#one of these days im going to kill the people across the hall

[sanguinewolves]

who the fuck smokes weed at 10:30 am on a monday

[poetryvampire]

The Song of Rolan

Dingdong! Horny Rolan posting hours again. I started writing head canons for how vocal our lovely wizard can get. It got a bit long so I turned it in a little fic. Also sorry for the name im a lit nerd

Words: 2,705

Rating: Explicit

Rolan x AFAB! Reader

Prompt: Rolan's voice drives you crazy. But he has a terrible habit of stifling all his pretty little noises in bed. You help him fix that.

Tags: teasing, pointy ear play, a touch of edging, dry humping, sloppy oral, p and v sex, bit of overstimulation, creampie, riding that tiefling straight to hell and back

It was an understatement to say you were proud of Rolan. He was an accomplished wizard, loving brother and - in your opinion-the perfect partner. One that you could see yourself spending the rest of your days with. That's not to say he didn't get on your nerves. Not only with his grumpy tendencies but more so with his habit of over working.  You adored his passion and drive to further his studies but it had led to more and more long lonely nights. Either from him traveling with colleagues or the tiefling locking himself in his study to work on a multitude of projects until morning light. 

He had returned home only yesterday having spent almost two full weeks away and yet he still seems dead set to spend all evening pouring over his notes. The Wizard's focus was getting worse by the day. Not that he hadn't been overjoyed to see you. He had practically knocked you off your feet with the intensity of his hug when he came striding through the door. You had spent hours locked in each other's arms in your large shared bed. Steadily he moved between tales of his journey and peppering your skin with feverish kisses.

Rolan had taken you greedily. Frantic, practically tripping over himself trying to touch all of you at once. He couldn't quite find a voice for his needs but you swayed to him happily, matching his clumsy passion. There was plenty of the time to truly savor each other. But still your patience was running thin.

Somehow you had once again found yourself in an empty bedroom starving for your partner. Last night had been a sweet reunion but it did little to quell the fire Rolan lad lit in you while he was away. He had only been gone a few days when a letter arrived that left you breathless. Deciding to skip over the details of his journey he focused instead on his longing for you.

'What little beauty there is to be had here is dwarfed a thousand times by the thought of you. I dream of you always. Of being wrapped in your divine cunt. Of feeling it pulse against my tongue. Gods, I am your slave. Use me only for your pleasure. Let me worship you, my heart.'

His words rang in your head even now, pooling that familiar heat down below. How you wanted him. Wanted to hear such words from his own lips. From the moment you met you’d been in love with the deep rumble of his voice. Nothing gave you such satisfaction as pulling music from Rolan’s lips as you made love. It wasn't easy. Even still he had trouble fully letting himself go. Often he would stifle his words and moans to your great dismay. You recall gazing up at him as you ran your tongue over his length to find his hand clamped tightly over his mouth muffling his cries. A senseless action as you two had been the only people home at the time.  

Swiftly you move to your wardrobe every drop of patience spent. You need him; to wring every moan, grunt and whimper out of that man or it would kill you. He deserves to relish in and express his pleasure freely. Perhaps he just needs a little push.

Much to your relief the tower was empty by this hour. You moved lightly through the halls wearing nothing but a sheer purple dressing gown.

You tap your knuckles against the hard oak door as you enter his study. He was exactly as you had pictured him, four open books across his desk and him writing furiously.

"Beloved!" He half glances at you as he takes a quick slip from his wine glass. "Now don't worry," he continues flipping pages. "I hadn't forgotten about you. This was intended to be a short little report but I just keep finding revisions that seem a shame not to add."

Going above and beyond as always. You can't help but smile as you watch him, those tantalizing eyes darting from paper to paper. Just the sight of him makes the warmth of excitement flare in you. You feel your nipples hardening against the thin fabric you wore. He's dressed down; the lacing on his ruffled white shirt undone to his mid chest and sleeves pushed up past the elbow. Such a small glimpse of extra skin makes your heart race. Hopefully you can rise the same reaction.

"You have such a way with words it would be rude not to." You purr, moving to his side.

"I'll be done soon, truly." He can hear the need in your voice. "Then I'm all yours."

You hum amused as you lift his glass to take a deep drink.

"You sound like you don't believe me." Rolan's hand passes through the space once hosting his glass. "Have I ever let you down in the-"

His eyes finally snap to you and his words catch sharply in his throat, blood rushing to his face. You laugh, finishing the glass.

" What's the matter, my love? You're usually so generous with your words."

"I- I-you," He stammers.

"I seem to remember such generosity in a letter you wrote."

You undo the gown. His eyes fix on you as you let it fall to the floor. As many times as he's seen it the sight of you in your full glory drives him wild. 

"Do you remember that letter?"

"Oh, of course." His voice is barely a whisper, his body tense as if ready to pounce on you.

To his surprise you straddle him and his hands fly to your hips drawing you closer. Both of you groan into a deep kiss as you grind yourself down against the quickly growing tent in his trousers.

"Do you want to please me?" You growl half into his mouth.

"More than anything." He gasps between kisses. 

You pull away, placing a finger over his lips. His beaming cheeks and  pleading eyes stoke your maddening hunger for him.

"Then let me please you. I need to feel it and hear it. Let me drown in you, Rolan."

"Gods above," He groans.

You can see he's already holding back. But you would have to help him along by targeting his weak points. You start with his neck, ghosting your lips over him, letting the tension build. Your hot breath sends a shiver down his spine as he grasps your thighs trying to push you on.

At last you press your lips to his skin earning a soft hiss. You try to go slow but make your need apparent with the ferocity of your mouth. A deep sigh escapes him as you attack his jawline, sucking and teasing as you go. Rolan bucks his hips suddenly, huffing. He's too shy to ask but he's dying for you to touch his ears.

A quick bite to the lobe earns another sharp gasp. You laugh knitting your fingers through his hair- Gods his sounds make your heart flutter.

"Oh? Did you like that, my love?" You coo into his neck. There's words on his lips but they melt away as your tongue slowly traces the shell of his ear right to the tip. "Hhm? What was that? Are you unsure? But you're usually so strong in your convictions."  You repeat the action making him squirm underneath you. You grind down on his bulge creating a delicious friction. "However can I know you're enjoying yourself if you don't tell me?"

"It's good." He chokes out at last, meeting the movements of your eager hips.

"What is? We can't all be scholars you know." You draw away from him slightly. "What do you want?"

He laughs as a devilish grin spreads across his parted lips.

"Everything. You're so, you're so- " his words falter. He still feels your breath on him but the lack of contact makes it clear you're waiting. It's only in times like this when Rolan has difficulty summoning words.

"I've never heard of a wizard so speechless." You goad him and start to move away. "Must want to get back to his dusty old books rather than-"

"No!" He cries, locking his arms around you keeping you in place. "Your mouth- your tongue feels so fucking good I can't stand it."

You lick a strip down his neck while bringing your hands to the sides of his head, making sure to brush your fingers across the points of his ears, pulling a low shudder from him.

"There's the man that wrote me such an inspiring letter. That made me plunge my fingers in myself and dream of his cock."

He swears through his teeth, his eyes sparkling with desire.

"And where do you want my mouth?" You continue practically able to feel the heat flash across his face. Your tongue slides across his clavicle  and then moves lower to lap at the ridges on his chest. "Here, then?"

'No,' he breathes.

You swear you can feel him twitch in his pants. Moving your mouth lower you open his shirt completely and do away with it. You stop at the sharp ridge above his stomach.

"Oh, here?"

He shakes his head, face now blazing hot.  Pained whines fall from him as your mouth climbs back up the path of his chest. It isn't until you graze his Adam's apple that he breaks.

"My cock! Fuck I need your mouth on my cock. I need it now, please." He pleads like his life is at stake.

Instantly you're on the floor in front of him pushing his legs apart. You let out a moan yourself once you've sprung him free. You admire just how heavy he is in your hands and run your fingers over the ridges you wish were currently pounding into you.

With a throaty gasp a few drops of precum spill from his head just as you flick your tongue over it. You don't make him wait long before you take him into your mouth.

His moans ring through the room; the music you've been dying to hear. You waste no time taking him apart. Your mouth runs up and down his full length as you hollow your cheeks.  With a loud pop you release him, a string of saliva still connecting you.

Rolan stairs transfixed, his exquisitely carved chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Like this?"

"Yes! Love, it's perfect. Keep sucking, just like that."

Before the words are past his lips you've swallowed him down again, your eyes never leaving his. Now comes your turn to rid the fears that hold you back. As you bob your head you make no mind of the symphony of wet, lewd noises filling the air.

The obscene display tears a guttural groan from him. Unable to hold off any longer move you press a hand to your wetness as you relish taking him like this. The feel, the sound, the smell. It was quite literally making your mouth water. You switch to running your tongue from base to tip stopping only to tease him with a few quick flicks at his head. Drunk on lust at the sounds of his grunts and murmurs you dip your fingers into your dripping hole. 

"Nine hells." He shakes out, breathing hard. "Tell me, what have I done to deserve such adoration?”

Rolan’s eye then focuses on your hands. One pleasuring yourself and the other roaming your own body. You throw your head back with a soft sigh, his unyielding gaze intensifying your pleasure.

"What a wanton little thing you are." Rolan licks his lips in awe.

You protest for a moment as he snatches your hand away from your sex but hum in approval as he licks them clean.

"You sweet thing.”He coos after slowly releasing your digits. “Let me take care of that."

The swift flourish of magic swirls pass and you scream as you find yourself tumbling back on the plush blankets of your bed. Somehow it still catches you off guard.

Rolan has your legs pushed apart in seconds, taking a moment to breathe you in before going to work. Gently pulling your folds open his expert fingers, his tongue ravished you with the same pace you had set. In moments he had your hips shaking involuntarily. Each painfully sweet lash on your clit making you chant his name.

Yet you still weren't sated in your need to watch your lover twist in ecstasy. Taking him by the horns you pull his mouth to yours, lapping at his lips to savor the taste of your sex.

"How can I be of service?" Rolan purrs, a wicked smile forming.

"Lay back.”

He complies and you straddle his hips once more. You drag your core against his agonizingly hard cock. Now you were free to delight in the bumps and ridges you so adored. Your slick coats you both allowing you to slide over him with ease.

Rolan tries to caress you but you pull his hands away and pin them to the bed making him shudder.

"No, love. Leave them here." You roll your hips slowly bearing down, pushing a sharp whimper from his throat. "You just focus on this." Another roll, another whine. As you move your hands away he digs his claws into the sheets to obey. His eyes rake over you, especially as your speed increases. The sight of your breasts bouncing never failed to make him feral with lust. 

Quickly the last of his composure is slipping away as you grind over him. His hair framing his face wildly, his body trembling with effort not to take control and plunge into you. He howls when his tip catches on your entrance.

"Oh is this what you want now? What a greedy thing you are."  You tease.

"Please, mercy." he rasps out as you lower yourself ever so slightly only to pull away. “Give it to me, please! Love, I need you.” 

“How do you need me?” you wiggle your hips, toying with him. 

“I need to be inside.” He breathes, his frustration palpable as his tail snaps against the mattress. 

With unsteady thighs you sink enough to just take in his tip before slowly drawing back.

“Fuck, I need you.” Rolan cries, his voice breaking “I need to stretch that perfect tight little cunt. To feel it cum all over my cock. Gods, please fuck me!” 

Unable to hold back any longer your body obeys and you take all of him at once. The sudden action rips a howl from you both. The slight pain and overwhelming pleasure of being so full does little to slow you down and you continue your animalistic pace. 

The song spilling from Rolan’s lips has you intoxicated utterly. It’s a lurid rumble of repeating ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘fuck me’ and words in his own native tongue. You ride his cock with all you have drinking in the sight of him. His claws deep in the mattress now, he’s writhing and wailing below you. 

Finally you pull his hands to your hips and his body jumps to match your rhythm. He’s practically sobbing now, eyes swimming with rapture and concentration as he drives himself into you. A spike of heat pulls at your core and with another desperate thrust you come undone, clenching uncontrollably around him. Another wave of unbearable pleasure hits you as your lover pulses and spills his hot load inside of you. He rides it out, ending his flurry of moans with a few deep ragged breaths. 

Rolan catches you in his arms before you even realize you’ve started to fall forward and presses you to his chest. You languish there enjoying the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

“I don’t deserve you.” he says, tangling his fingers in your hair. 

“You’re so dramatic” you sigh “I’ve just missed you. A lot.”   

“Well, with a greeting like that I have half a mind to leave you more often.” he smirks. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warn. 

“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Rolan kisses the top of your head, holding you tightly to him until you both fall into slumber. 

Thanks for reading! 

Much love <3

[mehkers]

First Day of School! …in the human realm!?

Ndfnjfjd- Sitting in my first period while writing this

Basically it’s just how the boy’s first impressions would be from another student perspective (not Mc).

Warnings: Cursing, none rlly

It takes place in a high school environment

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer

Edgy mf

People would look at him and just know that he probably listens to MCR

Rbf the entire time

I think he’s already gained some frown lines

Def gives off ‘I’m better than you puny creatures’

Always reached his classroom on time (or earlier)

All the girls love him, and their boyfriends hate him

Is quite polite when you talk with him, but his annoyed expression says otherwise

Mammon

IM TOO YOUNG AND HOT TO BE STUCK IN PRISON

Shuts up when he gets punched by Lucifer

He gets along with everyone easily

The loudest in the class… possibly the entire school

Wearing designer clothes, so he attracts a lot of attention

Is always lost

Man doesn’t know how to read a map

He’s already made a bunch of friends

Loves school but hates the studying part (Me too Mamms 😔)

Leviathan

Save him please

His gloomy vibes is spreading to everyone

The amount of Ruri-Chan keychains he has on his bag is making too much noise

THIS IS NOT A SUITABLE ENVIRONMENT FOR A SHUT-IN OTAKU

He had to have his ass dragged by Beel who was also carrying Belphie

He is extremely shy and jumpy

Will stick to himself to entire time

Buuuut, as soon as he sees any anime merch- He’s surprisingly louder than Mammon

He wouldn’t have much friends, but he’s at least made an effort to talk to some people

Satan

Sighs

He gives Dr. Ratio vibes (hsr ref)

Look at all these peasants- WAIT IS THAT A DETECTIVE NOVEL YOU’RE READING!?

You all know it, I don’t even have to say it.. He’s in the library

I can only imagine his devastation when he sees the ‘library’ at my school

If it’s a good library, like an actual library, bro is gonna have the biggest and brightest smile the entire day that it actually becomes a bit creepy

If it’s a lame-ass library, like barely any books, you’d look at him from across the hallway and think he killed a person

Would throw a fit (I would know, cuz I did too)

He’s very charming, so all the ladies would def keep their eyes on him

He’s befriended the students, the teachers, the staff, the janitor, the PRINCIPAL-

Asmodues

Oh hun, he’s already the queen bee and center of all the drama in school

Everyone’s insecure when they see his pretty ass strutting down the halls

Not even the school air can get him

Dude already has all the scoop (he may or may not have been the reason for most it)

People would probably look at him and think ‘Oh.. he’s that popular type..”

But when they talk to him, he’s actually super sweet!

Just uh.. ignore how many students he’s already kissed ._.

Beelzebub

Tallest mofo there

Is constantly being stopped and complimented cause of his height

He’s not reserved or shy, he just doesn’t talk much

He’s the one guy who has a whole snack stall in his backpack

His locker is just filled with snacks

He is rocking gym class and/or weight training class

He’s made friends with all the jocks

Everyone’s scared of him after seeing him go on a hunger rampage when the cafeteria didn’t give him enough food-

Belphegor

If you think he’d make an effort to talk to anyone

You’re dead wrong

He’s every teacher’s worst nightmare

Sleeping in every class

Even while he’s walking down the halls

Kept getting in trouble cause of it? but since he’s a little shit, he didn’t care

Everyone mostly stayed clear of him since he gave off the ‘wake me up and your dead’ vibes

He answers every question right tho

Would totally tempt the other students to give into laziness and despair just to mess with them

And to add on to Lucifer’s growing collection of white hair

Hasn’t made any friends by the end of the day

+Bonus~!

Mc

Biggest badass

Literally survived RAD, a human school should be fine

Everyone’s confused and jealous how some random person has the attention of all the 7 new students

Literally untouchable

Talk of the town since they entered the school with the brothers

Don’t even try, you don’t have a chance to get with them

[midnight-omega]

Pack Structure and Society hc

Hello its me im back with another long post. It was originally jsut supposed to be about packs but it got kinda mixed up with some other general society stuff. This is made for my writing personally so it's not even close to a one size fits all but feel free to take concepts u like !

As always stick around after the cut

🏔️ In my society packs are very central. My au isn’t total traditional, but I do take a lot of the more traditional stances when it comes to packs.

🏔️ Packs are typically a mix of blood relatives. It’s much more rare than you’d think to find a found family kind of pack where no one is related

🏔️ Packs are lead by the pack head, traditionally an alpha. A pack will also have a second, traditionally an alpha or beta. Large packs have a few more designations as well. The heart is the packs top omega usually unrelated /unmated to the head. Some packs also have a matchmaker, usually an omega in charge of choosing mates and giving relationship counseling. Some packs have a finance head, exactly what it sounds like usually a beta in charge of money and land. All packs typically have at least one pack paw. A paw is the pack’s muscle, think palace guards in fantasy aus. Large and rich packs will have enough paws to elect a paw head to coordinate their protection. Paws are traditionally alphas. Packs that are very religious will often have a religious leader as well. Their title varies from religion to religion as do their dynamics. This is sometimes different than like a priest in a church in a neutral town (keep reading for those) and sometimes not.

🏔️ The power hierarchy in order is:

--Pack Head

--Second

--Paw Head (optional)

--Heart (optional)

--Finance Head (optional)

--Matchmaker (optional)

The religious head is not included as their place on the hierarchy can vary depending on religion and culture.

🏔️ In very traditional packs (most of them in my au) these positions are passed down by blood. As such each of these power positions is controlled by a different family, not mated pairs.

🏔️ Most packs tend to hold counsels with all these positions in attendance when big decisions are made, but at the end of the day what the pack head says goes.

🏔️ Packs can vary in size, but for my world building im going to focus on larger, rural area packs

🏔️ These large packs typically own quite a bit of land! Members are usually spread out over multiple buildings with the largest property functioning as the pack head’s home and a communal space. The pack head’s door is always unlocked.

🏔️ All buildings are usually within walking distance making my world a hell of a lot more rural than irl as you have these large tracts of pack-owned wilderness between villages

🏔️ A pack on the smaller end probably only has one village, or cluster of dwellings whatever you wanna call it ig, while larger packs can have three or four. In this case there’s usually some kind of town hall type meeting for all members to mingle a few times a month.

🏔️ These packs are self governing. Usually the heart and the head paw are in charge of discipline and justice, with the blessing of the pack head. 

🏔️ Since packs are self governing, packs have the power to execute, tho it is rare. Usually an offending member is outsourced to a private or government run prison, but in extreme cases a pack can legally kill

🏔️ Traditional packs are extremely territorial, and trespassing is one of those cases punishable by death

🏔️ Packs have a… long…. Complicated… history of alliances and enemies it can be super confusing for someone new to the area

🏔️ Packs do take in packless people from time to time. It can happen more formally or more relaxed. Formally a pack will seek individuals at shelters for packless, rehabilitation centers, or finishing schools. More laid back packs will simply advertise.

🏔️ Packs also arrange marriages between their allied packs (which in the 21st century can span across the entire globe) and some are known to buy omegas in particular 

🏔️ There are towns/cities on neutral grounds where pack borders meet. These towns are government owned and run and often have all the little shops and markets and religious centers and hospitals and pharmacies and movie theaters and libraries and what have you. Pack members can visit these neutral towns anytime they want! Tho very strict packs will not allow their omegas out on their own without a chaperone 

🏔️ While each pack is different, it’s not uncommon for packs in my setting to adopt a representative animal to act as a logo/crest of sorts! Some packs can be very closed to outsiders and these are the ones that often have their members tattooed or branded with the animal for recognition and a rite of passage

🏔️ While packs in a country/area do have cultural things in common they can also differ widely. 3 packs might be neighbors in territory, but one is devout Catholic while another is made of Wiccans and moon worshippers while another still are totally agnostic and are just really passionate about a certain football team. Stepping into a different pack can feel like transporting yourself to a different world/time. 

🏔️ There are two kinds of schools in this world: public government owned ones that are in the neutral towns that any area pack can attend, or private home schooling left up to the packs (but the government does check in on certain milestones for these ones) I'll make a different schooling hc later !

🏔️ Most of the packs in this world are pre established. New packs are often met with hostility.

🏔️ Packs almost always meet on neutral ground no matter if the function is positive (a mating dance perhaps or a holiday event) or negative (bickering over where the real border is)

🏔️ Some packs are self sufficient and farm and hunt on their own. These packs have lots of betas !

🏔️ Other packs rely on the neutral towns to provide for them, so their villages tend to be close to the border.

🏔️ Pack wars are mostly a thing of the past, they don’t really happen much tho certain packs are hostile towards other ones.

🏔️ All packs have a scent to them, you can tell when a person is of a certain pack or not and pack bonds are usually maintained by platonic scenting.

🏔️ Some packs desperately search for new members as they have issues with interbreeding

🏔️ Money is less of an issue in my world, a packs main source of income are usually a few working alphas and betas and if some betas and omegas decide to sell produce in the neutral towns. The central government will provide a ton of social services so these traditional packs (who are often considered like a cultural thing important to preserve) don’t struggle in modern times. 

🏔️ A pack will typically have less omegas compared to another dynamic, they’re more rare! It’s why some packs take protecting their omegas so seriously. In ancient times rogue or enemy packs were even known to steal and forcibly bond omegas from other packs. The protective instincts have remained even tho this is heavily illegal now and would be grounds for one pack to kill members of the other.

🏔️ Nature and land is way more important than irl !! Most packs keep their lands pristine wilderness they use for hunting or recreation. There are a few packs who have donated certain lands to the government to be preserved as national parks all packs can enjoy. Overall tho destruction of wilderness is taken so so seriously.

[snowflakesnsundry]

The Embrace of a Stranger: Part 1

Word Count: 5,961

Summary: There are rumors about the Beltane celebration in the Golden Palace. It’s said it’s an event where no one appears as they are-where people of all classes and ranks mingle without the burden of status-and where the air is filled with the smell of sweat and sex.

This is your first time in attendance, and Loki has sworn he would know you no matter who you looked like. You’re nervous, but you have to trust him- and hope the man who ends up burried deep inside you is the man you are hoping him to be.

Warnings: Story is Rated R, and contains elements of mistaken identity, dub-con, public sex, free use, and just general debauchery.

Author’s Notes: So this is that fic I mentioned earlier. This thing is over 15k words long so im breaking it into parts- largely because i want to do some further editing/polishing on it. Part 2 is now up on tumblr!

<3

            The stars, and twisting colors of the galaxy in which Asgard was nestled, shimmered against the ink black sky. Brighter than usual, you wondered if it was because the moon had gone dark-fallen into shadow as if closing her watchful eye.

            With what was unfolding in the city below, you found it hard to blame her.

            For weeks now soft, pastel banners had woven themselves across the rooftops in a colorful web. All across the city they hung from shop fronts, homes, and market stalls alike; even gracing the halls rof the palace, wrapped around pillars and dangling from arches alongside floral displays- undoubtably kept vibrant by the very same magics that preserved the gardens. It was clear that the Queen had put her all into preparing the event. But oh how you wished she wouldn’t…

            You would only be able to stall for so much longer, but your fingers dug into the balustrade as you considered what must be going on down below. For a while now you had watched the silver trails of smoke lift from the rooftops and escape towards the sky; each fresh brush of night air bringing the scent of the feasts and flowers as music mingled with singing, shouting, and…

            The later it gets, the worse it will get.

            Beltane had always been a festival you avoided-for a litany of reasons- but you had at least enjoyed a tradition here and there; the maypoles and flower crowns; the lighthearted dancing and singing in a giddy welcoming of spring. But every tenth year the festival changed. You had seen it in the eyes of those around you; in the giggles that came from hidden corners as you passed, the constant -brazen- flirtation between not just the servants but the members of court. It was hard for you to tell why they even bothered.

            None of you will recognize each other anyway.

            Pressing your eyes closed you turned back into your quarters. The gown Lady Ragna has made for you lay draped across the bed you and Loki shared, it’s golden fabric shimmering in the firelight. For the first time it was something she had made without input from either of you-tradition, you were told. In fact, the thing had not even arrived until that morning, carefully packaged in black cloth so that not even the fidgety courier would know what lay inside.

            There had been a breif argument between you and Loki earlier in the day. You had begged to see what she had sent for him-promising to show you what had been sent for you in exchange. It would be a way for you to recognize one another- something to temper the nerves that had you shaking from head to foot- but he had refused. He had smirked at you, promising he would be able to recognize you no matter what- that he would never let you attend this on your own.

            If Loki left you alone, you would kill him yourself.

            A trembling finger reached to trace the soft fabric of the gown. If you could call it a gown. It looked more to you like loosely joined strips of fabric. This was not to say it hadn’t been crafted with Ragna’s usual polish and care, but your nerves had long since got the better of you.

            Every ten years-when this celebration occurred- the attendees of the Palace’s Beltane event were expected to all dress in a single color. What color that was shifted from year to year, rotating between the banner colors of the members of the royal family, landing this year on the Queen’s signature gold. Anonymity was the cornerstone upon which the event was built-it would not be what it was without it- and so uniformity of color was just one more level added to ensure no one could recognize who they walked among.

            That, in and of itself, was a bit of a blessing-because you did not know how you could continue on if anyone saw you like… this.

            You brushed your fingers across the gold band that would wrap around your neck. Etched with great care, twisting patterns wrapped around gems of yellow topaz that were sure to catch the light. Two chain links hung from it-about where you would expect your collar bone to be- a long strip of gold fabric hanging from each. Were you not so horrified that this was all there was to the top of your gown, you might have marveled at the cloth Ragna chose. You had worried what she would provide you might be a gaudy sort of metalic- the kind of fabric that would stick to your skin and chafe all through the night; but this? It was soft-cool to the touch- and pooled delicately in your hand.

            Almost as if it were made up of a million tiny links of chain. 

            Though it glittered under the touch of firelight, it was subtle- gentle. You were equally glad for how cool it was to the touch; because if the rumors were true, the heat from entangled partygoers might boil you alive.

            Cautiously you undressed, not daring to look in the mirror as you did so. The collar opened easily-a perfect fit around your neck- and you slipped the small latch that held it closed into place, praying it wouldn’t come undone.

            When it had arived, you had been a bit offended Ragna had also sent along instructions; but as you held the strips of fabric in your hand you were incredibly grateful they were not just written, but illustrated.

            Left strip to cover the right breast, right strip to cover the left breast. 

            The strips crossed one another right below the dip where your sternum met your clavicle, broadening just a bit to cradle each breast before tying togeather at your back. It was the sort of outfit beneath which you could wear no underthings- a major concern when you had first seen the gown- but you should have known a few enchantments could fix a myriad of problems.

            Something to ask Loki about later.

            To your releif each time you adjusted your chest, the fabric molded to it-holding it in place without any rigidity or discomfort. It made you wonder why she hadn’t made all your dresses this way.

            Small comforts asside, you still had the skirt to face. It too was set with a gold band-engraved and set just as the collar had been. To your dismay, you realized was the wrong size to fit your waist- but just the right size to rest about your hips. The fabric here, at least, was more recognizable as a skirt- though the double slits on its front ran so high that the place where the fabric joined was hidden beneath the golden band. Just as cool and mailable as the first piece, it fell smooth over your backside; pooling about your ankles in a way that let you know the heels Ragna provided would be unavoidable. The strip of fabric that ran down your front was not nearly as wide as you had hoped; and just like the top, it left no place to hide underthings.

            A few items had been provided as well- decoration for this ‘gown’- and whose instructions you were equally grateful for. A broach, carved from some honey yellow stone you could not name- had been shaped into a flower that bloomed up between the curve of your breasts. From its base hung a chain of gold that fell loosely over your exposed stomach- a second gemstone carved to look like a seed attatched to its end, weighting it to swing like a pendulum across your skin.

            You were happy to learn that the heels you had been provided were remarkably comfortable-which left you with only one last task before you left for the night.

            Upon your vanity sat a single glass bottle, filled to the top with a liquid that glowed a soft red in the darkness. Loki had taken his with him when he had departed- opting to prepare in an unoccupied guest chamber after deciding he could not trust you not to peek. You could still feel the kiss he had left upon your lips as he swore to you there was no reason to worry. He would find you; he would know you anywhere. Everything would be fine.

            As you sat before the mirror you decided you wouldn’t look at your reflection until the potion had been downed. Perhaps then you would be less anxious about how you appeared. The taste was cloyingly sweet. Wrinkling your nose, you tried to swallow down any of the taste that lingered on your tongue, but you feared it would be quite some time before you were free of the taste.  

            In seconds you felt the heat spread across your body, the prickle of magic against your skin raising the hairs on your arm as it traveled through you. The sensation was not comfortable, but you had endured worse. With eyes pressed shut you waited until the sensation passed; only then lifting your eyes to the mirror.

            Seeing someone elses’ face in place of your own was beyond jarring. You looked nothing like you had before-the potion changing everything from the features of your face to the curve of your hips. The person in the mirror was someone new- and oh was she lovely.

            Your cheeks warmed as you ran your fingers through your hair. What was there before had changed into long waves of jet-black hair- a feature strikingly reminiscent of Loki. It sparked a glimmer of hope that this might make it that much easier for him to find you.

            Something about the familiar strands made you want to style it with great care. It would make you later still, but in the back of your mind you almost hoped you could stall long enough to miss it entirely.

            And yet…

            As your fingers worked braids into your hair, your mind wandered. The festivities in the city could get quite… lewd; but if rumor was to be believed, it was nothing compared to what went on within the walls of the palace. How much rumors could be trusted, you couldn’t say, but if they could…

            In your head you could hear it-the cries of pleasure and the strike of flesh against flesh rising high above the chatter in the corrination hall. Nobles, servants, and soldiers alike tangled in one another- never to know who they had spent their night in or on. A shiver ran down your spine, and you tried to ignore the way you found it not entirely unpleasant.

            ——

            You hadn’t the faintest idea how long you stood at the end of the corridor, eyes trained on the door leading into the coronation hall in which the event would be held. You could hear it, feel it, smell it even from so far away. You could feel your pulse hammering across every inch of your body-anxiety fighting with the unexpected heat you felt building between your legs.

            Perhaps that heat only made it worse.

            The smell of wine, fruit, and sweetened bread mingled with the sharp tang of sweat and sex. From where you stood you already had felt the temperature rise; and though the singing and chatter within carried across the air, it was the cries of pleasure and unrestrained moans that stole the entirety of your focus.

            This is what you get for arriving so late.

            Any tame moments that might have eased you into the evening had long since passed-and you knew what waited for you inside.

            You have to go in.

            But your feet wouldn’t move.

            Hovering, you could feel the eyes of the guards stationed at the door; and you wondered if they resented being chosen for this shift. Now and then a giggling couple would bump into them as they stumbled from the hall-slipping away to enjoy one another privately as opposed to publicly.

            You swore beneath your breath. Why were you so nervous? It wasn’t as if you had never seen a nude body before, and you weren’t some untouched maiden- so why did your heart continue to hammer so?

            As you shifted on your feet, you felt how slick it had become between your thighs.

            It’s not fear you’re feeling…

            You shook your head. You wouldn’t think of it; you wouldn’t pitty yourself or hover outside the door as the soldiers watched you standing there. You would enter with your head held high-find Loki- and get through the night unscathed.

            You shoved down the little twinge in the back of your mind that felt something like disappointment.  

            Briefly you took comfort in the idea that, if there were soldiers on duty, their Captain would likely be similarly occupied. Of all the people you did not want to run into at a festival such as this, Baldur was at the very top of your list; but the idea of his absence made the room seem safer- so you grabbed hold of that little bit of courage and took your first step- just as you heard a voice speak up beside you.

            “Finally found your courage, have you?” The abrupt interruption had you nearly leaping from your skin; you had to slap your hand across your mouth in order to stifle a scream.

            Irritably you turned to the man who now stood beside you, faltering as you looked up into a pair of wild, glimmering eyes. He was tall, his long blonde hair hung about his shoulders, a few silken braids woven to frame his features and keep the strands out of his face. His eyes were a rich brown, and they shone as they reflected the glittering gold dancing in the firelight.

            He did not hesitate as he placed a broad hand on your lower back, his fingers spreading delicately across your skin. His smile was soft-kind- as he ran his thumb over the curve at the base of your spine. “It can be quite intimidating-I nearly lost my nerve the first time I attended, but once you’re inside it’s not nearly as overwhelming as you might think.”

            You stared at him, shocked by how casually familiar he was with you, and yet unable to shake the feeling of familiarity that he stirred.

            He pulled you closer and you caught the faint scent of dust and steel.

            Every bit of tension that had built up in you-every knot that had twisted its way into your muscles- unraveled in an instant; the fear you might never find him fully washed away. Your whole countenance brightened, and you sank into him as he pulled you close. He pressed his hips firmly against yours and you allowed your hands to settle about his waist.

            A warm, ochre yellow, the wrap shirt he wore fit loosely- the V formed by the two sides of the shirt dipping nearly all the way down to his waist. He had bound it loosely, the knot of its band resting just above his hips. The pants he wore were just as loose as the top- shifting about him with his every move, and thin enough to make you painfully aware of what rested just beneath.

            Almost on instinct your fingers crept to his bare chest, wandering freely across it as you lavished in his embrace. “I must admit, I do feel a bit uneasy entering alone,” a coy grin slipped across your features, “but if I could find someone to acompany me…”

            His eyes flashed, and you felt him stiffen against your hips. He had begun to move his fingers slowly across the skin at the base of your spine, and you let out a soft sigh as you felt them journeying further down than up. “Well then, good Lady,” he said with a wry grin, “I would be delighted to serve as your companion and… entertainment for the evening.”

            An electric current seemed to pulse across your skin. “How shameless,” you purred. “Were you any more eager I might think you have been out here waiting for me.”

            Hunger burned behind his eyes sending another jolt through you. Despite the heat growing within you, his touch felt warm as he brushed his knuckles across your cheek. The hand at your back slipped lower, and you hummed gently as it slid over the curve of your ass. His scent consumed your senses as he leaned in, lips brushing against the curve of your ear. “Darling, I think you are exactly who I have been waiting for.”

            Your breath wavered, fingers curing against his chest. Suddenly it seemed so obvious why he proclaimed he would be able to recognize you no matter what; everything about the man in your arms was so familiar. You recognized the way his fingers brushed your skin, the curve of his grin-even the cadence of his speech was familiar; and he had waited for you.

            “Well then,” you whispered, breathless, “I would hate to see the efforts of such a charming creature go to waste.” His growl of approval only served to worsten the heat growing within you.

            “Well then,” pulling back, he offered you his arm-as if just moments ago he hadn’t been pressed against you… “Tonight, you may call me Vidar; what might I call you?”

            You tried to force down a smile so you might match the gentlemanly demeanor he had decided to adopt-at least, for now. Each invitation had come with a name- one different from your own that you would go by until the spell wore off at daybreak- and you had to dig through the back of your mind to find what had been written on your page.

            “Sigrid.” You slipped your hand into the crook of his arm, unafraid to keep him close. ‘Vidar’s hand slipped atop yours, interlacing your fingers as he gripped you tight.

            “Lady Sigrid,” he announced with a grin, “I promise you will not regret your choice. I will do everything in my power to ensure this is a night you will remember.”

—-

            What lay beyond the doors was breathtaking in more ways than one. The event hall was already grand without a single bit of decoration, but what unfolded before your eyes went beyond the pale.

            “Nines…” you muttered, holding a little tighter to your companions arm.

            Before you sprawled a single, long table that boasted every sweet thing you could imagine. Wines, fruits, sweet breads and the like filled every possible space until its wooden surface was invisible to the eye. Were it not for the towering figureheads at each end you might have guessed it didn’t exist at all- and the remainder of the room would only lend credence to that.

            Above your head was not a ceiling, but an intricate mosaic of blooming flowers arraigned to mimic the night sky. Trees grew, reaching up towards the fragrant sky with branches dotted by violet petals and leaves of emerald green. Beneath their canopies sat lavishly upholstered chase lounges, each one seemingly wide enough for at least two partygoers to occupy.

            And occupy them they did.

            Face burning you turned instead the veritable maze of gossamer curtains colored delicate pastel versions of the royal colors. You did not need to see within them to know what they were for.

            You were pulled from your thoughts as the strands of Vidar’s hair brushed against your cheek. “Don’t take it in all at once,” he whispered, his breath hot as it wound around your ear. “We can explore one thing at a time-and if any of it catches your fancy…”

            You squeezed his arm, turning to meet his eye -something that seemed to catch him just a bit off guard. “Thank you,” you replied, stifling a laugh as you leaned to press your forehead to his “I suppose if I never quite find the courage to enjoy you here,there will be plentywe can make up for back in your quarters.”

            His breath shuddered as he pulled cautiously back. “Be careful what you say, girl; or I might find it quite difficult to keep myself restrained.

            Fire coursed across your skin as you felt your eyes go wide. “P…Perhaps we start with a drink, then.”

            Something wicked flashed in his eyes, the corner of his mouth curling upward into a downright predatory smile. “That, I believe, is the perfect place to start.”

            Togeather you descended the few stairs that separated you from the golden crowd, plunging into sea of revelers and all the sensations that would come with it. Food and wine mingled with a delicate incense-no doubt selected to mask the scent of sex that hovered in the air; but it was to no avail. Those around you seemed to wander about in various states of undress, hands wandering freely between strangers that would never know eachother’s names.

            “Do you have any preference with wine?”

            You looked at Vidar with a frown. You were certain you had discussed it before- but then again, it had been months since you were free to drink when under the court’s watchful eye.

            Perhaps he’s just forgotten.

            “Something with some bitterness to it,” you said, “too sweet and it will make my stomach turn.”

            “Ah, it would be a crime to put you out of commission so early in the night.”

            You laughed as he kissed your hand, vanishing into the crowd as he sought a glass for you both.

            Alone, the racing thoughts in your mind began to fade. The initial shock had worn away, and as you allowed your eyes to wander found yourself glazing over nude forms without a second thought. Couples beneath the trees seemed nothing of note, and there was an odd sort of freedom you doubted anything else could replicate. Without the burden of titles and names they were no one- but in the arms of a passing stranger they could spend a night at the center of their world; becoming a strangers everything.

             And if you left it at that, the night might have progressed rather uneventfully; but what stood at the end of the maze of curtains was impossible to ignore.

            There were large, upholstered platforms -somewhat reminiscent of a bed- stationed at regular intervals. By your estimation five individuals could lay comfortably upon it- so long as they were tall enough to make it there.

            The legs were abnormally long, and you realized with a flutter in your stomach that they seemed to be about waist high. Pillows of a number of sizes and shapes were strewn about, likely to be used by whoever opted to… perform.

            Golden fabric lay strewn across the stone floor -discarded by those who occupied a suprisingly large number of the beds. Though watching crowds obscured your vision, you could hear the cries of pain and pleasure shouted unhindered toward the sky. Your mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry.

            You tried to tell yourself you weren’t curious about what was happening- that you didn’t need to see what elicited the cheers and lewdencouragement from those watching and waiting. Chewing at your lip you felt your breathing shift-becoming quick and shallow as something in your core began to burn. Between your legs you could feel the eager swell of your cunt despite your efforts to direct your attention elsewhere. Your hands fidgeted restlessly, and before you knew it your legs were carrying you toward the circle that had formed around one of the beds.

            Several individuals lay stretched upon it, their bodies writhing with every touch and thrust their partners provided. They seemed to move from partner to partner like honeybees to flowers; slipping fingers, tongues, and cocks slick with cum in and out of whoever they pleased.

            Who were they? How did they find themselves laying there?

            Your mind placed you there atop the upholstery, Loki burried between your legs- his thrusts so desperate inside you that they would make the whole platform shake. You wanted the sting of his teeth against your skin, the cries of others in your ears, the heat of…

            Your stomach flipped and you lost your nerve.

            Quickly exiting the ring of spectators you felt the subtle urge to flee- or at the very least, move- but you reminded yourself that you did not want to get lost in the crowd. Restlessly you pulled at your fingers, wondering what might be taking him so long.

            You could wait. You would be fine.

            And still, your eyes were drawn to those waiting crowds.

            It was as if you had drifted into a haze, the fog in your mind dulling the sounds and smells of the swarms around you until two observers stepped back from one of the circles-offering you a glimpse at what lay beyond.

            The looks of pleasure upon their faces stirred something deep within you. It wasn’t just the expressions of those on display, either- it was the look of desire; of insatiable hunger painted across the faces of those who looked on. As the space closed you noted how many had their hands beneath their clothes, pleasuring themselves to the melodies of lust that continued to play.

            Again, that heat within you stirred. Everything that lay before your eyes seemed to vanish in favor of the fantasy that played in your head. What would they do if it were you splayed out before them. Would they stroke themselves at the sight of your bare form? Would they revel in the way each touch-each forceful stroke of Loki’s cock- would make you sing? Would they want you for themselves? Would you let…

            No. No no no you cannot…

            But why, you wondered. There were none here to judge you, and not a one of them would know who you are. You could lay yourself at the mercy of every last soul in Asgard and come tomorrow, they would be none the wiser.

            But if Loki doesn’t feel the same…

            Even in the haze of your lust you were willing to accept he might not take kindly to watching those who were eager and willing as their touch explored every inch of you. Watching them sheathe themselves inside you. A shiver coursed down your spine, leaving you shaken as you tried not to watch on.

            “I see something has drawn your eye.” You could hear the smirk in his tone. Low and gravely, his voice slipped across your consciousness, inflaming your desire even further. An involuntary whimper slipped free of your lips, your hand reaching back as you sank your fingers into his shoulder- desperate not to let your legs fail you.

            “That bad, is it?”

            Your grip tightened as he slid his fingers delicately over the exposed skin of your stomach-his touch so hot it burned against the midnight air. He wrapped himself firmly around you, his knee wedging between your legs before he sank his teeth into the curve of your neck. A strangled cry escaped you before your hand could clap down over your mouth.

            “Lo… Vidar, I…”

            “Before you say a word,” he growled, his hips rolling against your backside, “know I don’t want to hear the word ‘sorry’, nor do I want to hear you say ‘I can’t’ without providing me with good reason.”

            You swallowed hard. “And what would qualify as a good reason?”

            “I’m not cruel, girl,” he chuckled, “tell me honestly that you don’t want to- that it holds no interest to you- or that it would cause you undue pain.” As he spoke, a hand began to slip down past the golden band at your waist, his broad fingers inching asside the strip of fabric that shielded you from the world. “But be careful, good lady- because it will not take much to know you are lying.”

            Cool midnight air drifted across your exposed cunt, Vidar’s fingers following close behind. All you could do was whimper-clinging to his arm as the heat of his hand reached down to cover all of you. “Go on then,” he growled, the heel of his hand beginning to press ever so slightly against your clit. “Tell me what it is you need. What it is you want.”

            Oh no…

            Your head was spinning now that you could feel his hands on you. Closing your eyes you sank into the pleasure stirring at your core-your mind devoid of any thought but his touch. “I don’t want you to be angry,” you whimpered between increasingly heavy breaths.

            “And why would I be angry, my dear?”

            You scoffed lightly, “I don’t quite know if you’re the type to… share.”

            The sudden throb of his cock where it was pressed to your backside suggested otherwise.

            When he withdrew his hand you whined in protest, but he took your hand-pulling you along before you could say much else.

            The pulse already pounding in your ears became almost deafening as he pulled you towards one of the far beds- using his size to push through the large crowd until he pulled you through to the very front.

            Your eyes went wide.

            She looked exhausted. Her chest heaved, her fingers clambering for purchase on whatever they could find. Her hair was a tangled mess above her , every inch of her skin slick with sweat, saliva and cum. Between her legs stood a broad-shouldered man- his form bent over her, gripping her hips as he drove himself so violently inside her that each thrust caused the platform to shake.

            And all the while, she sang. Cries of pleasure greeted every clap of his skin against hers, the expression on her face seemingly locked in a perminant state of bliss

            It made your heart race, your face burn, your stomach flip and flutter in ways you did not quite know how to handle. When you tried to turn your eyes away you felt Vidar’s fingers dig into your cheeks and chin. His breath was in your ear as he forced your eyes back on the woman before you, writhing in pleasure. “Don’t look away- not until you’ve told me the truth.”

            So long as your eyes were open, you knew you could not look nowhere else-and something about it let your body settle in and embrace the pooling heat between your thighs. When your legs began to falter, he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you up as he pulled you tightly to him; a move that only seemed to make matters worse.

            So to speak… 

            You could feel him- the swell of his cock pressed firmly against your back. You could feel the slight shudder that came with each exhaled breath, the heat radiating from his body. Once more you felt his knee wedge itself between your legs, parting you just enough for his fingers to explore.

            Once more the front panel of your skirt was moved asside- but this time he lifted it fully, wrapping the cloth around your back before tucking it into the golden band about your hips. When his touch settled gently against your clit, you could see the curious eyes his gesture had drawn.

           Without meaning to, you met the gaze of a pair of striking blue eyes. Bright and clear they seemed to stare so deeply into you that you may as well have been already rendered bare. Those eyes had once been locked on the woman before him, but now? Now they were locked on you.

           As you squirmed, he held your gaze.

           “So eager,” Vidar sighed, lavishing his tongue against the delicate skin of your neck. “But I wonder, is it just curiosity that has so… riled you? Or perhaps…” his finger lifted from your clit to settle as far back as he could reach on your folds. “Perhaps it is envy.”

           Slowly he slipped his finger between your folds- already so slick that there was almost no resistance. You cried out in pleasure and agony as his finger dragged torturously slowly from back to front- warm and wet by the time it slid across your throbbing clit.

           “Good lady?” You could hear his grin. “Is it really envy? Do you see the way he takes his pleasure from her-without anyhesitation?” You whimpered in reply. “Tell me then, in your own words… tell me how you want to be her.”

           Eyes still locked straight ahead, your vision was filled by the scene before you. Vidar’s finger ran through your folds over and over as wild pleasure made your head spin. Table still shaking, you watched as the man burried inside her falter-his stroke losing its rhythm as his shoulders began to tighten.

           Oh…

           With each erratic thrust he chased his climax, his moans rising in harmony with hers as they both sought their high.

           Tell me you want to be her…

           Weight collapsing onto his elbows, you watched the man’s head fall to the mattress beside her - her hand rising to cradle the back of his head, her fingers twisting into his sweat-soaked hair. You couldn’t hear what they whispered, couldn’t see where he had pressed his lips into her skin- but as he pulled himself from inside her and stepped away, you could see what he had left behind.

           A slow, thick ribbon of white dripped from her cunt to pool on the floor.

           “Goodness,” Vidar teased, “for something like that…” he rolled his hips against yours, pressing you against his finger just enough to hint at the promise of slipping inside, but nothing more. “It takes more than one man to leave a mess like that.” His words settled inside your mind, thick and sweet as honey. “How many would you guess shes had? Five? Ten?”

           “Vidar…” More eyes were upon you as you gasped his name. Hungry expressions watched and wondered if you too would soon be on display. 

           “I might guess a little closer to twenty. You might be too short to see, but from the looks of the floor? That is not the first time so much has slipped free.”

           The sound you made was neither moan nor desperate cry- it was need, a primal, deep-seated desire that basked in the eyes trained upon you. Nails digging into the skin of Vidar’s arm, you hoped the words you were trying to force from your mouth came through as actualwords.

           “I’ve struck a chord, haven’t I?” You nodded eagerly, grinding your hips into his hand- your body aching with the need to have something burried inside you. As the next guest stepped forward to claim the beauty splayed across the table, you felt something akin to… disappointment.

           “Y..yes…”

           “Then say it.” His finger rested motionless at your entrance, his fingers sliding from your chin to wrap tightly around your neck. “Tell me you want me to fuck you- that you want them to fuck you.” Your shaking legs began to fail you, only serving to tighten the grip around your neck as your falling weight sank his finger one knuckle deep inside you.

           Nothing could have held back the moan that resonated in your chest. “Please… please- I need something inside me… someone inside me…” These words were ones you would have never expected to utter; not in a place like this. Not with so many eyes upon you. Yet your mind was so addled with desire that you spoke them through shaking breaths- unafraid and unashamed. “Fuck me… let them fuck me…please…”

           There was no reason you could find not to. He seemed as aroused by the idea as you were and, when the sun rose over the city, the only ones who would know what had transpired would be you, and Loki.

           Enjoy it.

           It would be ten years before such a chance arose again

CONTINUE TO PART 2

[daisyvisions]

Hey! I love ur writing so much 🥹 can i request 2+15+33 from the prompt that you post for the other members? This one is for hak tho hehehehe and if you could also add enemies to lovers trope cause im a sucker for them 😩😩 tysm in advance 🥰🥰

(I know this leans towards the enemies portion but trust me there's a hint of lovers somewhere jkasndajs I had fun writing this one since it's my 1st Maverick au! hehe)

Whatever You Say

Member: Ju Hakyneon (Maverick au!)

Prompts: 2. “I’m not sharing you with anybody. You’re mine, and mine only, and I’m going to make you remember that.”, 15. “Mine. All mine.”, & “33 “Beg and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), cnc (coercion), rough sex (+ unprotected), choking, spit used as lube, hair pulling, fingering, pussy slapping, pet names used (sweetheart, good girl), mentions of blood, death, killing, and sharp objects.

Extra content warning: ⚠️ this fic contains a cnc kink (aka coercion) but please know that consent is key ALWAYS. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!

A/N: In this scenario, Hakyneon wins in Maverick (sorry Eric 😭)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

When you said you were going to kill Haknyeon one day, you never thought you’d have to… literally. Especially now when you’re forced to do it in order to survive.

“Lee Juyeon & Lee Hyunjae, eliminated. Only three students remaining: Sohn Eric, Ju Haknyeon, and L/N Y/N.” The PA system echoes through the empty halls of the school.

“Shit…” you muttered under your breath.

You should’ve followed your gut and rejected this offer the moment those suspicious people in black entered your classroom that one fateful day, claiming that this “special program” would set you up for a life of success if you win the game.

From seeing some of your classmates faces almost everyday since you were a kid to watching them die at the hands of one another. Yeah, it’s pretty fucked up. Honestly you still wonder how you managed to make it to the final three without getting caught.

As you slowly walk down the empty halls you once knew, tightening the hold you have on your spiked bat, your body is suddenly pushed and tackled down into the floor of the open classroom nearby.

A pair of thighs pinning your waist down to the cold cement floor as you struggle to grab your weapon to defend yourself. Your heart starts to pound the moment you hear the voice of body caging you speak,

“Never thought I'd live to see the day… Y/n lying so beautifully under me.” Haknyeon’s cocky smile burning right through you.

“Fuck you, get off me!” you spit back.

“No need to be mean sweetheart.” He caresses your lips with his thumb. “C’mon, I wanna enjoy this before it ends.” His thumb shoving into your mouth, the warm contact of your saliva making his crotch twitch. Haknyeon leans forward, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

“I’m not sharing you with anybody. You’re mine, and mine only, and I’m going to make you remember that.” His eyes consumed with a kind of darkness you weren’t able to read.

“Any last words sweetheart?” he pulls away from you, gently pressing the sharp end of his bloody pencil at your throat.

How he managed to use a regular pencil as a weapon was beyond you, the same one that eliminated Younghoon hours prior.

You stare into his eyes, remembering this was the final image you’d have before your life was taken from you. “No last words? Alright, suit yourself.” He shrugs.

You quickly shut your eyes as Haknyeon raises his hand to strike your throat. But instead of feeling a sharp pain pierce through your skin, you heard the sound of the necklace chained to your throat buzz and malfunction.

When you slowly open one of your eyes to see what had happened, the pencil Haknyeon had used broke the necklace. He pulled the device apart and threw it across the room.

“L/N, Y/N eliminated. Two students remaining…” the PA system announces a few seconds later.

You look back up at Haknyeon in confusion…. Did he just save your life? Before you’re even able to speak, Haknyeon interrupts you.

“The system thinks you’re dead. I figured it out. Those idiots in black overlooked that issue.”

“I- I don’t understand…” you stutter.

“I can get you out of here alive… As much as I hate you, I dont think I can bare to see another person I know die.”

Silence falls between the two of you, your eyebrows still scrunched together as you still try to grasp the situation.

“Unless… you really want me to kill you?” Haknyeon utters as he raises his hand to your neck, firmly grasping it until you’re slightly gasping for air. In a scenario like this, you’re supposed to be scared for dear life. But instead, you feel the front of your panties getting soaked.

“Hak… please…”

“Hmmm…Beg and maybe I'll think about it.” He responds.

“Please Hak, I’ll do whatever you say. Just let me go!” you plead. Hakyneon smirks back at you with so many thoughts running in his mind.

“Alright…” He pauses for a moment.

“Turn around and bend over.”

“W-what?” your eyes widen, unsure of what he’ll do to you.

“Bend. Over.” His hand grips your neck a little tighter, signaling you to just do as you’re told. No questions asked.

Haknyeon adjusts himself off as you flip around to get on your knees and elbows. You feel the cold air hit your sensitive skin as you stick your ass up towards him.

You feel his warm hands suddenly gripping your waist, his erection press against your core. His hand snakes under your skirt, stroking your covered clit in circles. You bite your lip, trying to hold yourself back from moaning at his touch.

Haknyeon groans as he feels your soaked panties. “You’re pretty wet for someone who hates my guts, don’t you think?” he smirks.

You feel a slap on your sensitive bud then his full hand gripping your mound. His other hand reaching to grab your hair, pulling him closer to whisper in your ear,

“Mine. All mine.” he growls.

He lets go of your hair and unzips his pants, lowering them along with his boxers enough to free his aching cock. His other hand flips your skirt up, pulling your panties to the side enough to expose your wet cunt.

His rough fingertips glide through your folds, making you whimper from the friction. Before aligning the tip of his cock at your entrance, he aggressively spits onto your hole. Your breath hitches from the warmth of his saliva hitting you.

Honestly he didn't even have to spit on your cunt, it was incredibly soaked with your juices. He was just in the heat of the moment, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins. The thought of defiling you in some sort of way turns him on even more.

Without warning, he pushes his whole length into you. He hisses at the tightness clenching onto this member as you gasp from how quick your walls were being stretched out.

Haknyeon wastes no time and starts thrusting in and out of you, groaning at the sounds of both your skin slapping against each other and your wet pussy squelching.

He increases his pace, his fingers digging into your hips as you try to muffle your wanton moans (in case Eric finds where you two are.)

You beg Haknyeon to fuck you deeper as he hits your gummy spot inside, feeling the coil inside you tighten the more his tip nudges the spot.

“Good fucking girl…” his praise slurring as he also begins to feel his high approaching. The nickname is enough to send you over the edge as your walls tightly clench his cock and gush all your hot fluids onto him. Trying to muffle out your moan as much as you could.

“Ff-fucckkk” Hakyneon groans and without warning (again), his cum bursts inside you, filling you up to the brim. His white fluid gushing out of your tight hole as he pulls his cock out.

He quickly pulls his pants up as your body plops to the ground, trying to catch your breath. Before he gets up, he slips a paper in your hand. When you open the folded paper, you see it’s a drawn map telling you where to exit.

As you look up you see Hakyneon walking towards the door, picking up your bat in the process. Before closing the door he looks over his shoulder, scanning your body from head to toe with a cocky smirk,

“See you on the outside sweetheart.”

[slamminslamminmcgill]

@narc69 submitted

hi ok first of all 1) i am so sorry if this is badly written, i started writing and then came to 3 hours later and this was on my page.

2) trigger warnings! intoxication, dubious consent (just to be safe im gonna mark this down as cnc), implied somno, dacryphilia, probably also degradation? just- please take care of yourself and i genuinely sincerely apologize if this is out of line at all. add any other triggers you feel necessary. you can absolutely respond to this privately if you feel more comfortable

3) i don’t speak spanish, google translate is my bitch. mea culpa if the spanish isn’t properly written

—

HI HI HI THANKS SO FUCKING MUCH FOR THIS I LOVE YOU THIS IS AMAZING IVE BEEN ROTATING THIS IN MY MIND OVER AND OVER AGAIN I WILL KILL AND DIE FOR YOU AT YOUR COMMAND 🥺🖤🥺🖤

you didn’t wanna sound like some 50s suburban white guy, but jesus christ, that was a long fucking day.

your body ached, and all you really wanted to do was get high and go to bed, and you didn’t waste any time getting those things done. 

you changed out of your work clothes and grabbed the joint you’d been keeping in your desk drawer. 

there were also pills you’d been saving in the bathroom cabinet and you decided this was a good a time as any to take them. 

anything so long as it didn’t mean having to think. 

-

it was cathartic how the anxiety and tension in your shoulders melted away. the smoke from the joint smelled like citrus and pine and you held it in your lungs before breathing out eloquently. 

it was quiet; only a few cars drove by your apartment complex. crickets chirped somewhere in the background but your head had already began buzzing and you didn’t pay much attention to it. it was nice, the quiet. so much more manageable that being around people all day, the noises of corporate work echoing in your head, like some sort of fucked up lullaby that refused to be quelled. 

a patio door shoved open.

glancing up, you saw lalo salamanca looking down at you from his third floor balcony. you knew him well enough. well enough to know that he was renting his apartment temporarily after finding himself in albuquerque on a “business trip”, anyways. he was nice too. he let you into the building once when you were too drunk to find your keys, and made good conversation when you ran into him in the halls. 

“hey chico, are you smoking?” he called down. you glanced up, scrunching your nose.

“yeah. what’s it to you?”

“you’re smoking and you don’t invite me?" 

"ok well- no one’s stopping you.” you called back up to him. he stared at you for a second, completely silent, then:

“don’t go anywhere." 

a minute later, the front door of the building opened and lalo came walking out. you were visibly already on another planet and lalo couldn’t help but laugh. 

”oh, cosita ingenua.(oh, you naive little thing.)“ he said. 

"what?” you asked him, not understanding a lick of spanish. 

“don’t worry about it. hey- gimme that,” lalo said, taking to joint from your fingers and taking a long drag. you watched him through a haze of brain fog and fatigue. 

“i didn’t know you smoked,” he said. you took the joint back and took your own turn. 

“right back atcha,” you mumbled. lalo watched you, his eyes flickering across your face and hands. for a very brief second, you wondered what he was thinking, but it was almost immediately overshadowed by the buzz still going strong in your head. you zoned out, staring at the ground, head completely empty. 

the joint fell from your hand and landed unceremoniously on the ground.

“awe man…” you pouted, picking it up. it had gone out and you fumbled with your lighter, struggling to light it again. 

lalo hadn’t moved this entire time, and was still watching you failing to light the joint. 

“jesus christ, chico, come here,” he said, taking the joint from you and lighting it himself. “mouth. open. now.” he told you once it was lit properly again. lalo took a lung-full breath of smoke and before you had any say in the matter, he was cupping your face and shotgunning the smoke into your mouth. 

he was so close you could smell him, and he smelled painfully good. like palo santo, and cooking spices, and teakwood. you were almost upset when he pulled back again. 

“woah.” was all that came out of you as a reply.

“you liked that, didn’t you?” he asked, and all you could do was nod. he stepped closer, almost staring you down. “you want me to do it again?" 

without thinking, you nodded.

just like the first time, he took a long drag and blew the smoke into your mouth. only this time, he didn’t cup your face. he laced it through your hair and pulled just gently enough for you to let out the most innocent little whine. 

lalo laughed, having elicited the exact response he was hoping for. he pulled you in for a hug, enveloping you in darkness. his hand was on the back of your head, and it was cold. his fingers trailed along your neck, rubbing up and down and made you feel funny. 

"i think you’ve had enough,” he whispered into your ear, apparently making all the decisions for you now. lalo carefully put out the joint and put it back in the plastic bag you’d been keeping it in, and he slipped it back into your pocket. “how about i walk you back to your apartment.”

-

there was a confused frown etched into your brow and you subconsciously had one hand on the side of the wall to steady yourself. thoughts were blending into one another, and the world had become an incoherent haze. but you felt good. this is what you’d been hoping for- what the whole week had been building up to. 

“maldito, chiquito, how low is your tolerance?” he snickered, walking beside you towards the elevator. 

“not super low. took some pills too.” you told him, pushing the button that summoned the elevator. there wasn’t a braincell coherent enough in your mind to figure out why that was so funny to lalo. lalo was too busy laughing at how easy this was going for him.

“and you didn’t think to share those either?" 

"i didn’t know you were as fucked up as me." 

the elevator doors closed and lalo turned to you. he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged again, a little harder this time, but still receiving the same little whine as last time. he didn’t let go, keeping his hands where they were. 

"you really like that, don’t you?” he asked, staring at you again. his eyes had a sort of weird glint in them, and it made you nervous, but curious at the same time. you wanted more and no part of your brain was awake enough to think about it rationally for more than half a second. 

“yeah.” you whimpered. 

you stopped on the third floor. 

“hey, i live on the-”

“-fifth floor, i know, chico, we’re gonna stop at my place for a second.” lalo said. you sighed, tiredly, your mind already a million miles past the hair pulling. still, physically you felt different. not more awake, god no, but…warm? was that right? warmer? 

you blinked and looked up when you felt someone take your hand off the wall and hold it in his own. lalo was still next to you, holding you close. 

“i’m gonna take good care of you tonight.”

-

his apartment wasn’t nearly as dressed up as yours was. simple furniture, a rug, a tv, but nothing hanging off the walls, no books, nothing special. 

“sorry it’s so dull chiquito, you should see my house down in Mexico, it’s way nicer than this shitty place.”

“you live in mexico?” you asked, high out of your mind.

“si. correcto, coñejito. so smart.” he said, tapping your cheek. somewhere in the depths of your consciousness you knew he was being condescending, but it translated to something very different when it finally rung through your brain. laughter bubbled up from your chest and you pressed your head into lalo’s chest again. 

lalo didn’t waste any time and took his chance when it stared him right in the face. his hands held your head so he could control which direction he wanted your face to point. gripping your hair he moved your head so that your jaw was pointing out to him and he kissed down your neck like a fictional vampire going in for the kill. giggling, you wrapped your arms around his back. 

“vamos a llevarte a la cama, huh? let’s get you to bed baby boy.” he whispered into your ears, guiding you to the bedroom. 

his bed was the most comfortable thing you’d ever lain on, certainly more than your own.

“i thought you didn’t sleep?” you mumbled. he’d said that one. you remembered. he did. you swore…

“yeah but…” lalo replied, shutting the door behind him, “you can use a bed for more than just sleeping." 

finally- finally something clicked in your brain.

"let’s get these off. you don’t wanna sleep in jeans now, do you?” he said, climbing on top of you, virtually pinning you down, undoing your belt buckle. 

he felt heavy on top of you, but it felt good. you made a noise- something else incoherent, and let yourself sink into the mattress. 

“that’s it, just relax. just relax, coñejito. i’ll take care of you.” lalo said, his fingers slipping under the band of your underwear. his thumb brushed along your pelvic bone and you whined. 

clumsily, you reached out to grab lalo’s wrist.

“wait…” you mumbled, the embers of some sort of fear sparked in your chest. your boxers were already halfway down. “wait, seriously-”

“yes, chiquito?” he asked, still inching your underwear off. 

“ ’m trans- i- bro i don’t have a dick.” you told him, the most coherent thing to come out of your mouth in the last hour.

lalo slid your boxers off and threw them on the ground. he spread your legs, looming over you. he laughed at your statement, and you still couldn’t figure out why it was so funny to him. 

you felt something cold part your lips and his thumb, barely touching you, teasing you, rubbed circles into you. you groaned, pushing your head back into the pillows.

“this looks like a dick to me.” he said, pressing harder onto it. you couldn’t help but moan louder, reveling in how good it felt. his fingers found their way into your hole and you gasped, instinctively closing your knees. lalo shoved them open and you felt a harsh slap across your face.

“hey! you keep your legs open for me. understand?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious. 

“okay.” you whimpered.

“next time i won’t just hit you across the face, chiquito. you listen to me.” lalo said, working his fingers back into you. “i see you’re already nice and soaked for me. i guess you’re capable of doing that at least." 

he kept touching and feeling you, pushing his fingers inside of you until you couldn’t hold on anymore. you came all over his hand and liquid dripped off his wrist and…lalo looked furious. 

"im sorry.” you whined, shaking, “i’m sorry i just…" 

"keep your legs open.” lalo said, his voice dangerously soft. you obeyed,  and yelped when he did exactly as he warned early. a wet smack landed hard against your dick. it was swollen and hard and so, so sensitive and you cried out again, and again as he slapped you until he’d decided you’d learned your lesson. 

“you’re mine, and you do as i say. you cum when i tell you to. not before, not after, understand?” he repeated, 

“yes- yes lalo.” you nodded. 

“good.” he smiled, undoing his own belt buckle. “you can be as loud as you want- let the neighbours know how much of a whore you are, just as long as you do as i say." 

his pants dropped to the ground, and wrapping one hand around your throat, he remained punctual and wasted no time pressing himself into you. your back arched and your hands rushed to grab his shoulders once more. you gasped and moaned, not a thought in your head.

"bet that weed’s really getting to you now, isn’t it, baby boy? or those pills you kept talking about? i bet they’re really making their rounds now. get yourself all loosened up, let some random guy two floors down from you blow smoke into your mouth, let him lead you into his apartment, and you call me fucked up? hm? is that how it is?” he asked, fucking himself into you with no hesitation or plans to slow down. 

“lalo…” you groaned, gripping the sheets. you couldn’t even process what he was saying, just that whatever he was doing felt good and you didn’t want it to stop. your high only amplified everything. 

“yeah baby boy? what is it cariño. does it feel good to be fucked by a guy you barely know?" 

"yes, god yes.” you moaned. your dick pulsed between your legs and lalo took his free hand to it, rubbing his thumb up and down it, using your own cum as lube. “get comfortable baby, we’re gonna be here for a while.”

-

you lost track of time far too easily. everything swirled in your head like one big cloudy haze. you fell asleep at one point, and woke up a little while later covered in spit and cum, with lalo sucking you off, swirling his tongue around your cock. 

you think it’s somewhere around three in the morning when lalo finally gives you permission to cum again. everything felt heightened and hot, and your pulsing hole was sore and wet and still full of lalo’s dick. 

“you can let go for me, cariño, i know you have to, you can let go.” he said, and fresh tears came into your eyes at hearing him tell you to cum. 

“please- it’s- lalo-” you slurred. you’d essentially become his fuck puppy for the night. brain completely empty, lalo tearing orgasm after orgasm out of you, until you were nothing but a shaking wet puddle. you didn’t even remember your shirt coming off, but there you were, abdomen covered in lalo’s cum. 

“oh perrito, is it too much? are you gonna start to cry again? are you gonna cry like the whore you are?” he asked with mock sympathy. he slapped you across the face again and kept thrusting into you, or rather- gripping you by your hips and moving you up and down on his cock like some fuck toy you’d buy at a sex store. “i said cum, so you’d better fucking cum.”

his hand was on your dick once more, rapidly rubbing it back and forth. all you could do was scream. 

“there you go, slut, be loud. be as loud as you fucking can.” lalo growled, unrelenting.

“please, please, please,” you moaned, sobbing, though the words meant nothing. “oh fuck- fuck." 

"there you, come for me. come for me now.”

your body obeyed and you clenched the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. your moan was the prettiest sound that had ever echoed through lalo salamanca’s bedroom. 

“good boy! bien hecho. oh my sweet baby- fuck-” lalo praised, unable to hold it in himself any longer either. he pulled out, shooting onto your face and into your open mouth. “dios mio, nene. that was the best fuck i’ve had in a while.” he groaned, letting the last little bit dribble onto your lips, and like the good little boy you were you reached your head up and sucked off his tip. 

he got off the bed and left the room, leaving you in your own mess. there was a small, wet puddle by your hole, where all the cum had leaked out. you twitched through the last of the aftershocks, and sobbed, feeling so exhausted- so tired. 

lalo came back a few minutes later with a damp cloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. carefully, he picked you up and held you close.

“shhh-shhh. it’s okay. it’s over now. you did so good baby boy. let me look at you?” he asked, his voice gentle again. you looked over like he asked and found him caressing your cheek, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb.

“oh baby, you’re still high, aren’t you? are you okay?” he asked, grinning and laughing a little. you smiled through your tears and nodded. 

“come here, let’s clean this mess off you.” lalo said, gently washing your face with the cloth, laying you down on the bed one more time, cleaning up your chest and your thighs. 

“such a good boy.” he hummed, picking you back up. “lets get you some clean underwear, and we’ll worry about the rest tomorrow. ok cariño?”

“okay.” you mumbled quietly, your throat sore from screaming all night. lalo pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“my good boy." 

[imightgetbetter]

been thinking about dad matty (what’s new, miss him). imagine he was out somewhere, maybe had to run into the studio for a few hours or something. when he comes home he comes in quietly just in case, and he’s glad he did. attie is napping and the missus (finally he thinks to himself) is also napping with her, in their bed attie is in one of those little holder things so she doesn’t roll off or anything. he just basically comes in and sits on the floor to not disturb but to enjoy his girls being adorable. he knows the missus is exhausted she’s the one who is getting up to feed and he curses his biological parts every night and feels a bit useless. when attie starts to stir he quietly picks her up and takes her with him to let his wife sleep as long as she can, and when she wakes up she’s treated to matty with attie in the little wrap carrier (HOT!) making dinner or something. anywhosle i hope im not being weird and i hope you are having a good day.

real sorry for the mini fic i'm about to write because of this concept you sent in a literal month ago also you're never being weird i love these so much and i love you i hope you're having a good day <33

Matty walks into a quiet house, which is something he's not quite used to. To be fair, he hasn't had a quiet house since he moved in with his wife all those years ago, music always playing on the speakers around the house or out-of-tune singing, and then, a few years later, the patter of tiny feet scurrying around the hardwood floors. Matty's favorite sound, he would say. He wasn't meant to go to the studio today, in fact, it was supposed to be one of his only days off with his family before tour rehearsals started up again and he would be gone for a few weeks at a time before he'd see his favorite people again. He begrudgingly agreed to meet George in the studio for an hour, which turned into three, which led to Matty leaving a lengthy voicemail for his wife apologizing for his absence and that he really hoped Attie took a nap today (she's transitioning from two naps to one nap and it's quite literally killing the two of them) and he would be home as soon as possible.

And so when Matty walks into a quiet house, he can only assume that a miracle has happened.

Matty sets everything down on the tiny table near the front door and toes off his shoes before even creaking towards the stairs, taking his time and not uttering a sound while walking towards the nursery. Attie isn't in her crib when he peeks inside, and he can only assume that they're having quiet time in their bedroom. He walks across the hall, an immediate pull at his heart when he sees Attie splayed out on his side of the bed, his wife cuddled beside her, also sleeping. Attie's hair is messy and tangled in two pigtails - courtesy of him, this morning - and her pacifier is falling out between her lips. He leans against the door frame for a bit, simply watching, admiring the two of them. He takes a picture, saving it for later. He doesn't get to see nearly enough of these moments. He wishes he could.

Matty walks to the corner of the room and takes a seat in the rocking chair that he built a couple years back when his wife was pregnant, a permanent feature in their room because Attie likes to fall asleep being rocked, even at nearly two years old. Matty sits and decides to wait until Attie wakes up, to take her off your hands and spend some time with her. He's going to miss her, he thinks to himself, quite possibly more than he's going to miss anything else about home. He gets what Adam was saying, now, about it being a completely other feeling to miss your child. Attie and Little Hann are only six months apart, and he doesn't know how Adam does it. He doesn't know how he will do it.

Matty isn't sure how long Attie and you are sleeping for when he walks over and sits next to Attie. He doesn't keep track of time. He gently rubs her back, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He was going to walk away, to go downstairs and make something to eat, but he hears the ruffling of the blankets and a quiet, "Daddy?" before he walks away.

"Hi, baba. Have a good nap with Mummy?" Matty whispers, sitting beside her on the bed and rubbing her hair away from her face as she tiredly knuckles her eyes. "Do you want to come with me downstairs?"

"Carry me?" Attie mumbles, her eyes barely open. Her tiny fists reach out for him, opening and closing waiting for him to scoop her into his arms. Matty does so without thinking, settling her on his hip and kissing her forehead. Her cheek immediately falls to his shoulder, and Matty is sure she's going to fall asleep again.

"Had a good nap, huh? Have the little marks on your cheek and everything, darling."

"Mhm," she hums, smacking her lips together and grappling at his shirt.

"Going to let Mummy get some more rest and we'll make lunch. How's that sound, Attie James?"

"Okay."

Matty doesn't say much else, turning on a playlist and setting Attie on the counter with a bottle of milk, and getting to work on prepping something that they could share for lunch. He settles on a cheese toasty and leftover soup you'd made for dinner, a tomato bisque - your favorite. He thinks it'll be something nice for you when you wake up, a thank you for all that you've been doing. Attie slowly wakes up, easing into her usual routine of dancing on the counter (while sitting) and inching her way toward the edge of the counter, which always results in Matty putting her in her helping tower and saying that she lost her privileges. Matty has her try the spoon when it's not too hot, asking her to taste and sneaks her tiny bites of her grilled cheese while he makes you a toasty, too.

"Should we wake Mummy, Attie? I don't want her to sleep too late, then she'll never sleep tonight." Attie looks at Matty with pure confusion. "Maybe you're right, maybe I should let her sleep."

[elisedonut]

That is so fair tbh

In my defense though, according to the HP rare pair server i'm in ALL Percy ships fall under rare pairs lmao even Perciver still hasn't made the numbers to no longer qualify

and Colin-- yeah all Colin ships are just rare pairs even his most popularly used ship with Harry only has like 150 fics to it's name adfkjlksd

but also I just like the freedom of it rare pairs are fun!

i think more people should get stupid attached to one it's good for your character

And that Harry/Colin fic was, at least from what i remember!

wait i found it it's Letters by LoopyLiesey yeah it's just ugh what a concept rip Harry

Also force proximity with unresolved tension because Harry refuses to acknowledge it as even a possibility is such a fun concept

and hello????? that soulmate Au sounds so fun! Poor Colin would have all kinds of stuff on him.

im not even going to lie my first thought hearing Vampire!Colin was his face buried in Percy neck going Please please please please

so like um uh haha

but really it's easy to make up senarios for post war once you come up with why Colin's alive (which is also pretty easy since we don't really know what happened exactly)

Like Oliver found him fast enough to save him from death since it's him and Nevile that carry in his body so you can just assume one of or both of them found him (which is also useful for a perclin au because now you can have Colin hanging around Oliver which then leads to Colin hanging around Percy)

Or in a vampire Au maybe he wasn't dead but all the signs were that he was (because you know vampire no heart beat skins probably cold and stuff, our boy was just passed out while his body desperately tried to heal itself) which means when he's brought into the hall with the others and ends up getting up a few hours later he can't hide that he's a vampire leading to having to go through ministry bs and stuff

( I've seen this sort of concept with Remus/Percy but I think it could work just as well with a vampire so yoink) Where because everyone knows he has to register as a vampire and now Percy is assigned as a case worker of sorts being the one Colin has to talk to occasionally to make sure he's not going to go on a killing spree because the ministry sucks like that (but it's a good excuse to get them talking every month and growing closer and it can lead to Percy quitting the ministry entirely eventually)

Some other easy ones with Vampire!Colin(or the whole Werewolf mates thing) is the concept of Vampire mates where Percy's just smells too good for his own good but specifically to Colin so he ends up just following him around when they come across each other. because he just can't help it. Like i tend to have Percy living in a flat in London (i cant remember if that's canon or hc and don't feel like looking it up right now) but because of that sometimes i decide he has to walk because he choose a muggle one and it's too close to the other rooms to apparate

so he just runs into Colin one day, they talk for a bit and go their separate ways and now Percy seems to be seeing him all over the place (because he's following you bestie he Know's your scent now and could find you in a crowd of 1000s if he wanted to)

Also off topic but the concept of such a puppy coded character being a vampire is just amazing and i love it so much like he's still hyper active and jumps around and talks so fast he bites his tongue by accident like he's not mysterious in the slightest and I think it's fun

For not necessarily Vampire!Colin

theres also that idea some people like that he and Ginny were actually friends since they're in the same year so he gets invited to the burrow for Weasley events occasionally and they just get to chat leading to Percy realizing that he's starting to look for him during these things and feels slightly dejected when he's not there because he actually likes talking to him

or like that one really early concept i talked about on here of Ginny bringing home multiple different partners just for her brothers to keep accidently "*stealing them"

the accidental matchmaker Ginny au

*Read as you know just have more chemistry with them and stuff and they mutually break up and end up with one of her brothers

What else what else

oh back to the muggle flat, they could always be neighbors that's easy enough close proximity for running into each other and small converstations that lead to thinking about each other all the time and Colin is a muggleborn with a milkman as a father so if like me you think Muggle flats would be cheaper it would make sense for Colin to choose to live in one

also when in doubt you can always just make Percy get drunk like would you look at that had a ons with someone you keep telling yourself that your too old for and now can't stop thinking about it and thinking about him

Dammit, you've got me thinking about Colin >:( the thing is, because I'm new to this idk who my favourite ship with him is. Like Percy is cute and Harry is too and so is Ginny or Luna but that's it for me. Cute. WHERE'S THE BURNING PASSION WHERE IS THAT SHIP THAT MAKES MY INSIDES CRUNCHY I HAVEN'T READ ENOUGH TO KNOW IT WHEN I SEE IT :(

>:)

I love Colin so much obv my favorite is Percy/Colin but I do like Harry/Colin as a one sided crush and am kinda falling into the idea of Luna/Colin as a work place romance ever since I learned of that line he has in a game about wanting to work for the quibbler

I do recommend

Different by Miraphina Atherton (mew_tsubaki)

Its a Nigel/Colin fic and I loved it a ton and think it does well in both its Colin and Dennis portrayals

(Nigel is a movie only character that they used to replace Colin and Dennis because Colin's actor grew too fast to keep playing him so personality wise he's pretty much just another Creevey without the last name)

I feel like Colin just kinda inherently falls into that cute and/tragic category like he has passion but other then his photography it's not tapped into as much as it could be. His type of love just inherently feels very puppy like and obsessive and I love that about him so much

like he would make such a good stalker because he practically already is one but he'd be so nice about it which makes it more fun to me personally

our guy just doesn't understand boundaries much and that's ok he can steal Percy's sweaters and take creepy photos of him when he's not paying attention and know his whole daily schedule and Percy will probably kinda like that about him

Harry's just like "How do you even deal with him."

while Percy's just "Just because you didn't like the attention doesn't mean I don't"

In that soulmate AU

Percy finds a whole album of just him that Colin had hidden away so random people wouldn't see it and a bunch of them don't even make sense on how he took them

Percy unpacks his stuff after his sixth year just to find multiple articles of clothing missing because Colin took them home with him without asking because Percy left it unattended for like five minutes and Colin came into the room and saw it and went swipe without thought because he's going to miss him over the summer.

Colin being physically incapable of keeping the smile of his face when he sees him after Percy graduated that really it's a wonder they've been able to keep their soulmate status a secret at all

just give me all the innocent affections

all the Colin being obsessive and kind of creepy without noticing because he's just so excited about everything

like 'it's not creepy to steal your soulmates sweater just so you can sleep with it over the summer' is his thought process but then he has to explain to his dad why he has a sweater like 3x his size and his dads just like sigh Colin...

[izepeche]

Don’t You Know, You’re Life Itself - Chapter 1 | Sinister!Strange x Fem!Reader | izepeche

Pairing: Sinister!Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader with Powers

A/N’s: This is a long one mainly due to backstory, I finished this 4 days ago actually, Im sorry it is taking so long i am a newbie and English is hard. Anyways, enough excuses. As you can see from the warnings, this is slightly darker and is 18+. Just letting you know so there's no surprises. After all, if you are thirsting for Sinister Strange, you probably expect/want this creepy sorcerer to break you. Reader does get their shit rocked in this fic (most of you have read the excerpt), Sinister Strange is an Unhinged Bastard and I love him the way he is (and I hope you do, too).

Honorable Mention: @couldntbedamned made a comment on one of my posts and it inspired me to continue writing this whole fic, so shoutout to them!

no beta, tired, probably gonna be some errors, yk how it goes.

Warnings/Tags: Dark!Sinister!Strange, Slow Build- Up Masturbation, Eventual Smut, Minor Spoilers for DS MoM, Canon Divergent- this story is my own, Mentions of Mental Anguish, Toxic Family & Relationships, Identity Issues, Manipulation, Fighting, S/M themes, Minor Blood/Kink, Stalking, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, Dumbification, Dub-Con Elements, Oral, Light Restraints, P in V, Fingering, Biting, (one) Whipping if you squint, Size Difference, just general kinky unhinged sexual content

Chapter 1- Word Count: 4.5k+

Synopsis: You go to Sinister!Stephen Strange for help with your powers, against your better judgment. He is all the more happy to oblige you in your time of need. Deep down you know you shouldn’t trust him, nor do you know why he's so eager to help. But you have no one else to turn to, and his charming smile puts you at ease… too bad it's all for show.

Prologue:

 He’d stumbled in the dark before meeting you, after losing Christine he’d lost any hope that happiness was something he was ever meant to possess. The day he saw you, felt your presence, it filled his chest like he’d just breathed air for the first time. It ignited, burned within, smoldered into something darker, something he should have let die. Losing Christine was a blow to him, broke him, shattered him. He didn't want to be healed, fixed, pitied; he just wanted to feel- God, anything, again. To possess something, or rather someone- he ached for it. 

Even if it wasn't love you two would ever share, he was utterly consumed with the idea of having you, keeping you for his own. It was wrong, deep down the old him would know it was wrong, but that Stephen Strange was dead (and so were many others). He didn’t- he couldn’t- shake the obsession, you were the wicking flame, the life in the hollow soul he’d destroyed. Besides, how could he not want you, when you were just so… perfect.

(CHAPTER 1) The Right Time

It was an autumn evening, and you were invited to the unveiling of a new wing of the hospital you completed your nurse residency at. It was also your graduation, and the cool energized air that settled over the city was fitting for the elation of new opportunities that lie ahead of you and your peers. You arrived shortly after 6:30, the orange sun setting at the skyline and sprawling shadows from tall buildings grew across the city. With a VIP pass in hand you entered the City Hall, awaiting the ceremony that was abuzz with people.

-

 Strange had become a bit of a recluse, guarding the Darkhold and wandering the Sanctum was not always something many would call ‘fun’. In a rare bout of wanting to be outside and needing to feel a sense of fulfillment, even if it was by proxy; was enough to spur him out. It was also likely a certain red haired woman would be there, and he didn’t spare chances to see her. He scrummaged around for that suit, ah, the one he wore to a variant Christine’s wedding (after killing that Strange, and taking his place). He dressed himself in the matching black jacket and pants with a copenhagen blue button down with crimson buttons. He fumbled with a slim black tie, huffed a frustrated breath through his nostrils before letting his magic get the knot right. He quickly styled back his dark hair, slicking greying hairs behind his ears and leaving a few black strands to swoop onto his forehead.

He took the Darkhold as he exited the Sanctum, latched it to his leather belt with a lock, and used a spell to conceal it from view. 

 Strange arrived from an amethyst portal ring under the cover of navy night and shadow, the outside lanterns of the City Hall emitting an inviting orange light. Following a couple ahead of him, he walked past the guards and bouncers and in among the crowd and glow of the hall. It might have been people’s general fear of him that allowed him easy entry, he really shouldn’t have came; but (frankly,) Stephen couldnt be fucked to care. He wasn't there for trouble, and if they weren't going to mess with him, he could actually enjoy his night out without unnecessary death. Besides, the guards and officers wouldn’t dare try to stop him, not after what had happened last time.

He squinted at the intense bright lights of the hall and tried to find a place to watch from that didn’t wasn’t so vastly overlit. Whether it was his strained eyes or the cold air, oh it didn’t matter- he could feel a headache coming on. Fan-fucking-tastic. He approached the open bar and got a ridiculously full glass Merlot from a nervous young bartender, just something to take the edge off. The older man sipped while holding eye contact, ‘mmh not the best’, and the guy nearly stumbled to refill him again and then hurriedly attended to another patron. Turning from the counter, Strange took another small sip and scanned the area.

 There was a staircase lined the walls under a balcony. It was dark, under the shade of the upper levels, with not many people to bother him. Perfect. He made his way over in long strides. Shadow fell over him and he instantly felt better, more at home. As he made his way up the stairs he passed a few higher ups; officials, doctors, representatives of the medical board-  all too frightened to look his way. Many of them who knew him, at one time, even trusted him. The various guards who sandwiched them or led them away were apprehensive towards Stephen but didn’t engage. Christine wasn’t among them. ‘For once they learned from their mistakes’, Strange thought, though if he wanted to he could find her, easily. But tonight he vowed to keep things light, enjoy the classical pieces coming from the set up speakers and immerse himself in the late Gothic Revival architecture.

One guard approached, a brawny blond haired man with blue eyes, refusing to let him go past the middle to the upper levels. Strange stood there a moment, glaring at the familiar face; a silent challenge that made the bodyguard clench his fists in anticipation. The Sorcerer breathed out something akin to a chuckle and perched himself against the railing of the indoor balcony. The guard lingered for a moment before breathing a sigh and continuing downstairs.

Strange was quite high up and had a clear view of the space below. In the center were a row of chairs in front of the podium, and an excited younger crowd was being swarmed by a larger one, onlookers and bystanders alike waiting to converse with them. Cameras flashed and a few reporters zig zagged among the people, microphones in their hands and cameramen in tow.

Strange kept to himself and was now a bit out of practice with acting cordial towards people, but he did miss going to formal events, even if it was just for the atmosphere and the music. The people were a bonus if they stroked his ego, but usually offered nothing more in the way of conversation and he’d quickly lose interest. Christine was always better at those things.

The taste of the wine became bitter, and he swallowed harshly after he took a sip. Just then something washed over him, like he’d been ungrounded, like he’d just stepped off an escalator and had to find footing. He looked incredulously at his glass, now half empty. He wanted to take the edge off, not get a fucking hangover. Strange wanted to follow that train of thought back downstairs, to that bar, to have a strong word with that little shit-

Another wave ebbed into him, fuzzy warmth distracting him from his violent contemplations, and he became aware that it wasn't from something any alcohol could create.

 It was an energy, pulsing and tugging at him. It made him tense up; this aural experience was so gentle and oddly comforting. The silken brilliance engulfing him, it was addictively foreign, and he just couldn’t ignore it. Inquisitively he searched around the large lobby below, feeling the signature increase and spike inside his chest.

-

You emerged from the bathroom, hands becoming instantly clammy at seeing the impressive crowd. A few people in nice suits and fancier dresses than yours took a glance in your direction, and a rush of anxiety went through you. You went to fumble at the name badge a friend had helped place on your dress, and one of your peers stopped you.

“Don’t take it off silly. How else will they recognize you?” They motioned to the crowd with your peers scattered about, lights flashing among their silhouettes. They were all smiles, posing, answering questions, and overall flourishing in the attention. 

“That’s kinda the point.” You mumbled, low enough for them not to hear in comparison to the roaring crowd. You removed it anyway and put the badge in your small purse, much to the annoyance of your fellow alumnus.

You were overwhelmed. You didn’t do well in crowds, at all. In fact, you had tried to request that you be omitted from attending this ceremony, ‘can’t they just mail me the plaque or something’, but the director of the program, a certain red headed woman, wouldn't allow it. Christine personally came to see you, big bright eyes pressing you for a reason as to why. ‘Can I say I’m planning to be sick, miss’ was all you could say. Her eyebrows came up and she quirked her head to the side with a smile and begged you to attend.

“If anyone deserves to be in that hall to accept their certificate and award, it's you,” she’d said with a kind hand on your shoulder.

 She would have gone on to shower you with records of your accomplishments, not only your impressive test scores, but also testimonies of the doctors you shadowed and the patients you had helped. The residency was probably the hardest you’d ever worked at anything, it was the once in a lifetime opportunity to work with some of the top medical professionals in New York. The program was also heavily sponsored by Stark Industries, so the sky was the limit when it came to connections and growth opportunities. 

During your nurse residency people took notice of you, you weren’t exactly the most knowledgeable or most prestigious of the class; but they found your impeccable bedside manner extraordinary. You were approachable, kind, and pretty much every time you interacted with your patients they instantly felt better.

Noone knew that it was because of your special abilities that you excelled; and you felt like a fraud.

 Christine believed in you, and it broke your heart a little every time she complimented you. She could have gone on to the point of embarrassing you about your work; she’d done it before in front of the class and you swore you wanted nothing more than to jump out the nearest highrise window. You didn’t let her get to that point again though, the confrontation from someone you admired so much alone made you fold like a deck of cards.

That night, you tried to be different; ‘come on, socialize, it's my big night’, you thought. Your heart strumming in your chest, you approached the crowd, allowing it to swallow you into the frenzy of people. The cacophony of voices, camera and phone flashes made you instantly regret even thinking about coming out tonight. You tried to make your way towards the row of seats, to which a chair with your name on it was attached, hoping to beeline it there. Okay, maybe you weren't that different than before, but hey at least you were here. 

You gave a few weak smiles and waves to people who caught your eye, your fingers immediately going back to fidget at your pass, running over the smooth cool surface of the card. Just before you could make it to your seat, a group of your peers in front of flashing cameras caught your attention. Among them was one of your closest friends. You both had applied for the prestigious residency program 3 years ago, mostly on a whim, and now you had both graduated. You couldn't help your smile and almost cried seeing them, getting the recognition they deserved; now clad in a well fitted pants suit- all white and all smiles. You would have preferred to have worn a suit as well, but your family forbade you from wearing one. It was a bit stupid in hindsight, because they didn’t even attend the event. You got to choose your own dress though, picking a rich concord turtleneck column gown from an assortment of dresses that were passed down to you. You liked classic styles, they fit your frame well and ‘highlighted your inner sophistication’ or whatever bullshit your friends would tell you to get you out the door, and admittedly you did look great that night.

Seeing you, your friend’s mouth opened in a gasp and waved you over. They were standing in a break in the crowd, the group of reporters with their assorted cameras and lights turning to you. You hesitated a moment before taking another step into the clearing, a quick flash from one of the cameras made your vision go white. You put a hand to your eyes and only more flashes flooded your vision, stunning you. A familiar concerned voice joined in with excited professional ones and you felt that dangerously strong aural force weld up inside you. Everything was too much, your chest heaved, and you knew if you didn’t do something it would be disastrous. You felt that familiar painful surge like you were about to be ripped apart-‘ oh no, no not now!’, and in an instant you turned away from the glaring lights and rushed into a line of people and towards the seats. You could barely see, a high pitched and painful ringing in your head making it difficult for you to want to open your eyes fully. Back in the crowd your friend rolled their eyes, shaking their head before trying to get the attention of now distracted and annoyed reporters.

 A guard tried to stop you, a tall, blond haired man, but you flashed him your VIP pass and continued on to your seat. You plopped down, head in your shaking hands, the ringing in your ears only interrupted by your labored breaths. 

You sat for what felt like an eternity, rubbing your sensitized eyes behind your closed eyelids. The lights dimmed, and calming music brought you back into the hall. You felt the vibration from a frustrated plop of someone in the chair next to you. From the irritated sigh that followed you realized it was your friend. You didn’t look at them, and they didn't bother to say anything to you. You sat there in silence, feeling guilty for possibly embarrassing them in front of the press. You were just sensitive, in weird ways, especially since your powers started to manifest. You pride yourself on being able to mask how you feel, gauge your reactions, because you don't want to be a burden. But still, on this important night you couldn’t keep it under wraps. 

The melody playing brought you away from your thoughts. It swirled in your head, it was lovely, lolling you back into calmness. Music always made you feel better, it was often the only remedy that would help you de stress after a painful aural flare up. This tune was familiar, a rendition of Nocturne L.82, and you couldn’t help but feel cheery as it continued to play.

People quieted and situated themselves in their seats. Someone spoke, sounding important from the podium; but the music continued to play over the speakers quietly and that's all you wanted to hear. Christine was invited to speak, and you tried to pay more attention then. She congratulated the class, observing your peers and when she came to you she gave you a wink, then continued on with her speech. You clapped when everyone else did, and one by one you saw the people next to you get up and disappear around the edge of the platform. You breathed out a sigh and stood when it was your turn.

-

Stephen scanned the hall below, certain that what he felt was coming from something, maybe even someone. He saw a small figure emerge into a small opening in the crowd. He saw you, clad in a mauve column gown, the velvet material shimmering and cascading down your frame. Even from the distance he was drinking you in, your elegance, your form, better than any wine they served at the function. He zeroed in more, curious. As if for confirmation another rush of energy hit him, and he made his way back down the way he came, still eyeing you. As he made the trek down he was pushed back against the wall, nearly dropping his glass as he staggered back.

He quickly corrected himself and ran down the stairs, determined that something was amiss and the woman he was eyeing had something to do with it. He cleared the landing, bounding around the corner of the stairwell and into the crowd. Pushing past bystanders and fussy reporters, he finally saw you through the silhouettes. The complaining of a persistent newscaster tailing behind him made Strange roll his eyes; he didn’t have time for this. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, and time slowed to a crawl. He set his glass on an invisible surface and watched intently.

Narrowed cerulean eyes met your form, frozen in the bright light, hand shielding your eyes, though he could see your face through your fingers that you looked frightened and in pain. The nagging in his chest deepened, making the muscles in his neck tense, feeling it radiate from the person before him. Inquisitive, he brought closed fists across his chest and released it outwards, expelling his magic and uncovering the aural spectacle. A white bubble pulsated around you, distorting the air and expelling waves of energy. The sphere seemed to wrangle and twist ferociously, spiking outwards as a force was trying in vain to reel it in.

 “Yikes, that looks painful,” was all he could think to say, examining the slowed scene in awe.

It was quite the large amount of force at play, and was one of the most interesting manifestations of aural powers he’d ever seen, in fact. It was obvious by your intense straining that you lacked experience in controlling your abilities. He couldn’t blame you, it looked like a lot to handle, and you were quite the little thing. It wouldn’t necessarily be something to be ashamed of, it took him quite some time and countless hours of studying to expertly wield his own magic. However, any amount of power; let alone something of this magnitude, can be dangerous, deadly, in an inexperienced one’s hands.

‘I could control this, with enough examination and time, of course’, he thought, rubbing practiced fingers in his palms, feeling the satiny aural fabric slipping through them. ‘Control…you’. His fascination didn’t stop with your unwieldy powers. His gaze went from the psionic sphere back to you, taking in the marvelous display that fed the sorcerer’s wicked imagination. Icy eyes slowly examined you, your hair, your eyes, your lips, the shape of your body. You seemed so powerless, fragile, helpless to the wild powers that inhabited you. So… pathetic, so perfect. Oh, he’d have you. He had to, such a glorious creature hidden in plain sight could be for no one else.

A camera’s flash went off, causing the sphere around you to displace an angry heat, close to rupturing as it seemed to tear, and you turned, dress shimmering as your legs carried you away. Even in slow motion, he noted that your reflexes were still quite fast.

He waved his hands closed, concealing your psionic magic, snapped, and the scene resumed; you rushed away into the crowd of people. He smirked to himself, before turning to see that same damn reporter with a mic outstretched to his face and a camera pointed at him, rambling about ethics and his first appearance in public since yada yada yada. His annoyance bubbled, he was never one to play PR man, especially with the charlatans that worked for the press. He’d rather be more direct, an eyebrow twitch sent him into dark thoughts; he could get rid of every useless, sniveling reporter in all the damn multiverse-

“Reel it in, Strange- got things to do. Killing someone tonight won’t help-“

“Excuse me?” Said the woman.

To give him credit, he didn't think he was saying that out loud.

 A twist of his hand and he corrupted all devices around him, bricking phones and destroying any footage, camera lights rupturing. Confused voices erupted from the crowd.

“Oops, did I do that?” he quipped, grabbing his floating glass and walking past the dumbfounded reporter and her cameraman and away towards the bar. 

He sat and stared into the empty glass in thought, not even acknowledging the bartender anxiously waiting to serve him. The spells he used made it so that others wouldn’t have seen your powers, but he didn't need to draw unnecessary attention to himself, and especially to you. He contemplated leaving, but after all the core unveiling hadn’t even started, and he didn’t even know your name. The red wine poured into his glass by trembling hands. He raised a hand to stop the now white-as-a-sheet bar guy, and took a sip, looking into the scarlet liquid as it disappeared into his mouth. It still wasn't good, but discovering you made it taste sweeter, and he savored it before swallowing. The sorcerer’s mind busied in depravity, fostering a plan that made him lick at his upper lip unconsciously; wondering how he’d get such a pretty bird to wander into his cage. Stephen noted that you held a VIP pass in one of your hands, so it is possible that you were one of the graduating alumni of the residency program.

The lights dimmed, casting the hall in a deep ultramarine that calmed his aching eyes. A distant tune played a piece he immediately recognized, and the chatter of the hall died down. The person at the podium spoke, unveiling the new wing of a hospital Strange had once walked the halls of. Strange was lost in the now midnight color of the Merlot, tracing a long index finger slowly along the glass’ smooth lip, too gone in his own thoughts to really concern himself with the details of the speeches doctors and the other professionals gave. Christine’s voice woke him out of his daydream, and he tipped the bartender, walking off with the almost empty glass up the stairwell. 

 The new wing of the hospital became dedicated to the city of New York and the hall erupted in clapping and cheering. Stephen arrived at his original spot and he paid keen attention. Normally he would anyway, it was Christine after all, but he was more focused on something else. She announced the names of the class alumni, one by one shadowy figures stood from their seats and around the stairs up to the lit platform. Each person stepped onto the platform, cameras flashing as she handed them plaques and papers and gave respective handshakes before they walked off to the other side. 1,2,3,4..7 people and still no sign of you. He could still feel your presence, gradually feeling tension build in his chest, so he knew you had to be up soon.

You emerged from shadow, now cast in an ethereal blue light as you hurriedly strutted towards Christine. Though he couldn’t see it from way up there, he could feel trembling within the energy waves tickling his chest.

 “Poor thing, you’re shaking like a nervous puppy,” he husked to himself. Pitiful. God, he wanted you so badly it made his cock ache in his slacks. He almost wished he could slow down this moment and go down onto the stage; offer you a sip of his own drink to ease you. Watch as the red wine slipped between your plush lips, observe how they pressed against the glass as he guided it to your mouth. 

But he knew that he’d want to do more than just that. 

And he couldn’t, not yet. He was a gentleman, after all.

Christine read out your name, and Stephen couldn’t help but grin, actually grin, for the first time in what felt like ages. He took an indulgent sip, finishing the wine as she passed you your plaque and degree papers. She gave you a pat on the hand and mouthed words before you bowed your head and walked off the other side of the stage.  

Stephen approached an attendant with a platter and gave them his empty glass, and with a new plan hatched in his head he strutted down the stairs, past the bar, and out the hall. His fingertips glossing over his lips as they lingered on your name, rolling it around lazily as he continued down the City Hall steps, the warm glow of the outer lanterns leaving him. He undid his cufflinks, removing his jacket and folding it onto his arm as he turned the corner. Feeling the night air against his skin and through his black and silver hair electrified him, made him aware once again of his member prodding his thigh. He walked down the street, passing under orange street lamps before he came to a shorter road with no passersby. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his dark top to his navel before opening a violet portal and stepping into his chamber room.

He thought about you the rest of that night, shedding his evening clothes in a haze, and while he was in the shower, his thoughts deepened. Hot steam rose around him, water running through wet salt and pepper hair, down his neck and across his broad shoulders. Warm droplets flowed down his strong back and trail down his muscled arms to veiny forearms and hands. The silence only interjected by the rushing water; the older man imagined it’s you there with him.

Addictively soft touches down the front of his broad chest to his abdomen and up and down his back muscles, and he shivers, broad hand pressed on the wall to steady himself as he ruts into his hand. Gentle touches turning into harsh grasps and little fingernails desperate to leave crescent marks on his skin. Flashes of your face, eyes in a silent plea as he bites into your tender flesh, fervently licking over the marks and savoring the taste of you, then his hands wrapped around your neck. His head is down, eyes closed in bliss, heavy cock in hand and he swears he’s never been this hard before. 

Just the idea of you in his mind, the shape of your gorgeous body and those soft lips on him, forming his name, screaming it, was enough to push him over the edge. He shuddered under the cascading water as husky breaths escaped his lips, reverberating off the walls as he came. He came onto the shower wall, all over his hand; and he cursed himself, and you, for how his member pulsated, still aching for more. But he practiced restraint, bottled it, for now, ignoring his half erection as he finished cleaning up and shoved on his night garments.

Stephen slept heavier that night, the cocktail of the alcohol in his system and the midnight air blowing from the window and over him refreshingly cool after his burning satiation. Not that it was enough, nothing will ever be enough when it comes to you.  That wouldn’t be the last time he’d see or dream of you. You were his little secret, and to time indefinite he’d vowed to keep you.

End Chapter 1

Extended notes: Whew, this was challenging to get down. Hopefully my PC wont give me problems anymore because I nearly cried rewriting this after doing so by hand during lunch breaks. The horny bits made up for it though I will admit (more of that to come ;). Also, writing Sinister!Strange with a more subtle vampiric side to him is just ✨ chef’s kiss to me.

Chapter 2 will probably be up in the next 3-4 days because I don’t wanna overload you all and I’m sleep deprived. Chapter 3 (and perhaps beyond) in the next week. I’ll try to do shorter ones in the future. Maybe even requests? Not sure yet, I'm still very rusty and I am nowhere near the level I want to be, especially when it comes to smut.

I appreciate all the love you guys have been showing me, being patient, especially with the comments and reblogs. I read them when I’m stumped and it really helps. As someone who is dyslexic, its really encouraging to see so many notes on my fic related things. You guys are awesome, seriously.

[mocharadio]

Now Playing(Title): Touching Their Boobas! (Headcanons)

Requested By: @polluxminor

Song Artists(Characters): Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao, and Beidou

Remix(Au): Modern Au! cause why not

Lyrics(Summary): Their reaction to you just randomly squeezing their boobs ?????? gn!reader by the way, but pronouns aren't really mentioned regardless

Explicit?(Warnings): No beta we die like Khaenri'ah, lowercase, suggestive (but nothing more than that!), they/them used for Kaeya, Beidou, and Xiao, slightly ooc but I feel like they'd act differently in a modern setting anyways

A/N: consider this to be crack, also this is under the impression that you are already their s/o (or at least their bestie) and they're fine with you doing this because it would be....very much weird if that wasnt the case!

Kaeya:

he just looks at you for a few seconds and blinks like three times in a row

you swear you can hear the blinking sound effects as he does it too

then they let out their stupid, toothy smirk and start laughing at you

"Damn shawty, you down THAT bad?"

starts squeezing their tiddies himself and talks about how nice they are

can and will defend them with his life. ESPECIALLY if you take it back and call them flat. expect all hell to break loose.

will probably bring up his ass at some point too

"Got tha fattest ass on the block babey"

please shut this guy up.

Diluc

doesnt even realize whats going on at first

like Kaeya he'll just kinda stare at you for a few seconds before it finally hits him

like a truck, too

"[Name], why are your hands on my chest"

"Man tiddies."

"I see."

he'll never tell you upfront but it flusters him a lot

as soon as you aren't paying attention to him anymore his face gets all red and he has to put a hand over his heart to make sure his HR is stable so he doesn't collapse and die

do it more often! eventually he'll crack and you'll be able to see how embarrassed he gets! its really cute :]

Childe

dont. you'll regret it

im serious this man is so extra for no reason

he can and will fake moan out loud. doesnt matter where you guys are.

in the middle of walmart? he'll moan. in your college dorm with the door cracked open and people in the halls? he'll still fake moan! he doesnt care if professor Zhongli or Albedo hears either, it is what it is.

generally speaking though he doesn't really mind, he's flattered actually!

you on the other hand will probably mind very much when it gets you kicked out of Starbucks or extra homework from your professors.

will grab your chest back though (only if you're fine with it)

Zhongli

poor peepaw.

he's so confused he doesn't know why you're just groping him like that

he thinks there's something wrong, like you're silently pleading for help or you wanna kill him.

he grabs you by the shoulders and asks if everything is alright.

yeah???? everything's okay your tits are just fat Zhongli please calm down

after he realizes you just wanted to grope him he sighs out of relief and lets you go to town

unless you don't wanna anymore, then he's cool with that too

Xiao

run. run as fast and as far away as you fucking can

they will chase your ass across the goddamn country if needed

dropkicks you (playfully)

he genuinely doesnt mind it at all it just caught him off guard and flustered them and they needed to cope somehow

after he's done attacking you like a rabies ridden raccoon though he'll calm down and just snuggle themself into your chest (if you're fine with it)

grumbles some shit like "stop being horny all the time" and "you cant just do that to me"

doesn't really mean it of course

Beidou

"This is why mom doesn't FUCKING LOVE YOU!"

in all seriousness though I feel like they'd laugh their ass off before (consensually) groping the fuck out of your chest too

she's so nonchalant about it as if you do it every single day

which you probably do, after that

teases you nonstop over it.

one day you accidentally grope them a little to hard and they just gently pick you up and tosses you onto the nearest soft surface

then she jumps onto you

small price to pay for hurting her tatas

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

how to fake date your best friend | jake sim

✰ summary: the rules were simple -

pretend to be the boyfriend of you, his best friend who wants the attention of their crush, for a week and a week only

no kissing (bc gross cooties amirite) allowed, unless needed in times of desperate measure 

and no matter what, absolutely, most definitely, do not fall in love. 

simple, right?

well apparently not. because news flash––jake's already broken one of the rules. 

and to give you a hint, it's neither rule 1 or 2.

✰ pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. members of enha!] 

✰ genre: fluff, comedy | fakingdating!au, highschool!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers

✰ warnings: cursing, high-schoolers doing dumb highschool things, underage drinking (pls don’t actually do any of this irl), jake being a certified simp, it’s LONG (i’m so sorry), cheesy kithes bc im a sucker for kithes ( ˘ ³˘)♥

✰ wc: a whopping 9.5k

✰ a/n: it’s finally finished :’)))))) it ended up being much longer than i wanted but i had so much fun writing the characters that i got carried away lolol anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy it,,,i got a little unmotivated during the process bc i didn’t know if it was good or not but here it is heh (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ 

Tuesday, December 8th

Jake Sim lives a simple life. 

He likes to think he leads the normal, stereotypical life of a teenage boy. Has decent grades, plays soccer after school, skateboards around the neighborhood, has a best friend who he’s desperately in love with, and has a stable group of friends. 

Okay, maybe not so simple, because this boy would physically launch himself to the moon and drill at its surface to collect moon dust for you if you asked him to––despite his deadly fear of combusting in outer space. 

But that fear doesn’t even compare to his worst one yet: not having you in his life. 

And so, he decided to just repress any and all feelings he’s had for you ever since he discovered them in middle school, when he realized he hated seeing you go to the eighth grade dance with a date––that wasn’t him. 

He decided that he wasn’t going to risk losing a life-long friendship over some dumb, teenage boy feelings. 

They were probably powered by his testosterone anyways. Yeah, that’s totally it.

He’s totally not in love with you. 

So yes, he lives a pretty normal life. Every day is the same as the last, and tomorrow will be the same as today. But he likes it like that––he doesn’t want anything to change. 

Especially not now, when he finds himself content with every aspect of his life (okay maybe except for his history grade, god, does he hate history). 

So, it catches him off guard when you arrive at the group’s usual lunch table, located outside in your school’s courtyard, looking as excited as ever. 

Jake’s the only one at the table so far. The remaining usually showed up late––Heeseung spends his first half of lunch tutoring freshmen for community service hours (but the poor boy has no idea what he’s doing), Sunghoon is probably stuck in line in the cafeteria again (he always forgets to pack his own lunch), and Jay is...well actually, no one ever knows where Jay comes from. He’s a special one. 

It catches Jake even more off guard when you skip over any greeting a normal person would give, and start speaking at one hundred words per second. 

And that catches us up to the present.

“Y-You want me to what?” Jake’s stuttering as you stare at him with your hopeful eyes from across the lunch table. 

Despite the expression planted on your face, which screams your excitement for your “brilliant, amazing, genius, Einstein-could-never” idea (or whatever other words you used to describe it––Jake can’t exactly recall the specific terms you used, they all came out of your mouth too fast), you don’t respond to his question of bafflement. You continue to stare at him, awaiting his response. Jake could compare the look on your face right now to a puppy looking up at its owner, eagerly waiting for a treat. You know, tongue out and all. 

He swallows the lump that’s lodged in this throat (is that the sandwich he’s having, or his nerves?) and continues to give you his look of confusion laced with a nervous smile because surely, you’re joking. 

You grab what’s left of your sandwich from his hands and take your own bite. Somewhere in between you arriving at the table and now, Jake’s managed to steal the sandwich you brought today. You did make the best chicken sandwiches, in his defense. 

“Well? It’s only for the week! And I promise you, after one week, if nothing happens––if he doesn’t make a move or anything––I’ll move on from him like you’ve been telling me to.” Your words are muffled from you savoring your sandwich, or what’s left of it anyways. (Mental note to self: don’t share your lunch with Jake ever again.) 

When Jake still doesn’t respond (you’ve truly gotten this poor boy paralyzed), you find it as a sign to continue. 

“I think it’s the perfect plan. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be like the universe is telling me to finally move on, right?” 

Wrong. 

Jake has been encouraging you to move on from your crush because well, if we’re being honest here, he selfishly wants you to himself. Even if it wasn’t romantically.

Preferably, he would kill to get to be the one who holds your hand in the hall, call you cheesy pet names, post disgustingly cute couple pics for the ‘gram––but for the sake of potentially ruining his relationship with you, he’ll just have to settle with the role of being your best friend. 

(And he’s totally fine with that! Totally. Yup.) 

But he didn’t think that you moving on would only be a mere possible outcome (that may not even happen!) from whatever this stunt is you wanna pull. 

Said stunt: Pretend to date one another and hope it catches the eye of a certain someone you have your eye on: Park Sunghoon. 

Ah yes, Park Sunghoon. The previously mentioned one who’s probably still in line waiting to get his lunch as we speak. 

Park Sunghoon, the tall, kind, intelligent, charming young boy that everyone knows. And if anyone didn’t know him, they most definitely knew of him. He wasn’t hard to miss in the halls; everything about him just radiates perfection. 

If you plucked a random high-schooler from the halls of this school and interviewed them on the Park Sunghoon, they’d say you’d be lucky enough if the quiet boy so much as sparked a conversation with you, even if it was about what last night’s chemistry homework was. 

Well if that were true, then you and the rest of the boys would be considered lottery winners. 

How that happened, how the four of you dysfunctional beings earned his friendship, the world may never know. However, Jake is fully convinced that this was the universe’s way of playing a cruel joke on him. 

For as long as Jake could remember, it’s always been just the two of you. You and Jake. Jake and you. (With the exception of Heeseung and Jay, of course, who came along in middle school) 

In fact, your earliest memory of Jake was when he peed his pants in the kindergarten during nap time. You would know, you had the privilege of sharing a sleeping mat with him that one fateful day and in result...let’s just say the smell didn’t wear off from your clothes until a week later. Five-year-old you didn’t forgive five-year-old Jake for the longest time. 

And since then, you’ve been attached by the hip. And Jake liked it like that. Jake didn’t need anyone else in his life (with the exception of Leila) if he had you. He had found his home within you, and he didn’t plan on sharing his space anytime soon. 

Nevertheless, the universe had a completely different idea for the two of you. 

Sunghoon came into the picture last year, towards the end of the school year. Despite being the new kid, he found his way into your cherished friend group and naturally, the five of you grew as close as friends could be. 

That was the problem. Jake wanted to hate Sunghoon, to despise him for being the one that you had heart eyes for, but he couldn’t. 

Not only was Sunghoon one of Jake’s closest friends, but he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group. After you, the three chaotic boys were the next most important people in Jake’s life. 

And so, we have the typical love triangle plot that every coming-of-age movie follows. Of course, this is all unbeknownst to you––you may be intelligent and a people-person, but oh boy can you not see the heart eyes your very own best friend has for you. 

“It’ll be easier than you think, really! Look, we can even set boundaries or rules or whatever,” you propose, as if you’re trying to get him to sign a contract. 

Rules to a fake relationship? We’re not living in a Netflix romcom, are we? 

“Okay rule number 1: it’ll only be for a week and a week only, rule number 2: we don’t have to do anything too couple-ly like...” you pause to wonder for a second. 

“Like PDA or anything! You know, unless we really need to convince him,” you casually add. When he responds with radio silence and stares at you with absolute concern painted all over his face, you cough. “Jake, I’m joking.” 

Right. Of course. Obviously. 

“And of course, just try not to fall in love with me, it’ll be hard, I know,” you send a playful wink his way. 

Too late. Turns out it’s not that hard. Jake would know. 

Jake continues to stare at you in hesitation. Yeah, you’ve had your fair share of crazy ideas (that Jake always find himself agreeing to––the poor boy just can’t seem to say no to you), but fake dating you?

Jake is sure he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without slowly destroying himself. He’d just have to say no, he’s sure you can find someone else to do it for you. 

Yes, that’s it, just say no. 

Jake has to keep some of his pride in tact. 

Jake does not say no. 

He doesn’t know what went wrong. His mind said one thing, but his words said another. 

To be fair, Jake’s actions have always been influenced by his heart, not his brain, anyways. And when it comes to you, you bet it’ll be coming from his heart. 

So here he was now, under the stare of three equally shocked and confused guys across from you and him at the lunch table, your fingers intertwined with his.

Just a few seconds ago, you had spotted the rest of the lunch bunch approaching the table, and you quickly grabbed Jake’s hand and scooted in closer to him.  

Now here you were, explaining to your friends of your sudden relationship.  

Jake is too zoned out to even physically pick up your explanation. Something along the lines of "we’ve been dating for a while but didn’t want to tell you guys yet." From the feeling of your hand clutched tightly into his and your body right up next to him, his mind was short-circuiting. 

How is he supposed to last an entire week of this if he couldn't handle innocent hand holding? Hand holding? God, what are we, back in the fifth grade?  

Two minutes into this scheme and Jake's mind has already downgraded itself to a fifth grader's.  

Jake mentally scolds himself for giving in, this was not a good idea. 

It takes Jake approximately 12 hours to conclude that this stunt of yours may, actually, be a good idea. He knows this because approximately 12 hours after the events surrounding lunch, he receives a text from you: 

y/n [12:03AM]: thanks again for doing this for me jake

y/n [12:03AM]: ur actually the best

y/n [12:04AM]: ew ok that was cheesy but really i owe u a big one <333

Following your thread of texts is a really close up photo of you widely smiling into the camera. A smile so big, Jake’s convinced your face was probably in pain after taking that picture. 

Anyone else might’ve thought the photo looked borderline insane but because Jake’s Jake, aka a simpᵗᵐ for you, he comes to the conclusion that it’s singlehandedly the cutest thing he’s ever seen in the entire world. 

After quickly saving the selfie into his phone, Jake tells himself that maybe this won’t be a bad thing after all. I mean, anything that makes you smile like that meant it has to be a good idea, right? 

Spoken like a true simp. 

Plus, dating you––fake dating you––is pretty much the same as it was before. He already spends most of his days with you to begin with. Now, it’s just with added displays of affection. For show, obviously. Obviously. 

And look, if Jake will never get to actually be with you, then he’ll take what he can get. And if that meant fake dating you, well, he reasons that it’s better than nothing at all. 

Wednesday, December 9th 

Jake’s playing with the rings on your right hand and you’re in the middle of dramatically telling the lunch table about the infuriating Karen you had to deal with at work the other day when Jay comes up with a grin you all know a little too well. 

“Okay that grin means one of two things: you finally grew the balls to ask out that poor girl you’ve been teasing all year or you have something planned that we won’t like,” you interrupt your story when you catch Jay’s sly expression, evoking a chuckle from Jake, who’s now found a new distraction with the bracelets perches on your wrist. 

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I did ask her out. It just so happens that she’s currently ‘in between boyfriends’ whatever that means. Ouch, by the way,” Jay feigns hurt from your comment by clutching the area above his heart through his shirt. Ever the drama queen. “But yes, I do have something planned. And no, it’s not a bad idea.” 

Jay squeezes his way in between Sunghoon and Heeseung from across you and begins to pull out his own lunch. Everyone’s eyes follow him as he settles in because as bad as his unknown idea may be, you’re all still curious on what this boy has to say. 

“Well are you going to elaborate or...” Heeseung speaks up for everyone after you all mentally debate one another through darting eyes on who’s going to have to bite Jay’s silent bait.

Jay then forcefully sets both hands on his table, which elicits a little jump from you as you go for a bite of your sandwich. Adorable, Jake tells himself. 

“My parents are out of town this weekend. We all know what that means...” 

Yes. We do know what that means. The four of you have seen this scenario play out many times, a little too many times for your own good. 

This meant one of Jay’s infamous house parties that he always throws whenever his parents go out of town. And because his parents are hot-shot CEOs of an important company whose name you don’t remember (it’s nothing personal, your brain can only handle so much information and this physics exam you were studying for took up 90% of your brain capacity at the moment), they’re out of town often. 

And along with Jay’s parties comes chaos. Lots of it. And that’s because...well, it’s safe to say that despite the many school-wide presentations the police officers of your school have held in the auditorium on why you shouldn’t drink underage, Jay’s parents’ liquor cabinet always seems to find itself missing many a few bottles after each party. But we don’t talk about that. Shush. 

Almost simultaneously, everyone at the table lets out a groan, much to Jay’s disappointment. 

“C’mon guys! It’s been a while since anything’s fun happened to this school, think of all the sad students in that building right now,” he extends a finger whole-ass arm and points at your school, “who are in dire need of fun and a little...” he punctuates his sentence with the hand motion of chugging down a drink, followed with a gulping sound elicited from his tongue clicking. 

You roll your eyes along with everyone else. Don’t be like Jay, kids. Listen to those police officers. 

“Jay, it’s midterm season! I have an exam on Monday and I definitely do not want to spend the nights before wasted,” you give him an apologetic look. As crazy as Jay is, you do feel bad nonetheless. The boy just wants to have fun. 

Your response is followed up with similar comments from around the table. 

“I’m helping y/n study” 

“I have an important skating performance on Sunday” 

“Uh...my hamster died?” (ok Heeseung panicked, don’t blame the guy)

Ignoring that last excuse of an excuse, Jay continues his debate nonetheless. “Just come for the sake of it! No one’s saying you have to get wasted. Pleaseeee for me?” 

Jay throws these parties so often, you’re not sure why he’s so set on making sure you’re all going to be there. Well, I guess who wouldn’t want their closest friends to be at their own party? 

That and, Jay needs to make sure his friends are there to stop him from doing anything stupid. We all know this boy has had enough embarrassing moments to last him a lifetime. 

Everyone at the table gives each other the same hesitant look. Heeseung is the first to give in, “Oh fuck it. Sure, count me in.” 

Jay’s fist pumping the air before turning to Sunghoon with the most hopeful eyes. 

Sunghoon simply sighs in return. “Alright okay, I’ll bite. But if you vomit on my shoes again, I’m out the door.” Jay’s finger is automatically drawing a cross over his heart as a promise to not ruin Sunghoon’s Nikes again. 

He then looks to you with puppy eyes. 

You, who's already staring back at Jay with a stoic look in your eyes, are stubborn and (unlike the previous weaklings) are not as easy to convince. And somehow, this began an unannounced staring contest between the two of you, a contest to see who would budge first. This isn't an uncommon occurrence between you and Jay, but the rest of the boys are still on the edges of their seats watching this duel.

Jake casually wraps an arm around your shoulder and you’re brought in close, but still undeterred from your death-stare match with the boy across from you. 

If it’s not obvious enough, Jake’s really gotten into his role of being your boyfriend, despite it only being 24 hours since he last froze at your touch. Character development, you’ll give him that. 

You almost forget he’s faking it for a quick second. And for an even quicker second, you imagine he wasn’t faking it. And you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach at that thought. 

Weird. 

You mentally shake the thought out of your head. Priorities first, aka, beating Jay in this staring contest. 

“Fuck,” you stutter when you finally blink, admitting defeat to a grinning Jay. “Okay, okay, I’ll THINK about it. I’ll let you know.” 

Not exactly the answer Jay was looking for, but he’ll take it. Better than a no. 

He turns to Jake next, knowing there’s no way Jake will turn down a party. Just like Jay, the boy loves himself a good party. 

But–

But because Jake would take your physics exam this Monday for you if you asked, because Jake would bungee jump in the Grand Canyon without a safety net below him if you asked, because Jake would fake date you to make your crush jealous for you if you asked, he doesn’t hesitate in his answer this time around: “Same as y/n, I’ll let you know.” 

Jay looks at Jake. Then back at you, who he’s still clinging onto like a koala to a tree. Then back at Jake. “You two are gross. Admittedly cute. But gross.” 

You look up at the boy next to you to see him already grinning at you. 

For the first time today, you find yourself agreeing with Jay. 

Admittedly cute. 

Thursday, December 10th 

You are having a bad day. 

You’re having the mother of bad days. 

Not only is it midterm season, but you still have all your regular weekly assignments to finish before Friday hits. So as a natural-born procrastinator does, you stayed up all last night trying to get a good amount of work done because what’s better than cramming all your work the night before it’s due? Doing it two nights before it’s due. 

Well apparently it wasn’t such a good idea. Because now, here you were, frantically throwing on whatever articles of clothing you find nearest to you because you slept through all your alarms. 

You’re lucky enough to make it through your school’s doors right as the second bell rings, even if you did look like you just walked straight out of a zombie apocalypse. 

You’re not so lucky when you find out your first class of the day, calculus, had a pop quiz. A pop quiz on the only unit you just happened to know absolutely nothing about. 

To top things off, you forgot to pack your lunch during this morning’s frenzy, meaning you’re automatically stuck sharing with Jake.

And because his mother started making him pack his own food out of a lesson of responsibility (she said something along the lines of: “Jake, you’re about to be in college and you don’t know how to pack a decent meal”), he only has a plain PB&J sandwich and a pack of Scooby-Doo gummies in his bag today (because newsflash, he still doesn’t know how to pack a decent meal). 

Not that you could care less at the moment, you were too preoccupied with catching up on your assignments to even eat. And if any of the boys noticed your zombie-like state during lunch, they did a good job of not mentioning it. They knew better than to bother an irritated y/n. 

Somehow, you make it through the entire school day and your after-school meeting for environmental club (save the trees!) in one piece. As you finally walk out of the school building, you exhale, automatically feeling lighter. At least the hard part of your day was done. 

Now you just had to wait for Jake to finish soccer practice, which usually ended around the same time as your club, and he can drive you home, where you can continue being irritated with your day in the privacy of your own space. 

You wait on the steps of the school’s entrance, waiting for a smiley Jake to come around the corner as he usually does at 5:30pm every Thursdays. 

Yes, a smiling Jake is exactly what you needed to make your day ten times better, you conclude. 

As if on cue, you hear a ding from your phone. 

Jake [5:30PM]: ugh coach is extending practice for “team bonding” 

Jake [5:30PM]: idek what team bonding is 

Jake [5:31PM]: you ok if i cant drive you today? :// 

It’s as if the universe decided to use you as its punching bag today. 

You physically let out a distorted groan, not caring if anyone who happened to hear you thought you were a creature from out of this world, as you send him a text back.

y/n [5:32PM]: it’s all good lol have fun with tEaM bOnDiNg

Things were not all good. But no matter how upset you may be, you weren’t going to project your negative vibes onto Jake’s naturally positive ones. So you get up from the stone steps and begin your dreaded walk back home. 

It’s freezing out. You should’ve known better to just throw on a hoodie and call it a day when it’s the middle of December. But then again, you figured by now you’d be in the comfort and warmth of Jake’s car and presence...not walking home in these freezing temperatures. 

You think about Jake and how he’s probably currently suffering from not only his team bonding exercises (but really though, what are team bonding exercises?), but doing them in this weather as well. The poor boy. 

You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by the sound of a car engine from behind you. When you don’t see it pass by you and instead hear it pull over and park next to the curb of the sidewalk you’re currently on, you automatically deduce that this is it, this is my time, I’m about to get kidnapped by whoever it is behind me but y/n, you should probably turn around and check first before you drive yourself insane in this inner dialogue. 

You turn around and squint into the front window of the car. If it were a kidnapper, this is exactly what your mother told you not to do. Her exact words were: “Run, don’t look back, and scream bloody murder.” 

Good thing it wasn’t. Just an innocent Sunghoon waving his hand at you, motioning you to get in. 

“Sunghoon?” You approach his car and stop at the passenger side’s open window. 

“y/n! It’s freezing out, I’ll drive you home c’mon,” he nods his head towards the passenger side door. 

Well, how could you say no? Sunghoon owns a nice car. Like a nice car. Like car-seat-heaters-that-make-you-feel-like-you’re-physically-melting nice. Beats getting hypothermia outside, right? 

“Why are you going home from school so late?” You ask as you settle into his car, instantly melting at the touch of the aforementioned heated seats. 

“Debate club, actually. Decided I needed another personality trait other than ice skating,” he starts the engine and begins driving towards the direction of your neighborhood. 

You laugh at his comment, you didn’t peg him as a debate kind of student. Quiet Sunghoon? Debate club? If 2 plus 2 is four...

“Hey, I don’t call you the Ice Prince for nothing! Also, don’t forget your other personality trait: forgetting your lunch every day.” 

Sunghoon quickly glances over at you to send you a dirty look (because eyes on the road, kids!), which you return with a cheeky grin. “Need I remind you that was you today?” 

“Touché,” you click your tongue. 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the faint sound of Sunghoon's music in the background filling in the quietness.  

You’re humming along until Sunghoon breaks the silence, “Did Jake get stuck at practice again?” 

You don’t know why, but you swear you feel your heart beat faster at the mention of Jake’s name. No, that was always there right? Because you were with Sunghoon...your crush..obviously. Obviously. 

Ignoring the feeling, you turn your attention towards the boy driving you. 

“Oh yeah, something about team bonding. How’d you know?” 

“Eh, I just figured since he wasn’t driving you home like he always does.” He turns into your neighborhood. 

You nod at his answer. 

“You two make a good couple.” 

You whip your head at him. Did you hear him correctly?

“It was about time, really. You two have been ogling at one another for so long, Heeseung, Jay, and I almost placed bets on who would be the first to make a move.” 

He keeps his eyes on the road, casually going on about how you and Jake make the cutest couple he’s ever seen. 

You're frozen, unsure of what to think, let alone say. 

You think to two days ago, when you started this entire fake relationship because of the very boy driving you home right now. The same boy who's complimenting you on your fake relationship. The same boy who's supposed to be jealous over that said relationship. The same boy you’re supposed to be crushing over.

But now...only a mere 48 hours later, you were finding yourself okay with the fact that he was happy for you. And for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you liked Sunghoon in the first place. Not saying he isn’t one to be crushed on, I mean, look at the guy. 

Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you didn't feel nervous or giddy or..anything at all when you got into the car with Sunghoon. At least, not until Jake's name was mentioned. That's when you felt the butterflies. At the mention of Jake.  

Jake. 

Weird. 

But before you can come to a conclusion on why you're feeling the way you do, Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts.  

"Well, we're here! Say hi to your parents for me," he pulls into your driveway as you're still collecting your thoughts.  

You give him a quick thanks and one last wave as you enter the front doors of your house.  

Seeing that your only solution towards confusing feelings meant distracting yourself, distract yourself you did.  

Even if it meant distracting yourself with your piling assignments.  

The next time you look up from your work, it's suddenly way past sundown and a heavy storm has taken over. You’re surprised it hasn’t started flooding yet with the amount of rainfall you were hearing. 

You check the time on your phone, the bright 8:16PM on the screen illuminating your dimly lit room. Seeing that neither of your parents have yet to be home from work, it looks like you were going to have to settle with some instant ramen for dinner tonight.  

As you trudge down the stairs of your home, the sound of light knocking against the front door catches your attention. It's been a long day y/n, you're probably hearing things, it's definitely just the rain.

Nope. There it is again, but much louder. Much more urgent.  

You contemplate any and all potential disasters that could happen from answering the door. Only a crazy person would be willing to go out in this hurricane-like weather to be frantically knocking on your door.  

And so, you assume it has to be some psychopath trying to get into your house. Yes, there’s definitely no other logical explanation. 

You scramble around your living room, looking for the next best weapon to defend you. Resorting to the flower vase your mother keeps on the table next to the front door, you hold it out in front of you, as if you're waiting for the door to burst open.  

The knocking continues, gradually getting louder. You mentally curse at yourself for dropping out of the taekwondo class your dad signed you up for when you were younger.  

Vase in hand, you swing open the door and brace for–

"Jake? What the fuck? Get in here, you're gonna get sick!"  

You’re suddenly aware of how stupid you look, holding a light pink vase with a couple of orchids as your only form of self-defense...for it to only be your own best friend. You immediately put it back on the table as Jake quickly rushes past you and into your humble abode.  

You close the door behind you and turn to face the soaked boy.  

“I come bearing gifts, also known as take-out and hot chocolate from that one cafe you love. Also my company, if you’ll take it. I had a feeling you weren’t having the best day today,” he’s simply standing there, holding up a large brown paper bag in one hand, and a deliciously smelling cup of hot chocolate in the other, but you’re looking at him as if he bought you the Moon. 

You stare in awe at the angel of a boy in front of you, silently thanking the stars for gifting you this amazing human being as your best friend. You don’t know what you did to deserve him. 

You give him a soft smile. “Jake, you didn’t have to. It’s practically a shitstorm out there,” you cock your head towards the window, showcasing the downpour of cats and dogs outside. Jake stays by the entrance as you go down the hall and through your house’s linen closet to find a spare towel for the drenched boy.

“Nah it’s no big deal, really. Just fulfilling my duties as your loyal boyfriend,” he grins, even though you can’t see him. He likes calling himself that. Your boyfriend.

Jake continues to shake his messy hair to get the excess rain off, giving a mental apology to whoever is going to have to mop up the puddle forming on the floor due to his unannounced visit. Probably you. 

Jake hears you laugh down the hall. “You’re really invested in your role, huh? Keep this up and you might actually trick me into believing you’re my actual boyfriend.” 

Actual boyfriend? Jake likes the sound of that. Maybe he will keep this up then.

Jake doesn’t have much experience in acting, unless you count that time he played the role of Town Villager #3 in the third grade play, so he never found it as one of his interests. But playing the role of your boyfriend was one he was willing to fulfill for the rest of life, even if it was just for show. 

Jake doesn’t respond to your comment, he’s instead self-aware of his blushing cheeks, thankful that you’re too busy rummaging through your linen closet to take notice. 

“Plus, you didn’t have lunch today and I had feeling you were going to be too caught up in your work to feed yourself anything other than instant ramen,” he sets down his gifts to you on your living room’s coffee table as you come around the corner, fresh towel and new set of clothes in hand. 

His eyes fall on the familiar looking pair of sweatpants and hoodie resting on the palms of your hands. 

Hm. A little too familiar. 

Then, it clicks in his head. 

His eyes narrow at you as you giggle at his reaction, “Oh, so it takes me getting drenched in the rain for you to finally return my clothes that I’ve been missing!?” 

“Hey! I’m not returning them, simply loaning them out to a friend who’s in dire need. You basically gifted them to me the second you left them here months ago.” 

“You’re annoying.” 

“Love you too,” you toss the clothes at him and take a seat on the floor around your coffee table, prepping the table with the boxes of Chinese food Jake supplied. 

After Jake changes into the stolen dry clothes, he takes a seat next to an already-eating you at the coffee table. 

“You. are. my lord and savior Sim Jaeyun,” you’re saying with your mouth full of fried rice. You sigh from satisfaction and rest your head against Jake’s shoulder as you continue chewing. He grins as he helps himself to his own serving of fried rice and orange chicken. 

You look up at him from your spot, “How was team bonding today?” 

Jake groans in response, clearly annoyed. “Stupid. I don’t get how doing trust falls and pyramid building is going to get us any closer. If anything, I almost FELL off that pyramid today!” 

You don’t know why, but you find yourself admiring him and his soft features as he continues to rant about one of his teammates, specifically, the one who almost dropped him. 

The way his messy hair, unkept from the rain ruining it, almost covers his eyes (but you tell yourself you like it this way, it looks more natural on him), the way the corners of his lips are always perked upwards (even when he’s ranting), the way his eyes sparkle whenever he’s truly passionate about whatever he’s talking about, the way his eyes look at you like–

“Stare much? Look, I get you can’t resist my good looks but at least be subtle about it,” he smirks at you as he takes another spoon of rice. 

You break out of his trance and scoff at him. 

“You’re cute when you rant,” you nonchalantly say as you move from your spot to mirror his actions and add more rice to your plate as well.  Jake’s stills at your sudden comment, unsure of how to respond. Lucky for him, you’re distracted by the mountain of food on your plate to even notice the blushing mess of a boy next to you. 

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Or else I’d deck you right here and now for ditching me after school today.” 

Anddd there goes the moment. Leave it to you to follow up a compliment with a threat of violence. 

Jake finds it cute anyways. He always finds you cute. 

Jake narrows his eyes and lightly shoves you before an apology is written all over his face. “Sorry about that by the way. I feel awful about making you walk home when it was freezing out.” 

“Nah, it’s okay. Sunghoon gave me a ride, actually. Did you know he does debate? I guess you learn something new everyday,” you ramble, unaware of the boy next to you getting tense at the sudden mention of the other’s name. 

Up until now, Jake’s completely forgotten about Sunghoon's involvement in this entire scheme. In fact, the past 48 hours with you have felt so normal, so comfortable, he almost forgot about the deal in the first place.   “You think he has any clue?” Jake suddenly asks, referring to the plan. 

You immediately know what he’s referring to, as Jake practically worded out your very own thoughts. 

You shrug. “Not a single one. We’re practically William and Kate in his eyes. But honestly, that’s the least of my worries right now. I’m too distracted by my exams right now to care.” 

Jake feels guilty for being satisfied with your answer. He’s 100% sure that if convincing Sunghoon took you two an entire lifetime of fake dating, he’d be all too willing to do it. 

“Go to Jay’s party with me tomorrow,” he abruptly says, catching your attention as your mouth is stuffed. Cute. 

He pokes your cheek. “It’ll get your mind off of work and plus, what’s more convincing than showing up to a party with your amazing boyfriend?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Jake doesn’t know where he gets his sudden surge of confidence. But he does know he loves calling himself your boyfriend...even if it’s for the time being. 

Rolling your eyes and swatting his poking fingers away from your face, you ponder on his suggestion. 

“You mean my annoying boyfriend,” you stick your tongue out at him. Jake takes a mental picture and hopes it never leaves his mind. 

“But I guess you could be right. Maybe I can clear my head for the night before I study my ass off all weekend.” 

Friday, December 11th 

The party does not clear your mind. 

If anything, it gives you enough headaches to last you at least until the end of high-school. 

You come to this revelation as you and Jake approach Jay’s home, a luxurious mansion sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac, lined with similarly luxurious palaces, located in an equally luxurious neighborhood. 

You come to this revelation when you can already feel the pounding bass of music as you walk up Jay’s driveway. 

You come to this revelation when, not even two seconds after entering Jay’s front doors––

“You’re here!” A buzzed Jay shouts at the two of you, causing the both of you to contemplate your past choices that brought you here today. Jay definitely isn’t straight up drunk yet, but Jake still makes a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. Just in case. 

The blonde-haired boy is quick to hand over two red solo cups of god knows what, to which you and Jake immediately put down on the nearest table after Jay walks away to greet the next incoming guests (you know, to not hurt his feelings). 

You and Jake are lucky enough to have been around Jay and his parties long enough to know that going all out at these parties will not be pretty the next morning.

You cringe at the memory of last year, when you had to suffer from possibly the worst hangover of all hangovers after one of Jay’s parties. Jake will never let you forget how miserable you looked the next morning. His camera roll’s album titled “y/n blackmail pics” can vouch for that.

“Remind me again to never listen to you,” you almost have to shout at Jake over the thumping music. Jake laughs at your comment and tugs at your hand as he begins entering the house.

The two of you do your rounds of greetings to the people you know...and random underclassmen who you swear you have never seen before but somehow made it to this party. You’ve always questioned how Jay’s invite list worked. Maybe there isn’t one. That would explain how it looked like someone announced Jay was giving out free Teslas and the entire school got hold of the news. 

“Thank god you guys are here,” you hear a voice come from behind the two of you as you guys leave the main room to enter the house’s smaller, but just as luxurious looking, den. You turn to see Heeseung with Sunghoon following closely behind, trying his best not to get swept away in the crowd of people. 

The den is where you usually stayed during these parties. It’s not like there are rules of where people are allowed to party, by any means, but it’s like how a high-school’s cafeteria worked. There’s a mutual silent agreement of where everyone goes, and the den is where the party host and his friends went.  

“Okay, is it just me, or is tonight’s party just a little...too..much?” Sunghoon asks as the four of you take your seats on the main couch of the room. Jake’s quick to make space for you next to him as you go to sit, but to his surprise, you find your home right on his lap. 

“You said be convincing right?” you say into his ear as you settle yourself. Right. That’s totally why. Because you had to go along with the ruse. Obviously. 

You shift a bit so you’re more facing sideways, not blocking off Jake’s line of vision as the boy himself is..well, calling him a rag doll might be excessive. 

But he’s sure he looks like one right now, having lost all senses in his limbs, leaving him frozen underneath you. 

Jake Sim is the epitome of politeness. He was raised in a family that taught him how to respectfully greet others, how to always offer food to others before eating it himself, how to properly treat a significant other. As a result, Jake grew up to be one of the sweetest, kindest, purest people to ever walk this earth. 

(Relatively speaking, the earth is large, but so is Jake’s heart.) 

But human-beings aren’t perfect, they must have a balance. A balance of pros and cons. 

Sure, he can’t pack his own lunch and sometimes forgets to water the little succulent you gifted him that’s currently seated on his window sill. Sure, sometimes he’s too sweet for his own good, you know, like willing-to-be-your-fake-boyfriend too sweet. But aside from the minor details, Jake Sim doesn’t have many cons, no. 

But he sure can be awkward. 

And so because Jake Sim is sweet, kind, pure, and awkward, he is unsure of what to do with himself when you’re seated right on top of him. 

As if you could read his befuddled mind, you take his arm that’s resting behind you to wrap around your waist as your support as you throw one of your arms around his shoulder. And throughout this entire adjustment, his widened eyes are staring right at you. 

Bless this pure, pure boy. 

Also bless the position you’re in, blocking the two other boys from directly seeing Jake’s face. Because if they were to catch glimpse of Jake’s expression right now, your cover might be blown, just like that. You’re lucky Heeseung and Sunghoon are distracted by another classmate who came up to them. 

“Relax,” you sweetly laugh, cupping his chin with your free hand and lightly squeezing his cheeks. “You’re so adorably awkward.” 

Jake pouts at you. “I am not awkward!” 

“Right, and I’m totally dating you for real,” you playfully whisper at him, eliciting a poke at your waist in response. 

Twenty minutes of people-watching-aka-“who do you think is gonna pass out first?”-from-your-spot-on-the-couch later, the four of you draw your attention to the rowdy party host you all have the honor of calling your friend––aka Jay––dancing (that is, if you call wildly swinging your limbs in all four directions dancing) in the middle of the den. 

"Oh god, look at him," Sunghoon voices from besides you.

Heeseung's already filming the moment on his phone. Ah yes, technology. The best thing to ever happen to drunk teens' friends.  

"He's so wasted," you throw your head back as you let out a laugh. “We should help the kid out.” 

Poor Jay. He's not gonna hear the end of it after tonight.

"I don't know why he thinks these parties are such a good idea when he knows how trashed he's gonna be when he wakes up," Jake says, his hand naturally squeezing your waist as you giggle at his comment. "And how trashed the house will be."  

Jay slumbers over to where the four of you are seated, and abruptly stops right in front of the couch.

"My best friends!" Jay happily cheers. “Having fun?” 

“Watching you? Always,” you say to the boy who’s squeezing into a seat between you and Sunghoon, as if the small couch wasn’t already suffocating enough (and that’s with you on Jake’s lap). 

“But for real though, you should probably lay off the drinks for now,” Heeseung insists. “For all our sakes.” 

Sunghoon nods along and grabs the cup Jay’s currently nursing and sets it down where it’s out of Jay’s reach, much to his dismay. But the disappointment quickly leaves the dazed boy’s head, as his attention is now directed towards you and Jake. 

“Well if it isn’t mom and dad,” Jay turns to face you and Jake, certainly amused by your seating arrangement. 

“You know–” Jay points a finger at the two of you. “For a couple that’s certainly close, I haven’t seen you two kiss.” 

Jake is immediately coughing, certainly not expecting that to come out of his friend’s mouth. 

“Okay and your point is?” Jake frowns at Jay. If Jay wasn’t tipsy, Jake would’ve smacked the back of his head by now. 

“I’m just saying...” the blonde responds, both hands up in the air as if Jake is accusing him of something, when in was, in fact, the opposite. “But nevermind, Jakey boy here is probably too innocent for such nonsense anyways.” 

Yes, it’s confirmed. Once Jay sobers up tomorrow, Jake is driving over to his house (even though it’s a good ten minute drive from his own) just to smack him. 

“What do you mean I’m too–” 

Jake doesn’t finish his sentence. In fact, Jake doesn’t even remember what he was going to say. 

Jake doesn’t think nor feel anything else other than your lips planted on his. 

You’re pulling him in close, your hands cupping his face as his own are twitching on your waist, his mind flustered. You move your hands from his face to his neck, to which Jake immediately relaxes at. 

Sure, you two are in the middle of a dumb high-school party, one filled with pounding music and shouting teenagers, but right now, in this moment, Jake can only feel you. And he doesn’t want the feeling to ever stop. 

When you part, Jake’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, his own parted in shock. He thinks he might pass out right here and now. He thinks his heart might explode right here and now. He thinks he might lov-

“Happy?” you turn to a satisfied Jay, ignoring the looks of amusement from Heesung and Sunghoon besides him. 

“Well,” you pat Jake’s leg as you get up from your spot. “I’m gonna get us some drinks. Punch only, of course.” 

Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk away, his face tinted pink from the adrenaline of it all, his heart racing. 

Jake thinks back to three days ago, when he told himself that this idea of yours was going to be all fine. After all, it was only going to be for one week. Afterwards, he can move on with his life as if nothing happened. 

But fast forward 72 hours later, 72 hours after you and Jake started this act, 72 hours after Jake told himself it’ll be all fine, Jake knows he was poorly mistaken.

Because 72 hours later, in the middle of a party that reeked of the combined smell of alcohol and sweat, Jake knows one thing and one thing for sure.

He never wants to move on from the feeling of being with you. He never wants to move on from this.

From you. 

He’s screwed. 

Saturday, December 12th 

When Jake wakes up, much later than he intended to, on Saturday morning, the first sensation he feels are his tingling lips, still in disbelief that they graced your own last night. 

The second sensation being his pounding mind––it’s running through ten million thoughts at a time, telling him no last night wasn’t a dream. 

Third: his heart beating so fast at the thought of you, he thinks he might beat out of his chest.

And fourth, a buzzing noise. 

Jake blindly flounders his arm to the table beside him in hopes of finding the origin of the annoying sound, aka, his phone. 

After knocking down multiple miscellaneous items on his nightstand (he makes a mental note to clean his room later), he successfully retrieves the item of search. 

Jake squints at the bright screen, mind still cloudy from a mix of 1) being half-asleep, and 2) still processing what happened the night before. 

y/n [11:10AM]: r u awake yet? 

y/n [11:22AM]: imma take that as a no

y/n [11:35AM]: lemme know when ur up 

jake [11:44AM]: just woke up sorry 

jake [11:44AM]: are you okay? what’s up

y/n [11:45AM]: r u busy? 

y/n [11:45AM]: kinda wanted to talk abt smth

jake [11:45AM]: uh well no im still in bed lmao

y/n [11:46AM]: cool im outside your door 

Jake’s eyes widen as he processes your last few texts. 

Talk? Outside his door? 

Jake’s heart is nervously pounding as jumps out of bed and quickly puts on the first plaid flannel he finds. He scrambles to his mirror and gives his reflection a quick run-down. 

He’s sporting your his favorite hoodie underneath the flannel that’s long overdue a wash and his tousled hair has seen better days, but he couldn't care less. 

Before his mind can catch up to his actions, he’s rushing down the stairs, skipping two at a time and to this front door. Because he didn’t want to keep you waiting? Because he was too excited to see you? Maybe a mix of both. Definitely more of the latter, however. 

He quickly runs a hand through his hair to try to fix it up as much as he can, to no avail, before opening the door to reveal you, sitting on the steps of his front porch. 

“y/n,” he’s breathing heavily as you turn to greet him with your sweet smile he didn’t even realize he was missing. Is it possible to miss someone overnight? Jake concludes yes, it definitely is. 

“Did you run down here or something?,” you question his out-of-breath state, a teasing tone laces the tip of your tongue. 

“Or something,” Jake mutters as he closes the front door behind him to join you on the steps when you make no sign of moving. “Have you been out here all morning?” 

“Not allll morning. I had a feeling you’d sleep in so I came around the time I first texted you. Would’ve knocked but didn’t wanna bother your family,” you hum, keeping your eyes trained on the peaceful scenery around you. 

You’ve always loved Jake’s neighborhood, it brought you a sense of peace, a sense of home. 

Or was that because it reminded you of Jake? 

“You could never be a bother,” he quickly rebuttals as he takes his seat next to you on the steps. 

You respond with a soft smile before turning your attention back to anything other than the boy next to you. Your mind seems to be lost in its own thoughts, Jake can tell by the distant look in your eyes. 

The sound of birds chirping in the distance fills the silence that falls between the two of you. 

Any other day, Jake would love this. He savors every second he’s with you, even if it’s just pure silence. 

But this silence was different. It wasn’t the usual comforting, warm silence that the two of you share on a typical day. This one held tension, tension so thick that Jake doesn’t know where to begin thinking. 

But here’s the thing. Jake doesn’t think. 

Not when it comes to you. 

He takes a deep breath. Rubs his hands together. Pats them on his lap. Turns towards you. 

“Look, I-” 

“I think I might like you.” The words come out of your mouth so fast, Jake’s positive he heard you wrong the first time around. 

He whips his head to meet your eyes, your own already staring back at him, your bottom lip nervously tucked under your teeth. 

“No, I––I do. I know I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job right now,” the words are all of the sudden tumbling out of your mouth as if your brain flipped a switch and isn’t able to turn it off. “In hindsight, I should’ve known better to fake date my own best friend. But these past few days made me realize how much I love being with you. And not like how I’m always with you 24/7 before this entire thing started, but being with you. I even started getting that weird, bubbly feeling in my stomach every time I so much as heard your name. And then last night at the party, I realized afterwards that I wouldn’t have kissed you if some part of me didn’t see you in that way. Even if it meant Jay would’ve been on our asses all night if I didn’t. So yeah.” 

You finish with a deep breath and look up at him to meet his widened eyes. Silence.

Jake thought he was braindead during last week’s history quiz. Jake thought he was braindead when he had to cram a semester’s worth of chemistry content the night before his exam. Heck, Jake thought he was braindead when you first told him about your idea of a fake dating him. But no, this is braindead.

He’s finally hearing what he’s been dreaming of for so long, and of all times, now his brain decides to shut off.  

“Are you..uh..are you gonna say anything?” You’re nervously fumbling with your hands, desperate to distract yourself with anything else apart from his silent stare. 

"Why are you sorry?" Jake says before his mind can think of anything else. He doesn't pay attention to his thumping heart that's one look-from-you away from exploding right then and there. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you took the words right out of my mouth.” 

Now you're staring at him with the wide eyes, the words processing in your mind.

Jake realizes he's waited too long to do this. A few years too long. He also realizes he shouldn't have put on that extra layer of a flannel. The nervous tension created by the two of you was suffocating enough, and being outside under the bright sun didn’t help. 

"I like you too. God y/n, I like you too so much," Jake doesn't even care if his words are all sorts of messed up right now. He just needs you to get the idea. "I have for a while now.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, ecstasy rushing through your blood. “Really? I think I have for a while too. I’m so stupid, it took me so long to realize it. It didn’t hit me until I realized how I felt around you, compared to the guy I’m supposed to actually have a crush on.” 

Jake lets out a laugh, the tension immediately dissolving. “Hey, if it wasn’t for Sunghoon, I don’t think we’d be here right now.” 

“You’re right, I’m too oblivious and you’re too awkward to actually make a move,” you wink at him. If his heart wasn’t fluttering at the sight of you, on his porch on a Saturday morning, confessing your feelings to him, Jake probably would’ve lightly shoved you away. 

Instead, he’s turning to you with the most endeared look on his face, and you’re blushing underneath his gaze.

“What? Stare much?” You giggle, quoting the boy himself as you shyly duck your head to avoid his stare. 

Jake gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards his, and before you can process what’s happening, he suddenly meets your lips with his own, closing the gap between you two. 

Jake thinks if the ground underneath him right now decided to open up and swallow him whole, he’d die happily. 

Jake smiles against you, feeling comfort in ways he’ll never be able to achieve without you. 

Your hands instinctively find their way into his hair, as one of his rests below your ear, thumb softly caressing your cheek, the other pulling you in by the waist. He’s naturally leaning into you, gravitating towards your warmth, unable to stop the giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. 

He doesn’t think the feeling will ever go away. 

When you pull away to catch your breath, you rest your head against the nook of his neck, basking in his presence as his arms both find their way around your waist. You sigh in pleasure. 

“Remember at the beginning of all of this, when you told me ‘Just try not to fall in love with me?’” Jake gently says. Jake feels the slight nod you give against his shoulder as you hum in response. 

Jake whispers two more words into your ear, filling you with happiness and warmth you know you won’t be able to find through anyone––or anything––else. 

“Too late.” 

✰ if you made it ‘til the end, ily :’))))) 

[citrinesparkles]

welcome home.

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 2,086 words. notes: requested by an incredibly flattering anon as part of my hundred followers celebration! thank you again for the feedback, and for enabling me :) also was subconsciously influenced by this piece. warnings: arguing, discussion of danger, reader gets accidentally threatened, patching up wounds, lots more swearing than my usual (but it's all mild language). angst and comfort, i think. super dialogue heavy. this is so long and a little (lot) messy just. prepare yourself

"man," a robotic voice echoed dangerously through the dark living room, sending chills through you. "did you pick the wrong apartment."

luckily, the voice was familiar. "um, the one i live in?"

he choked out your name, startled, and you flicked on the light switch to find him frozen in place with a gun in his hand.

"right." you said tensely, glancing at it- which made him jerk his hand down, shoving the gun into its holster as though it burned him- and looking back up at the eyes of his helmet. "so, uh, i'll turn a light on next time."

"you shouldn't be home yet," he said stiffly.

"i texted you like, three hours ago to let you know i'd be home a day early."

he swore quietly. "my phone's in the river."

"how did it- you know what, at least that explains the radio silence. you didn't think to have someone else- anyone else- let me know?"

"uh." he paused, tensing almost imperceptibly for a moment. "no. i was, uh, i was busy. i'm sorry."

"busy, huh?" something felt very wrong, and not just the fact that he had nearly shot you. "okay, i'll bite, busy with what?"

"nothing important."

the sinking feeling in your stomach intensified and your eyes narrowed dangerously. "important enough that you forgot to tell me you weren't dead in an alley somewhere, when you knew i'd be texting to check in anyway. leaving me worrying in a hotel room in another city."

"nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to worry about." you were really getting sick of the sound of his modulator, but he continued before you could say anything. "go back to what you were doing, babe."

"yeah... uh, no." you stepped forwards and he flinched back defensively, making you freeze. "seriously, what is up with you tonight?"

"noth-"

"jason, i promise if you say nothing one more time, i'm going to lose my mind."

he shifted his foot back slightly, and you took a deep breath.

"okay," you conceded, raising your hands up in surrender and moving backwards yourself. "respecting your space now. that wasn't my best decis-"

your voice cut out when something under his jacket caught your eye.

something red.

"holy crap, jason, what the hell?"

he winced quietly. "you weren't supposed to be home yet, okay?"

"take that stupid helmet off already, would you?" you snapped, already moving to get the first aid kit.

"i would've gone somewhere else if i'd known, okay?" his voice, now clear and crisp without the filter, followed you down the hall.

"that does not make this better!"

"can you please not yell at me right now?"

you dashed back into the room, shooting a vicious glare at him. "jacket."

he slid it off gingerly, dropping it on the couch next to his helmet.

"can you get the armor, or do i need to help?"

even despite the domino mask he was wearing, you could tell he was rolling his eyes. "if i couldn't do it on my own, why would i have come here if i didn't think you'd be home?"

"hm," you took the piece he handed you and carefully set it on the couch, "maybe because you're a stubborn jackass?"

he grunted, sliding his undershirt off and passing it to you. "i don't wanna stain the couch with that."

"your priorities suck."

"it's the nicest piece of furniture we own!"

"it's still a couch!"

"it was expensive!"

"oh for crying out loud-" you threw your hands up again, this time in frustration. "fine! fine. i'll go put this in the tub and get a soak going. you-" you shoved the kit towards him pointedly- "start washing that off."

"how come you're calling the shots?" he snapped back petulantly.

"because my torso's in one piece."

"i have way more experience with this, i should be making the decisions here."

"oh, of course, my apologies!" your voice was absolutely dripping in sarcasm. "what, pray tell, would you have us do?"

he scowled at you for a moment before reaching for the first aid kit and flicking the lid open. "whatever."

you turned on your heel, stomping into the bathroom.

the shirt got thrown into the tub and the tap got tossed all the way on, and as the water crashed into the gray fabric, you took the opportunity to squeeze your eyes shut and breathe deeply.

you opened your eyes a minute later, finding the water dyed a rusty almost-red from blood.

his blood.

you turned off the tap- gently pushed the handle, this time, the fire in your chest now largely extinguished- and made your way back to the living room to find him running a rag over the space below his ribs.

"may i?" you asked softly, stopping a few feet away and holding a hand out to him.

his jaw clenched and relaxed three times in quick succession, but he finally sighed and dropped his shoulders before holding the rag out. "yeah, c'mere."

you worked in silence, being as gentle as possible. jerking your hand back and mumbling apologies when he hissed.

"s'okay, comes with the territory."

you pressed the alcohol-soaked towel back against him, and he sighed.

"that was stupid, huh."

a small laugh escaped you. "it so was."

"can we..."

"try that again?"

"yeah."

you pulled back, standing up straight to meet his eyes. "only if i can take the dumb mask off of you."

"i thought you liked the mask," he teased, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"jason."

he chuckled, wincing again when it jostled his wounds. "ouch. uh, yeah, mask. g'head."

you gently pulled it from his face, setting it neatly on his other gear before running your thumbs across the line of adhesive it left on his cheekbones. "hi there."

"hey." he leaned into your touch, vibrant eyes fluttering halfway shut. "so uh, welcome home."

"thanks. could've done without the gun, though."

a choking sound tore from his throat, his eyes flying back open. "holy shit, baby, i almost-" he jerked back from you, no regard for his side. "you almost- shit, shit, are you- i'm so sorry, i didn't-"

"okay, woah, hey-"

"i could have killed you."

it was a whisper, horrified and harsh, and while it was technically true, his tone teetered on the edge of a dark space you had seen before and really didn't want him falling back into.

"yeah."

you desperately searched for the right thing to say, rejecting variations of "but hey, you didn't actually", "maybe you should be more careful about waving a gun at people", and one particularly unhelpful "no shit, sherlock".

finally, you settled on a quiet, calm "but i'm still right here, okay?"

his hand flew up to cover his mouth, doing absolutely nothing to hide the near panic written on his features. "i could have killed you."

"okay, so, in the future, we'll... we'll uh, we'll come up with some kind of system for letting you know when i'm home, or something."

"oh, like a phone?" he asked harshly. "the one i was stupid and sloppy enough to dunk in the harbor?"

"that wasn't- i'm guessing that you had a lot on your plate." you waved the cold, bloody towel in your hand at his wounds. it made him curl in on himself slightly, stepping backwards again until his back hit the arm of the couch.

"no excuses. i could have killed you."

"i-"

"no, i almost shot without saying anything!" he exclaimed, brow furrowed and eyes stormy. "i thought someone had broken in, and i got so- i don't even know, damn territorial or some stupid shit- that i almost put a bullet between your eyes. i could have-"

"jason!"

he screwed his eyes shut and dropped his head, roughly tugging his fingers through his hair. "i almost-"

"but you didn't. okay?" every fiber of your being wanted to hold him, to tug him into you and put his hand against your ribs and show him you were okay and breathing, heart still pumping, but he looked enough like a cornered animal that you half expected him to bite you if you tried. "c'mon, jaybird. a life like yours, can you really afford almosts?"

"life like mine, i can't afford to let anyone close to me. apparently, if the goons and thugs don't kill you, i will."

"that's not-"

"what if i hadn't said something?" he snapped venomously. "what if i'd lost more blood and was loopy from it? what if i'd come home with a concussion- again- and didn't think past 'point and shoot'?"

"jason," you finally interjected. "you think i haven't thought about that?"

his eyes, grim and vicious and so full of emotion that you thought you could drown in them, dropped to the floor.

"because it's not a secret that your life is risky. you're risky. i know that. but you're worth every ounce of danger, okay? i'm choosing this, choosing you, knowing full well what i'm getting into, because you're worth all of it."

"i'm not worth any of it."

"that's not your call to make."

"it-"

"you think i need you to make my choices for me?"

"no, of course not."

"you think im stuck here?"

"do you feel like you are?"

"absolutely not." you inched forward again. "i'm here because i want to be."

"...i just... i don't..."

"don't want me to get hurt?"

he finally looked back up at you, eyes watery and jaw tense. "or worse."

"i know, baby. i know," you sighed. "but that's part of life, right? and if the hurt's inevitable, i want the rest of my time to be as nice as possible, and you make my life better. make me better."

"by putting you in danger?"

"it's gotham, handsome, i'm gonna be in danger either way. at least with you, i know i have someone looking out for me. right?"

"always," he said immediately.

"okay then." you took the last step between the two of you slowly, watching for any resistance. meeting none, you brushed your knuckles against his. "i can't think of anywhere i'd feel safer."

"you know that's crazy, right?"

you hummed quietly. "nah."

"i'm being serious."

"me too."

he studied your face silently. you smiled softly at him.

finally, a sigh escaped him and he scooted his hand forward, wrapping his index finger around your own and squeezing gently. "you're sure you want this? i can set you up with a place downtown for a bit. you'd never have to see me again, never have to worry about... all of this."

"i've never been more sure of anything." you said it firmly, confidently, letting the words hang in the air for a few moments before popping one eyebrow up playfully. "why, need to make room for a side piece?"

a startled choking sound escaped him. "excuse me?"

"i mean, when you were talking about being busy, it felt kinda suspicious."

"what is wrong with you?" he asked, exasperation and laughter coating his voice.

"listen, you were being evasive!" his head fell forwards, resting on your shoulder as he laughed.

"i didn't want you to know i was bleeding all over the place!"

"why, didn't want me to worry?"

"exactly!"

you reached your free hand up, gently resting it on the back of his head and playing with his hair. "then maybe, just maybe, you should have gotten someone to tell me your phone went for a swim."

"fair enough."

you stood quietly for a long time, running your fingers through his hair and enjoying the feeling of his breath against your collar.

"i..." he muttered, pulling back to look in your eyes. "i don't think- um. i don't think i'm..." he groaned, gaze darting to the ceiling. "i love you. but the minute you have enough of- of all of this-"

"i won't."

"but if you do, i'll... i'll understand, okay?"

you squeezed his finger gently. "okay." you inhaled deeply, dropping the bloody towel you were still clutching and slid your hand forward to hold his completely. "can we get a bandage on that and go to bed, now?"

"....yes please."

---

"wait!" you yelled, throwing the first aid kit haphazardly onto the bathroom counter and racing after him into the bedroom, where he whirled around with wide eyes. "i love you too! i never said it back- i love you too."

"don't yell like that- i thought something was wrong!"

"me not saying it back is urgently wrong, jason!"

[astralflower-writes]

heart like yours

☾ pairing: mark sloan x female! reader

☾ genre: angst

☾ warnings: season 9 spoilers; death

☾ read the prequel here

☾ check out the grey's anatomy masterlist here

☾ a/n: i moved accounts so im posting it again here

you and your colleagues were sitting and waiting on the conference room for a week now. waiting for a call that the team of doctors who were going to fly to boise are finally found.

countless thoughts were running in your head. are they all fine?

you were trying to hold off surgeries that you can, thinking that in every second you can get stuck inside an OR the rescue team would call.

"y/n. you need to rest. we'll page you right away if there's something." webber said who was sitting right beside you.

"i'm fine dr. webber, i slept on an on-call room earlier." you explained, leaning back on the chair.

"but, you need to take care of yourself and the baby–" callie spoke. "callie, i–we're fine. our priority now is our people who's stuck somewhere." with that they dropped and the room went back in silence.

"are you sure? i can be subbed out so i can come with you." he asked you as you helped him prepare.

"i want to see my kid."

"i promise i'll send a picture. with a video, right away." sending him off with a kiss.

"y/n!"

"y/n!"

"wha-what?" you were brought back to reality when callie started to shake your shoulders.

"they found them. they finally found them..." hugging each other, owen instructed that the both of you should wait at the hospital and prepare for them coming.

you prayed that they were found unscathed.

the wait for the owen's update was killing you. still sitting and waiting inside the conference room, callie suddenly came in, phone in her hand.

"y/n..."

"no...callie i–"

"mark's... mark isn't in a good condition right now. a-and hunt's trying to bring them all here."

"arizona? is she fine?" the both of you now have tears coming out. "she–her leg has a pretty bad infection."

silence filled the room again.

"can't we fly there to see them now?" trying to compose yourself with all the information you learned about your people.

after a few days of waiting, you finally saw them again.

you never left mark's side. even when he needed surgery, you watched him from the gallery.

it's been a week and you were never seen outside, besides sitting down on mark's bed side. you couldn't let him out of your sight. you kept thinking that even if you take one step out of his room, you'd loose him.

it wasn't until a few days later that derek somehow convinced you to go home and rest up and told you how would mark act if he saw you like that especially when you're now carrying his child. getting sleep on your bed was great but it feels so big when you're the only one laying.

"god. mark please come back." hugging his pillow before dozing off.

you were woken up by the endless knocking on your door. still clad in your pajamas, you opened to see jackson, catching his breath.

"it-it's mark."

"n-no..." you started to get frantic, tears running down your cheeks.

"no y/n! he's awake."

the both of you rushed back to the hospital. praying that his recovery would be speedy. so the both of you could spend your lives the way you used to.

"there's my y/n! where you've been?" he spoke the minute he saw you. you ran to his side, still crying. "i'd really hate you if you left me alone, mark."

you spent the whole day by his side, talking endlessly about how he's going to decorate the nursery and how sofia would grow up close to her sibling.

but of course you can't hold off your patients for too long. "you can go, babe. i won't go anywhere." convincing you to do your work and by the time you get back, he's still pretty much alive and smiling.

"and baby, if you can sneak in some tacos they sell across the street, it would be perfect." mark said winking at you as you took one more glance at him. making your way through the halls and making an intern get the tacos mark asked for.

you were getting those glances. the ‘we are sorry about what happened to your husband’ kind of glances. then you overheard some of the staff nurses saying that it's only ‘the surge.’ that it's the last bit of energy mark has on his body. you shrugged it off, trying not to think about what words were traveling around. even callie told you about it and supported you that this is the start of mark's road to his recovery.

unfortunately, you got caught up to an emergency surgery and you let the intern bring mark his tacos because he does not like it cold.

when you were done with your surgery, derek and meredith was waiting for you by the scrub sinks.

"y/n, mark he--we had to intubate him and he's now in a coma."

"he w-was fine before i left. h-how can he be in a coma derek?"

"mer?"

"y/n, they did everything that they could but–"

"no. he isn't gone. he-he'll be back." sobbing in meredith's arm.

richard told you about mark's wishes. 30 days. he wanted to be let go after 30 days. you wanted to change that, but he indicated, no one can change his wishes. even you.

breathe deep, breathe clear

know that I'm here, know that I'm here

waiting

spent most of your days looking at mark. looking for any signs of consciousness.

"hey. just got off from my doctor's appointment." taking out a picture of the ultrasound.

"we're having a little boy..."

"i'd really like it if he and sofia would grow up with you." breaking down on his side.

i'll see you soon, i'll see you soon

two weeks had passed. there are still no signs of improvement.

"this is getting too hard to watch." alex said watching you with mark. he and meredith were about to get you out, but bailey stopped them. "that woman is grieving. let her be. as long as she still takes care of herself, we'll let her be."

you only step out of his room when you need a change of clothes or when callie's going to sit with him.

days passed by, it's the thirtieth day. dreading the day. you can't bear to see them remove mark from the ventilators and machines.

the time was getting closer and closer, you were nowhere to be seen.

"y/n's coming right?" jackson whispered to bailey.

"should we send someone to find her?" replying to jackson.

it was almost time and still, you were nowhere to be found. richard said that you'll be back when you're ready.

so here you are, at the rooftop of your apartment where you could perfectly see the hospital. you were preparing for this day and you were still not ready to let him go. you checked the time, knowing that by this time they already removed him from the machines.

waiting for a few minutes for a call that mark miraculously had woken up and but the only update you got is nothing.

"let's go see daddy one more time?" rubbing your small bump and making your way back to the hospital.

you've reached where mark was. stepping inside, derek gave his seat to you.

you sat with him and callie, just waiting.

"c-could i be alone with him for a minute?" derek and callie agreed and left the room.

grasping mark's hand and leaning into it, memorizing every lines on his face, hoping he wouldn't fade from your memories.

"hey...remember that time we went out to check out the new coffee shop my friend started?"

"well, we were in a band in highschool and we used to write our own songs. so, i-we made this song for you..."

"i imagined this singing to you in our living room and with my guitar though..."

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

How could I live before?

How could I have been so blind?

You opened up my eyes

You opened up my eyes

holding his hands tighter and taking a seat on his bed, you started singing for him, only him.

Hold fast hope

All your love is all I've ever known

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

How could I live before?

How could I have been so blind?

You opened up my eyes

You opened up my eyes

ending your song, you still have that bit of hope that he'll open his eyes.

"god. i love you so much mark… a-and i promise that'll i'll... i'll make sure our son will grow up to know you and love you."

standing up by his side, you kissed his forehead. whispering to his ears. "it's okay... i'm going to be fine. you can go now, mark."

[fandom-monium]

Kinky but Not Really

Summary: In which you make an odd request, and Spencer tries to fulfill it. “I don’t want to disrespect you...”

WC: 1.8k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, established relationships (blegh), light use of sexual themes including light degradation, light violence, and the slamming into walls (nothing explicitly sexual or nsfw bc im a wimp), specifically post-prison Reid, ft. Garvez and Rossi

Spencer loves you. He’s never doubted that for a second.

Your laugh as you throw your head back. Your eyes, the way they crinkle when you grin too wide. Even your style, whether you’re in joggers or suits, just does something to him he can't quite explain. Really, he loves you. 

Even if you’re weird.

Spencer knew what he was getting into, okay? He didn’t consider it earlier in your friendship, but as time went on and you two grew more comfortable around each other it became apparent that he wasn’t the only… outlier in the team. By the time you officially got together, he was already used to it.

But somehow you still manage to surprise him.

“You want me to what?” 

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” You wince as Spencer coughs. With his sleeve, he wipes the coffee dribbling down his chin, staring at you as if someone hit you over the head. It has to be the only viable explanation, considering what you’ve just asked him. “But hear me out.”

Spencer sits up and sets his mug on the coffee table. “Wh...what? Why? No-what? When?”

You wring your hands together, shifting your weight foot to foot as he squints at you. “Okay. When: um, some time after you came back from prison? I think? Why, I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking you.” 

“I don’t know, (Your Name),” Spencer rolls his lips together, anything and everything that could possibly go wrong racing through his mind. 

“Nothing extreme! I don’t expect you to slap me across the face⏤”

“Oh my god⏤”

“Just small things! Start off light,” You think for a moment. “Like shoving me around or smacking me. Calling me names.”

“I hear where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to…” He flushes, his voice hushed like what he's about to say is forbidden, “disrespect you.”

You take his hands in yours with a bright smile, “Hon, I love you, but please. I’m the one asking you to get violent with me.”

“What the-when did you up your demands?”

You continue, “Like, if you think about it, you’d be doing me a favor. Respecting my wishes by ‘disrespecting’ me. So, what do you think?” You watch him carefully, legs tucked under you, a hopeful sparkle in your eyes. He can almost see the dog tail wagging behind you.

How can he say no?

"Alright, if that's what you really want," Spencer sighs, smiling as you break out into a grin. He laughs when you tackle him into the couch, thanking him repeatedly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try. But starting tomorrow.”

“That’s fine!” You sit up, smiling down at him. Your lips wiggle as you try to suppress your anticipation. “No pressure, just do what you feel comfortable with and we’ll see from there?”

Spencer bites his lip and nods. “Sure.”

⏤

The men of the BAU are distinct; you can tell just by looking at them.

David Rossi, though the eldest, the senior, is suave and has a level of sophistication that could only come with age. It’s in his blazers, his stride, the warm yet knowing eyes. A reassurance that eases the people around him.

Matt Simmons rocks the young dad vibes, with the smooth-shaven face and simple clothing. Not to mention a smile that makes him good with both children and adults alike.

Then there’s Luke.

“You!”

Luke nearly falls out of his chair as Garcia stomps over, sitting up in attention as the click of her pumps grow nearer. “What? What happened?”

“You! You happened,” Garcia hisses, looming over him while Rossi comes up from behind. 

“Penelope, we don’t know for sure⏤”

“Who else could possibly do this? Matt and you could never. Only this troll could have done this,” She whips back on Luke, her eyes⏤usually bright with mischief⏤burning and accusatory. “Fix it!”

And just to tick her off, because that’s the purpose of their relationship: “No.” 

She sputters, fuming pink as her lipstick. And as Luke revels in the oncoming eruption, sneering at Garcia, Rossi⏤that wise geezer⏤squints at him.

“You don’t know what we’re talking about, do you?”

“... Not a clue.”

Maybe I should've retired. Rossi sighs, “Spencer and (Your Name) have been off today, and we think they’re having a fight.”

“And you think I have something to do with that?” Luke's face pinches in offense.

“You didn't see them today, have you?" 

"No?"

Garcia, shaking off her fury, is more than ready to spill the tea. "Kay, so this morning on the way up, I saw Spencer and (Your Name) waiting for the elevator and Spencer just snatched their coffee. And he didn’t even bother to let them into the elevator first.”

Luke frowns, “I mean, it's a bit ungentlemanly but I don’t think that means they’re fighting.”

(Had she shared the lift, she would have seen how apologetic Spencer was, nearly bursting into tears as he hands you the cup of coffee, throwing you whatever cash he has.)

“And during lunch I caught them down the hall by the break room,” Rossi recounts, wincing at the image, “They were talking in hushed tones, then Spencer shoved passed (Your Name) and stalked off.”

(If he’d check on you, he might have caught the proud gleam in your eyes, grinning wide at Spencer’s attempt at getting rough with you.)

“And you still think I’m involved?” Luke raises an eyebrow at Garcia.

She’s completely unapologetic as she scoffs, “Listen, I don’t know how Spencer can stand being friends with you, but clearly you influenced him in some way because before he met you, he was my sweet summer child. Now…” She withholds a sob, Rossi sympathetically patting her shoulder. “You’ve tainted him!”

“I… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Then don’t,” Garcia sniffs, drying away tears. “Just bring our Spencer back!”

“Bring me back from what?”

They jump in unison, turning to find Spencer has returned from his break and is now back at his desk. He eyes them curiously as they fumble for an explanation.

“Hey, Doc,” Luke, deciding to end all this turmoil, asks, “Are you and (Your Name) having uh... lovers quarrel?” 

“A what?”

Garcia shoots him a look, “A ‘lovers quarrel’? Really?”

“Well, I doubt they’re fighting, and honestly a lovers quarrel sounds much less intense than⏤you know⏤fighting.”

“No, we are not fighting. Why would you think⏤oh, you saw...” Spencer’s face falls, melting into embarrassment. 

"Saw? Son, we witnessed," Rossi huffs as he crosses his arms and stares down Spencer. "Would you care to explain?"

"I know what you're thinking, but I swear it's not what it looks like. This is..." After his explanation, his embarrassed flush only deepens at their mortified expressions. 

"I've never wanted to be this close to you."

"My sweet summer child is no longer."

"Guys, chill. I for one am glad Spencer is willing to…” Luke gives him an awkward smile, “keep it interesting. The best relationships take effort, right?”

Spencer hums, nodding, “Exactly. We’re doing great⏤”

“Hey, guys,” You greet as usual.

Without missing a beat, he faces you and snaps, “Damn it, (Your Name), for once stop running your mouth and get me a drink.”

Luke, Garcia, and Rossi freeze, gaze switching between Spencer and you, waiting with bated breath. They haven’t seen Spencer remotely like this, not since prison. And despite knowing that you asked for this, they’re fully prepared to throw themselves in front of him just in case. 

But instead of reacting violently as they expected, you pause, taking his poor attempt at a glare in stride. Then you smile, heading to the coffee machine. “Sure, no problem.”

Spencer turns back to them. “See? B-better than ever...”

“Dude, are you crying?”

⏤

“So you couldn't do it, huh?"

Shoulders drooping from exhaustion, Spencer slumps against your desk and sighs, “No, I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s okay. Thanks for trying though. As a reward, let’s get take-out. My treat." You press a kiss to his cheek, but the smile you shoot him only serves to make his heart sink. “Meet me at the elevator, k? I’ll get my things.”

“Okay...” As Spencer shrugs on his satchel, he can’t help the guilt squirming in his stomach. Why does he feel like he disappointed you? Or more accurately⏤didn’t meet your expectations. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of disputes and as Luke put it, “lovers quarrels”, but never has he felt so… defeated.

Is this what failure feels like? It sucks.

So as the elevator shuts, as it dings with every descended level, as you babble about what you should have for dinner, Spencer makes an executive decision. 

A final stand, if you will.

You turn to Spencer, “So, what do you want for dinner⏤”

You yelp as your back hits the wall, the back of your head cushioned by Spencer’s palm because he’d rather kill himself than hurt you, pressing his body against yours. Warmth envelopes him, and as you meet his gaze, he musters all the dark emotions he can, the side of him he didn’t realize he had until prison. He feels it⏤the fury, the disgust, the merciless violence⏤bubble to the surface, and he can’t deny the satisfaction he gets seeing your eyes wide with shock; the entire day you’ve seen him coming, taking every one of his attempts like a joke in spite of his best efforts.

At least now he feels like he’s got the upper-hand.

Spencer leans in, bumping his nose against yours in an Inuit kiss. It’s a gentle contrast to his next words, and as your breath hitches, he bites back a smirk, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“What I want is for you to shut your mouth and put it to good use.”

Your jaw slackens.

The elevator dings and you both jump, Spencer quickly pulling away from you as the door opens to the parking garage. Luckily, no one else is around and Spencer leads the way as you head for your car. But you’re silent as you walk, and he wonders if he went too far. Was he too rough? Disrespectful?

“Hey, (Your Name), are you⏤” Spencer looks over his shoulder, only to halt at your expression. 

You give him a toothy grin, face flushed and eyes crinkling as you tilt your head at him. “Yes?”

...Ah. If you keep looking at him like that, his heart might burst.

Letting his bag drop at his side, Spencer pulls you into a tight hug, and for a moment you sway together, hearts beating in time, breathing steady.

Spencer sighs, “I don’t get it.”

“It’s okay, I don’t get it either!”

He smiles into your shoulder, chuckling. Yeah, he loves you.

Especially because you’re weird.

⏤

AN: hello took a break from studying and wrote this trash at 2 am whoops

to the user that requested some rough d/s smut with degradation and rough play, im sorry but my asexual ass just could not with this one. but as a kinky asexual i rolled with it✨

pls take the “rough” play and “degradation” lightly. it’s not supposed to be accurate representation. this is just reader and spencer experimenting and having fun!!

i love that yall have the hots for post-prison reid while im over here just wanting to tuck him into bed and kill anyone that brings him harm😳

[sunder-soul]

𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter One: There's just something about those Riddle murders that doesn't quite make sense... Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

Permanent Taglist: @jujugentle @weirdowithnobeardo @pearlstiare @fromthehellmouth @whoevenfrickenknows @moatsnow @voidmalfoy @lucys-brain @sunles @arana-alpha @tallyovie @expectoscamander @nothinghcppens @itsjustfics @mikariell95 @suicide-sweetheart636 @toasterking

Name: MORFIN GORMLAITH GAUNT

Age: 46

Wand: fir, 10 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring

Residence: Gaunt Estate, Little Hangleton, Yorkshire

Marital status: -

Offense charge: three counts of murder in the primary degree

Date of charged offense: 1st July, 1943

Offense Detail: prisoner entered the residence of the Riddle family (Muggle, IM-00) and inflicting the Killing Curse (UC-001-1717) upon the three members of the Riddle family present; Thomas Riddle (63), Mary Riddle (60), and their son Tom Riddle (37). Use of the Killing Curse has been confirmed by Prior Incantato (see report DMLE-619-1951-BLE, SA: Robert Odgen).

Date of Testimony: 3rd July, 1943

Prisoner plea: guilty

Sentence: Azkaban, 360 years

Date of Sentence: 3rd July, 1943

You frown.

It’s very late, the candle your desk is barely a stub, the little flame hovering nervously on the surface of a broad pool of wax, and you’ve been copying over these stupid reports to the new, tamper-proof parchment forms for seven hours now – but something is extremely odd about these dates.

“McCollin,” you say slowly. “Did you work this case?”

“Hmm?” McCollin doesn’t look up at the desk beside you, head resting heavily on one hand and his spine curled into a perfect and truly concerning C-shape over his own stack of files. He looks close to passing out right there and then, salt-and-pepper hair a little greasy, scruffy five o’clock shadow, eyes bleary and shadowed.

“Gaunt,” you read, “1943. You were working with Odgen then, right?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I remember that nutter.”

“What happened?”

“Guy was from one of those ancient pure-blooded clans, you know, one of the real fanatical ones, inbreeding and liquidated assets and all,” McCollin yawns, dragging his hand down his face and smearing ink across his whiskered cheek. “Hated Muggles like nobody’s business."

“Yeah he killed three Muggles, right?” you peer at the report.

McCollin nods at the form he's copying. “Went off the deep end one day. Walked right up to their house and murdered ‘em. When they brought him in he was ranting and raving about how they’d had it coming for years.”

“He was arrested, charged, and sentenced within three days,” you say slowly.

He finally looks up at you. “So?”

“That’s the fasted processing I’ve ever seen.”

“The guy admitted to it, kiddo,” McCollin says in deadpan, “he had snakes nailed to his door and his family tree was basically a Christmas wreath.”

“Yeah, but… what made he snap?”

He laughs again, shaking his head despondently as he returns to his form. “You got a lot to learn.”

His tone wants to be fond but it just strikes you as patronising, especially considering the amount of times people have said that exact same stupid line to you. It’s like half the bloody department think being Muggle-born makes you incapable of understanding the subtle and unique intricacies of wizarding culture – as if bigotry and supremacists and assholes are exclusive to the magical world. “What?” you say a little too defensively.

“Families like that… guys like that… they’re not right in the head. Hate Muggles just to hate ‘em, reckon they’re all that’s wrong with the world. Honestly it’s a miracle he didn’t do it sooner.”

You look back down at the report, suspicions anything but assuaged. “Yeah,” you say quietly, “it is.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Did you ever watch Gaunt’s testimony?”

“You’re still going on about that?” McCollin drawls, heaving the towering box of finished files up a bit as he heads for the lifts.

“I looked him up in Records and the memory’s only available with supervisor permission,” you push, following him quickly. “If you signed me off then I could get Owler to –”

He slams the button and stares at the little golden arrow above the elevator grate slowly sliding towards the basement floor. “And why in Merlin’s name do you want to watch the Gaunt trial?”

You slip your hands into the pockets of your purple Ministry robes. “I’m interested.”

“Interested,” he echoes, shooting you a look. “Is that so?”

“He was processed in three days, McCollin. If it was that obvious he was guilty, it must have been one hell of a trial.”

“It was,” he scoffs as the lift dings and the grate grinds to a noisy open. “Fine, but only if you finish Johan’s quota by five.”

The triumph is impossible to keep off your face and McCollin rolls his eyes at your immediate glee. “I’m on it,” you grin, spinning around and racing back to your desk to get started.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Merlin’s beard,” McCollin mutters, shaking his head at the stack of completed transcripts. “I gotta hold stuff over your head more often.”

“Just sign the slip, McCollin,” you smirk.

He sighs and grabs the quill from your hand, and you hold your breath as he scribbles his initials on the slip. “You’re obsessed,” he drawls.

You seize the slip and round on the lift, heart racing with excitement. “I’m interested.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

The trial is absolutely insane.

Morfin Gaunt looks like a Witch Weekly cartoon caricature of a fanatical blood-purist and he rambles in a manic-edged, ceaseless torrent about how much he enjoyed murdering the Riddles as the Wizengamot mutters and blithers disapprovingly for about three hours – but something catches your attention right near the end. Something you can’t help but ask Owler about the second the memory ends and you’re thrown back into the Records Room.

“Who’s Merope?”

Owler’s sallow face looks about as thrilled at your question as he was at your request for the memory in the first place. “Merope Gaunt,” he says in a flat, nasally voice, waving his wand at the Pensieve and sending the memory swirling back into its phial.

“Merope Gaunt?”

Owler’s thin, anaemic lips downturn even more. “His sister.”

You stare at him. It is not at all what you’d expected. “And why did he call his sister a mud-soused, scumsucking slut?”

“Ask your supervisor.”

“He seemed to be saying he killed those people because of Merope, why on earth would his sister be why he –”

“I keep the records, I don’t conduct the investigations,” Owler interrupts with not inconsiderable disdain. “Now if you could please –”

“Did they bring Merope in for testimony?”

Owler gives your continuing presence a very dirty look. “No.”

“Why not?”

He pushes the door to the Records room open and stares at you.

You try to hold your ground but Owler is unrelenting, and you're forced to step past him with a curt sigh. “Right, well, good afternoon, Owler, thanks for –”

The door slams shut behind you.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Get what you wanted?” McCollin smirks as you collapse stony-faced into your chair.

“I forgot how impressively unpleasant it is to talk to Owler,” you mutter, resting your head in your hands. “Did you know about Merope?”

“Merope?”

“Yeah, Morfin’s sister.”

“Didn’t know he had one,” McCollin says disinterestedly.

“He was saying some stuff that made it sound like she’s why he killed those Muggles.”

“Uh huh.”

You lift your head, giving him an incredulous look. “He said she’s why he murdered three people, McCollin. How does that not interest you?”

McCollin throws down his quill and sighs sharply. “Look kiddo, the guy’s rotting in Azkaban, he admitted to the murders, they found the curses in his wand, and he had a memory of the whole thing. What exactly are you hoping to achieve here?”

You can barely believe it. “Why isn’t Merope Gaunt mentioned in any of his trial documents?” you say sharply.

“Either she wasn't relevant to the proceedings, or she's dead, or he made her up,” McCollin shrugs, “like I said, the guy went off the deep end.”

“But why doesn’t it say –”

“Just drop it,” he sighs impatiently, “you have work to do, and I won’t have you wasting clocked time on some case from nearly a decade ago.”

“Come on, McCollin, can’t you admit that it’s weird that –”

“I said drop it,” he says sharply, “don’t make me be the big mean supervisor here, you know I hate it.”

You glare at him. “Fine,” you say through gritted teeth.

It’s almost too easy to pull Morfin’s old file from where it’s still sitting in the refuse pile and subtly charm a copy of it that evening.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

Merope Gaunt, as far as you can tell, fucking vanished off the face of the earth in 1925.

There’s nothing, no addresses, no marriage or death notice, no registered Floo connections, no DRC calls for gnomes or doxies or even the odd kappa, not a single trace of her after Morfin and their father Marvolo had a stint in Azkaban for assaulting Bob Odgen back in the 20s.

It seems like the second they were locked up, she scarpered.

You sit back in the Archives Hall and let out a long breath, flipping the folder shut dejectedly. Morfin’s file is a thick wad of anti-Muggle hate crimes rivalled only by his father’s, and closer inspection had revealed that the Gaunt family estate sat a cool twenty minutes' walk from Riddle House where the murders had occurred. If Morfin had lived so close to some of the Muggles he hated so much, he’d been sitting on a clear motive for murder for years.

So why suddenly snap?

What had pushed him over the edge?

Why did he cite Merope in his deranged testimony?

Why talk about her in that way?

Where the hell did she go?

There are endless questions and zero answers. Plus, you kind of get the feeling that if McCollin saw you hunched in the Archives after-hours trying to find those answers, you’d get your pay docked.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

That night, you sit bolt upright in bed with a surge of electric realisation.

Mud-soused… scumsucker…

You’ve heard that language before. You’ve processed about four hundred case files of harassment with that language.

“Idiot,” you breathe, smacking your forehead and falling back onto your pillows with a thump. “Idiot, of course…”

Because that’s the way Pure-blood extremists talk about witches and wizards who've fallen in love with Muggles.

Suddenly, you have a pretty good idea where Merope might have disappeared to the moment her blood-obsessed brother and father were out of the picture, and a pretty good idea of where you might be able to look to find her. Because you’ve been looking in the wrong place.

You’ve been looking for her in the wizarding world.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I have the craziest news for you,” you grin, slamming a silver Sickle on the counter and taking your seat at the bar.

“You say that twice a month,” Mori grumbles, setting your drink down and sliding the coin into his huge, calloused hand.

“It’s true twice a month.”

“It’s true half as much as you think.”

“I found her.”

Mori’s dark brows raise. It makes his gruff face look slightly less intimidating. “The lady from that old case you're into?”

“Yeah,” you beam, seizing your drink and leaning forward. “Started going through marriage certificates, and –”

“You’re telling me that your big-shot Ministry intern arse has been working this thing for a month and you didn’t even check marriage certificates?”

“Not Muggle ones,” you smirk.

Mori takes a glass off the bar and starts to clean it as he peers at you. “Go on.”

“She married the same guy her brother murdered, Mori,” you breathe, glancing around to make sure none of the shady denizens of Moribund’s are listening – it’s not like the bar's regular patrons are so welcoming to your big-shot Ministry intern arse on the best of days considering you’re half-way down Knockturn Alley in the dead of night. “They fucking ran away together!”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Mori mutters.

“Exactly!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink and feeling supremely pleased with yourself.

“What, you spent that much time investigating this thing for no reason?”

“Nah,” you say quietly, lips still in a smile. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than this. I still have to find out what happened to her after they got married and her brother murdered his new in-laws.”

“And what’s this guy’s name again?”

You give him a dry look. “You know I can’t tell you names, Mori, I’m pushing the bounds of my contract telling you this much already.”

He shrugs his massive shoulders, casting a wary look around the dark bar. “If you’re looking for people who might know a thing or two about murderers and Muggle-haters, you’ve come to the right place.”

“I’m here to talk to you, Mori, not the murderers and Muggle-haters.”

“You’re here to drink cheap and rant to someone who won’t rat you out to your boss,” he growls.

You give him another grin. “Cheers to that.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You find Merope’s name in a record tome of an old church parish almost by accident. There’s barely any information there, just one name on a huge list of those buried in the pauper’s graveyard less than ten blocks from where you’re sat amongst the looming shelves of the Muggle public archives at that exact moment.

But there is something.

It says she died in a place called 'Wool’s Orphanage' on New Year’s Eve in 1926. It’s not hard to guess why she might have been there, and how she probably died.

Merope Gaunt had a child.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

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