted into one another hot and heavy, tongues caressing as his large hands came to her knees and smoothed up her bare thighs covetously. 

“Fuck,” he groaned lazily as her hips began rolling deeply into him, and her hands slid under his shirt. Fingers splayed, she snaked up the cobbled muscle of his stomach, the flesh burnished and warm beneath her touch. His shirt riding up to reveal the gutter of his hips, gruesomely toned and dusted with hair.   

“This is…such a…” he breathed, between the perfect and yearning motions of their jaws, a hand smoothing up her waist in a way that made her shiver.  

“Dream come true?” She hummed, kissing him wanton and unhurried. Dangerously close to becoming a brainless mess with the way his cock rubbed up her core.  

His groan melted to a laugh or maybe it was the other way round.  

“Yes,” he admitted breathlessly. “And a bad, bad…idea.” 

“Well you’ve been a bad, bad boy, Cassian,” she whispered filthily against his ear, before capturing the lobe between her teeth softly.  

She sucked and nibbled oh so gently and he expelled a breath so gravelly and masculine it twisted the hungry knot in her core tighter. 

“Nesta…we-fuck you’re good at that…” he groaned lethargically . “Sweetheart, we can’t…” 

“Why not,” she coed quietly, the sound airy and affectedly filthy.  

“We’re…” he choked as he took in the sight of her cleavage, pushed intimately to his chest and escaping the neckline of her dress like a plume of toothpaste squeezed from the tube. “Fucking hell Nesta we’re in my office.” 

“And I’m saying you could be in me.” 

She rocked her hips against him with a particularly cruel slant.  

The groan that escaped him made something flip in her stomach, tossing about whatever sweet, impossible to describe feeling rushed there at the same time at the way his head fell back against the chair as she worked him over.  The hot friction that rubbed against her sensitive core the cherry on top of the sweet, creamy, decadent sundae.  

“Besides,” she moaned, breathless and sultry. Teeth plunging softly into her plump bottom lip as she continued rolling her hips. Hands rubbing over his shoulders and providing her leverage. “You’re the boss.” 

“I think we both know…that I’m not the boss…right now…” he groaned. Almost pained.  

“Your cock a little much for those slacks?” She hummed, faux sympathy dripping through her mocking pout. 

“I thought you liked a tight fit,” she teased, still pouting but eyes smokey. Her toes curling in her boots as her fingers began work on pulling his shirt apart.  

The buttons popped undone with a sensual and pining tempo and she was moaning quietly into his mouth as she explored the panes and ripples of that powerful upper body. More than thorough in her hands-on assessment.  

Cassian’s own hands were keeping just as busy, massaging and kneading her ass indulgently before smoothing over her rolling hips and eventually coming to her lower back. His thumbs pressing to the small of her back either side of her spine and it made something tight inside her swoon. The touch so hot and the memory it conjured so good. His big hands on her as he fucked her from behind.  

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned deeply, as she began rocking into him tighter, hotter. The impression of his cock lined up just right with her aching core.  

“Hey, baby,” She purred, drunk on the friction that made her whole body throb and hum with pleasure and the tip of her nose brushing the side of his. Hands snaking from his exposed chest to either side of his face and capturing his bruised mouth with her own. Chewing on his bottom lip obscenely, the friction beginning to push her over edge.  

“Fuck you’re incredible,” he groaned huskily once she let up. Kissing back decadently. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed almost mindlessly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Nesta.” 

“You wanna show me how sorry you are?” she purred, sultry and low, mouth parting, forehead still pressed to his and eyes fluttering open to hold his own.   

Cassian nodded, dumb and silent and eager and Jesus it turned her on.  

“Yeah? You wanna make me cum?” She hummed.  

“Yes, yes, please.” 

“Touch me, Cassian,” she whispered against his open mouth. “Make it up to me, make me feel good.” 

Cassian’s hands slid back to her ass and she moaned into the kiss he captured her lips in as he lifted her with a sensual squeeze,  wrapping her long legs tightly round the tapered cut of his waist as he stood.  

The surface of the desk was beneath her before she could work out which way was up and his touch smoothed down her legs to her knees before she could take a a breath in reprieve from kissing him. Her legs splitting either side of his broad hips and his erection, tucked to the side in his slacks and thick and heavy and hard, pushed against the inner seam of her thigh as he pulled that band from her hair. 

“I’m gonna make these gorgeous legs tremble for me,” he pledged against the her jaw, kissing and nipping his way down to where her pulse throbbed for him as he a hand through the loose locks.  

And he began suckling at that sensitive spot just as a calloused hand slipped between her thighs.  

“Mmmmm,” Nesta moaned smugly, gripping at his biceps still sheathed in the sleeves of his shirt as Cassian’s thumb ran up the seam of her dripping cunt through her panties. The lace a flimsy veil between her swollen clit and his hot touch.  

“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he moaned into her neck, her head rolling back as he snapped her panties and began stroking his fingers through her soft folds possessively. “Missed those little sounds and your mouth and this pretty neck and perfect pussy.” 

“Then cut out the all bark no bite bullshit and prove it,” she breathed.  

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured thickly, the pad of his thumb coming to her clit and she moaned as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves expertly. Her nails pressing into his shoulders, a few through the hiss of his shirt but the others carving crescents into the bronze muscle and tattoos like the meat of an apple.   

His forefinger began teasing at her tight entrance and Nesta’s breath caught.  

“Tease me and you’ll fucking regret it,” she warned thickly, and he pushed the digit inside.  

The intrusion was far from the thick, eight inches she craved, but when he curled his finger against a sensitive, swollen spot deep inside her Nesta keened aloud.  

“You look so fucking good like this,” Cassian breathed, husky and bestial as he crooked his finger inside her over and over.  

“More,” she demanded. 

It probably wasn’t clear if she was demanding more dirty praise or physical attention but Cassian was a good boy and covered all his bases. A second finger pushing inside her that second.   

She gasped as the snug walls of her cunt stretched to accommodate the two of them as he waxed lyrical about how hard her moaning got him.  Their foreheads level and those deep brown eyes lathering her with his earnest attention.  

“You’re dripping down my knuckles like a fucking peach,” Cassian told her as he thrust inside her over and over, the only thing more obscene than her facial expression and the breathless sounds she was making being the quite, wet noises his fingers illicited.  

He hadn’t let up on her clit, and at the exact moment he decided to start curling those two fingers together, he increased the speed and pressure with which he rubbed at her most responsive spot with his thumb.  

“Cassian,” Nesta moaned, her fingers running up the nape of his neck and delving into his hair, still pulled into that bun.  

“That’s it, that’s so fucking hot, baby, I want your cum dripping down my wrist,” he growled softly. Her nails sliding down his scalp.  

“You’re so fucking needy,” she got out, which only served to utterly delight him. His thumb working at her from an oh so subtly more intense angle that had a familiar buzzing low inside her threatening to pluck her apart at the seams.  

“Oh my god fuck,” she moaned. “Uhhu, that’s it, just like that oh my god.” 

“You gonna cum, Nesta? You gonna cum on my desk- Jesus I’m gonna be thinking about you moaning, long legs spread for me while you moan so fucking dirty for my fingers every time I’m sat at this fucking desk now, you know that?”  

His words sent her over the edge.  

Silently she threw her head back as her orgasm licked up every frayed nerve in her body. It was hard. And Cassian kept on working those thick fingers inside her and over her sensitive clit throughout.  

Fucking her dirty and skilled. Prolonging her twitching and bone melting pleasure.  

Until she was snaking her hands from where they’d wound through his fastened hair, and pushing him off her at the shoulders.  Falling back on her forearms with a shaky exhale, thighs still trembling subtly.  

Cassian smirked. And brought his fingers to his mouth. Licking up the length of the calloused, sticky digits. Eyes on her’s from behind those obnoxiously sexy reading glasses she had half a mind to slap off his face.  

“You taste even better than I remember,” he purred.  

“Then get on your knees.” 

Her voice was shaky but he didn’t even throw her another of those antagonistic and gorgeous smirks, just sank down. All six foot whatever, two hundred and something ridiculous pounds of muscle. Knelt on the floor between her legs.  

“Is initiative encouraged of am I to be strictly obedient?” There was that smirk.  

“You can use your brain,” she permitted. Still out of it. But still dying for him to touch her again.  “If only because I need to be convinced you have one.”  

His chuckle felt like fucking heaven between her thighs. His stubbled jaw rubbing up against her aching cunt as he kissed her like he meant it. Open mouthed and his tongue then slipping out to lavish her dripping slit before he began playing with her clit with the tip.  

Nesta moaned, chewing down on her lip once she located the dignity to quieten down so she could keep it that way.  

Her previous orgasm should have taken the edge off, but it had only reminded her already whetted appetite what there was to gorge on. Leaving her pining for more and disastrously sensitive.  

“Mmmm,” Cassian moaned deeply- though honestly it was closer to a growl which was hot- and brought those large hands to her thighs. Holding her open for him stoking the bruise-blue flame that writhed in her core and allowing him better access to her pussy.  

“Oh god right there,” Nesta keened. His nose brushing up against her clit as he licked up her snug entrance, teasing his tongue inside.  

He threw her legs over his stacked shoulders and obeyed, working his tongue inside her with shameful enthusiasm only emphasised by the noises he was making. Seriously he was putting her to shame.  

In fact if she hadn’t been rapidly approaching another orgasm she might have thought he was have more fun than her.  

Hands no longer occupied with gripping her black-clad thighs they came to her hips and waist. Coaxing her to slant forward at an angle that granted him an even more advantageous angle from which to eat her out.  

She moaned, manicured nails almost clawing into his desk behind her. “Mhmm mhmm uh,” she gasped sharply at the sudden relocation of his tongue. Cassian capturing her clit in his mouth and sucking on the sensitive bud as he flicked his tongue up and down.  

“Fuck, yes yes yes yes,” she was utterly breathless. “Oh god, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” she whined.  

Cassian fucking groaned and it was like he’d pulled at the knot in her stomach with his teeth.  

The muscles in her lower stomach twitching as she came, the cushiony walls of her cunt pulsing tight and the only thing grounding her to reality.  

Though she was just lucid enough to know Cassian was lapping up the nectar between her legs with audible and pleased snarls of pure, masculine satisfaction.  

Nesta couldn’t say how long it took her to stop seizing, just that she was completely drunk on pleasure by the time her body allowed her to at least try and think. She failed completely. Wasted on her orgasm, on Cassian.  

“Come ‘ere,” she said, breathless and doped up. Eyes barely fluttering open, heavy lidded and probably glazing over with unabashed appreciation as Cassian did as he was told. Rising to stand before her, thick arms winding round her waist snuggly and pulling her to him tight.  

His sheathed erection pushed to her sticky inner thigh and his powerful upper body, chiselled and broad and comforting, warm and hard and dusted with dark hair, pushed to her’s.  

His sharp jaw, like her thighs, was slightly sticky, and his mouth looked even more abused than it from the attention of her teeth. But the best part- better than his mid-sex blush or the way he was breathing all deep and powerful and hungry for her, were his glasses. They were slightly fogged up at the edges.  

“Apology accepted?” He asked huskily, like he was already sure of the answer. Like he didn’t care because no matter what she said he was going to have her screaming for him till they were both sick of each other.  

“Apology accepted,” Nesta confirmed. Splayed hands smoothing up his broad chest as she captured his lips in a wanton kiss.  

“That still leaves your punishment though,” she whispered.  

Cassian’s dark brows had barely risen before she’d pushed him back and he was falling into the chair again. Breathing deep and thrumming with a desire that destabilised him as he watched her slip a stiletto heel beneath her panties on the floor and flick them up into her hand. Prowling toward him and climbing into his lap. Hoping it wasn’t obvious that her legs felt like liquid.  

“Hold these,” she demanded, feeding the bundle of lace into his mouth, his groan muffled by the fabric and her hands making quick and embarrassingly eager work of removing his unfastened shirt. All but tearing it off his sculpted arms that must have been as thick as her thighs- his body was ridiculous.  

She griped his wrists before he could start doing something like feeling her up and brought them behind his head. Elbows out and biceps flexed, his hands meeting in the middle at the nape of his neck.  

Cassian kissed and nipped at her fingers as she plucked her panties from his mouth with one hand, holding his wrists with the other.  

He licked at his lips as though chasing the taste of her lingerie, eyes on her’s from behind his glasses.  

She wasn’t gentle knotting the lace round his wrists.  

“Oh,” he grinned, trying to move his arms.  

He couldn’t of course, the physics working against him and rendering it so his only way out would be pulling until the lace snapped for a second time this evening. Still, it was a fucking gorgeous sight watching him try. Biceps and broad chest flexing.  

Tied up and at her mercy she was dripping wet for him and slipped her tongue into his mouth as a little reward for how fucking hot he looked like this. Kissing him obscene and wet.  

“Safe word?” She murmured into his mouth.  

“Harder,” Cassian grinned. No doubt referencing her answer to the very same question the other night.  

Nesta bit his bottom lip, puncturing the bruised cushion subtly and she tasted blood on her teeth and his tongue.  

“Safe word,” she insisted once more against his lips, fingers winding through his hair with a drawn out and yearning pull.  

“Amren,” he groaned`. Then added, “don’t ask.” 

“Yeah we’re done talking,” she informed him dismissively. Unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops of his slacks with a swift tug.  

Cassian’s hips jumped beneath her and she unfastened the button slung low on his hips, pulling the zip of his fly down. Parted lips close to brushing.  

“Down boy,” she purred.  

“Bit late for that,” he breathed raggedly, jaw feathering as she slid her hand into his boxers.  

“God you’re adorable,” Nesta pouted, freeing his thick cock. Obnoxiously engorged and a dribble of pearlescence spilling from the uncut tip.  

“Now be a good boy and don’t you dare cum until I say,” she warned.  

And sank down on thick inch after inch of his hot, rigid shaft.  

Nesta couldn’t help the arch that slipped through her spine as he filled her up, the stretch so acute it had her eyes rolling back with a flutter of her thick lashes.  

“Oh my god,” she moaned breathlessly, hands splayed against his powerful chest. Thighs straddling his, her walls hugged him vice like and- Jesus, he rubbed up that deep spot inside her perfectly. 

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned beneath her. “You’re so… fucking tight.” 

Nesta rolled her head to the side in tandem with her hips, growing accustomed to the sheer size of him and eliciting a raw sound from the man before she removed his reading glasses. Fitting them over the bridge of her own petite nose.  

“No backseat driving now, sweetheart,” she purred a little shakily.  

She rose onto her knees only to sink back down again with a filthy twist of her hips. Repeating the motion again and again. Gliding up and down his cock with a tight and slippery friction that had her stomach flexing and his gaze heavy lidded. Encouraging, low noises escaping from deep in his chest that she wanted to bottle up and get drunk on.  

“Uhh,” she keened, dirty and blissful, hands on his stacked shoulders. “Uhhu.” 

“Oh fuck,” Cassian breathed huskily. “Mmhhm…that’s it…fucking ride me baby” 

Nesta felt a familiar heat fan at her core as she drank him up. Every perfect, delicious inch there for her to use.  

“Cassian,” she moaned. The sound tasting like sex in her mouth.  

She fluttered around him again on an upwards twist of her hips, his cock pushing in and out of her snug cherry with a delicious wet sound. Just audible above her filthy moans.   

Riding him was like sucking on a hard candy, that intense sweetness at the centre burning ever closer. And he kept running that damn mouth.  Gravelly and deep, lavishing her body with sickly sweet and dirty compliments.  

“Fuck that’s it gorgeous, just like that sweet thing fucking hell you’re fucking perfect.” 

Powerful and dripping with raw fucking desire his body rolled upwards into her, slick with sweat and chiselled sinew.  His cock burying deeper inside her. The sounds he was making just to top it off causing a tight fuzziness to tremble in her upper thighs.   

“Oh my god,” Nesta moaned, hands coming to his face and lips brushing his as so she moaned a hot, “I’m gonna cum,” into his mouth.  

Cassian groaned. Kissing her hard and deep.  

“Cassian,” she keened.  

She began bouncing deeper in his lap. Up and down up and down. His cock thrusting inside her hard and rubbing at her g spot just right while her clit grazed the coarse hair at his rugged hips. There was a bead of sweat gliding down the chiselled muscle that carved his broad torso, washboard abs flexing as he resisted release and Nesta felt the pressure between her thighs reach a fever pitch.  

Grunting he bucked violently beneath her once, twice, and she was undone.   

Nesta might have made a noise this time. Airy and hot and open mouthed against his neck as she buried her hands into his hair.  

He was so tense beneath her, like pure marble soaked in the heat of the sun. Trying not spill inside her as her walls flexed with every hot wave of pleasure.  

And once it passed his breathing was as ragged as her own.  

“You did so good,” Nesta whispered at last against his ear. Voice wrecked like she were experiencing a sugar crash. Nibbling at the lobe. Tasting salt on her lips and eyes fluttering shut at the heady scent of his aftershave.  

“Does that mean I get a reward?” he managed.  

“Something like that,” she hummed, repositioning herself so that her back was to his chest.  

“Nesta please. Just untie me, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered against her ear. Voice trembling like he’d shot up something good.  

Nesta only chuckled, head knocked back so she could hold his eyes as she rolled her hips. Teasing, tormenting.  

“The second you get your hands on these,” she brought her hands to her tits, giving them a soft squeeze and biting her lip, “you’ll be cumming and out of commission.”  

Cassian growled, watching her feel herself up as she rolled her hips in leisurely circles.  Sensual and dirty. The length of his hard shaft, thick and velvet smooth beneath her.  

“Fuck,” he moaned huskily. Nose buried at her throat and lips working against her pulse point with the assistance of his tongue and teeth. Just as slow and through as her hips. 

She gasped softly, grinding deeper.  

“You know how good I can make it for you,” he purred.  

“Mmmm,” she moaned quietly in agreement.  

“Let me take care of you.” 

“Cassian.” 

“You make my name sound so sexy,” he grazed his stubbled jaw against the bruise he’d worked into her throat, the sensitive skin blushing warm at the contact as he moved his mouth to another location and started kissing and nibbling there.  “Untie me, baby, and I’ll give you everything you want.” 

Nesta smiled.  

“Or I could keep you tied up and just take it.” 

Cassian growled against her neck as she tilted her hips forward allowing his cock to spring up, and sank down on him again.  

She moaned, loud and keening. Hands snaking through his hair behind her as she rocked herself up and down slowly. There wasn’t a lot of friction, but for now it was enough just to revel in how good Cassian’s cock felt. That last orgasm having finally takes the edge off.  

“Fuck that’s it grind for me,” he moaned. His breath was hot against her neck and she could feel his heart beat. Feel every deep sound reverberate through his chest as she moved.   

His cock rubbed up against her g spot, colours and stars bleeding behind her eyes like fireworks.  

“Cassian,” she whimpered lowly.  

It was so good.  

Hands fumbling distractedly she brought her fingers to untie him.  And he deemed it all the permission he needed. Tearing himself free with a growl.  Capturing her mouth in a slow and wanton kiss as those big hands came to rove her body, taking his time to pull her apart.  

His touch hot and calloused, Nesta moaned into his mouth as he ran up her stomach, her hips, her thighs, her tits. Massaging and glazing every inch of her with a rough heat that made her feel like she was going to explode. Her body a champagne flute dangerously close to shattering at the frequency of his hot groans and growls.  

“Right there, oh right fucking there baby,”  She moaned quietly against his lips, one of his hands rubbing her hip and guiding her motions while the other palmed at her breast.  

“Yeah? You like that?” He dipped his head to pull down the straps of her bra and dress down with his teeth until her cleavage spilt from the cups. Pebbled nipples tight and rosy in the dim light, peaking over the balcony of her bra.  

“Mmmmm,” he murmured against her throat, exploiting the sensitive spot as he made his way back up to her face and watched her plump tits sway. A hand running from her hip down her thigh and back up again to slip between her legs to stroke her clit. 

Nesta whined softly.  

“Cassian…more…” 

She kissed him sluggish and distracted. The two of them humming and moaning every so often until he started caressing her clit tighter and her sounds grew more frantic.  

“Fuck uhhu, uhhu just like that,” she panted quietly into his mouth. “Oh god uhh, uhhh more…more…more more Cassian fuck me.” 

She was on her feet before she could complain that his hands were no longer between her thighs. Pushed up against the edge of his desk, hands falling splayed against the surface to stop herself falling across the wood and legs split apart.   

“Oh!” 

“Good girl,” he grunted deeply. “Moan for me.” 

His calloused fingers came to her clit, coaxing her closer to the edge as the other gripped her hip.  

“That’s it, that’s my girl such a good girl baby.” 

Mouth caught open as though on a fish hook Nesta started seeing black splodges, the puddles flaring in her vision on every one of his thrusts. Deep and dirty and filling her till she was so impossibly full she spilt over.  

“Fuck fuck just like that oh my god you’re so fucking tight, cum on my cock, cum on my cock, uh, uh, uh.”  

Cassian finished inside her with a guttural sound as she came. Pumping her full one last time with a brutal snap of his hips.  

She was vaguely aware of his ragged breathing against her ear. Somewhat sure her forearms had fallen flat against his desk and her head hung forward. Hair falling over her face and back arched as her tight sex twitched and fluttered around him.  

Coming back to her senses took longer than she’d ever admit.  

“Is that cctv?” Nesta asked eventually, head tipped back and resting on his shoulder. Eyes flicking in gesture to the tiny little camera in the opposite corner of the ceiling.  

“Don’t worry,” Cassian breathed. “It’s switched off.” 

She turned her gaze to him.  

“Shame.” 

He let out an exhausted and reverent sound that might have been a laugh. And just as exhausted, once he’d pulled out, he fell back into the chair behind him. Trousers pulled back up but unbuttoned.  

Nesta followed in fatigued suit, working her dress back down over her hips and sinking to the floor, back against the desk. She probably shouldn’t have worn black… but the impending bill and judgement from her dry cleaner would be worth it.  

“Friday night. Pick me up at eight,” she breathed.  

Cassian grinned.  

“You like Italian?”  

Nesta rolled her eyes from behind the reading glasses askew on her nose, but nodded none the less. She was sort of screwed if she didn’t. Cassian’s adopted family were Italian on his father’s side. The cuisine was going to be pretty commonplace if they kept seeing each other she imagined.  

“What are you thinking about?” He hummed, watching her.  

Nesta smiled. Then crawled toward him across the floor. “How I still have that table cloth you call a dinner jacket at my place.”  

 “Was that plan b?” He laughed, snaking an arm round her waist as she climbed into his lap. “Hold my jacket hostage till I agreed to go out with you again?”  

“No,” she glared at him softly, nestling into the crease of his shoulder. “Though I had thought about wearing it tonight. Just your jacket and a pair of heels.” 

Cassian licked his lips as though contemplating the sight and liking what he imagined very much. “Next time,” he hummed distractedly. Less promise more pleading. “This was…,” his free hand roved down her side, the black fabric glued to her figure. “And these…,” his touch made her melt as he ran down her thigh and platform boot, her legs flicked over one another.  

“Lethal,” he whispered.  

Nesta scoffed. “You’re telling me. My toes are killing me.”  

Cassian hummed sympathetically, fitting a heel in his hand and guiding the shoe off her foot. Nesta groaned softly and he did the same with the other boot.  

“That bad?” He chuckled, starting to massage her.  

“Worth it though,” she sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder.  

  Cassian held the door open for Nesta to emerge out onto the street first. The cool night air whipping lazily at her hair. 

Their second date had been incredible.  

He’d taken her to Gnocco in the East Village. Proper Italian food, fairy lights, and intimate little corners perfect for flirting over too many glasses of wine and playing footsie beneath the table. Not to mention casual enough to see Nesta Archeron fitted out in heels, a snug black top, and a jaw dropping pair of jeans.  

Tactically quiet and effortlessly biting as ever, she’d been armed with passionate reviews on the podcasts she’d listened to or books she’d read that week. Asking him about his own week and listening thoughtfully in a way that had probably made him blush.  

If it hadn’t, then the way she’d licked at the creamy vanilla gelato on her dessert spoon definitely had.  

Cassian was far too tempted to slip his hand into the back pocket of her dark skinny jeans as he emerged after her, but he felt Nesta probably wasn’t one for PDA. Or more accurately, public groping. And he was determined to be on his best behaviour this evening. Determined to make her forget all about how shit-awfully he’d handled last Saturday.  

Not that he hadn’t given her a thorough apology.  

Consistency was key however, and there would be no lapse in his conduct any time soon when it came to Nesta. He’d lucked out so fucking hard in getting a second chance when he hadn’t even deserved the first with a woman like her. Clever and beautiful and passionate and god he had it bad.  

Had been thinking about her all week. Their date the only thing getting him through the late nights that were pretty much killing him at this point and the days spent arguing with Helion.  

Cassian had worked out who’d put a hit on his friend. And why.  

The contracts Helion was in the midst of signing were of a more personal nature that he’d originally let on. His will to be precise. In which it was detailed that upon his death, the pharmaceutical powerhouse that was Day Inc. should be handed over to Saoirse Vanserra.  

The married woman Helion had gone and fallen in love with twenty odd years ago. The mother of his child. 

Not that Helion had been aware of the that little detail until recently. Terminally ill, Saoirse hadn’t wanted the secret buried with her, and had gotten in touch with her old flame to tell him her youngest was his.  

Despite being well into his fifties, Helion behaved like a twenty-something at the best of times. But learning he had a son that actually was twenty-something had thrust him into a panicked play at accountability. Saoirse was going to die, and soon, but Helion would still have a piece of her, a piece of the both of them despite the estrangement that had haunted their relationship since the start. A piece he’d do every and anything in his power to do right by.  

Which meant Lucien would inherit his father’s company when the time came.  

But removing Saoirse from his will…it felt like signing her death warrant. At least that’s what he’d told Cassian. That it it felt like he was giving up on her.  

Cassian wished Helion could process everything in as much time as it took him. But time was a luxury not even the multi-millionaire could afford. Not with Saoirse’s eldest, Eris, trying to take him out before the will could be changed.  

As things stood, Eris was set to inherit anything of his mother’s- a compromise reached between Saoirse and her cunt of a husband who’d wanted everything in his name. The Vanserra court its own savage little patriarchy of snakes and vipers, meaning as long as Beron was around, what belonged to his sons, belonged to him.  

Still, Eris was the undisputed second in command and Beron wasn’t getting any younger. If he could take Helion out before any changes were made to the CEOs will, and if Saoirse’s doctors were to be believed, Day would practically be his by the end of the year.  

Maybe sooner. If Beron beat his cancer ridden wife to death upon learning she’d been left Helion Day’s company and why.   

He doubted anyone would put it past the bastard.  

“Hey,” Nesta’s voice tugged at his attention as they turned off tenth. “Where’d you go?”  

Cassian snaked his arm around her small waist, pulling her against him. “Just thinking,” he said. And as hard as he tried to push those thoughts away, something of them lingered in his voice.  

She raised a neat eyebrow. That little beauty spot above the arch lifting with it and the one beneath the corner of her plump bottom lip quirking just barely.  

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. Tucking her tighter to his side as he looked down at her. “That’s because the only thing I ever think about is you. And when I’m with you, I don’t have to do that, do I?” 

Her blush was so utterly adorable it made him want to kiss her senseless.  

“How do you do that?” Those eyes like the smoke of ice narrowed in sincere curiosity. It was a little terrifying.  Which off course only made him like her more.  

“What? Make you blush like a-” 

“No,” she interrupted him with an embarrassed and chiding laugh, pushing at his chest slightly. “Say things, just say them-  like the only thing that matters is that you mean them?” 

Cassian smiled. “Not everything has to be done strategically, Nesta.”  

“Says the military man.” 

“And wouldn’t you say that makes me qualified to- okay fine, roll your eyes at me. Jokes on you because it’s actually very sexy when you do that so.” 

Nesta laughed, her head falling to rest below his chest as they walked.  

“Fortunate you say something to make me roll my eyes every five seconds then,” she hummed.  

“And that I know just how to make those eyes roll back,” he purred lowly in response with a roguish grin, rubbing his thumb against where her coat lay over her stomach.  

“Oh and you’re telling me this whole conversation wasn’t strategically constructed so you could use that line?” Nesta looked up at him.  

“Sweetheart, when are you going to accept that I’m just incredibly smooth?” He grinned. “Besides, that wasn’t a line.”  

“That was so a line!”  

“You’d know if I was giving you a line.” 

“Go on then. Give me your best line,” she challenged. Stopping dead and turning on him with her arms folded. Cassian didn’t let his arm slip from around her waist though. Kept it right where it was as he brought his free hand to tuck a lock of chocolatey hair behind her ear. Inspiration striking him.  

“Are you a box of chocolates?” he asked, gravelly and suggestive.  “Because I’d love to take your top off.”  

Nesta really had the loveliest laugh in the world.  

“That’s awful!” She put her hands firm against his chest. “How did you ever get laid before I took pity on you?”  

“Um I’m gorgeous and rich,” he reminded her, both arms now caging her in.  

“What a coincidence,” Nesta purred, their noses tucked against one another just barely thanks to his date’s shoes. No doubt expensive as they were tall.  

“No coincidences here, sweetheart. This is all fate.” 

“I’m deliberately not rolling my eyes just to spite you for saying something so cliché and dumb,” she murmured.  

“Fine then. Fate and your meddling sister,” he admitted.  

“Let’s not talk about my little sister right now,” Nesta’s hands snaked up to toy with the lapels of his coat.  

“What would you rather we talk about?”  

“I don’t want to talk at all,” she whispered. And pulled him down lazily to meet her mouth.  

Cassian moulded his lips to the perfect pressure of her own. Hard and soft, her mouth like velvet and her body pressing into his tight and loose in all the right places.  

Kissing Nesta was like brushing you fingers against the glacial softness of snow like flakes of glass. Irresistible and inevitable. Burning so soft at first before the sensation grew unbearably tender and acute.  It reminded you that you were alive.  

The movements of their mouths grew hotter, no less lethargic, but simply heavier. Like they had all the time in the world and planned to exploit every second.  

So much for not into PDA, Cassian thought, as she coaxed his mouth open further with her tongue, his own slowly swiping to meet it. And he did slip his hand into her back pocket then, giving her a fond and pining squeeze which pulled her tighter into him.  

The pads of her thumbs brushed at either side of his jaw as she arched a little, those perfect tits pushed against his upper body and he dug his fingers a little more possessively into the fabric of her coat. Bunching at her waist beneath his calloused touch.  

Nesta sighed sweetly into him-  

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassian swore.  Tame Impala playing from his pocket.  

“Looks like I’m not the only one who likes your attention,” Nesta laughed quietly, hands smoothing back to her sides politely. The little menace. Her effortless composure all the more devastating with her mouth kissed cherry-red and pupils blown wide as saucers.  

He fished out his phone, and declined the call.  

“Well you’re the only one getting it.” 

She rose her brows as though she were impressed, winding her arms back around his neck.  

“For a man who hates games you have game, Velaris.” 

“Would you feel less wooed if I told it you was just Rhysand?” He admitted. Rejecting his busybody brother’s phone call a far less bold gesture than if it had been work.  

Nesta’s little smile was like molten satin.  

“That makes it even better,” she kissed him again.  

Cassian kissed her back through his laugh, dipping her back slightly for a more indulgent angle, her arms lacing tighter around him to hold herself up. Like he’d let her fall.  

Nesta was the one laughing now and it tasted like gelato and champagne and sunrises. He nipped at her lip as he pulled her back up with him snuggly, and she brought her hand to cup the side of his face, the other at his tapered waist.  

“I should get going,” she hummed distractedly,  hand gliding up his body like she didn’t even realise.  

Her tongue caressed his slowly before he was muttering against her, “probably”, chasing the plush heat of her mouth.  

They didn’t stop. Not even as Nesta was murmuring a disjointed, “heighten the…suspense…keep you…wanting and all that.” 

“I’m already losing interest,” he purred gruffly, their jaws knocking intimately as the kiss became hotter and fitful, short breaths and hungry mouths. Her nails scraping softly up the nape of his neck and through his hair.  

“And you’re looking for it in my back pocket, is that it?” She whispered, and Cassian gave her ass a firm squeeze as either confirmation or reprimand.  

She bit his bottom lip, the nip of her pearly teeth giving way to a sensual sort of chewing that made his eyes roll back behind closed lids and his large hands wound through her hair to guid her head back so he could take charge. Kissing her slow once again but dirtier, thorough and wanton and Nesta keened almost silently.  

“Found it,” Cassian said thickly into her mouth.  

“Want your prize?” She whispered breathlessly.  

“Yes please.” 

Nesta slid her hand between them. Fingers brushing his belt, then lower- 

Cassian couldn’t tell if he was relieved or devastated when she slipped her way inside his pocket and plucked free his phone.  

She withdrew just barely from the kiss, switched it on and turned the screen to him. The device unlocked as both his hands tucked into her pockets and her manicured thumbs were tapping away.  

Cassian brushed at the curved beam of her high cheekbone with his nose, trying to see what she was up to.  

“What are you doing?”  

“Callander says you’re free Friday. Or it did.  Now it says you have a date.” She nestled herself back into him tightly, tucking the device back into his pocket, exploiting that teasing proximity to something else entirely and driving him crazy as she grazed his mouth with her own.  

“Congratulations.” 

Cassian grinned.  

“Tha- wait just to be clear the date is with you, right?”  

 “Yes, Cassian, the date is with me,” she chuckled. “And I can’t wait,” her humming melted to something wordless and heavy as he kissed her again.  

Slow and explicit he stroked his tongue inside and he swore he felt the flutter of her lashes against his cheek.  

“Cassian,” she breathed almost silently and it burnt his lungs like freezing air.  

“Can I take you home?” Cassian whispered.  

“May I take you home,” Nesta corrected between the sinful caress of their lips.  

“Please do.” 

She was kissing the smirk off his face like she could taste how snug he was and wanted a piece of it for herself. Like she were working at a marshmallow or strawberry lathered with thick chocolate from a hot fountain of the stuff.  

“Maybe you are smooth,” she whispered and it only inflated Cassian’s self satisfaction. “But we both know I like it rough.” Ouch. “Just like we both know you’re way too exhausted to have your way with me.” 

He pulled back abruptly.  

But his mouth had barely opened to argue when she gave him a definitive “don’t”. It was little bit arousing. “You said yourself how late you’ve been working. Have you slept at all this week?” 

For all her icy glares and hellish attitude, at her core, Nesta was kind. She cared despite her pretences to the contrary and it meant she noticed things. Like how despite his lively grins, Cassian was out for the fucking count.  

“That’s what I thought. You can screw me when I know you won’t pass out before making it to third base.” 

“The only one who’d be passing out is you once I’m through fu-” 

“Save that thought for a night you have the energy to see it through,” she said.  

“But I-” 

A quirk of her neat brows shut him up.  

He growled a bitter but accepting sound. She was right, of course she was right, because she was Nesta and a Nesta was always right.  

“Friday,” he promised. “I’m gonna cook for you, something fucking romantic.” 

“More romantic than that sentence?”  

“Look I may not be Keats but I know my way round a stove, so hold all sarcastic comments until I’ve fed you.” 

“I’ll try, but I know for a fact you’re going to make that very hard.” 

“How have you already failed?” 

“Shut up,” Nesta laughed.  

“You have the sexiest fucking laugh.” 

“So you’ve said,” she blushed.  

“And I’ll keep saying it if every time I do you blush like that.” 

“Like I’m embarrassed for you?” she countered with an arched brow and a cruel twitch at the corner of her mouth.  

“You’re so mean,” he grinned.  

They made their way to the curb and hailed down a car on twelf. 

“Want me to ride with you back to your apartment?” he said, opening the back door of a yellow cab that had pulled up for her.  

“That’s sweet, but trust me, I can take care of myself,” she promised.   

“Text me when you get home safe and sound just to spite me then,” he said from the opposite side of the door.  

“I will. But you better not be awake to read it,” She gave him a lingering kiss before gracefully tucking herself inside.  

“Night, gorgeous,” he winked, and shut the door.  

Her ride had just turned onto fourteenth when Cassian decided against hailing his own despite the cold. It was only fifteen or so minutes on foot, and he could probably do with cooling down.  

Though even if he had to trek through tundra to get home he suspected he’d still find himself burning up under a cold shower in an attempt not to jack off to the thought of Nesta like a fourteen year old.  

Stuffing his already slightly numb hands into his pockets he began walking, his fingers brushing against his phone. He should probably call Rhys back.  

The phone rang for a moment before his brother picked up.  

“Did you decline my call?” 

“Yup.” 

“Bastard.” 

“I’m sure Feyre will kiss your bruised ego better,” Cassian grinned as he walked. “Along with something else so long as she doesn’t hear you’ve been calling me names,” he added slyly.  

“Are you threatening to tell on me to my wife?” Rhysand asked, a little wound up by the allusion to Feyre’s kissing certain places even if he hid it behind an unimpressed drawl.  

“Are you pretending the thought doesn’t have you quaking in your givenchy loafers?”  

“On the topic of not upsetting Feyre, she’s demanding a family dinner.” 

He laughed deeply at Rhysand’s avoiding the question.  

“That why you’re calling?” 

“Partly,” Rhys said. “Work’s been…She wants to be around family right now,” he said with an all too familiar casualness. “You free?” 

“For Feyre?” Cassian said without hesitation.  “Yeah, I’m free.” 

He would just have to pull an all nighter on the Monday. 

“Thank you. And also fuck you for implying if it was for me you wouldn’t be,” his brother said.  

“Well you called me just as Nesta was about to slip her tongue down my throat so-” 

“Nesta?” Rhys interrupted. “I thought that was over?” 

Shit.  

In all the carnage that had been the last week he hadn’t bothered letting his family know he and Nesta were back on. The woman was a touchy subject and he hadn’t had the energy or balls to get into it.  

While Rhys had been able to excuse Elain’s inactivity when the Archerons had been at their financial lowest, he’d never managed to extend that same courtesy to Nesta. Maybe it was because the first time they’d met she’d called him a cradle snatching whore. Regardless, Rhysand pretty much hated the woman’s guts, meanwhile his wife was desperately trying to lure her into the inner circle of the Velaris family.  

Cassian may have been able to bench a number higher than his IQ but he wasn’t dumb. He’d clocked on to the fact his sister-in-law was using him as Nesta bait.  In all honesty he was loving it. Nothing made him happier than helping out his family, and if that meant taking out an intelligent, passionate, stunning young woman, then really it was a double-win.  

Taking a second to grind his jaw softly he was reminded to tread carefully. Not something he generally excelled at, but for the sake of his brother he could try.  

“I know you’re not her biggest fan,” he said. “But Feyre forgave her years ago for bailing-” 

“Well Feyre’s a better person than I am.” 

“I’ll say. She set me up with a smoking hot model, meanwhile you’re trynna cock block me,” he tried.  

“You can put your dick wherever you want, doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“I guess not,” he ground out. Itching to hit something at the implication Nesta was just “somewhere to put his dick”.  

“Cassian if you want to date a biblical plague in human form knock yourself out, seriously, god knows Feyre will be thrilled. And Azriel, your moping-” 

“I don’t mope,” Cassian interjected.  

“Fine, your stropping-” 

“Fuck off.” 

Rhys’ laugh was about smug as the bastard’s crooning voice.  

“Mor’s gonna kill you by the way. You put a two grand dent in her wine collection over a woman you took back the next week.” 

Cassian groaned, wiping a hand over his face. The only thing worse than the hangover he’d had Monday morning would be Morrigan’s laying into him on this.  

“Don’t you dare tell her,” he warned.  

“Fine but you’ll have to do it before next Sunday, you’re bringing Nesta.” 

“Hang on a minute-” 

“Feyre wants a family dinner and if you and Nesta are back on that means she’s coming,” Rhys said.  

“Boy you are asking a lot of me here,” Cassian sighed dramatically. “I mean I can think of a few ways to persuade her but most of them are illegal in a lot of countries,” he grinned.  

“I don’t care if you have to roofie her and strap her to the hood of your car, just make sure she’s there.” 

“Alright, alright Don.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Rhys growled irritably to Cassian’s delight.  

“What else were you calling about then?” He smirked. “You said dinner was only part of it.” 

“I wanted to ask how things were going with Helion,” his brother said. “Any update?” 

Cassian sighed heavily.  

“This a secure line?” 

“Always”. 

“The hit’s Eris,” he said. “Apparently Saoirse does pretty well for herself if Helion kicks it and it’s looking like she won’t last the year. When she goes Eris takes the lot so he’s trying to take Helion out before he can change his will.” 

“That little bitch,” Rhys interrupted.  

“I’m not done. Guess who Helion might be transferring that inheritance to?” 

“Is Azriel going to finally have the funds to build that sex dungeon?”  

“Not quite,” Cassian said. “The money’s going to Lucien.” 

“Lucien?” 

“Turns out the kid’s his.” 

“Fucking hell.” 

“Seems obvious in hindsight to be honest.” 

Rhys was silent on the other end for a moment as he evidently thought through matter.   

“You said might, is he waiting on a paternity test or something?” 

Cassian winced. “No. No he’s dragging his feet about changing the will altogether.” 

“Why the fuck is he doing that there’s a bullet with his name on it!” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Cassian hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m the one whose gonna have to jump in front of that bullet if he doesn’t get his ass in gear. But he…he’s losing the love of his life, Rhys. I’m trynna cut him a little slack-” 

“Slack Eris is going to have someone strangle him with.” 

“I’m handling it,” Cassian promised.  

Rhys went silent again.  

“We could always just kill Eris.” 

Cassian would have laughed at the unrestrained glee in his brother’s voice if the suggestion hadn’t been so tempting.  

“No you can’t,” he reminded him, ascending the steps to his front door.  

“Sorry, sorry, you probably want plausible deniability and all that- which is a shitty reason to leave a family business-” 

“What are you talking about? I left because I don’t like any of you.” 

“Dick.” 

“See it’s that kind of thing that made for a hostile work environment I really couldn’t foresee a future working under,” he grinned, unlocking the door.  

“You taught me words far more creative than that growing up, monte de merda-” 

“Desenmerda-te, and don’t cuss at me in Portuguese carcamano.” 

“I’m fucking Persian!” 

“Tell that to your pale ass like unbaked garlic bread, minchia,” Cassian retorted in Italian as he tossed his keys onto the skirting board and shrugged off his coat.  

“A fanabla!”  

“Love you too, tell Feyre I said hi.” 

“See you and Nesta on Sunday, I’ll text you timings.” 

“No shop talk okay, she still doesn’t know anything about-” 

“I know, I know, it’s not me you have to worry about. Feyre keeps asking me to hire her.” 

“As what? Has Cosa Nostra began dabbling in the modelling industry under your direction, baby brother?” 

“If I said yes would you come back to us?” 

“I’m a one woman man, Rhys.” 

“Jesus, it’s been less than a month.” 

“At which point you and Feyre were engaged.” 

“Nesta’s no Feyre.” 

Yeah, Nesta has enough wit about her to know you can’t go round offering Mafia jobs like candy, he thought to himself.  

“Whatever man, I’ll see you then.” 

“See you then.” 

 TAG LIST

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@illyrianshadowhunter

[toriwakes]

Problem [Spender Reid x Reader]

summary: the daughter of a famous chef becomes a target, and it’s spencer’s job to protect her.

content warnings: female!reader, cursing

a/n: hello!!! first spencer reid post!! so excited to share, sorry if it’s bad </3. this is obviously inspired by s1 ep18. hope u all enjoy, lmk if you have any requests!

dad was a famous chef. he was known world wide, liked by some and hated by some. that’s how it worked. she had gotten used to the spotlight. it was his, anyway. no one payed much attention to her. or so she thought. when the incident happened she had noticed a pattern. someone was watching her and she didn’t know who. why her? her dad, a hot head, wasn’t going to let this fly easily. and that was a problem.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“davy plattel, 57. heard of him?” jennifer asked, clearly joking. “he’s an australian chef and has been on 5 different tv shows. all of which he rates food and has a tendency for being cold do this employees.” reid spat out the facts like he’s been waiting to be asked this question since he was born. the team just stared at him before jennifer spoke. “i was kidding.” spencer pressed his lips together as his cheeks flushed pink. “remind me why we’re looking into this guy?” morgan said, flicking through the files. “people going to his restaurants are getting poisoned, press says he’s snapped and is making them pay for making him look like a bad guy for all these years.” derek’s brows furrowed together. “and this is a b.a.u case because?” asked aaron. “right when the poisoning started-“ jj dropped a new file into his lap. “-his daughter (y/n) became a target.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“you lot are supposed to be the best in the game. figure out who’s hurting my business and find who’s hurting my daughter!” hot head was right. platell was taken into a separate room by gideon and morgan, which left aaron and reid to scout for you. davy told them you’d be in your room. “(y/n) platell? i’m special agent aaron hotchner with the fbi. we’re here to ask you a couple of questions if that’s okay with you?” your eyes lifted from the floor and to the stern man sitting on the edge of your bed. whilst nodding you noticed the taller man in your doorway. “special agent doctor spencer reid. we’re here to help.” hotch and reid walked you to the backyard, a perfect place to interrogate you. “tell me about your relationship with your dad.” spencer spoke first. you gulped. “i love him. he’s my best friend. he’s all i have, okay? he’s overprotective, but whose dad isn’t? he’s going crazy now that the person doing this wants me.” “what about the person who’s after you? any idea who it could be? think of someone who felt invisible to you, inferior.” as hard as you thought, nothing clicked. you shook your head and hotch let out a sigh. “i’m scared.” you admitted. “nothing like this has ever happened before?” spencer asked, almost surprised. “no, everyone focused on him, never on me.” spencer looked like he put pieces together. aaron thanked you for your time and led you back inside, spencer following. you knew the feeling in your stomach. butterflies.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

things got worse at the end of the day. you got a voicemail, an unsettling voice whose gender wasn’t identifiable called, talking about how they didn’t like how much time you were spending with the fbi. not only did this enrage your dad, it caused him to take matters into his own hands and search the bushes around your house. he didn’t find anything. “did the caller say anything else?” gideon asked. you quivered. “they..” you couldn’t catch your breath. “they said they were going to come get me at midnight.” everyone in the room shared a look of panic. “we need to get her out of here.” aaron instructed. “what? no, she is staying with me.” for what felt like the hundredth time today, the agents had to calm down your dad. “we have a safe house to take you to. an agent will stay with you for the night.” jennifer told you. your mind immediately went to reid. “anyone in particular you’d like?” she said, one hand on your shoulder. you leaned into her ear, whispering the name that made you cheeks flush. “spencer.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

the car ride was mostly silent. spencer was playing with his fingers, something you did as well. “are you nervous?” you said finally. he stopped at once, putting his hands into his pockets. “wha? oh, no, i’m fine.” you knew he wasn’t, but you didn’t press. “um- when did you leave australia?” he asked. you giggled. “when my dad started to get recognition, so when i was maybe eight. i didn’t leave much behind, the kids at school didn’t like me. i made my first friend here. gina.” he nodded. “was she nice to you?” “always. never anything but. i get a hot head sometimes- just like my dad. on occasion i would lash out on her, but she always forgave me. i always regretted it, she was really good to me.” spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “what did she act like when you would get mad?” you gave him a look, as if to say “why is this important?”. “well, she would look sad at first. like she didn’t understand why i was mad. she made herself smaller and blamed herself for making me mad. i thought it was weird that she never tried to defend herself.” reid shuffled into his pocket and took out his phone, dialing a number and speaking quickly. “hotch, why have we not considered looking at people close to her? it’s just like the case with that government official and the twin sisters- it was someone close to him. her friend- gina you said?” you nodded quickly. “fits the profile, and is close to her.” voices spoke on the other line before reid asked another question. “what’s her full name?” “gina carmen torres.” spencer retreated the name and you could hear hotch say he’d alert garcia. “it’s not her, i know it’s not.” reid looked at you like you were wrong. you shivered.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

when you got to the house spencer advised that you showered and got ready for bed, spreaking since it was so close to midnight. he stayed outside the shower door and handed you your close when you were done. “cold?” he asked, taking notice of you shaky frame. you nodded. he handed you the sweater he was going to wear to bed tonight, not minding at all. there go the butterflies. you sat one the bed and slid under the covers. “you should get some rest, i’m gonna stay up and make sure nothing happens.” he said. you didn’t fall asleep. “is something wrong? other than the fact that you’re being stalked?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “yes, actually. i don’t wanna admit this, but..i cant fall asleep unless i’m hugging something. and i..don’t have any stuffed animals with me.” spencer raised his eyebrows. “(y/n) if you’re asking me to sleep next to you i-“ “please spence? i’m not gonna be able to sleep anyway, it’ll help at least.” you pleaded, showing off your puppy dog eyes. “okay. fine.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

spencer stayed up all night. sure he was required to stay awake, but he was only staying up because he didn’t want to miss out on how beautiful you looked when you were asleep. you looked so calm, so peaceful. spencer had no idea what he was feeling, but he didn’t want it to stop. he liked you, and a lot. “fuck.” he whispered to himself. the small noise made you stir, but not enough to wake you up. suddenly, a ring came from spencer’s phone. he picked it up before it could wake you. “hello?” he whispered. “reid, we got em bud. found her in the girl’s bedroom of platell’s house. is she safe?” morgan’s voice spoke. spencer looked down at you, petting your head gently. “yea, she’s safe.” “alright man. i’m guessing she’s asleep?” “correct.” “okay. just stay with her, we’ll be there soon anyway.” morgan hung up. soon? damnit, he didn’t have much time left with you. he checked the clock, reading 5am. he wanted to talk to you, but he wasn’t going to wake you up for that. what were you doing to him?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

spencer woke you up at 7:30. “they’ll be here at 10, and i don’t really know your schedule so.. i hope that enough time to get ready.” you rubbed your eyes and examined spencer. he was wearing his sweats and found a white shirt that was a bit too tight on him. he looked cute. “yes, that’s fine. i’ll..i’ll be right back.” you left the room to brush your teeth and get changed, finding reid inspecting some books you had lying around. “i have two copies of that. one at home and one here. just in case.” you said, sitting down right next to him and peering over. “it’s a classic. you like to read?” he inquired. “love it. although i cant stick to a book unless there’s some type of romance.” spencer raised his eyebrows. “call me a dork, whatever. what’s wrong with being into a little bit of love?” you chuckled. “no, in fact i figured you’d be that way.” you rolled your eyes playfully. “profilers. well, tell me what you think of me.” spencer paused before speaking. “i think you’re smart, you know how to pick your relationships-“ “what do you mean by that?” he stopped and pursed his lips, finding what words to say. “you know what you want in friends and boyfriends.” you raised your eyebrows. he couldn’t possibly know. “are you saying you know my type?” he shrugged. “yeah probably.” “try me.” “you like smart guys. guys who are confident, but not full of themselves. you like it when they’re sweet, but demanding. though i don’t know what you find physically attractive.” he said, going back to the book. you pulled it out of his hands. “i can tell you that one. i like guys named spencer reid.” almost instantly his face flushed red and he stopped speaking. you took the liberty of leaning in, your lips ghosting his. “(y/n)-“ “kiss me spence.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

his lips were as soft as they looked. the way he kissed was new to you, but you adapted and matched his energy. due to this, he whimpered as he kissed you. you pulled back to look at him, his face was bright red. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have-“ “spencer!” he cut himself off and looked at you with those full eyes of his. “don’t apologize. i liked it. a lot.” seeing that as his green light he cupped your chin and pulled you in for another quick kiss before getting up and getting ready himself.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“(y/n)? (y/n)!” your dad showed up at the door a few hours later. “i was worried.” he whispered while you hugged. “i’m fine, dad. we’re fine.” when your dad let go of you and saw spencer lingering a bit too close, he connected the dots. “this boy didn’t try anything did he?” derek was listening now. you opened your mouth while turning to reid, whose eyes were wide with fear. “uh- no. he didn’t do anything but protect me, dad.” that didn’t let up his death stare on him. your dad wandered off to his car, everyone splitting up to leave home. “i’ll see you around.” spencer began to split up as well, but you caught his wrist. “check your pocket. see you.” with that you were gone. reaching into his back pocket, he felt something. a small piece of paper, you number etched on it with a small heart. you’re nothing like he’s used to. and thats a problem.

[sexy-bee-juice]

“I love[d] you”

Pairing: Tsukishima x reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, light mentions of smut??(i am so sorry if its bad but i’ve never written it so-), fighting [karasuno throwin hands-]

Summary: Tsukki cheats on reader, and the team finds out after you break down.

https://youtu.be/50VNCymT-Cs

heres a song to make it worse. Im sorry.

*

“Kei?”

“Hmm?” He said, looking up from his book.

You were both in bed, cuddling, you looking through your phone, with your boyfriend of only one year beside you. Sure, it’s only been a year, but you’ve been crushing on him since middle school. Feelings ran deep.

You smiled at him.

“I love you.” He stared at you for only a moment, then looked away blushing.

“I love you too.” Then he reached over and kissed you lightly on the forehead. “To the moon and back.”

*

It had been nearly four months since you had first said those words to Kei, and you were still head over heels for him.

You were the manager for the Karasuno Volleyball Club, and a third year. You were only making your way to the gym where they were practicing, skipping along, happy because the older third years were coming back to see the team.

Kageyama and Hinata were going to be ecstatic, especially Hinata. Suga, Azumane, and Sawamura were already on their way. Then your phone beeped with a message from Kei.

*

can’t make it to practice today, head hurts tell evryone else

*

You frowned. When you had left his house earlier he seemed fine... Oh well. Later you just needed to make him some of that tea you had at your house that your mother always made for you when you had a headache.

*

alrightyyyyy. see you after practice. i’ll tell the alums u cant make it bby! hope you feel better soon! :)

*

No reply. You brushed it off, as he usually did this to you. Plus his head hurt as well.

You checked the time, and jumped as you saw you were still ten minutes away from the gym, and you were supposed to be there fifteen minutes before everyone else. AHHHHHHH. Gotta rush, gotta rush, gotta rushhhhh. You thought as you ran as fast as you could to where practice was gonna be.

When you finally reached the school, you saw that Shoyo and Tobio were already there, with Shoyo bouncing around, singing whatever song he came up with, probably mere minutes before, and Tobio aggressively yelling at him, trying to pull him down.

“Hey guys! Stop that sorry Im late lets get inside and you two can start warming up before everyone else gets here oh my god I need water-” You said, out of breath and gasping, dripping in sweat.

Shoyo smiled and offered you his hand to the place where you had fallen on the ground.

“Hey! No worries y/n-Chan! I have some water for you here! Well, it was supposed to be for me, but you can have cuz I don't need it and I’m sure I can get someone else to share with me!” You smiled up gratefully at Shoyo, and took his extended hand, pulling yourself up.

An instant sense of cool relief flowed over you as you swallowed down the chilling water. God, you couldn’t have asked to be the manager for a better team.

Soon, the rest of the team began to minnow in, laughing and talking, carefree as usual, until (as expected) Shoyo nearly jumped on Tobio after giving the loudest screech ever.

“Jeez, what happened? GET OFF ME YOU RUNT! SCRUB! IDIOT! I SWEAR I’LL-” The words died in his throat as he saw who has just entered the gym.

“AH! SUGA-SAN! AZUMANE-SENPAI! CAPTAIN! NOYA-SANNNNNN! TANAKA-SENPAI!!!!” You smiled, looking back to the alums of Karasuno.

“AHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SHOYOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Bellowed Noya as he jumped over to Shoyo, Tanaka at his heels.

“BROOOOOOOO WE MISSED YOU!” said Tanaka, tackling both Tobio and Shoyo in a hug, lifting them both off the floor.

“HEY GERROF!” said Tobio, muffled by his jacket.

You walked up to the older alums, smiling greetings and welcomes.

“So? How’s things with you all?” You asked.

“Ehhh, same old, same old. How you managing...as...manager-? I- wait-” stutters Azumane.

“No, no, its fine. These two still fight and bicker but they’re easy to manage nowadays.”

“oh? Jeez, y/n-Chan, you have it easy.” Said Suga. “When I was still here as a third-year, it was definitely harder to manage them, and the rest of the team...”

You smiled, happy to see them, and continued watching the four freaks reunite.

“I miss my children...” You heard Suga murmur, barely discernable from the now probably-not-human-noises the four were making. Daichi and Azumane were trying their best not to burst out laughing behind Suga, who was wistfully staring at his “children”.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Daichi-san asked you the one thing you forgot to tell them.

“So...where’s Tsukishima?” He asked, looking around as if your boyfriend were hiding. As if he would do something so childish.

“oh! Yeah, I forgot to tell you all. He said to tell you all. He said he had to skip today because his head was hurting.”

“Ah, yes. The head pain. An unfortunate enemy.” said Tanaka-san, looking up from the place he was wrestling with the team. You giggled.

“Well, when Kiyoko-senpai arrives i think i might leave for a bit to take care of Kei, then i’ll come back, just letting you guys know, so don’t-”

“SHIMIZU-SENPAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII” You heard Noya and Tanaka yell simultaneously.

“And that’s my cue-” You said swiveling to the door, and sprinting back to the Tsukishima residence.

As the door was always open for you, you didn’t even bother knocking, but entered right away. Nobody seemed to be home either.

As you silently made your way to your boyfriends room, you saw that you were pretty much already a significant part of their lives. They had pictures of you with them all, framed. Sticky notes with reminders for you on the fridge. You even had a spot at the table with them, for the nights you stayed for dinner.

Truly, this was your home.

https://youtu.be/Mhj15W23IjA        [more pain, you masochist’s]

You smiled softly as you made your way to his bedroom, humming along the way, so any other sound went unnoticed by you.

As you reached his door, you smiled at the little dino sticker he had stuck there at the beginning of your relationship. It was worn, but it still stuck there, serving as a reminder.

“It’s so you don’t get lost when you need to find me in the house. It shouldn’t be hard, but knowing you, you can go out for milk then buy a swimming pool.” You smiled as he smacked it on, and he turned the knob to his door, permitting you to enter.

You turned the knob.

“Tsukki? I know I should have come earlier or something but could you help me with-”

“Idiot. Just get in here. I couldn’t care less anyways, what? Can’t solve a simple question?”

“Tsukiiiiiiii, stop being so meaaaannnn.” he smirked at you.

“Don’t call me that.” you blinked up at him.

“uhhhh...call you what?”

“Tsukki. Don’t call me that.”

“oh. um. ok then.”

“call me Kei.”

you smiled up at him, tears swimming in your eyes.

You cracked open the door.

“Y/n?” He opened the door to his room, the dinosaur sticker still on it, only a couple months old.

“Yuppers.” he tilted your face up to him with his thumb and forefinger. “I-oh.”

Then he leaned down and kissed you ever so softly on your lips, eyes fluttering shut.

“I want you to stay with me forever...” He whispered.

“I will.” He smiled.

“Then I will too”

And you opened the door, smiling to yourself due to all the memories you made in this very spot.

Then your eyes widened.

no.

no.

NO.

NO...

It can’t be real...

Kei would never.

but he.... he did.

And he didn’t even notice you open the door, he didn’t even see you or hear the gasp you let out as you took in what you saw. He only looked up from the girl he was fucking in front of him, sweaty and panting, bites and scratches over his back and on his neck, when you slammed the door.

No tears ran down your face, like most people. You just ran back to the gym, not even really getting tired just...numb.

he promised. He promised to be yours forever.

but he must have crossed his fingers. done something stupid. because he lied. he wasn’t ever soley yours. he wasn’t, he couldn’t be.

But still. You couldn’t cry.

1) You don’t cry. You never cried.

2)You couldn’t let anyone see you weren’t ok.

Fake it ‘till you make it.

“WAIT. Y/N! WAIT, WAIT WAIT, DON’T GO!” But why would you listen?

Everything went by in a blur. you were minutes away from the gym.

Minutes away from safety.

Then you could hide behind a mask and never let anyone see.

“Oh, hey y/n-Chan! That was kinda quick.” Said Daichi. You inhaled, pushing everything away.

You giggled.

“Uh, yeah. Kei had his mom there so I left it up to her, plus he told me to get back to practice.” He smiled.

“Glad to hear he’s doing alright.” You smiled back.

“Yeah. Anyways. Anything happen while I was gone?” He shook his hed.

“Just the usual. Noya and Tanaka with the freak twins are in a two-on-two, trying to kill each other, and Suga and Asahi are kinda trying to stop the death part.”

“Ah. I see. The norm then.”

“Y/n!” You froze.

NO. nononono not now.

Why would he do this if he never really cared?

“Oh, hey look! Its Tsukishima!” Said Daichi, a smile still on his face.

But rather than running towards him, like you usually would, you ran away. Right into the gym, and...

Right into Suga’s arms.

“Hey, slow down a bit or you might be worse than Noya and knock me over!” He smiled at you. But he was just too intuitive for his own good, damn it, and his smile fell immediately.

“Is something the matter?” You composed your expression, smacking a smile back onto your face, and as you opened your mouth to say all was fine, you were cut off.

“Y/n! no no no I can explain!” You looked at Suga. Fear in your eyes. Did he figure it out? But you didn’t want to look at Kei right now. You couldn’t.

“y/n? What happened?” You looked back up at him.

“...Nothing. I’m fine.”

“No! Y/n! You don’t understand! I love you! And only you!”

Oh, he shouldn’t have said that.

Because that’s what broke you.

And soon you had squirmed out from Suga’s grasp and fallen onto the floor, sobbing. You never cried. But if you didn’t just this once, you might have exploded.

“Y/n?! What-?”

Then suddenly the whole team was surrounding. You, some of them kneeeling down to your height.

“...y/n? W-what happened?” Asked Yamaguchi. You looked up at him, tears still streaking down your face.

“I-It was...I don’t-”

“Y/n! Y/n, please listen! Please, please, please I’m begging you!” Called Kei as he finally reached the doors to the gym, panting and gasping.

“Why would I listen to you? H-How am I supposed to believe anything you say anymore?”

At this, he reeled back, your words finally hitting him.

But before anyone moved, Daichi looked between both of you, and crouched down beside you. And so softly, he whispered:

“Did he...Please don’t tell me he did...? He cheated...?” You nodded and started to sob harder, and soon you were wrapped up in his embrace, while he petted the back of your head, whispering consoltations into your ear.

Unfortunately for Kei, the whole team heard.

“He did what to you?” Asked Noya, staring right at you, a stone cold expression on his face.

“He cheated on her.” Said Daichi, looking between you and Tsukki. “Tsukishima cheated on y/n.”

“And in the next moment, before anyone could react, Suga was standing right in front of Tsukki, glaring at him with the most terrifying expression on his face anyone has ever seen.

“You did what?”

“I- I c-cheat-” But before Tsukki could finish sentence, Suga had punched him right in the face.

“HOW COULD YOU?!?! WHY WOULD YOU EVER DO THAT TO ANYONE?!?” He screamed, tears now streaming down his face. “SHE LOVED YOU WITH ALL HER HEART AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO HER!” He pointed to you and Daichi.

“I-I didn’t m-mean to-” Stuttered Tsukki, eyes blown wide in fear, tears prickling in the corner, so close to spilling over.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU! LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO HER! LOOK WHAT YOU DID!” It looked like he was ready to land another punch across his face before Noya and Tanaka were there holding him back, and began to bring him back to where you were, still screaming at Tsukishima, tears likewise streaming down his face.

“Hold her.” Ordered Daichi, looking at Suga, who nodded and cradled you, still shaking.

“Hey, hey, calm down, I’m here, i’m here...”

This time Noya and Hinata were standing right in front of the boy who so towered over them.

“I don’t want you to come near her for a while. I don’t want to look at you anymore.” Said Noya, serious as ever. Tsukishima nodded.

As he looked to Hinata, he realized that tears were pricking the corners of his eyes, and he looked mad. Really mad. Then suddenly, he was on the ground, a sharp pain in his back.

Hinata had pushed him. He looked down at him, and shook his head, as if saying no.

But he didn’t say anything, and just walked away.

But, why? Why didn’t he yell? Why didn’t he scream? Why was he so... SO DAMN QUIET?!

Before Noya could do anything, as he was expected to do, Tanaka was there, herding them both away, and completely ignoring Tsukishima. Whatever they were doing, it made it worse.

Azumane couldn’t even go near Tsukishima.

Not only because he didn’t want to be near him, but because he was afraid. Not afraid of Tsukishima, no.

He was afraid because he might lose control. He might hurt him.

Then Daichi was there.

“I don’t want you to even come near her until she’s ready to talk to you. Do you understand me?” He nodded. Daichi glared at him for a minute that could have been an hour, a moment completely suspended in time.

“Then get out of here.” And Tsukishima scrabbled to his feet, not once looking away from Daichi until he was completely up on his feet. Only then did he let the tears fall.

You were gone now. And look what he did.

As he ran away from the Gym, you thought it was laughter you heard coming from Tsukishima, when really, he was sobbing.

You kept listening even as his cries echoed through the clearing, and even when they were gone.

“I loved you, Tsukishima.” You whispered.

a/n: Makin myself cry here

[seita]

— bnha abc's: hitoshi shinsou [angst edition].

well, finally the angst! i have no idea what character i’ll do next but we shall see...

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·    

ɴsғᴡ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ | ғʟᴜғғ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

⤑ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬  

A- Accident, Would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?

∴ unless he was the reason you were involved then no. ∴ he wouldn’t search for correlation to himself in the event of an accident. ∴ he’s not looking to throw a pity party for himself. ∴ you were the one who was dead, after all.

B- Break up, How would they deal with one?

∴ it depends on the relationship. ∴ if it was long term, a few years together then he’s pretty broken up about it ∴ and will probably take a while to get himself back on the market ∴ but a relationship that’s only been a handful of months ∴ he figures it’s best to just move on from it.

C-Crying, Are they much of a crier?

∴ no not at all, really. ∴ sure, he feels sad but tears never fall from his eyes. ∴ however, if there is something traumatic that happens. ∴ he may shed a few tears into his pillow as he goes to sleep.

D-Death, How do they deal with any death?

∴ pretty well, actually ∴ he finds a way to cope so he can move on as quickly as possible ∴ that’s not to say he doesn’t mourn or just erase their memory ∴ he just moves to work past being broken up about it ∴ he doesn’t want to go through his days with the heavy weight of a death on his mind ∴ the type of guy to visit graves and leave flowers for his loved ones once a month.

E-Emotion, What’s the emotion they tend to push away the most?

∴ anger. ∴ he doesn’t like to be angry and he doesn’t like to show anyone his anger ∴ that’s not always possible so he’ll remove himself from situations that make him angry ∴ he’ll go somewhere private where he can let his anger out without prying eyes. ∴ he feels like shit after losing his temper so he’ll apologize or you’ll have to console him and let him know it’s okay to be angry ∴ he’s human and bottling it up isn’t healthy ∴ he agrees but...tbh nothing changes.

F-Frustrated, How much would it take to push them off the edge?

∴ it truly depends. ∴ day-to-day, he doesn’t really get ticked off or upset easily ∴ he’s pretty patient tbh ∴ but in an event where he worked hard for something ∴ or he really, really had a drive to do something (like get into the hero course) ∴ and he fails to do it ∴ he is pretty easily set off. ∴ but he pushes past and works 10x harder than before until he accomplishes his goal. ∴ he’s a driven man.

G-Great Pain, What is the most painful thing they have witnessed?

∴ when he became a pro, the first time he failed to defeat a villain ∴ and many civilians perished as a result ∴ it’s something that absolutely haunts him. ∴ he had nightmares for weeks afterwards ∴ he fully went to a therapist ∴ like he was fucked up over it ∴ to this day, if he’s reminded of it he will literally get so anxious and depressed, even though he’s seen lots of casualties since then ∴ it was just that first failure that fucks him up.

H-Humiliation, How could they be humiliated?

∴ being cheated on. ∴ the idea that he wasn’t good enough, to the point his lover had to find someone else. ∴ that really damages his sense of self worth and self esteem which is already a bit low to begin with. ∴ he’d feel like there was something wrong with him and now everyone knew he was defective.

I-Injured, How do they handle themselves when injured?

∴ very calm and collected. ∴ he figures there’s no real reason to lose his head over it. ∴ panicking will only make the situation worse. ∴ if it’s a bad injury, he’ll seek help as fast as he can. ∴ if its a superficial wound he’ll probably handle it himself.

J-Jittery, Which part of their past makes them flinch or even worked up?

∴ his childhood. ∴ he was the target for teasing and bullying due to his quirk. ∴ so if anything reminds him of those times, he gets really down ∴ he doesn’t like spiral into depression or anything ∴ but he’ll feel anxious and self conscious until the moment passes

K-Kill, Would they kill for revenge?

∴ no, never. ∴ he’s worked so hard to become a pro hero that he wouldn’t want to jeopardize it by some sort of misconduct as that. ∴ also, he has been accused of having potential to become a villain ∴ and he doesn’t want to give anyone ammunition for that.

L- Loss, What was their greatest loss?

∴ he hasn’t actually experienced much loss in terms of losing anyone to death. ∴ when he was a child, he had a friend before his quirk manifested ∴ and accidentally used it on them, unsure of how to control it ∴ and it scared the other boy so bad he stopped being friends with him ∴ that hurt shinsou pretty badly. ∴ he also probably lost a pet dog, which was traumatic because of how  much he depended on the furry animal for comfort

M- Mistakes, How much do they want to fix the mistakes of their past?

∴ shinsou isn’t the type of person who will do things that have the potential for regret ∴ he thinks his decisions over thoroughly and runs through all options before choosing the most logical one ∴ of course, he fucks up sometimes but ∴ he stands by his decisions, confident that he did the best possible thing he could have. ∴ being a pro hero doesn’t allow for him to regret things -- if he stops to mourn every civilian loss, for example, he would only be run into the ground. ∴ that doesn’t help anyone.

N-Need, How would they react if you needed emergency surgery?

∴ calm and collected ∴ especially if you’re scared ∴ then he’s going to make sure he’s a pillar for you to lean on ∴ that’s not to say on the inside he isn’t losing his mind ∴ bc he def is ∴ he just finds it counterproductive to stress you out while you’re already scared of the surgery ∴ it would get neither of you anywhere good ∴ once you’re in surgery, he’d be anxious as he waited. ∴ he’s check the time and refuse to leave the hospital until the doctor announces you’re safe.

O-Outrage, What makes them angry?

∴ betrayal. ∴ shinsou, when he trusts, he trusts hard. ∴ he puts his faith into them and expects them to stand by his side ∴ so if, for example, you used an insecurity of his against him in an argument. ∴ or cheated on him. ∴ or spilled a secret he told you in confidence ∴ he will be pissed. depending on how bad it was, he’s liable to break up with you. ∴ naturally, once his trust is broken, however, it’s near impossible to fix ∴ so good luck getting your relationship back to how it used to be lol

P-Pressure, What stresses them out to the breaking point?

∴ training ∴ he works hard to better himself to become the best hero possible ∴ but it stresses him out that he’s not improving fast enough, he’s not doing enough, he’s falling behind others ∴ he’s really hard on himself and his drive only makes the thought of failure terrifying to him. ∴ he doesn’t want to fuck up and lose his chance at his dream.

Q- Qualify, What part of themselves do they see as dangerous?

∴ his quirk, naturally. ∴ it’s a pretty dangerous quirk but ∴ truthfully, everyone’s quirk is dangerous in some way. ∴ it’s just that he’s always been trated as if his quirk was the worst possible outcome he could have been born with. ∴ so he feels like his quirk is the Most Dangerous.

R-Rock, What weighs them down?

∴ the idea that his quirk, very well could be a villains quirk. ∴ he worries that he might abuse it by accident and fuck everything up ∴ his quirk is different from combat quirks or rescue quirks ∴ he can control people. he can lock them into their own minds and force their bodies to do anything he wants without having to lift a finger. and there’s nothing they can do it about it. ∴ that scares him. ∴ it’s such a powerful quirk ∴ and it’d be so easy to abuse it ∴ he worries about his own morality at times, due to all the times he’s been called a villain ∴ it makes him doubt himself even though he knows himself better than that.

S-Sorrow, Would they feel empty after your death?

∴ very much so. ∴ shinsou is the type who gives himself completely to relationships ∴ whether it’s platonic or romantic, he puts 100% in. ∴ so to lose someone he had cared for so completely ∴ leaves him with a devastating emptiness ∴ he’s not going to know how to fill the gap your presence left behind for a long time.

T-Time, What if they had a limited time to live?

∴ he wouldn’t panic ∴ he’d spend the time doing everything he needed to do ∴ like see his mother, hang out with his friends, eat his favorite food, spend a night with you ∴ he’d be determined to make sure he wouldn’t regret wasting the time he had left ∴ so he does everything he feels is necessary for having the happiest time that he has left.

U-Urge, How badly do they get the urge to see you after separating?

∴ on a day to day basis, not much ∴ he’s very good at occupying his mind and thinking logically about whether it makes sense to see you or not. ∴ most of the time it’s not. ∴ he’s not the type to go crawling back to his ex unless it’s something he needs to fix with you. ∴ but at night, when he cant sleep ∴ his mind will automatically wander to you ∴ thinking about how it felt when just a few days, weeks, months ago you were curled up beside him in bed.

V-Vent, How do they get rid of feelings they find unnecessary?

∴ he’s actually really damn good at communication ∴ he is so good at just talking things through ∴ it helps him sort his thoughts and it keeps him calm, rather than getting worked up and upset ∴ he prefers to have healthy ways to release his negative emotions

W-Wild card, A random angst headcannon.

∴ when the bullying over his quirk got worse the older he got ∴ as people started to look at him like he was going to harm them ∴ he got frustrated, angry even ∴ he went off on his mom -- blaming her for giving him such a shitty, terrible quirk ∴ he said some extremely hurtful things in his anger ∴ and the picture of his mom’s hurt face over his words drives him insane ∴ to this day, he still feels like he’s trying to make it up to her. ∴ truthfully, it’s been forgiven and forgotten for a long time but ∴ he doesn’t believe he deserves that just yet.

X- X-ray, What makes them transparent? How obvious can they get around something they hate?

∴ you really will not know when this guy hates you ∴ he seems to have mostly just, cold indifference to majority of people ∴ so him hating you; being ignored or treated coldly ∴ will literally not even make you feel hated ∴ it just seems like his default ∴ he’s pretty open about his opinions though ∴ so if you talk about something and ask what he thinks of it ∴ if he hates it, like a movie, he’ll just come right out and say it tbh ∴ so he’s like 50/50 transparent.

Y-Yearning, Do old memories make them yearn for your touch?

∴ yes. ∴ shinsou is the type of guy to look through his phone at old texts and pictures ∴ when he lies in bed at night, he thinks of his fondest memories ∴ he won’t actively seek you out if it’s not logical -- like if you’re an ex. ∴ but if you’re available for him, he’ll seek you out with a deep craving for you. ∴ he wants to make more memories while he can.

Z-Zest, Add your own letters!

[Parents Headcanon] ∴ when he was a baby, his father left him and his mom ∴ that left his mom to take care of a baby all on her own ∴ she was a young mom too, had him pretty early in life; about 18 or so. ∴ so she struggled really badly ∴ he regrets all the trouble he gave her when he was naive to the struggles of parenthood ∴ once he got older and realized how much his mom did for him ∴ he began to work hard around the house so she could relax when she got home from work, cooked dinner, and never asked for anything he didn’t absolutely need ∴ he absolutely adores his mom ∴ and the idea of ever being without her terrifies him.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·    

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[morgana-ren]

Im. I love you? Your answer to that ask is beautiful, also I forgot about the other meaning for weed for a moment and got confused like, 'is morgana-ren a stoner? Beefy weed muscles???' and now i cant help but imagine stoned Shiggy. Specifically him forcefully shotgunning his captive because hes bored and if hes getting stoned she might as well too. Laughing at her when she gets spacey. This is a fun train of thought lol, thanks for inspiring it

I am a ridiculous and incoherent person. My first instinct is to literally reply with complete gibberish to most things. Shaming me has absolutely Z E R O effect because I have no shame. I’m a ridonkulous person. Last time I got high, I just laid in bed singing “Secret tunnel, secret tunnel” for like 3 hours.

To be fair, I would also do that completely buttfuck sober.

Gods I wish I had a gif of Shig smonkin some donk wods, but since I don’t, you’ll have to settle for me writing it.

PSA after the fact: I AM SO SORRY IT GOT A LIL CREEPY BUT TO BE FAIR, IT’S ME AND IF YOU SENDIN ME SHIT YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO BE REAL FECKIN’ SPECIFIC OR ELSE I’M GUNNA MAKE IT CREEPY also weed hits me way different than it does most folks so it’s really hard for me to be able to accurately describe how it might be to anyone else. SO imagine this is supervillain quirky weed he has special made to calm his...uh,.. never ending rage. also it’s ridiculously longer than I planned. cause I get carried away. anyway love you!

His room is dank and smells like mold and must.

Tight metal bindings cut into your wrists, leaving you raw with crusted blood despite the fact you stopped fighting days ago. Your tailbone feels bruised from constantly shifting on his worn down carpet, your legs prickling and aching from inactivity.

He’s kept you bound here for a while, handcuffs looped through the foot of his bed. You’re not entirely sure how long, since his ratty blackout curtains make it hard to see daylight. He’s got them taped down, blocking out all but the tiniest slivers of light. Like most of his life, his room exists in total darkness.

Time has little meaning here.

He doesn’t leave you alone often, only really exiting the room to bring you food which you refuse to eat. Most of it has been kicked into the corner, the soft buzz of fruit flies accumulating more and more by the day. It frustrates him, but he’s keen on reminding you that he’s patient. You’ll relent eventually.

Truth be told, your willpower is starting to give. Your body is stiff and sore, head perpetually aching from crying. His moods are like whiplash, one second crooning to you how special you are to him, the next backhanding you and calling you a stubborn bitch. You don’t know what he wants from you. If the fates were merciful, he’d get it over with and just kill you.

Ending your life doesn’t seem like it’s high on his list of priorities.

He’s facing away from you now, tinkering with something on his desk by the light of his various computer monitors. You can’t make out what it is, only that he’s been at it for the past ten minutes. Grateful as you are for his lack of attention, it always makes you nervous when he gets preoccupied. It usually means he’s working on some new and exciting way to break you.

You take comfort in the momentary peace, some temporary reprieve from the invasive leer of those horrid crimson eyes scanning over you in the darkness. Whatever he’s doing, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Only steel yourself against what he gives you when he’s finished.

He reaches into his desk, pulling out a plastic bag of something you can’t make out. All you know is when you hear the ziplock open, a strange scent floods the room. It smells vaguely familiar, but between your fucked up headspace and even worse situation, you can’t really bring yourself to care.

Leaning against the little metal bed leg you’re imprisoned against, you realize just how heavy your eyes are as you rest the back of your head on his threadbare mattress. Fighting off oncoming waves of pulsing anxiety takes most of your energy reserve, and bouts of sleep tend to come few and far between when you’re sleeping in the den of a predator.You’re so tired, so worn down, and you don’t know what else he could do to you that he hasn’t already done or planning to do. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t considered saying that to him, but you feel like tempting the universe or him isn’t a great idea right now. Either way, your eyelashes feel like weights dragging you under into the sea of sleep.

You’re almost there when his chair squeaks and you jolt awake, that overwhelming sense of dread coming over you. Your instincts blare and somehow you just know his eyes are on you again, waiting for you to acknowledge him. He wants your attention, and he expects you to give it.

Dragging your exhausted lids open when you know you’ll have to see that terrifying man is a burden you haven’t grown accustomed to having quite yet, but it’s one you bear anyway. Besides, you know that if he thinks you’re ignoring him, he has no problem forcing you to look at him. It’s easier to just give him what he wants. He hurts you less that way.

So you do, and just like you expected, he’s simpering down at you, holding something you can’t make out in his hands. Gulping comes on impulse; he looks far too pleased and that never bodes well for you.

“Do you know what this is?”

He holds it out and it takes you a second to make it out in the dark, but you know that basic shape.

“I-is that a pipe?”

“At least you know that much.” He gives you a cheeky lip quirk, making heat rise in your cheeks. Palming it in one hand, he uses the other to fish in his pocket, one finger carefully pulled outside the kangaroo pouch of his jacket. Following his movements, your brows furrow and curiosity almost wills you to speak. The words stall in your mouth, however, when you see him pull a cheap lighter out between two fingers.

He flicks it a few times with his thumb, sparking the light and sending small cinders dancing across the his lap. After a few tries, it finally holds. The light across his face only makes him seem all the more sinister, exacerbating the shadows that reside in the craggy, marred flesh of his cheeks. The flame dances in his pupils and the orange tinged shine glimmers off the edges of his weirdly perfect, jagged teeth. It’s extremely unsettling.

He lets the flame die, picking his pipe back up and tapping it on the desk once or twice.

“I don’t do this often. I usually prefer to keep a clear head.” He lazily arches back in his chair, inhaling the dank stench of the sticky green plant packed in his pipe before returning his gaze to you. “But in some cases, I find it can help you relax.”

Bringing the pipe to his face, he wraps his chapped lips around the bit and sparks the lighter again. You watch as the flame is sucked toward the bowl, igniting the contents and bringing them to a dull simmer.Thumb twitching on the carb and pinkie pulled away, he inhales, letting his head lull back on the seat of his chair. After a few seconds and a suppressed cough or two, he leans forward and exhales, sending a splay of thick, billowing smoke directly into your face.

You turn your head, watery eyes clinging shut, but it’s not enough to keep the acrid stench from clogging through your sinuses. It constricts your throat, compelling an instinctive cough from deep in your chest. Whatever it is he’s smoking, it’s strong.

His high pitched laugh echoes off the barren walls of his room as you scrunch your nose and try to disperse the smoke pooled in your face. When the air finally clears, he’s leaning toward you, arms resting on his knees with the pipe in one hand and his lighter in the other. The little embers still burn beneath the lip of the bowl, little grey spirals rising up from the still burning plant clusters.

He holds it out to you (as if you could take it with your hands restrained behind your back), hyena-grinning as you scowl up towards him.

“You should try a little. It might make you a little more-” Pausing, he pretends to be in thought. More mockery, you really wish you were desensitized to it by now. “-friendly.”

“I would have been friendly if you hadn’t kidnapped me like some sort of psychopath!”

He rolls his eyes at your outburst, languidly pushing himself off of his dilapidated computer chair and crouching down next to you instead. You know better than to kick at him, he won’t hesitate to break your legs to keep you in line. All you can do is stare at him nervously as he shakes his shaggy pale hair out over his forehead, still sporting that unnerving expression. His scarlet eyes burn arguably brighter than fire from the pipe, and exponentially more threatening.

He moves a little closer into your space, bringing the piece back up to his lips and lighting it up once again. He takes a deep inhale this time, even deeper than the first. Chest puffed and breath held, his lanky arm reaches out back behind him places the still-burning pipe back on the desk, gaze never leaving yours.You figure he’s going to blow it in your face again, either to be annoying or to try and give you some sort of shitty second rate high to make you more malleable.

It’s obnoxious, but not even close to the worst thing he’s done to you.

Yet, his cold, dry fingers grab at your jaw, forcing you to keep your attention on him. A chipped nail from his thumb prods at your lower lip and you realize he wants you to open your mouth. You could tell him to go fuck himself, but that only gives him what he wants, if only for a moment. Instead, you choose to glower at him.

If looks could kill, he would probably keel over, but unfortunately you live in a world where he has the upper hand. He squints at you, something you know would be equally as furious as your own grimace if his features had the freedom to express it. The fingers on your chin clamp down, digging into your soft skin in a bruising grip. The more you defy him, the more he punishes you, and his large hands have more than the power they need to cause you pain.

Eventually you feel your jaw start to crack. You try to hold out, try to stay your ground, but it becomes too much. Between his brutal strength and your already weakened condition, it’s no use fighting him on something he really wants.

You open your mouth, if only to cry in pain, and he immediately crashes his lips against yours.Teeth clack as you try to shake him off, but it’s too late. He’s breathing his air into your lungs, caustic mixture of the taste of the weed and the bitter scent of his breath swirling deep inside you. You try to heave it back at him, but the damage is done. Smoke barely seeps from the tiny cracks he allows between your faces, and your need to breathe is stronger than your ability to fight, so eventually, you relent.

You gulp the air he gives you down, just wanting him to get the fuck away from you. You can feel his lips quirk in a smile as you fight the urge to spit up from the foul scent of his exhale, ripped and bloodied lips scratching against yours. Eventually when he does pull away from you, you go into a hysterical coughing fit and between your bouts, you can hear him cackle.

You finally manage to calm yourself, but whatever it is he’s made you inhale, it’s strong. Stronger than anything you’re used to. Even second hand, your head is already humming, and you can feel your chest tighten against your will.

“You feel it, don’t you?” High pitched giggling and a weirdly gentle brush of a hand across your buzzing, swollen cheek. You go to swat him off, hissing in pain when the metal edge round holding you back cuts into an already existing cut. “Soon you won’t have any fight left in you at all.”

He leaves you alone for a minute, door clicking behind him. You catch your breath in his absence, eyes scanning your surroundings. You look for something, anything he has left within your reach that you can use to escape. It’s what you do during the exceedingly brief moments he’s not around, and so far, it hasn’t yielded any results, but you refuse to give up.

The curtains likely mean that there’s presumably a window behind there. If you can just get free, you might be able to jump out. Problem is you’re stuck with your hands restrained behind you on a metal bed post. It doesn’t matter how much you kick and scream, no one ever comes, so it’s probably safe to say whoever is below or above you doesn’t give a shit. You need to get out of these cuffs.

He smokes, at least occasionally. He’s probably got a bobby pin around here for scraping. If he’s anything like your mates, they probably litter the floor. To be fair, even if you get one, you don’t really know what to do with it. You could try your hand at lockpicking?

Heh. Hand. Get it? Cause all those hands?

Focus.

The biggest problem right now is the handcuffs. Technically, you could get out of them, but you’d have to disjoint your fingers to do it, which takes away from your already pathetic chances at escaping. It hurts to move your wrists, let alone yank on them. Why the fuck did this asshole have handcuffs anyway? Unless he’s doing some kinky shit in his down time. You wouldn’t put it past him, he’s obviously a weird guy. He seems like the type to be into some dirty stuff. You don’t know who with, but there’s probably villain fuckers out there he could find and take advantage of. Gross.

You audibly laugh.That’s funny.That’s really funny. You don’t know why, but the thought makes you giggle uncontrollably. Your mind refuses to stay on track.

Fucking focus!

Somewhere far away, you hear the door open and his heavy footsteps off to the side of you. Too late. You’re still laughing.

“Hey Shigaraki-”

He’s leaning down next to you, fucking with something behind you. Your hands. He’s messing around your hands. He’s cold. Why are his hands always so goddamn cold? Is that why he’s a villain? Cold hands? That would make you a villain too.

Your head feels several sizes too big, and you can’t help but think about how he smells like dust. Everything feels slow. You can feel your heart pumping. You can hear it too.

“-You should like, just let me go.That would be kinda cool. My hands hurt.”

You don’t notice they aren’t even cuffed anymore, or that he’s scooping you up in his arms and gently placing you on his bed.

“Don’t try to fight, now. You need a tolerance to before it’ll feel normal. You’ll only hurt yourself, and that would be such a shame.”

You can tell he’s mocking you again, but you just chortle because the words are processing like a slurry. The back of your head feels so soft. It’s definitely not the awful metal he’s made you crick your neck on the past little while. He’s touching your arms and it tickles. Flashes of his face play in your mind a little slower than they’re probably actually happening. It’s terrifying, but the fear doesn’t register. You wanna touch his face. You bet it feels funny.

You can hear the click of handcuffs again, and you know he’s cuffed you once again (so rude), just somewhere new now. Your fingers grip and you feel metal bars. A bed frame. Again. Uuugh. You kick your feet a little and they bounce off the mattress. Bouncy.

There’s a weight shift near your feet, and before you can really understand what’s happening, he’s on top of you, face hovering less than an inch above yours. Your cheeks are burning as his flaxen hair tickles and curtains you, and no matter how hard you want to, you can’t stop staring at his eyes. They’re so fucking intense you swear they scorch you. Like an abyss, you feel yourself being swallowed inside them as they stare long into you. Hate. Rage. So much embodied negativity you can practically feel it. Panic blooms in your chest but your body is reacting too slow. All you can do is squirm.

“Shh-” He’s caged your head in his arms, and his breath is glossing your cheek, just as sour as before but somehow you know what’s about to happen is much worse than forcefully smoking you out. “This’ll be much better for you if you relax and give in. Who knows? You could even enjoy it.”

He grinds his clothed pelvis into yours, and while somewhere inside your head, sirens are blaring, all your body can process is pressure against your most sensitive area. You whine, and he takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours again. Your mouth is slack and moist, so it’s nice and easy for him to slide his slimy, disgusting tongue down your throat. With your brain short circuiting from both shock and whatever he’s made you consume, your body doesn’t have enough control over its facilities to fight back.

He kisses you long and hard, if you can call whatever he’s doing to you kissing. It’s more like he’s trying to devour you. Sloppy, wet, and possessive, like he’s trying to choke you with his essence. It could have been a minute. It could have been hours. You don’t know.

When he does finally pull away, you can feel your stomach lurch as he laps at the string of spit that connects you to him, but you only blink your eyes wearily despite your extreme bodily reaction. You feel sleepy, or more accurately, your eyelids feel kinda heavy. Really heavy. Something visceral is telling you to stay awake, to keep fighting, but you just can’t. You can hear yourself speak but you don’t even know what you’re saying. You don’t remember.

“You’re cute like this, all spacey and stupid.” He flicks your forehead and your eyes flicker back open, but only briefly. “I guess it hit you kinda hard, huh? Sorry about that. I should have warned you. It must’ve slipped my mind.”

He presses his mouth to yours again, a little softer this time. You’re almost out at this point, everything feels so heavy. So sluggish. You barely feel his long, thin fingers glide slowly up your shirt.

“I think you could come to like it here with me if you stop being stubborn. But that’s okay. I forgive you. Like I told you before. I’m patient. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

[midnightartemis]

~Chapter Six~

Read Me Here 

View A03 for warnings

No one ever picked her.

She’d gotten so used to it that the thought of anyone ever actually choosing her, wanting to hang out with her, wanting to just be with her made her head hurt. It just wasn’t possible. It felt like a prank. Like someone was going to jump out of the bushes and it would all be some massive joke to them. To him. That she wanted to feel wanted. That she wanted.

She can feel his eyes on her like a gentle caress. He keeps looking at her and she doesn’t understand why so she stares at the stars instead until she works up the courage to look back.

He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t pretend to not be drinking in every bit of her he can take. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Ben plays it innocently.

“Like…” Like I hold all your answers to the universe. Like I’m as fragile and as strong as I feel. Like you want to tell me all your secrets. Like I can say mine back. Like the night makes room for the light. Rey swallows and looks back up at the stars. “I don’t know. Never mind.”

He lets it go. She knows what he’s doing. She knows he’s slowly trying to gain her trust. And she’s letting him do it. She’s falling for it every time.

“I dropped out. I didn’t blow up the chem lab. There was a small incident involving cesium and a misunderstanding. But… no one got hurt and no one cared.”

“Why’d you drop out then?”

“I… Everything went to shit after my dad died. I moved back with her for a bit after that. I was going to UC in Coruscant where she lived anyway. But that meant leaving Corellia. Leaving the others.” Ben shook his head. “I think I reminded her too much of him. Cause moving in with her only made it worse. And I was so angry. So alone. And nothing got better when I moved into the dorms so I dropped out.”

Rey let her hand creep slowly across the hood of the car until she felt his skin brush against hers. It sent a warm buzz up her arm like she was touching a low voltage live wire. Her heart raced as his pinky overlapped with hers. She dared not look at him and she slipped her hand completely into his. “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

“Neither are you.”

Rey met his warm eyes. If he was playing games with her, he didn’t show it. Maybe his poker face was pro-level. Maybe he really believed he wanted her. She chose to believe him. She chose to trust the ache in her heart.

“I haven’t told my mom yet though,” Ben says. “I haven’t talked to her in a while. I don’t even think she knows where I am.”

“What’s she like?”

He plays with his finger over her hand, dragging it back and forth over her skin. “I blamed her for a lot of things growing up. For leaving my dad. For leaving me with him. For not fighting hard enough for me. She’s… I’ve never been her first priority. It was better if I just fucked off in Corellia. She’ll love you though.”

Rey’s throat tightened. He wanted her to meet his mom. He wanted-

“She will?”

Her voice comes out tight and high. She didn’t know what scared her more- that he wanted her to meet his mom or that she wanted to.

“Yeah.” Ben rolled over to face her, so close he could just lean down to kiss her. Rey didn’t move. “I think you owe me two secrets.”

Rey bit back a smile as she thought back to that night on the couch. “I don’t have that many.”

“I’m sure there is something.”

Rey sighed but only succeeded in catching the musky, rich scent of him.  She let herself look at him. Let herself wonder what it would feel like to run her fingers through his hair. To have him on top of her. “I steal slushies from the 7-Eleven.”

“Red and blue ones.” Ben grins.

“Yeah.”

“That’s one.”

Rey glanced at his lips. “And… I want to kiss you.”

“That’s not a secret.” Ben gives a low laugh.

Rey rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder. “You’re a dick.”

“That’s also not a secret, sweetheart.” He’s close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath against her lips.

“I gave the first guy who kissed me a black eye.”

“Poor bastard.” Ben’s lips brushed against hers like a promise. Her body came to life at his touch. Rivers of want pooled in her core. She wanted nothing more than to drag him closer.

“He deserved it,” Rey whispered.

“I have no doubt.”

She pressed herself up to meet his warm lips. He took her in with a small gasp of surprise. She kissed him softly, her lips explored his, her tongue darting out to taste. A whimper escaped her lips as his tongue greedily pushed back. Rey lifted her hand to caress his cheek and lips when she broke away for a breath.

“Is this okay?” Ben breathes, his eyes hooded as he looks down at her. Rey doesn’t answer as she finally– finally– runs her fingers through incredibly soft, thick, raven hair. She pulls him down to meet her.

He’s being careful; his hands stay away from her, his lips soft against the cut on her lip. She doesn’t want that anymore. She can’t worry about this all being a big joke at her expense because it can’t be. Because no one kisses like this when they’re joking. No one is this gentle when they don’t give a fuck.

She breaks away just barely, her lips brushing against his as she whispers, “Touch me.”

His eyes, dark with need, met hers as his hand trailed over her hips and waist skipping over her chest to brush over her jaw and set her skin on fire. “Please, please, please promise you’ll tell me if you want me to stop. I won’t– I can’t– if anything happens to you because of me…”

“I promise.” Rey runs her thumb against the prickly dark stubble on his chin and caresses his wet lips. “I want this.”

Even if it’s just for the night. Even if I wake up tomorrow and you’re gone like everyone else. Even if it’s only to win a stupid bet and take what Kuruk thought was his.

When Ben kisses her again, everything has changed. His tongue and lips devour her, his teeth nibble and pull gently at her lip. His hands pull her closer, impossibly close, until she feels the weight of him on top of her. Her mind is lost in a chaotic orchestra of touch and taste and sound. All she wants is to get closer to him. Her hands drift from his hair to his back, her fingertips exploring the planes of muscle over his shirt. She shifts her hips until he’s completely on top of her half lying between her legs on the hood of his car. She moans into his mouth as his free hand drifts down to hold her waist and pull her in. Heat pools between her legs and begs for friction as she hitches her legs around his waist and cants her hips.

“Fuck, Rey.”

She doesn’t understand how he’s still speaking. All words are gone from her head, all she knows is him.

His lips leave her mouth and kiss sloppy trails down her neck as she wantonly grinds against him. She desperately tries to pull him closer, to feel him against her. Her short nails claw down his back and Ben groans against her ear.

Rey curses softly as hot tendrils of fire twist down her spine to her core.

“Want you.”

She whimpers as Ben pulls away instead, his hot breaths coming out as shuttering pants. “Fuck.”

He shudders and rests his head against her shoulder, cursing softly again. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I…” Rey stopped herself. She had the pill but it had been days since she took it. It was still back at Plutt’s anyways. All of her stuff was. Not that any of it was of any value. “We can get some. Or, go back to the apartment. Or…”

“We can wait. It can wait. I don’t want to rush you. I don’t want to rush us.” Ben swallowed nervously as he looked down at her.

Rey frowned. “Have you never-”

Ben went quiet, his mind drifting off elsewhere. “It’s just been a while.”

“Oh.”

“Have you… ever…”

Rey looks away from him, unable to take in his reaction as she shakes her head. “No. I’ve just- I’ve never been able to let anyone touch me before.”

Ben goes quiet.

“Did I do something wrong?”

She hates it. She hates how desperate she sounds. How quiet he got. She can barely see him in the dark, can’t make out the look on his face.

“I don’t think you could ever do anything wrong,” Ben says quietly. “I’m the one who fucks up in this. I’m the one who fucks up everything good in my life.”

His words settle around her in a heavy haze that she can’t quite comprehend. She means something to him. She means something and she can’t understand why.

“We should go back,” she whispers, “before Trudge and Ushar burn the place down.”

Ben laughs softly and the haze dissipates. “They probably shouldn’t be left alone.”

“The death threats do get worse when they play Mortal Kombat.”

Ben slides off of her to the ground and offers her a hand to help her down. Rey takes it without hesitation.

They wind back down the foothill in the dark. Rey abandons the passenger seat for the middle, getting as close to Ben as she can with a shifter in the way. His forearm rests across her thighs, his hand in the shift stick. She can’t stop herself from watching his hands flex as he shifts between gears. It could be classified as torture to watch.

He keeps wiggling beside her uncomfortably. Rey notices after about the sixth time when they come to a stop. She raises her brow and Ben sheepishly shifts again. “I… might have to take a cold shower when we get back.”

“Don’t worry. Seeing Kuruk is enough of a cold shower.”

Ben laughs and Rey’s grin turns stupidly big. She wants to hear him laugh for the rest of her life. She can’t seem to wipe the grin off her face as they cruise through the mostly vacant side streets of Corellia.

A sinking twisting feeling engulfs her when she sees APs car in the parking lot. He’d be up there. Kuruk would be up there— though he had looked so blitzed he might not remember anything by morning. Trudge and Ushar… well, she could always count on them to be blissfully oblivious to everything, but the moment they caught on, she’d never hear the end of it. She’d have to break their boards again. It was the reason she never got with any of them before— it was too messy. There was too much room for awkwardness. It would be too easy for her to become nothing but a thing to them. Some conquest to boast about.

Ben shuts off the car and starts to get out before he notices that she’s not moving. She’s just looking up at the few lit windows of the apartment, biting her lip. Contemplating. Everything had happened so quickly. She hadn’t even meant to show up to the park. She just kinda did. Because it was natural. Because she wanted to see him again. Because she needed one part of her life to not hurt for a second.

A dark part of her had wanted Ben to find out. It knew that Ben would fly into a rage– the same way he had when he saw Kuruk grabbing her at the party. It was the same dark part of her that had fantasized about feeding Plutt his heart medication until he choked on it. Or running him through with a knife. Or squeezing his bulbous excuse of a neck until those beady eyes popped out.

She stopped Ben from doing that the same way she always stopped herself. They were the outcasts. Society's scapegoats. The fingers would always, eventually, land on them.

Rey hadn’t planned to stay at the loft. That’s why she hadn’t packed. Hadn’t left a well crafted false trail of her plans to run away. But when Ben looked at her like that– when just touching him flipped the switch from beast to man– she couldn’t imagine going back.

And then they kissed and he bought her McDonald’s and took her to a place no one else knew about and told her his secrets and fuck she knew that was a low bar but no one had ever given her anything. Trusted her. Wanted her.

Her heart was racing as her throat constricted and Ben was asking her what was wrong and it was all too much. It was all- Her hand was on the door handle and she was out of the car and running across the parking lot to the giant field of dead grass. She ran until her lungs screamed and her legs threatened to give out.

“Maker. Fuck, you’re fast.”

She would have lost her breath if it wasn’t gone already as she turned to see Ben keeled over and huffing behind her. She could barely make out his shape in the dim light from the moon and distant city lights.

He came after me.

“Rey, come back to the car. I’m about ninety-nine percent sure there’s rattlesnakes out here.”

He raced out here after me when I acted like a crazy person and ran.

“Please talk to me. Say something.” He sounded desperate. Terrified.

Why?

“It’s… I…” The words barely crossed her lips. “Is this– Do you know about the bet?”

“What bet?”

“The one the guys made about me.”

Ben goes still and quiet and a choked sob escapes from her lips. “No! No. I wasn’t in on it. I wasn’t. They told me about it. Kuruk bragged about it. Rey, I would never do that to you. Come back to the loft, please.”

“Am I just some game to, I don’t know, fucking assert your dominance?”

“No.” He said it in a way that told her he already had.

“Then why did you come after me.”

“Why did I– of course, I came after you. You ran into the middle of a fucking snake-infested field at two in the morning, Rey! Can we please talk about this somewhere else? Please?”

Her heart still raced as her mind desperately tried to believe, to understand what he was saying to her.

“Rey, please. I haven’t stopped thinking about you from the moment I first saw you.”

She remembered that moment deep in her soul. Like the universe had shifted around her.

“I wanted to murder Kuruk because he kept making you uncomfortable. I almost did when I saw him grabbing you. And if I’ve done anything ever to make you feel like that I will throw myself off a bridge. And I know, I know that you can fend for yourself. That you’re strong and powerful and terrifying sometimes. But you shouldn’t have to all the time. You don’t have to be alone.”

You’re not alone.

“I’m not going to leave unless you want me to.” In the darkness, Ben reached his hand out to her. Hands shaking, Rey reached back.

When her fingers brush against him, everything hits her all at once. Her stomach twists as her heart aches. Her tears which she had stubbornly kept from falling crashed over her cheeks in rivers. She felt powerful and powerless at the same time like she could rule the world or it could crumble beneath her feet. The control that she so tightly clung to began to slip from her hands to his.

She might have kissed him again if there wasn’t the telltale rattle of a very angry rattlesnake to her left. They both froze, not daring to breathe as the rattle grew louder. She couldn’t tell where the creature was in the tall, dark sea of grasses.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

Her lungs tightened as her legs refused to move, her eyes searching the darkness for some sort of movement. Anything to give her a clear idea of where the beast could be. She didn’t know what she would do when she found it. She didn’t think she could do anything.

It was only when Ben yanked on her arm that she turned and sprinted back towards the lights of the loft. His hand never left hers as he pulled her along. Kept her feet moving, even as her lungs burned from lack of air. They didn’t stop until they reached pavement.

“Are… you… okay?” Ben gasped beside her as she wheezed.

She couldn’t speak, only nod frantically. It was several minutes before she fully caught her breath again. Several minutes to bask in her own sheer stupidity. He must be thinking that she was a psycho. No sane person just randomly runs into the middle of a field because they’re scared of a little commitment. Right?

He came after you. That has to stand for something. That has to.

Rey closed her eyes and pressed her face into her hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I do, actually, but it’s stupid. I’m stupid. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the only one who runs when things get scary,” Ben says quietly. He doesn’t elaborate, only takes her hand in his and leads her inside.

I run away when things are good

And never really understood

The way you laid your eyes on me

In ways that no one ever could

And so it seems I broke your heart

My ignorance has struck again

I failed to see it from the start

And tore you open 'til the end

And I'm sorry to my unknown lover

Sorry that I can't believe that anybody ever really

Starts to fall in love with me

Sorry to my unknown lover

Sorry I could be so blind

Didn't mean to leave you

And all of the things that we had behind

- Sorry , Halsey

[bangtancentricsblog]

the second Encounter

Thank you again to my lovely wife @boymeetsweevil 😍💜💖

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of past mental and emotional abuse , mentions of forced sex, mentions of attempted suicide, bruises, violence, possessive behavior, hateful words, toxic relationships, manhandling, demeaning names (not in the sexy way either), blood, crying, i cant think of any i may have missed but please let me know if there are any!

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The sheets scratch at your skin as you wait for this to be over. Your eyes have been closed for the entirety and for once you're happy that JB is caught up in his own pleasure to remind you to open them. It hurts, the way he thrusts into you is harsh you’re sure you’ll be bruised in the morning. You can already imagine all the marks you’ll have to cover up, your body hurts, the grip he has on your hips is tight, a reminder that he’s here, that your body is his. He’d said some nasty things to you on the walk to his hotel room. Reminded you how little you were worth to other men, men like Yoongi. You squeeze your eyes tight, willing the tears away and hoping the sob doesn't crawl up your throat. 

It’s not the first time you’ll feel so worthless and you’re sure it won’t be the last. At some point, you can’t remember when really but you’ve realized how bruised and battered your heart and soul have become. You don't want to feel like nothing, don't want to be reminded of just how broken you really are. Being with Jb does nothing but remind you of how utterly tired you are, of how sad you’ve been this entire time. You think of Yoongi, his soft smile, his warmth, the way he handled you so softly. As if you were truly something special to him, it made your chest ache. Jb has stilled above you and you internally cringe as you feel the stickiness between your thighs. He’s quick to throw himself on the other side of the bed, settling in for the night, his chest heaving after he’s exerted himself. His breathing evens out fairly quickly and you sit up hurriedly gathering your belongings. 

You don't bother looking back at him, you don't want to. It's cold out, when you finally make it back onto the street, your phone is turned off because you’re scared of Jb calling you should he wake up at any moment during the night. Luckily for you the hotel that he’s staying in has cab services the whole night. When the driver asks where you want to go, you're quick to rattle off Yoongi’s address. He might not want to see you but you don't want to go home either. Jimin will worry if he sees the way you look, but you're also not ready to tell him what you’ve been through. You just really want to see Yoongi, even if he might not. 

There’s someone knocking, and Yoongi thinks this is the day he kills someone. He wasn’t sleeping per se but there’s something about the ruined silence that gets to him. Namjoon isn't home again but that's mostly because he was off blowing out some stem majors back . It's a wonder the psychology major gets so much action when he spends so much time studying or hotboxing in his bedroom. But Namjoon is the least of his worries or maybe not the friendly giant has a habit of forgetting his key. 

“I swear to god Joon if you lost your key again, I'm kicking you out.” he says, yanking the door open to reveal you standing there barefoot in a large black t-shirt.

“Hi.” Yoongi doesn't know what kind of sick game you're playing at but he isn't too happy to see you. Much less with the fact that you look like you’ve just been dicked down which he’s sure you have. It's quiet, the air thick with underlying tension, he finds it strange, uncomfortable even. It's a new feeling because when he was with you everything felt right, felt easy. Loving you was easy, but Yoongi’s not sure if he’s ready to say that. Isn't sure if he’s the only one feeling like this. There’s something about falling in love that scares Yoongi because he’s never felt it before. And yet its you, with your soft touch, the way you fuck him, no you aren’t fucking, you were making love. He’s never liked it slow, never kissed other than during foreplay, didn't like missionary or any position that involved the possibility of eye contact. 

He’d learned to close himself off when it came to sex but you were different. You sought his kiss, searched for his hands, twine your fingers together, found and kept his gaze right at your peak just as your orgasm washed over you. So why, why was he so hesitant to see you now? He knows why. He’s hurt, his heart is hurt, he’d spent so long building a fortress around it he’d almost forgotten how soft he really was. He’d unwillingly gifted it to you, placed it in your small soft palms, so sure you would keep it safe, only for him to be proven wrong. He should turn you away, should slam the door in your face, maybe trample on your heart like a stampeding herd. So that it’ll really hurt, maybe even with the intent to maim. But he doesn’t because he takes a good look at you, your eyes are still glazed with the remnants of tears, the skin that's visible to him is marked with ugly shades of rogue. They glare at him as a reminder but most of all they look painful. 

“Sweetpea,” he starts, moistening his lips for his next question. He doesn't get to ask. You throw your body into his, wrapping your arms around his body sobs falling from your lips. They sound so utterly broken, so pained it makes his anger flare. It had been slowly simmering back to life the moment he’d opened the door but now it's boiling over, ready to burn everything and everyone to ash for you.  

He’s quick to wrap his arms around you, slowly walking backwards. It's an awkward shuffle of you nearly stepping on his toes and him trying to hold you, close the door and not trip. The world must be punishing him because he stumbles dragging  you down with him after the door has shut. There’s a thump, Yoongi just barely remembering to protect his head as he falls, it's quiet for a beat as he hisses at the pain. That’s the least of his worries though, he shifts his gaze to you, even with the fall you don't look up. He’s almost certain he landed on your arms that are wrapped around him, but he can’t be sure, you haven't made a sound. 

“Sweetpea, are you okay?” he whispers, bringing his hands to your cheeks and softly pulling your face from its refuge in his chest. The skin around your eyes is red,  little glassy but mostly clear of tears. His movements are measured, slowed as he presses his forehead to yours. You’ve yet to say anything other than the ‘Hi’ from earlier. His thumb unconsciously strokes over your cheek and he watches as you lean into his palm, feeling your hand grasp at his other one. 

“Do you want to clean up?” he asks, still gazing deep into your eyes. They flicker briefly, and somehow he knows that means yes. You make a sound, a mix between a sob and a whimper it breaks his heart a little more. He’s quick to appease you reaching down and hauling you into his arms again. Yoongi doesn’t make it a habit to princess carry women, has never had the upper body strength to do so but for you he’ll damn sure try. The two of you are in the bathroom, you’re seated on the sink watching with rounded eyes as he gets the shower ready for you. He’s got a hand under the spray of the showerhead testing the temperature before he turns to you again. 

“All set, i’ll be outside if you need me.” he says with a small smile turning to exit the space, there’s a tug on his shirt. He doesn't turn around only glances over his shoulder, your head is lowered, eyes hidden from his view. 

“Stay.” you mumble never once meeting his gaze and he nods his head once moving to close the lid on the toilet so he can take a seat and wait while you clean up. He’s quick to avert his gaze when you move to take off the only thing you’re wearing. Should he be feeling shy when he’s already seen you naked? He wants to believe he shouldn't, but the you now isn't the same girl he was sleeping with. You almost seem broken, the light, the softness, everything that made you seems to have gone missing and he can't quite figure out when or how. He doesn't pay much mind to the sounds coming from the shower, instead he tries hard to focus on how to apologize again. 

Now that his anger has faded, he wants to apologize even more and yet he worried he’ll somehow make it worse. His thoughts are so muddled he doesn't hear the water shut off or you step out of the shower, definitely doesn't hear the soft ‘Yoongi’ that falls from your lips. No, he’s pulled from his thoughts when your damp digits cup his cheek. It startles him a bit and has him flinching at the touch. You move to take your hand back but Yoongi is quick to take it in his own.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

“No.” you say, lowering your head again. A frown settles over Yoongi’s features, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like this sudden meekness that's clouded over the girl he knows. You follow him out of the bathroom watching silently as he pulls out a hoodie and pair of his boxers. He sets them on the bed excusing himself but reminding you that he’s just in the kitchen if you need anything. 

Your fingers worry the sleeves of the hoodie you’re wearing and maybe it's because of the nerves. There’s something frightening about telling someone you care about the truth, mostly anyways. You’ve come to understand that what you feel for Yoongi is vastly different than what you had felt with Jb, what you had felt for anyone. He’s different, a good different, the kind that makes you want to tell him. But also worries you, what if he doesn't like you after everything. There’s this underlying fear that wraps around your being like a vice, quietly reminding you that you're worthless. A voice in the back of your mind reminds you of where you belong, a voice that sounds suspiciously like JB. 

The thought of the other boy makes your eyes prick with tears, you’re tired of crying though. Tired of feeling sorry for yourself, you want to be loved, want to feel good, want to be happy again. You want that with Yoongi, so you steel yourself padding out of the bedroom. He’s standing at the kitchen counter, back to you but you can hear the soft clink of a spoon against the side of a coffee mug. It feels like so long ago that you were able to admire him, his shoulders are broad for a petite man. He’s on the slimmer side but still toned, and you’d been there when he’d started bulking up. Now he looks like he’s gained some weight, a good weight, you think as your gaze falls to his butt and thighs. You watch him glance over his shoulder catching sight of you just outside the kitchen, and turns his body to properly face you. 

“I made you some tea.” he says two mugs in hand as he leads you to the living room. The mug he hands you when you're seated on opposite ends of the couch is white with multicolored butts on it.  A smile kisses our lips briefly, it was your favorite of the bunch he’d been gifted by his friend Hoseok. The one he drinks from is black with big white letters that say ‘have a nice day’ and on the bottom is a hand flipping you the bird. It had made you choke once when you’d stayed the night and shared coffee the next morning, it was his favorite of the mugs Hoseok had gifted him he’d told you as he laughed at you. You thank him feeling the warmth seep into your fingertips and warming your palms that you hadn't realized were cold. 

“Yoongi,” you start meeting his gaze over the rim of his mug, he’s giving you the go ahead to talk you note. “I’m sorry.” He quirks a brow, confused.

“For what exactly?” he asks.

“I,” you pause, setting aside your mug and taking a deep breath “I should've told you. About Jb about my relationship with him and why I came home in the first place. Jb, he isn't a nice guy, not anymore at least.” He’s listening intently as you tell him of all that the two of you have gone through, the amount of times you’d broken up only to get back together when one or the other caught wind that someone is interested in the other. The way he’d gone from sweet to bitter in the course of a year, how he’d made you feel and how you’d pushed through it all. Forced yourself to laugh and smile through all the horrible things he said to you in your face, about you when he thought you weren’t listening. 

Pressured you to do things you didn't want to, had broken you down to a point where you’d thought for a brief second that you'd end it all. Had been laying in your bathtub in the previous night's clothes, cum staining your thighs and a knife in hand. Tears rolling down your cheeks in between labored breaths the knife now pressed to your wrist, except Jimin had called. Told him how Jimin had saved you, how you listened to your brother tell you he’d felt some strange need to call you. How Jimin had unknowingly talked you down from the ledge, had ended the call with a reminder that he loved you and hoped to see you soon. Told him how hard you sobbed that day, how you’d carefully picked up the pieces of your more than broken heart, and tried to sooth your bruised soul. He listened through it all, even when your voice broke and you hiccuped between words recounting the painful last year and a half. 

When you finally loop around as to why you’d come home you’re no longer looking at him. Your cheeks itch from all the dried tears and the fresh ones that trail down the same paths. If Yoongi didn’t hate you before, he will now. He hasn’t said a word, you’re afraid to see the disgust in his face at truly how pathetic you are. How toxic a person you and Jb are, and why he should stay away from you. 

He’s crying, tears spilling from his eyes. Yoongi feels so utterly destroyed, his heart is in shambles but not because of his previous hurt. More so he’s hurt that you, someone he knew was so utterly good had gone through such things. He’d felt his heart stutter the moment you’d told him you’d thought of taking your own life. Had felt the tears fall unwillingly because he couldn't imagine it, couldn't believe that someone could break you down to the point that death seemed to be your only option. Couldn't wrap his head around the idea that had Jimin not called, not reminded you how much he cared, had not unknowingly stopped you, Yoongi wouldn't have met you. Wouldn't have fallen in love. 

You’re done recounting the details of the past year, and it's quiet. He doesn't make a sound as he cries, just lets the tears soak into the cotton of his t-shirt. He’s not sure what to say, can’t seem to form words, waits a beat, then two and nothing comes. There’s movement in his clouded vision, and he looks across the couch at you. The sleeves of the hoodie are too long, your fingertips just barely poking out, his fingers twitch and he suddenly wants to hold your hand. Wants to hold on tight and never let go, doesn’t want to think about a world you’re no longer part of. 

“Sweetpea,” he says, voice hoarse, eyes following the slow rise of your head, your own eyes slowly coming into view. He smiles sadly before he continues, “can I touch you?” he asks. You nod slowly, eyes watering because it's been so long since he’s used your name. Maybe it's because he’s preferred your nickname, there’s just something in the way he says your name that really gets to you. When Yoongi wraps his arms around your frame you don't flinch, and for that he’s happy. You look so small in his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck and something just clicks. Like a match has been struck rekindling the dying embers of the anger he’d felt earlier, except now it's directed at the right person and for the right reasons. You’ve gone quiet again, your sobs died down your arms have gone slack around his frame. 

The soft puffs of your breath brush against his skin, you’ve fallen asleep but he isn't ready to let you go. So he doesn’t, he grips under your thighs hauling you up with him and into his arms again. He carries you into his bedroom, gently laying you under the covers leaving you with a kiss on your temple. The water is warm as he washes and rinses the mugs, it soothes at his anger a bit but it still burns bright. Keeps the hearth of his soul ablaze with his need to love and protect you as you deserve. A calm has settled over the apartment, yet Yoongi still stands at the sink, his hands are still damp from the water and his brain refuses to quiet down. His thoughts are swirling like a current, he’s not sure what to make of the muddiness taking over his consciousness but one thought shines through, big and bright like the sun. 

He is completely and irrevocably in love with you, there’s a warmth in the pit of his stomach that reminds him that you just might feel exactly the same. There’s a deafening silence in his once noisy brain and he welcomes it. He’s careful to slip into the bed beside you, and here in the quiet surrounded by cover of night, under the moonlight he whispers his first, “I love you.”

The sun has long since risen soft rays of warmth wash over Yoongi as he sleeps and you can't help but smile. He’s so cute when he sleeps, not that he isn't any other time but your favorite is when he sleeps. His lips are pouted, cheeks squished against the pillows just right it reminds you of a baby. He’s cute, but he’s also holding onto you too tight and you really have to pee. A whine slips past the seam of your lips and you watch as his eyes flutter open slightly, gaze cloudy with sleep. 

“G’morning.” he hums, shuffling further into the bed, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your hoodie. You hiss yanking at his hand the moment his frozen fingers grazed your skin. 

“I have to pee.” you whimper feeling as if your body may betray you at any moment, it’s funny watching his sleepy face wrinkle with emotion at the thought of you relieving yourself. It's laughable really, but you don't say anything just wiggle further away from his hold as he seems to lose himself in his thoughts. There’s this feeling of satisfaction that rushes over you as you finally get to the toilet, bladder finally empty and you feel better. He’s still in bed when after you’ve washed your hands and come back into the room.

“Do you have a toothbrush I can use?” you ask tying your hair back with a pen the way girls do that always puzzles Yoongi. It's quiet again as he slides out of the bed, making his way over to the bathroom and pulling open a drawer. To your surprise he’s handing you the one you’d left here all that time ago. The time before everything got so messed up and you feel your heart throb, but today is a new day. The smile you give him isn't strained, its genuine and full of love as you take the toothbrush from him. 

When you’re done in the bathroom, he’s up rummaging through his drawers and pulling out fresh clothes. You watch closely, before he’s turning to you. He looks unsure of himself but you can't quite figure out why. So you wait, silently encouraging him to take his time. He’s seated on the bed again when he sighs heavily then taking a deep breath. 

“I wanted to apologize,” he starts nails digging into the calloused skin around his thumb “the things that i said before. I didn't mean them. It’s not an excuse but i still wanted to apologize because you didn't deserve them no matter how hurt I was.” he finishes looking small for a man of his size. 

“I’m not going to lie, it did hurt but nothing will ever hurt more than what i’ve already been through.” you say a small laugh slipping past your lips. Your gaze meets his, and he searches your eyes for any semblance of a lie but he doesn't seem to find one, no instead he sees the same love and warmth he feels for you. He doesn't ask this time, just takes your hands in his and twines your fingers together squeezing just enough to convey how much he’s missed this. Missed the warmth of your hands in his, missed you. 

“Do you have to go?” he asks and you freeze up just now remembering how exactly it is that you came to be here. You glance over to the direction of the living room, remembering your phone for the first time since leaving the hotel last night. You’d turned it off and now you’re afraid to see what’s transpired since the previous day's events. 

“I need to check my phone.” you say reluctantly pulling your hand from his and padding into the living room. To your surprise its way past morning, more along the lines of early afternoon the light from your phone is soft as it comes back on. You’re chewing on your lower lip ready to see the screen light up with too missed calls and texts but there’s only two. On from Jimin which you can only assume is a meme and the other is from Jb “where the fuck are you slut” 

Your brain is screaming at you to text him back, to beg for him not to read too much into your disappearance. Though your heart wins out gently reminding you that you’d chosen Yoongi, had decided to move towards something better. So you leave him on read locking your phone and moving to make both of you some coffee. 

The day had been well spent, at least Yoongi thinks so. The two of you had stayed in, ordered take out, cuddled, and maybe kissed a little. He’s over the moon with the way things have been all day but there’s this gnawing in the pit of his stomach, it feels like dread but it could also be the pound of shrimp fried rice he’d eaten. He can’t be sure, so he tries to shove the feeling to the back of his mind. Tries but fails because although the two of you are now aware of your feelings for one another you haven't agreed to date either. 

His heart wants him to ask, to make sure you want to be with him the way he wants to be with you. Yet his brain tells him he’ll be happy having you any way that he can. So he sits quiet, arms wrapped around you as you binge watch an early season of ‘Supernatural’. His chin is resting on the crown of your head as you lay it against his chest, your hand long since snuck underneath the hem of his t-shirt and resting against his barely there six pack. Your thighs are snugly wrapped around one of his legs and he can heat of your sex through his boxers you still wear. He’s staring blankly at the screen as the brothers poor over a grimoire and very attractive red headed witch he’d heard you call your queen berating them for not knowing more about magic, when there’s a knock on the door. He’s sure you hadn’t ordered anything else, so he can only assume it's Namjoon who he still hasn't seen today. Though if he really thinks about it Namjoon isn't really the knocking type, he’s moving to get up when you decide you’ll get it so you can snuggle back into his arms when you come back. 

He nods his head, but still sits up anyways shifting his body so he’s sitting straight up. The show is paused, making the silence almost deafening as he listens to the slight squeak of the door before you yelp. He’s off the couch in seconds, and the rage he’s let simmer overnight is blazing big and bright consuming his being, because there just inside his door frame is Jb. He’s got a hand tangled in your hair, knuckles white with the grip he has on it. Your own hands are clutching his wrist tears sliding down your cheeks no doubt from the pain. 

“Did you really think I wouldn't find you, you worthless bitch.” he spits pulling you by the hair causing you to scream out. Yoongi doesn’t think, he throws himself at the other man landing a hit to his cheek, Jb stumbles back, grip loosening on your hair, your quick to scurry away from him and behind Yoongi. 

“Don’t you talk to her like that.” Yoongi growls behind clenched teeth, knuckles already throbbing with pain. 

“That whore is a dime a dozen, pussy like hers is easy to find. Isn't that right baby.” Jb laughs as Yoongi moves towards him once more but this time it's him who feels the sharp crack of bone on flesh. There’s a flash of white momentarily blinding Yoongi pain erupting from his eye, and Jb is quick to take advantage. He lands another hit to Yoongi’s face splitting the flesh of his bottom lip. It hurts but Yoongi’s never been one to back down, he’s quick to clear his head, pushing the pain to the back of his mind, tongue flicking over the broken skin. The taste of iron is strong but he’s tasted his own blood before this probably won't be the last. 

His next solid blow lands on Jb’s nose the appendage as the blood vessels burst from the impact dripping blood. Jb’s distracted trying to wipe at the warmth that's leaking from his nose, spitting some of the blood onto the floor. Yoongi can distantly hear your voice, but he’s too angry, can't seem to remember the last time he’d felt this way. He feels like he’s underwater sounds escaping him in a muffle and the rage is all consuming. 

There’s a weight on his back, arms wrapping around his waist tight words hurriedly whispered, he blinks once, twice and suddenly everything is clear. He doesn't remember how he managed to pin the other man to the ground, can't recall how many times he’s hit him since but he can already see the damage he’s done. The bruises are already blooming just beneath the skin, they’ll be big and ugly. He can finally hear you crying against his back tears soaking the material of his t-shirt. 

“That’s enough, please.” you whimper. Your hands are wrapped tight around his own holding tight to his fist, there’s a sting to his knuckles one more prominent than the one he’d felt earlier. He glances down taking note of the torn skin on his hands, the blood that covers them, he’s sure it's not all his. He’s slow to relax his hands but when he does you twin your fingers together staining them with the blood. The two of you stand moving away from Jb, Yoongi keeps you behind him protectively, making sure the other man can’t touch you. Jb laughs again, spitting more blood on the floor, shakily getting to his feet.

“Y’know this girl act is just that, an act. She’ll be cheating on you soon enough, but keep her if you want her.” he sniffs wincing at the pain that comes from his bruised nose. He’s lucky Yoongi hadn’t broken it. 

“Shut the fuck up and get out, you better pray I don't see you again.” Yoongi says voice low and Jb flinches slightly, he’s not sure if it’s a threat or not but he’s not willing to find out. So he does as he’s told leaving faster than he appeared. Yoongi turns to you cupping your tear stained cheeks and planting his forehead against your own. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, feeling your hands cup his that rest on your cheeks. 

“Don’t be, and thank you.” you mumble breath shaky, tilting your head to kiss his palms. He smiles, the broken skin of his lip stretching making him hiss. A small laugh fills his ears before you lean forward to kiss his lips bloody and all.

“Let's get you cleaned up.” you say leading him to the bathroom, and he follows behind you a soft blush rising to his cheeks at how tenderly you hold his bloodied hand.

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taglist: @bussy-posts​, @peachymochimochi​

[thegirlwithwngs]

Bat girls - chapter 2

Find  chapter one here: https://thegirlwithwngs.tumblr.com/post/627502472423964672/bat-girls

 Again, please be nice. I’m learning as I go and English is my second language. And any tips on how to better write conversations are very welcome!

I heard someone chuckle behind me. “Girl, you fucked up.” I tried looking over my shoulder, but my wings blocked the view. My heart pounded in my chest. Was it someone from my camp? It had to be. But I didn’t recognize the voice. The possibilities were endless, but none of them were good. A lone traveler who strayed of the path, a monster who could mimic a human voice, or maybe other camps had started to look for me as well.

There was a rustle of leaves, a loud boom, and a thud on the branch where the talons of my wings had gotten stuck. The owner of the voice had somehow gotten up to the branch in one big jump. No, not a jump. One flap of their wings. I looked up to the Illyrian sitting on the branch, the huge membranous wings behind them,  looking at me with a smirk.  “Need a hand?”

Now that I could see her and heard her voice again, I realized that she was female. A female who dared to fly, and curse, and be alone in the woods. I was so shocked I almost forgot to grip her hand. She was strong, stronger than any female I’d ever known. With one pull she nearly flung me over the branch. The muscles in my back were in worse pain than I could’ve ever imagined. I tried to get my talons out of the wood, but in the time I had hanged there they had gotten in to deep.

The female was still looking at me with that smirk that seemed to be branded on her face. “Are you going to ask for my help, or have they cut your tongue out?” she asked me, clearly amused by my struggle. Everything about her threw me of guard. She reminded me of the males in my camp, after they had gone through the blood rite and had joined a war-band. Like she could take on the world, and she knew it.

“I…I…I cant get them out.” I said, my voice trembling. “So you can talk! Cauldron bless us all, that makes things easier.” The female said with mocking voice. I cringed a bit, part of me wanted to say that I was not some helpless little girl, but I knew the evidence was against me. The female did seem the notice. “I’m sorry, I’m just kidding. Are you okay with me touching your wings?” her voice softened and her hands hovered near my wings, waiting for my consent.

I nodded, and with a gentle but firm grip the female jerked my talons out of the wood. I realized that no one else besides me and maybe my mother had ever touched my wings, and only than it had ever been to bathe them. I never really paid attention to how sensitive they were, and even the slight touch of the female send butterflies trough my stomach.

My wings were free, but I didn’t have the energy to tuck them in, and I let them rest on the branch. The female grabbed  a pack from underneath her cloak and started talking. “I’ve actually been looking for you, you know? The others told me I shouldn’t, and that I would put myself in danger but I couldn’t help myself. Those bastards following you made it difficult, and you actually did a good job leading them away from you. I followed the scent of your blood as well, only to notice that you where going in to the opposite direction. How did you manage to do that?” she asked, while unpacking food and a bottle of liquid and putting it on the branch between us.

My cheeks heated at the memory, but she waited for me to answer. “It is my first bleeding.” I softly said, and I knew I was turning as red as the morning sun. “And I knew they could smell my blood, so I… I tied a piece of the cloth I had used to a piece of wood and threw it in the river.” I didn’t dare to look up out of embarrassment.

But the female laughed, she laughed so hard the branch shook. “That’s bloody brilliant! Emphasis on the bloody!” she said while trying to catch her breath. “You’re a survivor, I like it.”  She handed me a piece of bread and the bottle of liquid. I was suddenly very aware of the cracks in my lips, the dry scratch in my throat, and the rumbling in my stomach. Without thinking or even waiting I grabbed it and nearly drank half the bottle in one sip. The female look at me. “But you are pretty naïve for a survivor.” She said watching me swallow the bread without chewing. It was not until after she said it that I had taken food and drink from a stranger. And maybe I didn’t even care at this point. I had spent the previous hours dangling from a branch like an overgrown sausage for the monsters in this forest, and I had made my peace with whatever fate would kill me, if it was poison, then so be it. And almost as if in a dare I grabbed the next piece of bread and started chewing while making eye contact with the female.

She grinned at me. “Here’s the deal. I can leave you here with what is left from the food. It should be enough for two days, maybe three if you don’t swallow it whole like that. And after that it is up to you to survive, and maybe we will meet again. Or I can take you with me. I’ll leave at sundown, with or without you.”

“where will you take me?” I asked. “I can’t tell you that, staying hidden is a big part of survival. But I can tell you that your odds are better with me. For the rest, you will just have to trust me.” The female folded her arms in front of her chest, waiting for my response.  

I didn’t think she would take me back to my camp, or any other camp. No camp leader would trust a female enough to send them to retrieve me alone. And her wings weren’t clipped. I heard the High Lord had forbidden it centuries ago but with most camps there weren’t enough visits from the High Lords court to make sure it didn’t happen. And now, with a new ruler in Prythian, the one who called herself High Queen.  Nearly every camp had started to clip the wings of their females again.

No, there was no way this female belonged to a camp. But why had she been looking for me? And why be kind enough to offer me food and help? Maybe she belonged to something worse then an Illyrian camp. I couldn’t even imagine where she might be from. I had never set foot outside my camp until a few days ago.

She wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead she was scanning the forest around her, her head leaning back against the tree, while letting her legs swing from side to side next to the branch. I had never seen any female like her. Even with her cloak there was no doubt in my mind that she was very muscular. Her hair wasn’t long like the females in my camp, but shorn short enough that it was nothing more than a black shadow on her tanned skin. She had called me a survivor, but if anyone of us was able to survive it was her. Her eyes met mine again. Both our eyes where hazel, like most Illyrians, but hers were a bit more brown than mine.

The moment we made eye contact I realized there was no other option. I would go with her. I had no clue how to survive, and if I stayed her I would sooner or later die. Even if she had some devious plan with me, it was still an ‘if’ and not a ‘when’. “I’ll leave with you at night fall.”

The female got up and jumped down the branch, as if it we weren’t at least four meters high. “Come on, you might want to stretch your legs, we have a long flight ahead of us.” She called up to me. “I can’t jump down like that, and I certainly can’t fly!” Only the idea of being up there in the sky made me nauseous. “Yes you can, you are a badass Illyrian who managed to survive for four days while being hunted. You can manage a little jump. Just tuck your arms and legs in while you jump and bend your knees when you land.” She made it sound so simple, but I hesitated again. Fear colliding in my stomach. “Or you can climb down, but I’m going to look for a good spot to take off and I’m not waiting.” She started walking backwards slowly walking backwards. With the thickness of the forest she would be out of sight in seconds. I had no choice but to jump.

I got up, balancing on the branch with my knees trembling. Arms and wings in tight. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And another deep breath. And another. And I jumped.

I didn’t have time to think about opening my eyes, or being afraid. It all went so fast. Too fast. I was waiting for my body to hit the ground, probably breaking some bones. But my fall was interrupted. The female had caught me mid air and put me down slowly. “You didn’t bend your knees.” Was all she said before walking off again. I stumbled after her.

“I still can’t fly!” I said, catching my breath while trying to keep up with her tempo, and wrapping my mind around what just happened. “Don’t worry, I’ll carry you tonight. And just so you know, learning how to fall is the first lesson in learning how to fly.” She didn’t even look at me. It was almost infuriating. She seemed to know exactly what was going on and I was absolutely clueless. I was like a baby deer trying to keep up with a mighty stag.

I had always learned to keep my calm. Anger and fighting was meant for males. Just as flying. I was reminding myself of my composure, not looking where I put my feet, and I fell face first in the muddy leaves on the forest floor. The female in front of me just snorted a laugh and waited for me to get up.

And I was done. I was completely done with all this. “You could just help me you know? Instead of laugh. I spent the last four days in absolute horror, running away from my home and my family and my friends, all alone in this horrible forest. I smell like a sewer. My entire body hurts. I’m so desperate I’m following you without even knowing your name. And you are laughing at me.” My talking had turned in to yelling at  some point, and there were tears running down my face.

The female had turned to me. “Aïda. now you know my name. But the ones whos names you know, the ones you call your family and friends are out to kill you right now. If I have bad intentions, you knowing my name will not stop me.” She reached her hand to me and I grabbed it. “Keep that fire burning, girl. You will need it to survive. But make sure the right people are getting burned by the heath.”

Night was falling while we made our way through the forest, looking for the right spot to take off. I had a big clearing in mind, but Aïda stopped at a spot where the trees were just a bit further apart, and you could see the sky through a small opening in the roof of leaves. The bright crimson of the sunset was slowly fading into a deep purple.

“You can fly through that?” I asked her. “I like a challenge.” Aïda said, that smirk again on her face. “Are you ready to go to my secret liar of torture and pain?” I almost stopped breathing, but then I realized this was just her twisted sense of humor, so I just gave her a look. “Good, you are a quick learner. Let’s go.”

She stepped closer and put one hand around my waist and the other underneath my knees, ready to lift me of the floor. “I just realized. I never even told you my name!” I said to Aïda. “Oh no! You’re family must be shocked and ashamed of your lack of good manners! Lucky for you girl, I already know your name. I heard your father call you over and over again two nights a go.” again that sarcastic tone in her voice that I slowly began to get used to. “Then why do you keep calling me girl?” “Until you stop acting like a little girl, and start being the bad bitch you actually are, I will keep calling you girl.”

And with that she lifted me and we shot to the sky.

[ajoy3fanfics]

Missing XI

“Could you fuckin’ keep it down?” Inuyasha groaned into the cushion of the couch, somehow sounding more cranky than he was actually feeling if that were even at all possible. Still, he made no apologies for his attitude. His roommate was fucking loud.

“Who woke you up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Miroku glanced over at the hanyou, looking absolutely miserable. He laid on his belly, face smushed into the overstuffed pillows as he covered his ears. Miroku couldn’t help but roll his eyes; “Do you know how dramatic you look right now?”

“I don’t have a bed to wake up in, asshole.” He grumped. “And it’s too damn loud.” He added, as if that were any excuse. “The coffee is giving me a headache.”

“Huh?” Miroku picked up the offending pot, carefully pouring the hot liquid into his mug. Did he have a caffeine migraine? “Want some?” He offered.

“I want you to turn the damn thing off. It keeps dripping. Drip, drip, drip. Its fucking water torture!” His head was throbbing; it was different than any headache, any migraine he had ever had. It felt as if his skull was about to crack in half from the sheer pressure inside. Every noise, every breath his idiot friend made, every tick of the clock felt like someone was tapping his head with a hammer. He had tried to get up and turn the damn thing off himself, but for a minute there his vision doubled instantly making him want to vomit, and he was pretty sure that lying face down into the couch was a better option.

“I don’t even know how to answer that.” Miroku sighed as he leaned against the countertop, taking a particularly loud sip. “Ahhh-“

“Cant you do that somewhere else?” Inuyasha snapped. Miroku simply raised a brow and asked, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? I thought you were supposed to meet Kago-“

“-Fuck!” Inuyasha sat up so quickly his head was spinning, racing past his so-called best friend as he scrambled to put on pants. “Why the hell didn’t you say something earlier?”

Miroku shrugged before taking another sip, holding the mug with both hands. “You were so busy being a dick I figured you had little time to do anything else.”

~.~

He ran. It made him sick to his stomach, but he would be damned if he was going to make Kagome wait. If she waited, she had time to think, and if she had time to think, he knew she would fucking turn around because why wouldn’t she? It was some sort of miracle that she even met with him as it was. Each jostle, each step seemed to wreak havoc on him, but he pushed through. It was a short distance to the diner, the one they often went to for brunch, back when they were a they. Kagome liked the waffles, Inuyasha liked the home fries, and they both loved Kaede. She was feisty and kind and knew how to cook a Damn good omelet. It took them no time at all to make kaedes their regular spot, even exchanging Christmas cards with the owner and chatting like good friends.

He arrived at the diner, before her thank Gods- and barely breaking a sweat; it didn’t change the fact that he felt completely exhausted. His headache was only getting worse as the day was wearing on; being outside, the glaring sun and the noise of the city was agony, but he decided that not seeing Kagome would be worse. He nodded kaedes way as he took their usual spot.

He felt full of jitters as he anxiously waited; it was nothing new, he always felt nervous before she came, worried if she would come. But of course, she always did.

His gut told him Kagome wasn’t the type to stand someone up, and in all honesty, their ‘not date-dates’ were going really well. He was being the perfect gentleman, playing the role of a friend instead of a boyfriend and although it left him aching and wanting he knew it was better to have her in his life, even as a companion, than not at all.

He could spot her immediately, his head bobbing up to catch her full figure; Kagome walked through the door and Inuyasha held his breath. It always took him off guard to see her with short hair, but he couldn’t deny that she looked cute. She had a new habit of tucking one particular lock behind her ear and he just about melted every time she did it. She didn’t dress up for him; today she had her hair half up in a bun, her large tan cardigan making her frame look even smaller. And the jeans- Gods, did she wear those just to torment him? He loved it when she looked like this; casual and sweet. It reminded him of weekend days during the fall, when they had nothing better to do than take a walk around the block, holding hands, flirting and laughing, the weather nice enough for a sweater and a hot coffee.

Comfortable. What he wouldn’t give to feel comfortable again.

She glanced around the room, quickly making eye contact and Inuyasha; he smiled and gave a curt wave as she walked past the booths, quickly sitting down opposite of him. Just like before. Just like when she was his. She smiled as she settled in, putting her purse to the side and giving him a bright smile. “Sorry, did you wait long?”

Trying to swallow down the lump in his throat he shook his head. “No, I just got in.”  She was here, and he felt a sense of ease; her scent wrapped around him, beckoned him closer. She was dangerous. “You look nice.” He added. It seemed to surprise her, as she looked down at her outfit and laughed a bit.

“I look like its laundry day- which it is. But, thanks.” Reaching for a menu Kagome kept her eyes trained on the page as she casually said, “You look good too. Your hair is already grown out!” Inuyasha raked his hands through his silver locks on impulse; “Mm, half-demon, remember? Heal faster, grow faster.”

Kagome nodded, turning her attention to the breakfast options on the menu. “I guess that’s true.”  She said nothing else, leaving the hanyou on edge. He had so little time with her, and he wanted to get as much out of it as he could.

“H-Hows Souta doing? And your mom? Is gramps still overworking himself?” He was rambling, he knew it, but he was desperate to feel the ease of their conversations. It took a few minutes to get into the groove, but they always got there. Kagome smiled, wide and beautiful.

“Mama is good. She’s keeping my fridge stocked in Udon, which is like her new full-time job. Gramps is still gramps. We keep telling him he needs to slow down, but he keeps brushing us off and saying hell slow down when he dies.”

Inuyasha laughed and his head split. Fuck, he didn’t want this to ruin his day.

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you two at my table.” Kaede smiled as she stopped at their booth. Kagome blushed.

“We tried to stay away but I’m pretty sure you put crack in your homefries instead of onions.” Inuyasha supplied.

“A good Cook never reveals her secrets” the old woman teased.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” Kagome wondered. “You hardly ever leave the grill.”

“You take up waitressing since we’ve been gone?” The hanyou grunted.

“Cheeky as always.” Kaede hissed. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to mess with the people who make your food?” She winked at Kagome before continuing on. “I’ll have you know i saw you two in the dining room and had to stop over. It’s been so long! You made this old woman worry.”

Kagomes hummed her agreement, the whole thing feeling awkward. Just another slap in the face that they had spent so much time apart.

“I’m happy you two kids are back together. What can I get you two for this happy occasion?”

Kagome cleared her throat before answering. “We- were not together. Just friends.”

Just hearing it made Inuyasha set his jaw. It wasn’t the first time he heard it, but It still felt like a dagger. Kaede frowned, telling the pair she still held hope for them. The two quickly placed their orders, and the cook walked away a little sadder than when she entered.

“So, How about your brother?” He asked, trying to fill toe void, asking anything to make the situation lighter. It fucking hurt to think, but he was trying like hell. “He still doing good?” She deadpanned and the hanyou had to hold back his laughter.

“Such a punk. He’s hanging around with this new kid at school and he’s getting such an attitude. Can you believe he actually skipped class last week?”

“No, actually, I cant.” He answered seriously. Souta was always such a good kid! Goofy and high spirted, sure, but not the type to talk back and skip out on school. “Want me to talk to him? Set him straight?”

Kagome frowned. “That’s not the best idea. He’s still pretty mad at you, you know?”

“Mad?” He echoed, purely on instinct; he had not thought about how their break up would effect souta. He had always treated Souta like a sibling, and he knew the kid looked up to him. No doubt he was furious. He was ducking furious at himself!

“He was really hurt.” She explained, voice dropping lower. “Mama and gramps too. You were family and-“

Inuyasha hung his head, instantly pissed off.  It was his own fault, but he couldn’t help the prick of anger he felt building.

“-I get it.” He said, tone clipped.

“But you know, they still ask about you. They were a little leery when I told them we were meeting but-“

The rest kind of faded; his head felt fuzzy, if that was an accurate way to explain his the dazed feel, causing his vision to blur. He felt pissed off and sick and fuck his head hurt!

“Can we change the topic?” He asked abruptly, rubbing his temples.

“Um, sure.” She looked around for the waitress, the situation feeling suddenly heavy. Maybe some coffee or juice would help ease the mood. “Ho-How have you been?” She asked nervously.

“Fucking fantastic.” He replied, regretting the words the second they left his lips. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he control the things that came out of his damn mouth? He watched as she furrowed her brows and frowned, looking just about as displeased as he felt.

“What's your problem, Inuyasha?” She demanded. “You ask me to come but you're acting like a jerk.” Kagome took a deep breath before continuing on. “I think I should go.” Reaching over, she grabbed her purse and began to stand. Panic flooded him, ruling out any other feeling his wretched body was currently feeling. His hand shot out, grasping her wrist desperately.

“I-'m sorry. Please, just sit.” He let go of her, dejected, defeated. There was no way she could leave him looking like a literal sad puppy.

“What’s going on? If you want this to work-“ she motioned between them with her pointer, “then you need to communicate and be honest. What’s wrong?”

He didn’t want to communicate. He didn’t want to be honest. Not about this; he was acting like such a huge brat and all because he had a little headache? He basically hit Mirokus head off this morning for no reason- even he knew that- but nevertheless, he hadn’t learned. He was still in combat mode, ready to take it out On Kagome.

Inuyasha sighed and hung his head. “I’m just sick. I have a freaking migraine and I’ve felt like crap all day.” He looked up at her and apologized. “I know I shouldn’t take it out on you- I really didn’t mean to- I-“

“Why didn’t you just reschedule?” She asked, concern lacing her tone. “You had a serious head injury. You can’t take these things lightly! You should be home- why are you pushing yourself when-“

“Because I wanted to see you damn it!” He raised his voice, making some of the diner patrons look his way, but he seemed unphased. “I wait for this all week. All. Fucking. Week. It’s the only good part of my life, Kagome. I’m so worried that if I miss a date that you’ll come to you senses and stop seeing me altogether. Like hell, I’m gonna stay home because I’ve got a headache.”

She waited, digesting his words, blushing at his honesty. She leaned across the table, covering his hands with hers. “I- I wouldn’t stop seeing you.” Her voice was low, but Inuyasha could make out every word; instantly, he looked up. Hope bubbling inside of him. Staring down at their hands, her small, dainty ones over his own large calloused ones, he dared to laced his fingers between hers, heart in his throat the whole time. And she let him. She let him.

“I look forward to seeing you too. So please… please take care of yourself. Don’t push yourself to meet me if you're sick. You need to be healthy.”

“Yeah.” He was sure he heard his voice crack, but he didn’t care. He was touching her.

She was letting him touch her.

“Let's get you home. You need to call the doctor. Have you been goong to your appointments-“

Home.

She said, let's get you home.

Hope is a dangerous thing; was it so wrong to find comfort in it? It didn’t matter, not really. As she led him out of kaedes, lecturing him the entire time about his health, he kept replaying the words in his mind.

She wants to see me too. Even like this, she wants to see me.

It’s not wrong to hope, right?

[dirt-cup-draco]

Sam Wilson x Reader

It wasn’t hard to understand why Sam was a little bit out of it. Tony and Natasha were gone and well the same could mostly be said for Steve. But you couldn’t truly put your finger on what was causing him to get so stuck in his mind and he wouldn’t fess up either. He’d kiss your cheek mechanically and he’d lay in bed and you’d swear that you could hear the gears in his head grinding as he thought and thought and thought some more for hours into the night. But what in god’s name was he thinking about? 

Sam was usually never like this. He was a smart man, he thought and reflected on things and he took losses hard but this was different. There seemed to be a weight on his shoulders and he didn’t know what to do with it. You didn’t know what to do with it either. It was rare when he didn’t come to you with the things he was struggling with. You’d prided yourself on always knowing what was going on in his beautiful brain.

Your boyfriend was a man that liked to share his thoughts and heart and lately hed been closing you off from both. He seemed far away. Typically hed be stuck to you like glue, peppering kiss along your jaw before giving you a sloppy kiss on the cheek that reduced you to giggles. But now he hardly seemed to be around, he was always out with Bucky, the liar loved that guy like a brother no matter how much bickering they did. He’d found his purpose again with the avengers but you were a tad needy, you wanted to sit on the couch with him in his lap and kiss his nose and look at his pretty eyes for a while. 

Tonight though you waited up for him and when he was home you made sure to be right there, the first thing he saw. He raised his eyebrows in greeting and leaned in to give you a quick kiss. You threw your arms around his neck and kept him there as you slanted your lips against his. You lightly ran your nails down his back and you felt him shiver. Sam’s hands went down to grab your ass before going down to your thighs so he could pick you up, your legs winding around his waist. He took a few steps back and carried you into the kitchen, setting you on the counter. 

Then he let go and then he put an arm’s length between you after another tiny peck. You pouted as he turned to rummage through the fridge, grabbing a beer. He turned back and smiled at you and you couldn’t pout anymore because his smile was the sun and there were no rooms for clouds. You didn’t say anything about your worries not fitting into the cracks. 

“Are you going to talk to me?” You asked as he started to leave. 

“About?” He asked airily, paused in his tracks but no longer meeting your eye.

“I know you as well as you know me and if I was acting the way you’ve been acting you would sit me down and not let me move until I told you how I was feeling, you know what I’m talking about Sam,” He sighed and ran his hand down his face. He met your gaze and you thought for just a second he would tell you before he shook his head just the smallest bit. 

“Not tonight, please Y/N, it’s nothing,”

Ouch. You don’t know why it stung but it did. He felt far away and you were trying to pull him back but he didn’t want to come back it seemed.

Gritting your teeth you hopped off the counter and stormed to your room, “Fine.” Was all you said and you know it was childish but you just hated knowing something was going on and he wouldnt let you in or let you help. 

You heard him groan and inhale deeply and you knew he was struggling with it too. You two didn’t do secrets and you knew it was bugging him as much as it was bugging you. But that almost made it worse because what could it possibly be that was making him so unresponsive? He could tell you anything and you’d never turn him away, you’d never leave him vulnerable, youd do your best to help him feel better. 

He knew that too. Or you hoped he did. Had you done something to make him doubt you? You crawled under your sheets and wrapped them tight around your shoulders. You were desperate to block out the negative aura that seemed to float around Sam’s head and now yours. Maybe this was your fault somehow and he didn’t want to talk to you about it. Maybe he would rather confide in someone else, anyone else. Was there someone else?

You sniffled, quickly wiping at your face when you heard that one spot right outside the door creak under Sam’s weight as he entered the bedroom. You listened to the dresser drawers opening and closing as he grabbed his pajamas, the subtle rustle of him removing what hed had on before. If only he could do that with whatever was on his mind. 

Maybe you were that thing. Maybe he was tired of your relationship. Why else would he suddenly be so far in his head? You chewed on your lip and shut your eyes tighter to trap the tears that wanted to build. You were worried and confused and you didn’t like the way your insecurities were gripping your chest and making it hard to breathe. One voice screamed that you were the problem, Sam was done and the other more rational one beat you down because you weren’t the issue, don’t make yourself more important than his actual problems, you couldn’t possibly understand. 

The sink in the bathroom turned off and a moment later the sheets were being turned down as he climbed under. He was on his back, his arms folded over his stomach. It was how he always fell asleep. It would be so easy to roll over on to your other side, tangle your legs with his, duck your head underneath his chin and find comfort in the physical closeness. But your limbs wouldn’t move. Your fingers twitched, desperate to grab a hold of something that would calm your anxiety. 

You felt foolish about your feelings. You weren’t struggling, Sam was. You were fine, Sam wasn’t. Help him. Don’t be selfish. You brought your knees up to your chest and your arms tighter around yourself. 

“You cold?” Sam spoke suddenly.

You had to clear your throat, your thoughts choking you up. “No, I’m good, more comfortable this way,” You spoke quietly and to the closet. You had to remind yourself that it Sam did hear you, he was only half a foot away, probably less. 

Sam shifted, his warmth at your back as he snaked an arm around your waist, tugging you back against him. You let your legs relax, letting them stretch out and intertwine with his, one of your hands grabbing his. You let out a shaky sigh and he pressed a feather light kiss just behind your ear. 

“It’s about work, not you,” Sam said and you knew he meant it to ease your worry. It was probably a tangible thing that hung over you at this point. You didn’t mean to parade your feelings so obviously, didn’t mean to make him more upset by showing you were upset. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Was your automatic reply even if it wasn’t the correct one. 

Sam’s arms loosened for just a moment so he could tug you onto your other side to face him and then they became secure again. You let your eyes flutter closed as he brushed his nose against yours. One of his hands came to tangle in your hair and you sighed at the gentleness. 

“You don’t have to be sorry Y/N... There’s nothing to be sorry for, I’ve been avoiding the hell out of you, I should be the one apologizing.” 

Those tears were going to start springing up again. He was avoiding you, of course he was he didn’t want to talk to you. It still hurt to hear though. You could tell Sam felt you tense up because he gently kissed your cheeks while rubbing circles into your hip at a steady pace. 

“You might not want to talk about it but I have to be honest, you’re freaking me out. I get it’s about work but when has that ever stopped you from talking to me? Maybe I am being selfish or not understanding but what is making you this way? What is weighing so heavily on you that you feel like you can’t tell me? I-is there someone else? I know I’m not a part of what you do, I know I cant always understand but I swear I’ll try harder to just give me something Sam. Whatever it is or w-whoever, I can do better, be better....” You choked out. He’d gone terribly still.

“Are you kidding me Y/N? You think that I would do that to you?” You shook your head and he looked so hurt you wanted to take it back. You weren’t comforting him at all and you hated yourself for it. 

“I’m sorry but what else could it be?” You said, frustrated and tired of the gap you felt between you. 

“Jesus... Fine, fine. Steve gave me his shield. That’s a lot of fucking pressure so sorry if I didn’t give you enough attention this week, I’ve had a lot more on my mind than you...” If the past couple days hadn’t hollowed out your chest that for sure did. 

“Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that,” He added softly after a moment of quiet. 

“It’s fine, I’m sorry for pushing so much, I’ll leave it be,” You kept your reply short, tried to banish the tremor from your voice because you shouldn’t be allowed to feel hurt when he had a lot on his mind. 

“No, come on... I don’t want you to leave it be. I should’ve mentioned this sooner,” 

“I’m not entitled to know, it’s up to you,”

“I want you to know though Y/N. Don’t act like this please... You know now, isn’t that enough? Talking about it makes it more real and that’s scary. Steve’s one of my best friends but I don’t know if I can fill those shoes...”

You took a steadying breath and cupped his cheeks in your hands. “You’re right, I’m sorry for getting snappy. It is a lot but you are Sam fucking Wilson. Even right now I can see that it’s something you want to do, even if youre scared. You’re so capable and strong and you're a hero. What can’t you do?” 

He smiled a little. “What if they don’t want me? You know.... the public. Steve is their poster boy. I’m not exactly the guy they picture when you mention Captain America.”

“There has been so much chaos recently, all you avengers are the peace in that chaos and people look up to all of you. It’s not Steve they see when they see the shield. It doesn’t matter who is wearing the suit, it’s enough for them that someone is in that position, ready to defend and protect them. You already do that, love. You can do it,” 

“Why didn’t I go to you sooner, huh?”

“It’s okay, I didn’t make it easy,” 

“Neither did I but thank you sweetheart, this helped,” Sam kissed you firmly. 

“I’m glad. And don’t put too much pressure on yourself, whatever you choose things will work themselves out,” 

He nodded and tucked his head in the crook of your neck. It was late and you were sure hed been exhausting himself with this, guilt creeping up again because you hadn’t been as understanding as you could have been. 

“Oh!” You said a moment later after some thinking of Sam’s predicament, “I support you whichever you choose of course, just know that if you do take this on, I am not calling you captain in bed,” 

[sunflowerstache]

A Happy Man (Part 2)

A/N: Hello beauties! This is the sequel to my first ever angst piece “You’ll Be Okay” and I really love it! It’s loosely based off the song Die A Happy Man by Thomas Rhett! As always, if you enjoyed/have questions/comments/suggestions/all of the above, please let me know! I love hearing from y'all so much and I love you all to bits!

Word Count: 3.1k

Masterlist            Part 1

“Have a nice Saturday love.”

Your phone buzzed on the end table next to your spot on the couch, indicating another incoming message from Harry. And just like every other day, you left the message unanswered. For the past 4 days, like clockwork, he had sent you a text at exactly 8:15am, wishing you a good day, and another at 9:30pm reminding you that he loves you. After walking out of yours and Harry’s hotel’s room 4 days ago, you had immediately flown home and showed up a sobbing mess at your parent’s doorstep. Upon the door opening, you found your father raising a baseball bat and your mother hidden on the staircase, in fear of an intruder – as it was the early hours of the morning – a sight you would laugh at if it were any other circumstance. Once your parents realized it was just you, and that you were a wreck, they quickly ushered you inside and to the couch, so you could explain what was wrong. That was days ago, and here you were, still seated in the same spot, staring off into space while your parents watched from the entryway.

“She’s going to start growing into the couch if she doesn’t move Y/M/N.” your dad whispered, or at least whispered as much as a dad was capable.

There was a small thud, and you knew your mom had gently smacked your father’s chest, “He meant a lot to her. She just needs some time.”

“And she can hear you both.” You turned your head to look at the two of them huddled together. “I appreciate you letting me crash here, but you don’t have to dote over me. I’m a big girl. Go to the Christmas Tree Shop or whatever it is you retired folk do.” You tried to crack a smile, but you knew it looked more like grimace.

“Oh hunny, you don’t have to thank us. You’re our baby, of course you are always welcome here.” Your mom cooed as she scuttled across the room to sit next to you and run her fingers through your hair, “Everything’s going to work itself out. I promise.”

“My offer still stands monkey. You let me know where he is, and I’ll go have a nice little chat with Harold.” Your dad smiled, still standing at the entryway.

“No dad. The last thing I want is for you to talk to him right now. It would only make things worse. I mean, I didn’t break up with him. I just told him I needed time. So that’s what I’m doing. Taking some time.” You took a deep breath, talking more to yourself than to your parents now, “Not broken up.”

~~~

“She broke up with me, mum.” Harry’s groan was muffled by the thick white duvet as he laid face down on his hotel bed, still in yesterday’s clothes. “I’ve tried to talk to her every day, and there’s no reply.” Similarly to Y/N, Harry had spent the last 4 days in the same position; wallowing in self-pity and crying to his mother.

“She didn’t my dear. You told me what she said, and she just needs some time.” Anne was seated next to her son, running her hands through his short curls, “You have to understand where she’s coming from. The two of you have been strong for two years, this is just a small bump. Everyone goes through them.”

“Not us, mum. We don’t do this. We never fight, and we never walk away from each other. We’re best friends. Or, we were at least.”

“The two of you are two peas in a pod, don’t doubt that Harry. You have a very busy life, and I mean this with every ounce of love I have for you,” Harry turned his head to peak out from under the blanket to look at Anne, “but you do tend to put quite a lot on your plate. And you never were one for clearing your plate. You’ve been so focused on finding things to keep you busy during this time off, that you’ve put some things to the back burner. Some important things.”

It was like Harry was transported back in time, listening to the bustling streets below while everyone carried on with their lives. Like he wasn’t losing his mind 14 floors above their heads. He knew his mum was right. He always wanted to have a plan a, and a plan b, and plan c, but there was never a risk for that lifestyle before. Never the chance for his precisely planned life to cause such an uproar. But here he was, a weeping, snotty, mess because he planned for everything except his love leaving him.

“Let me ask you, Harry. All of the money, the designer clothes, the followers, notoriety, is it all what’s most important to you? Would you be the happiest with only that?”

His head was shaking before Anne could even finish her questions. There was no doubt in his mind that everything he has, everything his unprecedented luck has been able to provide him, meant nothing if he had no one to share it with. No one to come home to laugh about cute fan encounters with. Nothing without anyone to call up when the silence of empty hotel rooms becomes too much.  “Absolutely not.”

“Then in your heart, you know what to do.” She nodded and patted Harry’s back before getting up and disappearing through the front door.

~~~

“Alright, look munchkin. I love you, you know that. But the ass that’s supposed to be making a dent in the couch is mine. I didn’t retire for you to beat me to it.” Your dad plopped down on the couch next to you. “You have a bed upstairs for that.”

“Can’t dad. ‘ve got pictures of him up there. Don’t wanna look at them right now.” You paused, hearing your mother on the phone, for the 4thtime today, “Who she keep talking to?”

You heard him huff next to you, “Who knows. She’s always got something new to gossip about these days. This week, it’s been about Martha leaving the office to go to the company upstairs.”

You were thankful for your dad. While your mother was always the one to sit you down and talk some sense into you when something was going awry, your dad was the comedic relief you needed. He always knew how to take your mind off of the seriousness of life. Which Is exactly what you needed right now.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, ya know, because of the reason you’re here and all, but you smell kid. I don’t know how it works across the pond, but over here we have these things called showers. It’s real neat, you go in and wash you-“

“Oh my god, shut up dad. We have showers for fucks sake.” You laughed, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the soft murmur of Netflix and your soft breathing filled the air.

“Everything’s going to work out darling. Everyone goes through a rough patch, and it was about time the two of you had yours.” He stopped for a moment, “You know, your mother and I separated for a couple of months.”

Your head shot up at that and looked wide eyed at your father. For your entire life, you idolized your parent’s relationship and wished for nothing more than to achieve what they have. You never would have imagined that they went through any sort of issues. “No you didn’t! When?”

“You were about a year old. I was working double shifts every week while she stayed home with you. She wanted to be able to be there for you every day, watch you grow, and I would have loved nothing more, but someone had to pay for all the diapers you shit in.” you both chuckled, “Me not being home was too much for her and she told me she needed time. Sound familiar?”

“How’d you get past it?”

“I had been staying with your uncle for a couple months, and then woke up one morning, looked in the mirror and told myself I was an idiot for walking away so easily. So, I went back to the house, sat her down, told her how much I loved her and that I was working so hard so that the two of you could have the best lives possible. That’s all I want – the two of you to be happy and not worry about anything.”

The tears were starting to form in your eyes, thinking about how similar your situation is to what your parents went through. Not wanting to sit and cry in front of your dad, again, you patted his knee and stood up.

“About time I go shower, yeah? Wash this stink off.” you smiled and made your way to the staircase, leading to the second floor of your childhood home.

“I love you kiddo.” Your dad called after you, making some warmth spread through your relatively cold body.

In any other situation, you would be disgusted with yourself that this was your first shower in 4 days. But showering was the last thing on your mind recently. As you stood under the searing water, you thought over everything your father had said. Everything he spoke about, you knew is how Harry felt. He told you every chance he got that he loved providing for you, loved being able to make you smile. And it didn’t take much. You got so much joy just by watching in achieve the things he dreamed of and standing behind the scenes to see just how much the love of your life has achieved. But that wasn’t what caused your departure. You had watched Harry make room in his busy life for countless people, so why couldn’t he do that for someone he loved? You thought back to your trip to Italy and hung your head. In his own way, you realized, he did.  After canceling your museum tour, he had the two of your sit in bed all night and watch a Italian historical documentary. Brought you to the private hotel pool with a bottle of wine after not being able to go to the beach and left you a note the morning of your cancelled breakfast date. You realized these were all ways he showed you he cared and wasn’t trying to put work ahead of you. And here you were, standing in your parent’s shower, ignoring all his loving messages every day, just so you could justify your leaving. Quickly shutting off the water, you grabbed a towel and made a beeline to your old room, needing to get dressed and find your phone. You had apologizing to do.

You ran down the stairs, after throwing on some old black sweats and a white t-shirt, your hair still dripping from the shower and leaving a trail of water in your path. Getting to the space you were occupying on the couch, you noticed that your phone was no longer on the charger, “Mom! Where did you move my phone?”

No response.

“Seriously mom! I need to use my phone.”

Again, not response, just the sound of glasses clinking in the kitchen.

“I can hear you in the kitchen. If you’re ignoring me because you’re on the phone with someone from the office, talking about Martha again, I swear I’m gon-“ you choked on your sentence upon entering the kitchen, where you expected to find your mother.

The two of you stared at each other like deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to do or say. A wine glass was gently set down, and the room was so silent that you could hear the silent ringing it made when making contact with the marble countertop. You could feel your breathing start to pick up when he licked his lips and whisper a soft “Hi.”

“He – wha – what are you – how did?”

“I called your mom earlier. Told her I wanted to come. See you.”

You nodded, biting the inside of your lip, not knowing how to get past the awkward tension in the air. You had never experienced this with Harry, this foggy unknown feeling. And you hated it.

“Why.”

“Why what?” lines formed on his forehead

“Why – why would you want to see me?

He continued to just stare at you, like you just asked him the meaning of life, with his mouth agape and hands on now resting on top of the counter. “Because I love you. And I’m not letting this be over. I’m not.” He shrugged, “I know you sai-“

“I’m sorry.” You exclaimed, interrupting whatever he was about to say, “I’m sorry for assuming you cared more about work. I’m sorry for blaming you for cancelling things. I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Before you knew what was happening, he had raced around the kitchen island and scooped you into his arms before your knees could buckled beneath you. Muffled gasps were coming from between your lips as Harry ran his hands over the back of your head.

“Shhh, hey none of that. It’s alright. You’re okay. I’m here.”

The two of you stayed locked in one another’s arms for what seemed like hours, making up for missing the feel of each other. Missing the way you could feel Harry’s heartbeat on your temple when hugging him. Him missing the feeling of your hands wound around his torso, toying with his back-belt loops. The two of you missing the comforting smell of the other. Slowly, once your crying subsided, Harry backed away slightly so that he could look at you.

“I think we have some stuff to talk about, yeah?” you nodded simultaneously and moved to sit down, facing each other, on the kitchen island stools. He gently picked up both your hands in his own, “Before you say anything, I need you to know I love you. I am so fucking in love with you that it makes my head spin. And when you walked out of that hotel room, I felt like I was drowning.” You moved to apologize again, but he quickly cut you off, “I don’t want to hear another apology out of you. Don’t ever apologize for your feelings. The hurt you’re feeling is yours to feel however you see fit.”

“I just, I don’t want you to think I’m asking you to choose, H. I would never. I know how much your career means to you, it means everything to me too. Watching you succeed and do what you love means the world to me.” You sniffled, trying make sure he understood that you support him in everything he does.

“But I would. I would choose. Because as much as I love the traveling and picking up new projects, and always being busy, I love you more. I love you more than all the sushi I could stomach in Japan. More than the packages Gucci sends me with new clothes. More than there are stars in the sky. So, I’mthe sorry one. I’m so sorry I ever made you doubt that, m‘love.” His eyes started to glaze over, accent getting thicker, as the threat of tears grew closer and closer.

“My career has given me more than I could ever ask for. This life I live gives me opportunities I never in a million years could have wished for. But absolutely none of it means anything if you’re not there to share it with me.” The smile that graced Harry’s face was brighter than anything you’ve ever seen on him. His dimples were prominent on his hair covered jaw, small crow’s feet loitered around the corners of his eyes, and his hands tightened in yours.

“But you should be able to do those things without worrying about me. About making sure I’m alright. You’re so young and so successful Harry! You shouldn’t have to worry about how I’m feeling 24/7. You should be able to do what you want, when you want it.  To be your own person.” You argued, knowing that this argument was slowly fleeting, as your love for the man in front of you was overpowering any doubts you had.

“I know who I am, doll. But I also know that I’m better with you. I’m better when I wake up to see your hair sprawled all over the bed. Better when I see you in that black dress that makes it hard for me to breathe. Better when you’re around. So, if I never get to see the Eiffel Tower again, or drive a new sports car, that’s okay.”  he shrugged, seeing your inner turmoil in your eyes, “Because if the only thing that I have in life is your hand in mine, then I could die a happy man.”

You took your hand out of his hold to brush away the tears that had made their way down your puffy cheeks. Guilt flooded through your veins for ever thinking that Harry loved you any less than how he described. So, you leaned forward to place a kiss to his lips, needing him to know you loved him just the same.

“I quite like the Eiffel tower.” You whispered once your lips disconnected from his, and a small chuckle left his lips,

“I know petal. I just want you to know that I don’t need a fancy destination because you’re my great escape. My sense of normalcy in this crazy life. You’re the one I want to repaint the living room while listening to Sinatra radio and dance around the fireplace with.”

You knew when starting this relationship that things would get difficult, what with being in the public eye and all the moving around. But you also knew that it was all worth it. It was worth it when you got to see Harry after walking off stage, after his morning jog, with his tongue sticking out between his lips while jotting things down in his journal. All the scrutiny was worth it when you got to slow dance in the kitchen or lounge all day with Evie. And no amount of rescheduling or cancellations would change that.

“Did you really just try to flex your Gucci deliveries to me?”

Taglist: @theasstour @emotionally-imbruised @harryspirate @swayingnoodlelove

[zepdeans]

there’s not a lot I can say about s3 that hasn’t already been said (and articulated 200x better) but! here are some of my (albeit dumb) thoughts :~)

ep1 -isak leaning against the bathroom wall gets me EVERY time its such a powerful scene esp introducing you to s3 and tarjei..... spare some talent for the rest of us please -LiTeN gUtTeN fRa StRaNgEr tHiNgS -isak rly ties his pants w a shoelace...... -isak noticing even for the first time bc of his laugh.. whew.... also. i love this intro SOOO much bc its so non-monumental? theres no dramatic music or whatever but its not subtle.... like you know right away o shit love interest!! hello sir!! bc isak’s expression watching him :’) i could go on -isak is a bad liar HOWEVER this only applies to stupid nontrivial things e.g. the black sweatshirt. but when you look at him lying about like, his sexuality, he hides that shit well -”c00l” isak. i hate u so much -honestly all u have to do is look at even for .2 seconds and u can tell this boy has had a crush for a solid month bc he just looks awestruck (HOWEVER henrik’s acting is *chef’s kiss* bc its subtle enough to go undetected b4 you actually know eVEN SAW HIM ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL) -even isak and emma all sitting on the bench together is funny enough on its on but then a song called threeway comes on and like. julie sdshjsfdjfkjskd ep2 -there’s something so endearing about even’s handwriting idek what -i LOVE even’s video w mikael it reveals so much about him to us- how weird (ok we saw how weird he was w the paper towel thing but) and dorky he is? and his love of film! his view on love stories and how he sees the world :( but it also shows a lot abt isak because he saw even making stupid jokes about vladimir putin and was like yeah we about to fall in LOVE love -isak not using headphones to watch even’s video or r+j?? bde or general incompetence what’s the verdict guys -the isak watching r+j scene hits so hard like yall ever think about isak lying in bed at 3am staring at the ceiling probably thinking about how he’s never gonna get a beautiful world-shattering romance like that like ..... also him changing positions skam get out of my life go away ur too realistic -not to make this even more self-projection-y but isak simultaneously being the least emotionally vulnerable person ever but crying during r+j > -i made a post abt this already but even’s INTENSE staring vs isak’s “i have never looked anyone in the eye in my life” gets me it says so much about their characters -even said i see your bde move (asking me to buy you beer) and i raise u with my own (inviting you to my house after faking not having my id) -”if you listen to music” even is such a dick fsdjhsdff -when the message comes on...... i rlly do owe julie my life huh -”have you heard about my rapping?” “I have actually” have we talked about this enough????? 1. isak finally feels comfortable enough w even to flirt and his first move is to RAP for him jesus christ. keep in mind this is the same man who pulled that smooth af ibuprofen line w emma like...... 2. even has heard about isak’s rapping. either this means im-not-on-social-media even went out of his way to go thru homeboy’s instagram OR isak’s rapping is actually talked about. i- -the group chat messages. cant believe i forgot about the 2016 clown epidemic

ep3  -mahdi is a good friend and i love him. thank u -even wearing isak’s cap until he chucks it at him sjksfjsdjsd -how much yall wanna bet isak’s been listening to illmatic on repeat since last friday thinking abt even (even tho meeting sonja shattered his heart a lil) [also kinda an aside but i think a lot about how isak n even bonded over rap and how some homophobic lyrics in 90s etc rap might have impacted them? or how that little detail ties into julie’s story? e.g. halftime by nas, which is on illmatic] -whats worse. even staring into isaks soul wearing a size xs see-through white t shirt or isak staring at even for five (5) seconds before chugging his beer and immediately making out w emma. OR even crashing that party before it can start “i think you guys are bonding too much” cheesy ass shjhfsdhskdf -yall act like evak didnt invent hands. did even shaking isak’s shoulder telling him his apartment is nice mean nothing to u -im convinced robyn wrote call your girlfriend for this scene specifically bc how could anything fit so perfectly by coincidence -is anything better than egging isak on- even bech naesheim (2016) -idk if yall have read the scripts but i love the sock thing so much bc its soo true to how isak thinks and it makes everything so much more interesting and !!!

ep4  -i will never get over even sending isak bad seinfeld memes -even smacking open isak’s locker. first of all whew second of all u think as soon as he got into the stairwell he lowkey cried bc ow -parallel of isak saying “it’s 2016, why are you religious?” to sana vs. emma’s “it’s 2016, get out of the closet” to isak anyone :( -”takk sanasol!!!!” thank u isak for my life -I wanted to be with you aloneeeee -even’s face when he sees the pool like we get it youre a director -how many times do i need to say even is such a dick sjkfsd “does it look like i care about my hair?” “usually but not right now” like this would only work on isak i love soulmates!! -even just.. fully choking isak out ssdhgfd got em -when the first notes of im kissing you start ooh boy -even going in for the kill kiss and isak going from huh to oooo shit and pushing his lips out at the last minute. phenomenal 

ep5 -ngl as soon as im not in love comes on my heart goes uwu bc like!!!! that song the meaNING.... them......... i jus love this scene sm like theyre in their own little bubble and they both feel so comfortable and at peace :((  -even leaving isak comics about an inside joke of theirs like yall mind if i scream -isak feeling left out from the conversation and his friends whew i felt that... and having them talk about how gross it is to makeout with a girl w facial hair?? blease :( -taking stock of isak’s nicknames: issy k, isabell, izzy, baby jesus, -im not even gonna bother trying to articulate thoughts on Pause bc it’s a literal masterpiece. thank u tarjei henrik and julie for inventing television with this one  -MAGNUS SDFKJSDFJKDSHK "oooh my name is Jonas and I love idealism and reading klassekampen and I don’t like plastic and I skate on a skateboard made of sustainable wood and wear old clothes because new clothes are bad for the environment and I only drink recycled water” screAMMM -what i said abt pause also applies to pride ugh its such a powerful scene and!! the beginning of kicks to isaks stomach. honestly what i fucking love about this episode is how it goes from hell yea best day w even ever to crying in the street within one week (s3 had the best balance of angst and payoff thanks) -even’s Soft Party Flannel... forever tainted by this scene rip -not knowing why even kissed sonja keeps me up at night -speaking of. how used and stupid isak must’ve felt when he saw even completely unbothered, hooking up w his ex at this party?? whew :( -bros is one of my all time favourite clips solely bc of the music?? lift me up gives me chills and when hold my liquor starts i LOSE it -ep5 and 6 remind me of that quote “to see what your characters are really made of you have to break them” because julie rlly goes all in and god it hurts so good

ep6 -never have i ever seen insomnia portrayed as accurately as tarjei did here and i remember when i first watched the cantina scene i was like. winded bc its SO true to sleep deprivation whew -i really like that isak wasnt together with even when he reached out for help and came out to jonas. bc it was him, on his own, being strong enough to talk to his friends and then eventually he was confident and secure enough in himself to be in a good place when even started reaching back out!! -i have no idea what its like to come out to someone, to be afraid of your friends rejecting you, everything isak went through. but tarjei’s acting of when, like, you have something you KNOW you have to tell someone, and youve put yourself in the position where youre going to have to tell them, but youre terrified and eventually just force yourself SAY the words??  -and isak’s smile when he realizes jonas is gonna be his bro no matter what :’)))

ep7 -weirdly one of my favourite isak looks (black t-shirt grey snapback c-c-c-combo) -”what’s your name again?” have i mentioned i love sana and isak bc i love sana and isak -jonas truly is the best friend oh man. perceptive, thoughtful, loving, laidback, a friggen BRO. tbh i was wary of him in s1 and thought he didn’t treat eva well (tho I recognized he loved her a lot, he was just bad at being a boyfriend) but jonas in s3?? just goes to show how powerful your perspective of someone can change viewing them in a different role!! because while jonas was a crappy bf, he literally is SUCH an incredible friend and his actions and words and just! him! in s3 completely redeemed any illwill I had towards him :’) -maybe im a little gay (up there with other s3 comedy classics such as “thats a boys name”) -mahdi season WHEN ugh a legend -’when someone asks isak if hes going to a family party’ literally what other reason for living do i have if not to read the boy squad text convos -isaks locker finally opening and his smile at evens drawing whewwwwwww!! also even rlly is that guy who wont text you back but will leave hand written love letters in ur locker -also. another stellar look from valtersen -slutt a meld meg is a whole masterpiece like what other piece of media has the RANGE -eskild: play hard to get. jonas: no smiley!!! isak: nah fam im good B)

ep8 -this episode is BEAUTIFUL bc you feel practically euphoric?? like hell yeah theyre finally together!! isak is out and accepted and even is done with sonja! but theres also this unsettling undercurrent of worry bc you know deep down something isnt right? why is sonja calling isak? why is even acting kinda strange? whats going on? yknow?? -literally never going to get over 5 fine frokner :~) even is such a goddamn nerd and he’s the man of isak’s dreams can u believe!!  -sana’s little speech is SO important in so many ways ooo i love her so much -also have we discussed eskild making evak do a photoshoot for him. highkey those are my favourite pictures of ALL time u can tell even was like hm strange but im down while isak was more omg guys stop🙄 omg haha eskild i cant believe youre making me cuddle with even for a photo🙄 i cant believe ur making me snuggle this dude for a pic!!!! definitely would not have done this otherwise!!! -magnus only realizing it’s THAT even after seeing how isak looks at him. whew -isak is so brave i rlly love that kid! his text to his mamma <3 -no r*make will EVER nail text conversations like mari/julie did w evak’s this week thanks for coming to my ted talk. i'd quote the best ones but it would literally double the length of this post (ok ill cave. “hahaha shut up❤️” GETS me) -you dont know whats in store but you know what youre here for. hallo -isak running around oslo with even’s clothes looking for him :( his heart is so big he cares about even so so much -when Part II (on the run) comes on in the credits its like a kick in the teeth honestly

ep9 -ive already screamed enough about cherry wine but god it fucks me up -cannot put into words how much I love eskild and how good of a person he is, he just has so much love in his heart  -”wait they have waffles here? see ya” -this convo is why i love skam so much!!!! magnus giving insight and good thoughtful advice to isak was such a brilliant move by julie (also truLy heartwarming) bc like. magnus is a flawed layered character! he’s dumb and ignorant and not very careful with his words BUT hes also such a sweet guy. i genuinely dont think he would hurt a fly and him talking about vilde (in ep10) is ;-; bc he really likes her and respects her and wants to be a gentleman! hes so loving and just. yeah. also i wonder if isak and magnus (and vilde) ever talked about having mentally ill parents and lent on each other for support bc like....<3 [sidenote- this is why i HATE b***** like they absolutely massacred magnus’s character and magnus did not deserve that!] -det er bare slutt........ very cool of tarjei to invent acting here. also the character development makes me WEEP like at first isak lied and told his pappa it was over bc its easier to brush stuff off and say you were joking than be vulnerable especially about 1. having a boyfriend and 2. saying youve already broken up?? but then isak was like hey im done with lying about who i am bc i want my life to be REAL and he told his dad the truth even if it was hard and even if he was trying rlly hard not to cry  -isak reaching out to even<3 standing up for even<3 -o helga natt. another scene i genuinely cannot comment on bc u cant really put into any written language how magical and breathtaking and heartbreaking and powerful and brilliant this scene is. so. -jk. obvs i cant say anything intelligent enough to give this scene justice but probably the most stunning piece of television i have ever had the privilege of watching. even’s text breaks my heart every gd time (esp since we never really see this side of him before finding out he’s bipolar? his guilt, insecurity, feeling like a burden, being scared of losing everyone in his life because he thinks he’ll hurt them). the music is SO beautiful i cry real tears as soon as the strings start. also the brilliance of JUST o helga natt playing and no dialogue except for isaks one line? isak’s realization when he sees the cross. him RUNNING across oslo to go to even. the FLASHBACKS all going backwards in chronological order until them smoking on the bench. isak looking at the bench and not seeing even and u can feel his heart breaking and urs breaks too! but then he remembers the bathroom and he turns and theres even and whewwww. du er ikke alene<3

ep10 -minutt for minutt is THE most healing clip im telling u. and like.. seeing even depressed really is hard and as someone who was very very depressed for 4-ish yrs of their life it rlly hits me? like when youre in an especially bad funk and you cant get out of bed and youre just numb and exhausted and feel so shitty and u want to be alone but you really dont???? could go on but literally i owe henrik holm my life for his portrayal of even  -not to be a soft bitch on main but when isak tucks the blanket over even and it keeps getting pulled off his back so isak just. covers that spot with himself? -i do love that call between sonja and isak bc once again! a flawed (realistic) human being -and isak thinking its his fault even is depressed? it means a lot that sonja told him its no ones fault, even is just bipolar. and i wonder if isak felt that way about his mamma as well, guilty for her being ill, and if what sonja said made him feel better about that situation too :( -lowkey random but when isak is rambling really fast and he goes “maybe we’ll get bombed tomorrow and talking about all this is a waste of time” it continually punches me in the throat bc that is /exactly/ how i ramble and think like tarjei........ pls -like eskild said. there really is so much love in isak’s little grumpy teenage body<3 -isak no longer just passively accepting life as its given to him, now he fights for him and even!!!!!  -isak is such a forgiving person and seeing him able to just accept things and move on? incredible -i remember when i first watched ep1 i was like oooo even and isak are gonna be kosegruppa partners and thats when theyll first get together, cooking food or smth!! but lmfao after episode 3? kosegruppa whomst???? also hilarious vilde thought isak of all people would willingly sign up for kosegruppa just to go to revue parties -even and linn friendship!!!! -cannot articulate how mf heartwarming it is to see even smiling and being more himself after being depressed (also thank u julie for having ups and downs coming out of his depression- its so true to life having one day when youre feeling awesome and then the next you feel awful again for no reason and its SO frustrating) -I had to stop watching passe pa meg cause it made me toooooo crazy! it would just be like: “I like seeing you laugh” and I was like: *SCREAMS* -im the fucking master of lying 😤 -literally don’t know why isak and even ragging on kosegruppa is so funny but “did you think I joined to have fun” gets me every time -I SAW YOU THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL -also even literally radiating love @ isak watching get snarky w vilde on the phone bc it reminded him of the first time he saw him! even rly is that boyfriend who thinks isak being pissy is the Best Thing he has Ever seen -halla boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiz -literally the glo up of isak telling his friends the order in which he’d bang them -No filter! wow I love symbolism -so nice to see the girls together for a lil bit :) -the boys hyping up mags while also telling him to be respectful awwwwww -take desperate to a whole new level- Confucius  -who’s going to show isak how to properly hold a beer can -literally evak banter gets me thru the day. thank u tarjei and henrik for having phenomenal chemistry + improvisation skills + making isak and even the dumbest nerdiest boys i have ever seen -biology partner. and friend. ;-; -even literally is the biggest stoner blease -isak’s talk with eva is just sooooo<3 and not to be emo on main but every single word of the last few sentences he says hit me so gd hard because i feel the exact same way in my BONES -livet er nå 💛

final thoughts :( <3 -this season is so special. it feels like one really long oscar-worthy movie or smth?? i cant even exblain, its just magical. ALSO very dear to my heart. -julie really said you guys have seen isak sad and alone and repressed for the past two seasons so heres him falling in love with the best person in the world and coming to terms with who he is and being brave and opening up and finally being happy and living a real life -this season definitely feels different from s1/2/4 to me editing or production or music smth wise? as in, its got a lot fewer aesthetic shots and the cinematography seems a bit different if that makes any sense???? I also think this is the season most focused just on the main (i.e. not many- if any? sideplots going on) -literally will never get over the thought, love, and detail put into this season. when i say there is literally nothing i would change about it, i mean it and coming from my nitpicky ass??? means a lot lmfao. the acting, directing, music choices, symbolism...... sublime -s3′s cold rainy autumn aesthetic makes me ACHE for fall and also nostalgic for a highschool experience I never had lmao?? also. all the nighttime clips >>> -don’t know what else to say except thank u skam for my life

[zigsexual]

sophia (drake/liam)

note: this is just absolute fluff brought on by the thought of liam being a dad (thanks to the royal heir for that one) and my headcanon family for future driam as per the deu (driam extended universe) which you can read more about here. its literally just fluff and also some riley and maxwell because lets be real i cant leave them out of anything.

summary: so. they have a baby now.

word count: 2100+

• • •

It’s only been a few days, and yet Drake is certain he’s seen a year’s worth of change in both himself and Liam since they brought Sophia home.

It’s not just the expected neuroticisms, although those are certainly obstacles of their own. Drake’s already found a fully armed guard standing watch at their daughter’s crib on two separate occasions, and he had to actually step in when Liam attempted to call the Minister of Health at four in the morning because he couldn’t get Sophia to stop crying.

He’d foreseen the anxieties, the shifts in routine. It’s the love — the overwhelming, all-consuming love — that takes him by surprise. He’d heard time and time again how much one could love a child, and now he knows now exactly how true those words can be, but what he hadn’t foreseen was how much more he could love Liam.

That first night, Sophia in her bassinet by their bed, the two of them standing over her and marveling at her tiny features, Drake had wrapped his arm around Liam’s back and said, “I love you,” and he’d never meant it more in his life.

He lingers in doorways now, taking a moment to watch Liam with her before he knows anyone’s there. The way he smiles, the way he sings to her, the way his whole expression softens when she’s in his arms — Drake can’t get enough of it.

“She looks like you,” he tells Liam while they’re getting her dressed in the morning. Liam smiles, first at him, then at her.

“It’s just the hair,” he says, brushing a finger gently through the dark tufts atop her head.

“No,” Drake steps closer, watching as Sophia’s big eyes move to his face, one hand in her mouth. “It’s all of her. She looks like you.” He rests a hand on Liam’s shoulder, Liam leaning into him as he does. “And the world could always use more of you.”

Liam cries, because that’s pretty much all he does now.

The first people who come to visit, outside of family (and Drake had to put his foot down on that when Savannah tried to sneak Bertrand in), are Riley and Maxwell. They come with gifts and laughter and the noise of much more than just two people, already a crescendo of delight when they spot the new princess for the first time.

“Hey baby girl!” Riley grins, sweeping Sophia into her arms as soon as she’s within reach and kissing her forehead. “Look at you.”

Liam still isn’t good at letting anyone else hold her, perpetually terrified of what might happen if she’s not with them, so Drake squeezes his hand in reassurance when he notices his anxious fidgeting. Liam offers him a grateful smile.

Maxwell is at Riley’s side, looking down at Sophia with the same kind of wonder, the two of them falling into soft, cooing voices as she opens and closes her tiny hand.

Riley is entranced, tracing the skin of one plump cheek, eyes a bit damp. Maxwell looks back over at Liam and Drake, beaming. “If you ever need babysitters…”

“Trust me, you’ll be the first to know,” Liam says, although Drake is certain Liam would sooner abdicate the throne than leave his daughter’s side for a day. “Are the two of you considering having kids at all?”

Riley’s smile falters for the briefest second, and she lets her gaze fall back to Sophia’s face. Maxwell slips his arm around her almost protectively, answering with a practiced, “Nah, we’re a two-person job. Any more and we compromise the intel.”

He and Liam ask them to be the godparents, and Riley promptly bursts into the tears she’d been trying to keep at bay. “It was the obvious choice,” Liam says, another lie; they’d had a few arguments on whether or not Leo deserved the honor (he didn’t) and if Savannah would be offended for being passed over (she was, and when Drake had politely reminded her he didn’t want his daughter growing up in a broken home, she’d seethed that her and Bertrand were working it out).

At night, he and Liam sit on the edge of their bed and watch Sophia sleep, her lips a perfect pink bow, one hand curled into a fist. Every time she so much as breathes, it’s somehow amazing, Liam grabbing his hand at the slightest movement, enthralled.

“We did that,” he says, looking at Drake in awe. “That’s our baby.”

“Well, we didn’t entirely —”

“Oh, hush,” Liam admonishes, eyes still sparkling. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Drake answers, leaning in against Liam just a touch more, folding their fingers together a bit tighter. “I know.”

“I wish she could always see the world like this,” Liam says softly, “New and exciting and welcoming. I wish she didn’t have to grow up.”

“She’s got us,” Drake says, “She’ll have it pretty good.”

Liam smiles at him, presses a kiss to his forehead. “That’s true. She does have us.”

Warmth blooms in Drake’s heart, and he wraps his other arm around Liam’s back, resting his head on his shoulder. “What do you think she’ll be like?”

“I don’t know.” Liam thinks. “Stubborn, maybe?”

“Hey,” Drake lifts his head to shoot Liam a look of mock reproach. “Are you talking about her, or me?”

“Her, obviously,” Liam can’t help but smile. Drake makes a face at him.

“Well, if she ends up crying all the time, we’ll at least know which parent is notto blame.”

“I don’t cry all the time!”

“Just every day for the past nine months.”

Liam frowns, but it’s more of a pout than anything. “That doesn’t count — there were extenuating circumstances.”

Drake smiles, reaching his hand up to cup Liam’s cheek, thumb running slowly across his skin. “I love you.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “Don’t try to distract me. It won’t work.”

“Shut up,” Drake shifts closer, eyes locked on Liam’s. “I am absolutely crazy about you.”

“What are you trying to do?” Liam asks, head tilted curiously to the side now.

“Nothing, I just…” Drake drops his hand, still looking out at Liam fondly. “I was just thinking… I mean, that’s our baby. You and me.” He folds his fingers back in against Liam’s, squeezing his hand. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Liam kisses him, deep and slow until Drake pulls back, laughing. “Not in front of her!”

“She’s asleep,” Liam whispers, leaning back in to press another kiss to his jaw. “She’ll never know.”

“You’ll scar her for life,” Drake says, even as he tilts his head back when Liam’s hand comes up to his hair. “This is what she’ll talk about in therapy for years to come.”

“What a lucky therapist.”

“Liam!”

Liam sits back, smiling. “I love you too.”

Drake elbows him. “Stupid prince.”

“That’s you now, actually.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Liam brings their joined hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to Drake’s fingers as he says, “But you’re my stupid prince,” which somehow makes Drake feel disgustingly happy.

Sophia wakes up at 3AM that night, crying so loudly that the both of them jolt up immediately, wide-eyed and frantic. Liam hurries to get her bottle while Drake takes her in his arms, rocking her gently to no avail. When Liam returns, she’s still screaming, and Drake passes her off to him so he can try to coax the bottle into her mouth.

She fights against it at first, but then seems to settle into routine, her big round eyes watching them both closely as she drinks.

“Oh, thank god,” Drake says, reaching one arm around Liam while the other hand comes up to stroke her tufts of hair. Liam settles in against him, warm from sleep, blinking blearily.

“Knock on wood,” he manages, gently tilting the bottle back towards her when she bats at it with one small fist. “I suppose we’ll have to get used to the baby alarm clock sooner or later.”

“There are worse alarm clocks to have.”

Liam smiles, but Drake isn’t sure if it’s at him or at her, and he finds that he doesn’t mind it either way. Sophia’s eyes flick between the two of them, curious and bright, and he wonders what kind of thoughts her fledgling mind has to offer.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says, voice lowered slightly, marveling at the way her head fits in the palm of his hand. “Were you just hungry? Are you feeling better now?”

Her mouth goes slack around the bottle as she watches him, and Liam says, “Oh, she’s listening!” with so much unfettered joy that Drake can’t even find it within himself to tease him for it. Instead, he turns to Liam and grins, and Liam beams back at him like they’ve just cracked the secret to eternal happiness.

Sophia, now devoid of the attention she had previously been the center of, starts crying again, knocking her bottle onto the floor with one flailing arm.

“Shit,” The smile falls off Drake’s face. “We broke her.”

“What do we do?” Liam says, looking at him frantically, doing his best to try and rock Sophia back into some sort of complacency. She denies his every attempt, only wailing louder each time Liam tries to cuddle her quiet.

“Does she need to be changed?” Drake asks, and Liam says, “Oh god, I don’t know. When was the last time we changed her?”

They both wait for the other to offer the answer, but neither does.

“Christ,” Drake runs a hand through his hair anxiously. “We haven’t even had her a month and we’ve fucked it up.”

Liam looks pale. “Should I call her doctor?”

“What is he supposed to do?”

“Give her medicine?”

“For what?” Drake stares at him. “Crying?”

Liam stares back, a stunted sort of insanity across his features. “Yes.”

Drake takes a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He reaches towards Liam, arms outstretched. “Let me try.”

The second he gets close, Liam pulls away, leaning Sophia up against his shoulder with one hand on her back. “No. I can do this.”

“Come on, look at me,” Drake sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Sophia reaches a new decibel level. “She’s gonna wake up the whole palace, just let me —”

“I’m going to fix our baby,” Liam says firmly, eyes filled with a delirious determination. “We’re her parents, we’re supposed to know how to do this. I can do this.”

“Listen, babe, I’m sure you can, but what if I went and got her blanket, and we tried —”

Suddenly, Sophia lets out a profound burp before going quiet against Liam’s neck, sniffling into his shirt. They both stare at her for a moment, then at each other, blinking slowly.

“Well,” Liam says, “I think we fixed her.”

“She definitely threw up on you a little bit.”

“Did she?” Liam cranes his neck to the side, then frowns. “Oh, she did.”

“Casualties of war,” Drake laughs softly.

Liam passes Sophia over to him so he can head to the bathroom to clean up, and Sophia nestles against Drake’s chest as soon as he has her, one fat cheek pressed against him as she closes her eyes.

He rocks her gently, turning and watching as Liam shrugs off his shirt and turns on the sink faucet. “That’s your dad,” he whispers, not wanting to break her out of whatever spell sleep has cast on her. “He’s pretty great.”

He can feel her chest rise and fall against his, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Actually, he’s the best. We’re lucky to have him, aren’t we?”

Liam emerges from the bathroom with tired eyes, yawning before he can stop himself. He runs a hand through his messed-up hair, his eyelids already heavy, and manages, “Do you want me to stay up with her…?”

“She’s asleep,” Drake says. “I think we’re out of the woods.”

“Perfect,” Liam answers, dropping a kiss against his temple as he passes. “Then let’s put her down and get back in bed.”

When Sophia is back in her bassinet, peaceful and still, Drake slips into the bed next to Liam and nestles against him, sighing softly when Liam drapes an arm over his shoulders.

“We’re good parents, right?” Drake asks Liam tentatively. “I mean, she’s going to grow up normal and everything?”

“Mhm,” Liam murmurs, too tired to assuage his fears. Drake rolls onto his back, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling for a long minute before he reaches across to hold Liam’s hand.

“We are,” Liam finally whispers, blinking his eyes open for just a second to meet Drake’s. “We’re great and she’s great and you’re the love of my life.”

Drake smiles, pulling Liam’s hand up and kissing his knuckles. “Goodnight, Liam.”

“Okay,” Liam says sleepily.

And, of course, not five minutes later, Sophia lets out a wail so loud one could swear it woke even the kitchen staff.