#open idea if anybody wants to take it further

[tremendousmothergoat]

Toriel warily eyes the VR headset that Asriel left out for her. He said he'd loaded up some fun games or experiences she might want to try, but didn't elaborate much past that. But still that it was something she should try out? She didn't know enough about technology to have any idea what was on that thing..

Still, she picked up the controllers and put on the headset. Might as well give it a shot!

[kngrose]

pitfighter vi who promises reader just the tip and then gives her the whole strap🫶🫶🫶

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐏

vi making you take the whole strap

WARNINGS: NONCON! Dead Dove Do Not Eat, virginity loss, coercion, dacryphilia, spit play, implied corruption kink, bulging, be safe, heed warnings!

from roselí. ᡣ𐭩 : i am so in love with this idea omg omg omg— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i got carried away, so the ending is abrupt. ^^

Vi would just be going against her better judgment here, like she usually does about… everything.

"...Are you sure this is what you want, baby?"

She’d asked gently as she leaned down and whispered into your ear, her breath warm as it hit your skin. Vi's hands moved up and down your sides slowly, her body pressed against yours. She let out a something like a huff of a laugh through her nose at your whispered, ‘Yes… But— you remember our promise, right?’ It was something about that, that made you think, maybe you should’ve known better.

She promised a few nights ago that she would indulge your request of losing your virginity. She was close, trusted— you’d had no problem confessing it to her and she’d made you feel comfortable and safe in her presence. You didn’t want to lose it to just anybody, but you wanted to have the experience. “Just the tip.” She’d initially meant it as a joke. Just a lighthearted statement to loosen you up a bit, but she was taken aback when you’d eagarly nodded in agreement, holding her to that statement.

Vi chuckled lowly at you, your nervousness and anticipation was so cute and endearing. She leaned down, her body hovering over yours, her mass pressing you to the matress. She could feel your heart beating fast, it was exciting. She took a moment to relish in this moment, her lips moving down to your neck, kissing and biting at it softly. "You're so cute, you know that?" She whispered against your skin between kisses, gently biting and suckling the sensitive flesh on your neck. You could make out every strand of inky black hair on her head.

“Vi—”

“You’re nervous, huh?”

You swallowed thickly, trying to push down the nerves that were making it hard to breathe. “Yes.”

"Try to relax, it'll feel better." She murmured, finally sitting up straight, gripping the thick— almost daunting strap in her fist. She’d told you she had nothing smaller, that this was all she could offer you. She placed a large palm right above your pussy, pressing firmly to keep your hips still. “Ready for it?” she locked eyes with you, nudging the tip against your clit, slapping it there a few times. You nodded shakily, holding her gaze with anticipation.

“Words.”

“Yes I’m ready…” It came out shaky, like you were riding a bike on a rocky path. She nods curtly, her gaze falling to your pussy, all spread nicely for her. She taps the tip against your clit a few more times, enjoying the way you gasp softly before slowly tilting the tip downwards to your hole.

It started out subtle, a stinging sensation that slowly built up— but it spread quickly as she pushed further, your hole struggling to accommodate to her size. It felt like being ripped open, the girth of it pushing upwards of your blatter. Your back lifted off the bed. “O-ouch!—” You let out a soft yelp, grasping her hip tightly as to keep her grounded there.

"Shhh.. just keep breathing" She replied immediately, feeling you tense and her free hand coming up to push you back down onto the bed. "Just breathe, relax." She whispered, gently kissing along the leg she held up. You tried to do as she instructed, taking deep, shaky breaths, closing your eyes tightly. It was starting to work.

But your relief was short lived, snatched from you as you felt the searing pain of her sliding deeper. “W-wait vi— what are you doing?!” You took the hand you had placed firmly on her hip and pushed, trying your hardest to still her movement. But it was impossible— she was so strong, much moreso than you, your efforts were fruitless. "Shh... calm down, baby.." She whispered softly, trying to sooth you as she held her position for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling. Her free hand moved up to brush against your cheek and gently caress your chest, trying to get you to relax. Her voice was soft and calming, trying her best to comfort you as she felt you getting tense. "Relax. Everything is gonna be alright. I got you. I promise I'll go slow but..I need you to relax, okay? Just breathe…"

“N-no! Vi— you said just the tip!”

"I know, I know... baby, I'm sorry.." She said, her body moving still to hold herself up, one arm propped on the bed beside your head. She looked down at you with an understanding, but also determined look, trying to reassure you. "But you're doing so well for me. You're such a good girl..." She pushed her hips further, firmly this time, watching your expression closely. “Move your hand.” she commanded gently, and when you refused she grabbed it and pinned it your your side. She leaned down and pressed her lips to yours, claiming your lips in a deep and passionate kiss.

She frowned as you turned your head, a childish attempt at avoiding her affection. "Baby, please.." She begged softly, her hand reaching up and gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head back towards her so she would see your face. "Don't do that, look at me, baby. C'mon." Her voice was desperate. Her lips were so close to yours, her body leaning over you, her free hand still caressing your skin. She was aching for your taste again.

When you turned your face away from her a second time, low growl escaped her lips, her grip on your chin tightening. "No. Eyes on me, baby. I said look at me. I want you to look at me, I want to see your pretty face when I'm taking you." She commands, her voice firm yet gentle.

You felt her bottom out, your pelvis throbbing at the feeling. You felt to full, so uncomfortable. It hurt just to slightly move your hips. Tears blur your vision, a mixture of frustration and and betrayal overwhelming you. It felt like she was pressing down on you at all sides— her presence giving you a sick feeling in your tummy.

She started at a slow and steady pace, her hips meeting yours deliberately, one of her hands gently caressing the side of your face to try and sooth you. Her lips began to suck at your neck again, leaving soft, small love bites and hickeys along your skin, marking you as hers. "That's it... you're such a good girl for me, baby.... So so good... and you look so pretty like this. Taking me in... so good for me.." You didn’t bother to try wiping your tears, they would keep flowing anyways.

She took a hand and rubbed your clit meticulously, applying soft pressure. “F-fuck—!” You cursed, hands gripping the sheets tightly. Vi smirked at your reaction, rubbing just a bit faster, “Gotta loosen you up baby, you’re so tight.” She spit onto your pussy. “Relax, princess.”

“I can’t!”

“You can.” You try to bite back the yelps of pain, not wanting to edge her on any further than you already unkowingly have, tucking your lip between your teeth. You keep your eyes squeezed shut, your body rocking with every slam of her hips. "No, sweetness,” She takes her thumb and pulls your lip free. “You’re so pretty when you make little noises for me. Let me hear them, I wanna hear your pretty voice." Her eye contact was daunting and unwavering, it made you nauseous.

Her pace began to pick up a bit more, her hips moving more urgently against you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, along with her soft, ragged breaths and your yelps. Her free hand squeezed your hip, her slender fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth came down and began to gently nuzzle your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she pressed messy little kisses along the sensitive flesh there.

“How is it, hm?” She said between kisses, but you chose not to respond. You were focused on the way you could feel you pussy starting to leak, your hole embracing her now. Your body was betraying your mind. “S-shit!” You whimper quietly against your best efforts, but you know she caught it.

She sits back up and you could see the thought cross her mind before she acted on it, her hand reaching down to shove two fingers into your mouth, caressing your tongue with a perverted smirk. "Good girl.... keep those pretty lips open for me, baby..” You could feel the spit sliding down your chin. You felt your pussy throb at her praise, moaning abrubtly at her words. Her thrusts had really been working into you now, nudging your walls with a purpose. It felt good.

That one moan went straight to Vi's core, hearing you sent a shiver down her spine, her pace quickening slightly. She pulled your hips up, into you at new angle, watching in awe as you fell apart. “Hah—hah—” You didn’t even try to stay quiet anymore, her dick hitting your g-spot deliciously. "Yeah.... just like that, baby. Let it out for me.” She stuck two fingers back into your mouth, “Get ‘em nice and wet, babydoll,” Vi groaned lowly as she watched you flick your tongue over her fingers, moving them down to your clit again to rub you. “Feels s’good right, baby? My baby just needed someone to push her past her limits, huh?”

You replied with a string of moans, your feet flailing aimlessly at her thrusts. “Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” She notices it before you do; the bulge sticking out of your pelvis everytime she bottoms out. “Ohhhhh, fuck me. Look at that, baby.” Her voice pulls you out of your trance, lulling your head up to look at what she was referring to. “Oh my God—” You choke up as she lifts a hand to press on it, “Bet that feels fuckin’ amazing, huh? Getting your guts dug in?”

You can hardly form a sentence, arching your back into the matress; she’s fucking you so good. “Yesss— fuck! S’good!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She fucks you at a vigorous speed, beating into your g-spot with every thrust. “Cmon, sweetness. I wanna see your cum face.” She spits on your pussy again, taking her fingers and rubbing your clit, fast. “Cmon baby, let go f’me.”

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[kokokoula]

it's alright

TW: smut in the second section, but i make it as fluffy as possible i swear

a/n: um in my defence i just really wanted soft and cute smut and i couldn't find much. it is my first time writing nsfw ok, it will probably be a bit cringy. i'm not planning to write any more smut in the future, just spare me this one 😔🙏

---

it's well late into the night, but it's only now that both you and your coworker, tsukishima, finally end work at the sendai museum. as you take the lift down together, your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud grumble. tsukishima doesn't bother to hide his laugh.

"shut up, i haven't eaten dinner yet." you scold him, your face hot.

"right."

at the sight of his amused face, your heart does a little flutter.

you're close enough to your reserved colleague, sharing the same shifts and all. not to the point of contacting outside of work, but there is still some kind of weird connection that you can't imagine having with anybody else. it gives you butterflies and uncontrollable smiles, makes you look forward to work, even. despite that, you shove it down. maintaining professionalism is a strict rule here.

the two of you are close enough.

"damn, i'm craving for good ramen right now." you lament as the lift doors open. he lets out a noise of acknowledgment and walks out. you're used to his nonchalance, and simply leave the building with him. you're about to part ways, till he calls out from behind.

"aren't you coming?" you stand there dumbly, not understanding his words.

"you want ramen, don't you? i know a place still open." tsukishima nods to the opposite direction. you widen your eyes. you know he isn't one to initiate these kind of things, and you've never hung out after work together before. you don't want anything to happen between you two... but one supper can't do any harm, right?

you grin and catch up to him.

---

you were dead wrong. incredibly wrong. you blame him for getting yourself in this mess.

because now you have the one you swore not to get too close to on top of you, in your bed, kissing you senseless.

it's your first time seeing him like this: his hair dishevelled, his lips swollen, and his golden flecked eyes without the lenses; he's even more beautiful. okay, if this is a mess, a mistake, it's a perfect one.

tsukishima sinks his cock into you. it stings a bit at first, but the feeling is quickly replaced by something else entirely better.

"fuck, you're so…" he groans and you bite your lip. you run your fingers through the strands on his nape in adoration and his hips snaps into you, eliciting a moan.

"hah, your fault." he starts thrusting, hard, and you give a cry out. all the while, he's cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away your stray tears lightly. it's a funny contrast. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing, nibbling, panting, moaning… shit, you can feel it coming.

"tsuki--"

"kei."

"huh?"

"my first name. kei." it's sacred.

"kei," you experimentally let the word roll off your tongue. you've never said it before, but it feels right. he takes in a sharp breath.

"good girl." he pushes your legs further apart to reach the spot that makes you see stars.

"kei!" his name comes to you so easily now, and you won't mind saying it a thousand times over. he rewards you with a rough, albeit sloppy, kiss. pinning one of your hands to the soft mattress, he intertwines his fingers with yours, gripping tightly. it's a small action, but it's an affectionate one.

you think you might actually be falling for him. it's probably a terrible idea, but maybe it's worth taking the risk.

---

the sun is rising on the horizon, and you'd just fallen asleep. meanwhile, tsukishima lies awake next to you, studying your face and listening to your steady breaths.

it must be creepy of him, he thinks, but he can't bring himself to look away. he has known you for over a year now ever since you joined the museum, and spent half of it pining for you. to end up here with you, is something he believed he could only dream of. kei brings his hand up to brush away the stray strands of hair covering your face, but stops himself before he does.

is he allowed to do this? to be this intimate? it sounds stupid, given that you two have just fucked. however, he has always made it a point to keep to corporate's rules, and now that he had just broken an important one, he doesn't know what to do.

tsukishima's mind runs in circles, but everything halts when you snuggle closer to his chest, a cute little frown on your sleeping face. he melts immediately, his face flushing red.

fuck it, he won't be able to not love you from this point forwards. he carefully puts an arm around your sleeping figure and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

right now, he'll just enjoy being with you, and that should be alright.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales IIII

Summary: Princess!Reader tries to convince her mates to leave the Empire, but they have other ideas.

Content Warnings: Mentions of Slavery/Abuse

Part 1, 2, 3

-----------------

Anise is right; I do look like shit. No attempt at washing my face or fixing my hair or changing my clothes changes the sickly color that remains on my skin from the time spent with my head in the toilet. Secluding myself in the house these last couple months have already sapped the color from my cheeks, but today’s events have not helped bring any life back into my features. The dull, lifeless gray of my eyes, the limpness of my hair, the way my dress hangs limp off me… I do not recognize the face in the mirror.

“Anise?” She’s still pacing in my chambers, biting on her weathered thumbnail. Her anxiety makes the vines sprouting from her head grow, leaves and tiny, yellow flowers blossoming as the thick strands slither down her waist. 

“You shouldn’t see them alone,” she persists.

I brush a strand of hair over my yellowing cheek, then push it back behind my ear. I can explain away a bruise. Besides, it is not as if I can expect them to care enough about me to ask how it got there.

I sigh as I push the hair back in front of my face. I do not want to appear weak and frail, not in front of my mates. Not in front of anybody. I need to remain strong.

“Anise,” I try again, turning away from the mirror. There is nothing I can do to change it now, the damage is done and it’s too late in the evening to call for one of my lady’s-in-waiting to come help me fix it. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Get the guard? Yes, a splendid idea!”

I snag her arm as she goes for the door. “No, Anise.”

She huffs her irritation. “You’re being foolish, Little One.”

Probably; she won’t hear that from me though. “I need you to look into something for me and I need you not to tell a soul about it.”

She goes still at that, her emerald eyes widening in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to see if there is passage out of the Empire and into the Wastes through the sea.”

Her bark-like features twist in surprise as I continue. “I need a passage my Father doesn’t know about, and I need it quickly.”

“What have you done?” She whispers. 

“Nothing. Not yet anyway.”

Anise fights her way out of my grip so she can take my face in her hands. “Now you listen to me, child! I have already lost your Mother, do not ask me to sit here and lose you too.”

“It’s not for me.”

Her eyes flick to the door and back. “Them?”

I nod.

“Why?”

“They’re dead men if I don’t,” I say, hoping the heaviness in my voice is enough to keep her from pressing further. I do not have it in me to admit what they are after what I’ve done, not even to her. Her loyalty was always to my Mother first, and I trust her more than anyone, but there are some secrets best kept close to the vest. Maybe she’d never tell anyone, but her mouth wanders sometimes, and if it were to slip… any number of the staff would sell me out to my Father in a heartbeat. I have to be careful. This is all I can tell her for now.

“I don’t like this,” she whispers. “You are entering a dangerous game. If your Father finds out…”

“Don’t let him find out,” I counter, pulling free of her grip. If I linger any longer, I will lose my nerve. I need to see them now.

My hands shake as I open the door. Moonlight spills into the hallway from the high, open windows on either side of me. I’d kept the heavy, silk curtains pushed against the far walls closed for months and months, refusing to accept that time was moving on without me. Anise had opened them this morning, when I’d announced I was finally ready to go out again. She’d hoped the fresh air would be good for me, truth be told, so had I. I didn’t expect so much to change in such a short time frame. 

There are guards on patrol outside the windows. A couple torches had been lit along the path through the gardens, bathing their armored heads and ridiculously large horse hair plumes in an orange glow. As a kid, I’d thought they were monsters when I’d see them in this light, stalking through the palace grounds; maybe I hadn’t been so far off.

Anise trails after me. “I will do it, but you will let me accompany you for this first.”

“No.” I should head out the side door and follow the footpath to the guest house, but I make a show of walking towards the kitchen instead. There is a servant’s passage through the cellar that will keep me out of sight. As far as the guards are concerned, I’m getting a snack in the kitchen with my maid. No one needs to know that I’m meeting the Illyrians. 

“Why are you…” she stops when we come to the kitchen. All the lights are off. The staff asleep earlier than usual so they can, undoubtedly, rise earlier in the morning in order to prepare bigger meals than they’re used to. They have to be in an uproar over the sheer amount of guards they’ll have to feed every day now. The House has not seen much attention in the last couple of months; I certainly wasn’t hosting any parties. 

“Is this a sex thing?”

I am grateful the dark hides the blush working its way up my neck and cheeks. “What!?”

“It’s not like you to sneak around, I’m just wondering if there’s something happening here between you and them?” She is the only other person that knows about the secret passages in the house. Mother had them built as a safety measure against intruders, and promptly found an excuse to execute the architect before he could show Father the plans. There are a number of false doors and hidden hallways throughout the house, a couple of secret exits and a panic room only accessible with a key I keep around my neck at all times. She was as paranoid as my Father, but at least hers had practical applications. And could now serve as a means to move around my house without arousing suspicion. 

“This most definitely is not a sex thing!” I hiss. 

I mean, yes, some sponsors do sleep with their champions. Hels, some sponsors sell their champions for a night of pleasure to the highest bidder. Amarantha and my cousins included. It was an abhorrent practice that I tried not to think about in the past, but the mere suggestion of it has me clenching my fists. Did she truly think I’d stoop to that?

“You’re being strange is all I’m saying,” she returns. 

“I don’t have time for this. If you’re going to insist on hovering, just make it look like we’re in here making a snack, will you?”

“Will you tell me why this is necessary?”

I pry the door that leads down to the cellar open slowly, conscious of how loudly it squeaks and trying to minimize the noise as best I can. ��No.”

“Then I’m coming with!”

I slip behind the door and hold it nearly closed as she approaches. “Fine, we’ll talk when I get back. Happy?”

Even in the dark I can see her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Don’t get pregnant.”

“I’m not fucking them!” I hiss as I close the door. She’s impossible! Once she sets her mind on something, she just can’t let it go. At least she doesn’t try to follow me. 

There’s a slim set of stairs that leads down into the cellar lined with fae lights that flicker to life as I descend. Rows of dried meats and herbs hang from the rafters, casting eerie shadows over the shelf lined walls. The cellar is lined with rows of more shelves and barrels of wine, everything cataloged and arranged in alphabetical order. Our steward has always been exceptionally neat, and the concealed door in the backs sits connected to the wall where he keeps all his flour. I will have to remember to sweep the floor upon my return, just in case anything falls from the shelf and gives the door away. 

The door opens by turning one of the panels in the wood in a full circle, disturbing a sack of flour as it swings inward with a groan. The hallway is dark and dusty, a heavy layer of cobwebs disturbed by the door. I haven’t used this tunnel in years. 

I take one of the bobbing fae lights out of its perch on the stairs and carry it with me into the dark, making sure the door closes behind me, just in case any of the guards decide to come do a sweep of the place now that they’ve seen Anise in the kitchen. I can’t be sure of their orders, I have to assume that they will check on everyone in the house if there is the slightest deviation from the routine. Which also means I need to make this quick.

The silence of the tunnel is not good for my nerves, I find myself once again digging my knuckle into the knot in my chest. Without Anise to distract me, I’m once again consumed with the guilt of having to look at them after what I’d done. Not knowing why they’re asking to see me doesn’t help either. 

The tunnel slopes downward, filled with cobwebs and the occasional rat I startle back into holes in the walls. There’s some rain damage along the supports I should really have looked at, but updating these means having to tell someone about them, and that’s not an option. Not unless I wish for Father to find out about it, or worse, be forced into a situation where I have to consider killing an architect after rebuilding it as my Mother had done. There haven’t been any reasons for the tunnels since I was a child, I’ll avoid having to make any decisions on it until I absolutely have to. As long as the roof holds, I can make do.

Mother wanted to ensure that this place had multiple advantages, one of them being strategically placed and concealed vents for both air flow, and espionage. The vent hidden in the garden lets me hear the stomping of boots as the guards pass overhead. Some of them complain about the quiet as they pass each other, but it doesn’t sound like they’re yet suspicious of me moving around the house this late. 

I keep moving, comforted just a little by the fact that I don’t have to worry about dealing with them yet. 

The tunnel curves in a crescent shape to come around the back of the guest house, where there’s a door carefully hidden behind the lararium built for the Mother. The carefully carved statue of our beloved Goddess hides the door, and the altar serves as a deterrent to keep people from looking too close at the seams in the wall. It also hides the vent that lets me hear three, arguing voices, even in hushed tones:

“This is a bad idea, Rhys!” Cassian. 

“It is our only shot,” Rhysand shoots back. 

Their voices are so different: Cassian’s gruff and husky, Rhysand’s smooth and rich. Having them near soothes an anxiousness I didn’t know was inside me, I find myself drawn closer and closer to the door, just for a chance to listen to them speak. I’ve never had something as simple as a voice cause such an intense reaction before. All of this is so new and foreign; it will take some getting used to.

“I don’t care!” Cassian returns, the words sharp as a knife. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”

And just like that, my revelry is broken and that pesky knot in my chest returns. It is an effort to get a deep enough breath in, as if someone had sucker punched me right in the stomach. He really does hate me. It was one thing to think it, but it’s another to hear it so openly. I really have ruined this before it even had a chance to begin.

“She is our only chance,” Azriel chimes in, voice a hissed whisper. He sounds agitated, I can picture him pacing in front of the altar. 

“She’s his daughter! Am I the only one bothered by that?” Cassian protests. 

“That’s exactly why we need her,” Rhysand counters. 

Time slows to a crawl. Need me? Hope is a pesky, irritating, thing that I shove down inside me, even as my body moves to press itself against the door, waiting for them to continue. 

“We can’t trust her.”

“Yes we can,” Azriel retorts. 

I wonder if they can hear my heartbeat stuttering through the door--no matter that it’s waded so I can hear them and they can’t hear me, it’s so loud it still feels like a possibility. 

“What, because your shadows can smell that on her?” Cassian sneers. 

“Because I looked in her head,” Rhysand hisses, his voice rising. 

I know that I have a limited amount of time to do this, but I can’t bring myself to open the door, not with a confession like that. What does he mean he looked in my head?

“She’s terrified of him.”

“She could have fooled me. She didn’t look a bit terrified of branding us.”

“Because she didn’t brand us at all!” Rhysand snarls. “I did.”

“You hit your fucking head harder than I thought.”

“Asking for us to be spared threw Hybern off his game. Whatever plans he has for us got derailed because of her. And we need whatever edge we can get right now. When I slipped into her mind, she was panicking, she couldn’t do it and we would have all been fucked. I moved her hands around that iron, I touched it to your skin. Not her. She was so distraught over it I had to hold her upright the whole way back. Trust me, she liked it as much as you did.”

“But the collar…?” Cassian stammers.

“It dims a lot of my powers, but not all of them. I threw what I had out there. It only works when I’m close. Whatever she felt after we separated, whatever she’s doing now, I can’t get a feel.”

Rhysand was that invisible hand on me? I hadn’t just imagined it? How is that even possible? The twins are Daemati, but even they can’t reach into someone’s head and control them like that, especially with the gorsian chains in the way. At least, they’d never shown me they could. I suppose I’d never thought to ask.

“We have to act fast,” Azriel chimes in. “The quicker we get ahead of this, the more time we have to work around Hybern. Until now, he’s always been one step ahead of us. We’ve been playing his games on his terms. She… changes things.”

Does he know that we’re mates? Could that really mean something to him?

“Why are you so quick to trust her?” Cassian challenges. “Let's say what Rhys saw in her head is even real, because let's face it, she very well could be like the twins and been throwing those things up to see if you’d take the bait, but for the sake of the argument, sure they’re real. So what? What do you think she’s going to do here? Throw in her lot with us and help us overthrow her father?”

“Yes,” Rhysand says, as if it’s just that simple.

They can’t really be serious with this, can they?

“What could she possibly get out of it? She’s a spoiled princess who has not had to feel the effects of this Empire a day in her life! The best of this place has been handed to her and you think she’s just going to give that up to a couple of bastards like us?”

I dig my knuckle into my chest again, trying to ease the tension that feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of my skin. 

“You don’t get it,” Azriel hisses. 

“Explain it to me, Az!” Cassian shoots back. “Explain to me how the limited interaction we had convinced you that she’s a good person who would help us for the hell of it?”

“You don’t have to trust her, Cass,” Rhysand interjects. “That doesn’t change the fact that we need her.”

I take my lower lip between my teeth. I’m supposed to be saving them; I’m supposed to be getting them as far away from this place as possible and they want me to what? Overthrow my Father? It’s delusional. No one can outmaneuver him. Mother tried and failed. How many rebels has Amarantha executed? How many slaves have been carted from the far reaches, having been defeated for daring to oppose the Empire? Everyone that has ever gone up against him has lost and paid for it with their lives. I can’t let them do this. It’s suicide!

I get my hand on the hidden lock and turn. It’s my responsibility as a mate to save them from themselves. I have to put this foolish notion to bed. By tomorrow, Anise will have an answer about a way out of here. I just need them to stay put for the night and this mess will be over. 

I get the impression they are not males used to being taken by surprise, if the way they stand their gaping at me is any indication. Dark shadows wreath Azriel’s, still bare, shoulders, curling around his ears like they’re living things whispering in his ear. His scarred hands twitch over his hip, as if he’s reaching for a weapon instinctively, despite there being nothing there. 

Rhysand grins wolfishly as he leans a bruised shoulder against the doorframe, violet eyes once again roving over every inch of me. “Aren’t you full of surprises, Princess?”

“What if we had been indecent?” Cassian retorts.

“You’re barely dressed now,” I blurt before I can stop myself, though it is true. He’s stripped down to his boxers, using what was once a white towel, but it’s now brown, to clean up a gash across his thigh. Judging by the color of the bruising and the still forming scab, the wound is from before the arena. He needs to have it cleaned and looked at by a healer. I should be focusing on that. I should not be focusing on how large his thighs are, or imagining what it might feel like to sit in his lap.

Rhysand’s grin broadens like he can hear my thoughts, and then I remember that he can. 

Shit! I need to focus. I need to put my shields up, just like I do when I’m around the twins. Just because they’re my mates, doesn’t mean they’re incapable of using their abilities on me. Who’s to say, if Rhysand really is powerful enough to move me around like a puppet, even with the collar, that he won’t simply reach in and use me as he sees fit if I don’t cooperate. I don’t know anything about them. I have to be careful.

“We can strip down if you’d like?” He purrs.

“Did you make me come all this way just to harass me, or…?” I let the question hang there so I can give myself an extra second to reinforce my mental shields. 

“Sorry to pull you from your ivory tower,” Cassian snarls.

I instinctively take a step away from him, the venom behind each word enough to make me flinch despite myself. Azriel moves away from where he’s been sitting on the edge of the altar, effectively putting himself between us. “No, we didn’t.”

“Then what do you want?” My shields are in place, but I feel my confidence waning. I thought that this would be easy, that the bond would make everything click into place for us. They could trust me and I could trust them and this thing that tethered us together would put us at an even playing field. But it doesn’t. Our goals are off and I don’t know how to get them even, I don’t know how to get them to listen to me. 

“We want your help,” Rhysand says. 

“We need your help,” Azriel corrects.

I should just tell them that I heard them and skip all the repetitiveness, but there is a piece of me that worries I was naive before, and that they will tell me something different to my face. Maybe I’m the only one who feels the bond and they merely see me as something to be manipulated and used. I have to be sure.

“With what?” I ask.

“We want Hybern off the throne,” Rhysand explains. He hasn’t left his perch against the wall; though his gaze lingers on me, he gives me space that feels intentional. As if I’m a rabid dog he thinks might bite if it feels cornered. “We think you do too.”

“And why would you think that?” It is only from years of training that my voice doesn’t shake. How can they be so flippant about this? Saying those words out loud is enough to have their heads removed from their shoulders. The thought that any guard walking past might hear has me shaking, yet they don’t even flinch.

“He scares you,” Azriel says. His voice is already a low whisper, but it softens when he looks at me. A tendril of shadows slithers down his leg and across the floor, tentatively drifting across the pale tiles to come poke around at my ankles.

“He scares everybody and for good reason.” I need to keep my original goal in mind here. I’m here to get them out. They need to see the necessity of it. “Do you know how many people are dead because they underestimated him? No one is safe.”

“That’s why he needs to be stopped,” Rhysand presses.

Cassian folds his broad arms over his tattooed chest, frowning, but he doesn’t jump into the conversation. While Rhysand’s gaze is assessing, Cassian’s is cold, unyielding. He’s made up his mind about me. 

The fact that the others haven’t gives me more hope than I know I should have. They will have to leave anyway. I should hope they haven’t felt the bond, hope that it doesn’t convince them to stay. They need to be far, far away. But there is a small, desperate piece of me that clings to it anyway. 

“He can’t be stopped.” I bite back all the bitterness and rage that threatens to escape out of me and try to keep my tone even, unbothered. 

“You stopped him this afternoon,” Azriel counters as his shadow brushes up my calf like a phantom cat. They feel like a slight brush of breath against my skin, gentle and strange and I might giggle against the sensation if I wasn’t so focused on keeping my composure. 

I don’t kick it off either. A broken, desperate piece of me claws after the attention and blatant need for affection like a lifeline. 

“He listened to you,” Rhysand presses, doubling down when he sees me hesitate. Azriel isn’t wrong, though he’s not, technically right either. Still, he sees an opening and he swoops down like a vulture to take it. “No one else has that kind of influence.”

“It was a fluke,” I retort. “He was surprised. That won’t happen again.”

“It will if you keep surprising him,” Rhysand counters. “He has you, and everyone else, in a quaint little box, but if you deviate from the script he’s written for you, you can maneuver him where you want him.”

My hand goes instinctively to my bruised cheek, right as Azriel’s shadow comes slithering up my shoulder. It lets out a soft huffing sound as it follows my wrist to see what my fingers are doing. The shadow still curled around Azriel’s ear hisses softly, like the two are communicating. Maybe they are, given the way his eyes darken. 

“You cannot fight him.” I pull my hand away from my face a little faster than I mean to, and the shadow curls into my palm, inspecting the indents my fingernails had left earlier.  “You might as well quit while you’re ahead.”

“I wouldn’t call this being ahead,” Cassian huffs, turning his wrist to flash the brand I put there.

“I can find passage out of the Empire for you.” We’re going to run out of time if we keep standing here talking in circles. The guard will get curious eventually. They are bound to wonder why the lights are still on and no one is preparing for bed soon. “I should know by morning when it will be here.”

“If that’s true, why haven’t you taken it?” Cassian challenges.

Azriel takes a tentative step towards me. For someone so large, he’s surprisingly quiet on his feet. “I was terrified of my father too,” he says gently.

I can’t help but look at his hands. Had his father done that to him?

“I thought it was normal, how he treated me. I thought everyone was afraid of their father. I didn’t know any better until I got out. Until I met these two jackasses.”

Rhysand snorts a laugh behind him.

Cassian grumbles out a retort that sounds like it’s in another language. 

Azriel stops when he’s only a few inches away from me. I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. “Sometimes you just need a little help. We can help each other, like you helped us earlier, right?”

I’ve lived around the ass kissing and political games of the palace long enough to know when someone’s trying to work an angle on me, and this isn’t one of those times. He means it. As hard to imagine that someone his size, someone who just took down a Giant and a bunch of Wargs, even with his wings broken, could be scared of anything, I believe him.

The bond warms, just a little. It’s nice, after years of feeling like no one could hear me when I whispered my complaints, to have a kinship with someone. I cling to that little shred of warmth like it’s a roaring fire amidst a blizzard. How long have I begged the Mother for even a shred of solace like this?

Perhaps that makes me weak. Perhaps I am a fool, but I want this. I want them. 

“A lot of good my help did,” it comes out in a whisper, like it’s dragging itself out of my throat. 

“But it does help,” Rhysand interjects. “Being your champions gives us an excuse to be close, and it gets us into places we couldn’t get before. You give us direct access to your father. That’s all we need.”

Azriel reaches out and brushes that loose strand of hair I’d pushed over my cheek behind my ear, scarred fingers brushing over my jaw with a feather light touch that is not unlike the one his shadow gives me. My whole body trembles all the same. 

“We won’t let anyone hurt you,” he promises.

I am entirely unprepared for that kind of promise. I’m supposed to be protecting them, not the other way around, but I’ve been on my own for awhile now, and I can’t help the way my body leans into that faint brush of his hand over my skin. Am I so starved for affection that even this feels like some grand gesture?

“We’re not asking you to do any fighting. You’re not challenging him.” Rhysand assures. “We merely need you to use these brands to your advantage. Drag us around with you. Show off the prize you’ve claimed like anyone else in the Empire would.”

My stomach twists. 

“Play the games the rest of the court plays, and we will do all the rest,” he assures. 

“I don’t understand how that helps you?” 

“For now, we need to observe his habits. There’s a parade tomorrow, right?”

Shit, I’d forgotten about that! 

“Yes.”

“Take us with you,” Rhysand explains. “Lots of people bring their champions out like bodyguards or trophies, right?”

“Or dogs,” Cassian hisses.

I wince. “Yes.”

“We don’t know much about the city. Just act like you’re showing us off so we can get a look around.”

He makes it sound so simple.

“And then what?”

He shrugs as he finally pushes off the wall. Though the touch had been brief, Azriel hasn’t moved out of my space, and seeing that it hasn’t sent me running, Rhysand takes this as a sign that he can move closer too. He’s just barely shorter than Azriel, and despite the fact that I inherited my Mother’s height, I cannot help but feel small next to them. I don’t think I entirely mind though.

 “Leave the strategies to us. The less you know what we’re doing and when, the safer you are. This is a long game, we have to take it one step at a time.”

“I don’t think you realize how dangerous playing this game with my Father is,” I warn. If anything were to happen to them because I didn’t insist on getting them on that ship in the morning, I’d never forgive myself!

He grins, flecks of starlight glinting in his eyes. He really is the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen, even with all the grime and blood on him. Which reminds me, they still haven’t seen the healer. Ember will never let me hear the end of it; I’m surprised she didn’t come with Anise to bust down my door. 

 “Let us do the worrying, Princess.” He’s very confident for someone who had just been thrown into a pit and been forced to fight a bunch of monsters. I hate to admit it, but that confidence worms its way through the bond like a rat chewing through a wall. No matter how hard I try to fight it back, a bit of it hits me anyway. Even without his presence inside my head, I feel safer when he’s near. 

My gaze flicks from him to Azriel for confirmation that this is something they have both agreed on, and he nods reassuringly. 

“You really think you can win?” I ask.

“Darling, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my people,” Rhysand vows. “Whatever it takes to see them free, I will do it.”

So much for me finding a way to get them out of here, they’re pretty determined to stay, influence from the mating bond or not. On one hand, if I do this, I can keep an eye on them; maybe I can find ways to rig another Game, can make sure they have everything they need to survive. On the other hand, this is crazy! We’re talking about taking on Hybern. Take him being my Father out of the question, no one has ever won anything against him, he’s always two steps ahead, always sees the outcome before it happens. 

I take my lower lip between my teeth again. I’m going to need a dark shade of lipstick in the morning to hide all the teeth marks I’ve undoubtedly left in it today. 

“Let’s say I agree, but only on a trial basis,” I begin, trying and failing to organize all my thoughts. The bond pulls me one way and rationale pulls me the other. I cannot find a happy middle ground. “If tomorrow goes poorly, will you get on the boat and leave the Empire behind?”

“Happily,” Cassian huffs.

Rhysand shrugs, “Ask me again tomorrow.”

I have a sinking feeling it’ll be the same answer tomorrow, but I’ll take whatever I can get, as long as it means there’s a shot at keeping them alive.

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[alisonsfics]

late nights and merlot

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after having equally terrible weeks, you and carmy stay late to brainstorm new dishes. all it takes is a few glasses of wine and some late night confessions to get you both further and further away from the friends label.

word count: 2.9k

When you walked into the Bear early this morning, Carmy greeted you with a sleepy smile and a cup of coffee. “Why do you look like you’re about to ask me for a favor?” You had asked him, hesitantly accepting the coffee. He asked you to stay late to help brainstorm ideas for a special menu.

Of course you said yes. It was Carmy. And you figured it would help get your mind off your all too recent breakup.

Ever since you walked in on your boyfriend with another woman a week ago, your life had been shit.

To make it worse, you hadn’t told anybody about it. None of your friends. No one at the Bear. Especially not Carmy.

You were too embarrassed. While you knew it was your ex-boyfriend’s fault because he did the cheating, you were still worried you’d be judged for not being able to keep your boyfriend.

So, a late night of menu brainstorming with your coworker, who you had a tiny crush on before you started dating your boyfriend, sounded like the perfect distraction.

You had made it to the closing of the restaurant for the night. The whole team was hanging out in the kitchen joking around and chatting. Carmy had noticed you were a little distant, so he was trying to stay close to you.

You were leaning backwards against one of the counters, and he was standing right next to you with his hand resting on the counter behind you.

Richie was in the middle of teasing Sydney about some new crush she had. Every time you had heard someone bring up flirting or dating in the past week, it had made all your emotions about the breakup come rushing back.

It was hard to listen to people talk about love as you were grieving it.

“I’ll be right back.” You leaned towards Carmy and whispered. He gave you a supportive nod. “Yeah, okay,” he said, softly. He knew that something was wrong. He just didn’t know what it was.

You quickly walked into the office and closed the door. Sugar looked over at Carmy. “Is she okay?” She mouthed to him, not wanting to cause a scene. Carmy shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He mouthed back.

Carmy was often the person that they turned to when something was off with you. You both were very close, and Carmy was always able to read you better than anyone.

After everyone left, Carmy noticed you still hadn’t come out of the office. He walked over and slowly opened the office door. “Hey, everybody’s gone now, if you want to come out.” He said, softly.

You looked up at him from the office chair where you were sitting. He noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks. “Are you alright?” He asked. He wanted to run across the room and hug you, but he was trying to give you space.

You simply shook your head, wiping the tears away. You stood up and walked towards him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest. He quickly reciprocated and wrapped his arms around you.

He held you tightly against him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He comforted you, running one of his hands over your hair. You cried into his chest. He softly swayed with you in his arms, trying to do anything he could to comfort you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked you, softly. You shook your head. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet” You told him honestly.

“That’s okay. I’m always here.” He said, rubbing your back.

After a few more minutes of peaceful silence between the two of you, you both pulled away. “You want to start working on the menu?” He asked you.

You quickly nodded. You were desperate for a distraction. “Great, I have this idea for a dish, and I’ve been wanting to make it for you.” He said, walking back into the kitchen as you followed.

He guided you through each step of this dessert dish. He kept making little jokes just to get you to laugh.

He was working on some kind of fruit sauce and was telling you about this embarrassing story from his childhood. Your laugh was infectious to Carmy. He couldn’t get the smile off his face, and he couldn’t stop trying to make you laugh.

“Oh, shit. There was something else in this sauce. I don’t remember. Can you go grab my notebook from the office? I think I wrote it down.” He asked you.

You quickly nodded and went into the office to grab the book. You knew exactly what book he was talking about. You always saw him scribbling down notes in it whenever inspiration struck.

You started to flip through the book as you walked back towards him. You saw beautiful sketches of all kinds of dishes.

“Carmy, I didn’t know you could draw like this. These are amazing.” You said, in awe. His cheeks were tinted pink as a bashful smile appeared.

“Yeah, I took a few art classes here and there, and it helps me visualize the presentation of the dishes.” He told you. Carmy was the most humble person you knew.

He was one of the best chefs in the country, and he still acted surprised when you liked his food.

You accidentally flipped over a sketch that wasn’t of food. You realized it was you. You blinked as you stared at the sketch, thinking that somehow your eyes were deceiving you.

“Carmy, is this…?” You asked, not being able to find the right words.

He looked up, to see what you were looking at. He froze when he saw you staring at the picture. “Oh— that,” he mumbled. He didn’t know what to say.

“Is this me?” You asked him, smirking at his shocked expression. You both knew it was, but you wanted him to confirm it.

“C’mon, we both know that’s you. I needed a break from drawing food one day, so I looked around for inspiration. And, I don’t know. I see you everyday, so—” he rambled.

“So, you drew me?” You asked, touched by how sweet the gesture was. He bashfully nodded. “Anyway, flip to the page about the sauce,” he said, changing the subject.

You helped him finish the dessert but kept thinking about the drawing.

“Carmy, this looks delicious,” you told him as he completed the assembly of the dish.

You grabbed one of the spoons he had set out. “Not yet, don’t touch. It pairs great with this wine we have.” He said, wiping his hands off on his apron.

He noticed the mischievous grin on your face. “Don’t touch,” he repeated, making you giggle. He went out into the dining room to grab the wine from behind the bar.

He came back into the kitchen and poured you both a glass. “Can I finally try it?” You asked, impatiently.

Carmy chuckled and nodded. “Go for it,” he told you. You grabbed a spoonful of the dessert and tried it.

Carmy watched nervously. He knew you always liked the food he made, but he was still nervous every time.

“Oh my god,” you said, grabbing onto Carmy’s bicep. He felt his heart skip a beat, and goosebumps popped up on his arm. “Carmy, this is the best thing you’ve ever made.” You complimented.

“I guess we’re adding it to the menu if you like it that much.” He said, chuckling. You quickly nodded your head in agreement while you tried another bite.

You held up your wine glass. Carmy chuckled and quickly followed your cue. “To the best fucking dessert I’ve ever had.” You said, clinking your glass against Carmy’s.

You both sat there in silence, slowly eating the dessert. “You wanna know something sad? This is like the closest thing I’ve had to a date in a while” he told you, with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Just like that, your mind was back on your breakup.

You bit down on your lip, trying to fight the tears that you knew weren’t far away. “Oh, fuck, I screwed it up. Whatever I said, I’m sorry.” He said, immediately noticing the change in your disposition.

“It’s not you, Carmy. It’s not your fault.” You said, your voice cracking. Carmy reached out and gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

You took a deep breath before looking over at Carmy. He gave you an encouraging smile.

“I haven’t told anyone this, but last week I caught my boyfriend cheating on me. That’s why I left earlier. I just couldn’t listen to everything about having crushes and relationships. I’ve been so ashamed, which I know is stupid because it’s not my fault. But I’ve refused to tell anyone til now. I’ve felt like shit, and I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it.” You told him.

“I’m sorry. That’s so shitty that that happened to you. I want you to know that you have me to talk to. I will always be here, and you can tell me anything.” He said, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you. You make everything seem better.” You told him, giving him a hug.

You took another sip of your wine. You felt relieved that you had finally gotten that off your chest.

“To honor that, do you want to know something that I haven’t told anyone?” He asked you. Your intrigue was written all over your face as you quickly nodded.

“One of my ex-girlfriends from school got married this weekend, and it messed me up. It’s not like I’m hung up on her or anything. We were like 14 when we dated, but I just feel so behind. So many people I know are getting married and having kids, and all I have is a restaurant that’s struggling to stay afloat on the good days.” He confessed.

“Thank you for telling me that. I know that’s hard. And I know what you mean.” You told him, resting your hand on his forearm. Carmy also felt relieved after confiding in you.

“But just because you’re not married or having kids doesn’t mean you’re not accomplished. You have this place, which is great, even though it’s stressful. You’re a great friend, and a great brother. You are doing just fine.” You assured him.

He raised his glass again. “Another toast?” You asked, giggling. He nodded his head. “To being each other's confidantes,” he said, tapping his glass against yours.

“It would be a shame for this wine to go to waste. And I think we’ve dampened the mood too far to keep cooking.” You said, raising your eyebrow at him.

A smirk grew on his face. He grabbed the wine bottle and pulled you towards the office.

You both spent the night getting wine drunk and complaining about all the things you’d been wanting to complain about.

Most of it was shit talking your ex-boyfriend. You obviously hated him. And Carmy couldn’t fathom the idea of being lucky enough to be your boyfriend and throwing it away, so he hated him too.

The next morning, Sugar got out of her car and headed towards the back door. She finished the last sip of coffee in her cup before tossing the cup into the dumpster.

She took a deep breath before unlocking the door. Once she walked inside, it was time for another stressful day at the Bear.

She walked through the kitchen, noticing some abandoned pans that hadn’t been cleaned. Carmy staying late and testing recipes wasn’t new, but normally he cleaned up before he left.

Nat noticed that the office door was open, so she walked over. She started to think Carmy decided to have an early start to the day.

She peeked into the office and almost jumped when she noticed Carmy and the fact that he wasn’t alone.

She saw the two of you, asleep on the futon in the office. Given that it was a small futon, you both were closely pressed up against each other. Carmy’s arm was wrapped around your waist, keeping you from falling off the couch. Your head was perfectly nuzzled into Carmy’s neck.

Nat had been secretly betting on you both getting together. She had to cover her mouth to stop herself from bursting out in laughter. She sneakily took a photo of the two of you and immediately sent it to Richie and Sydney.

Then, Natalie heard the back door open. She quietly rushed over, trying to tiptoe as well as she could.

She found Richie walking inside. She quickly held her finger up to her lips to keep him quiet. “Did you see my text yet?” Nat whispered, to which, Richie shook his head no.

She grabbed his wrist and made him follow her. Nat pushed Richie towards the office doorway.

“Holy shit,” Richie said, in complete shock. Nat quickly jumped to cover Richie’s mouth with her hand, but the damage was done.

You and Carmy both heard the loud exclamation and slowly woke up. The last few hours of last night were completely gone from your’s and Carmy’s memories. You remembered drinking a lot of wine, but not how you ended up on the couch.

When you opened your eyes and saw Carmy only a few inches away, you jumped back in surprise. In an equal amount of shock, Carmy tried to stop you from rolling off the couch.

It didn’t work. You flopped off the couch and landed on the ground. You sat up, rubbing your eyes and then finally saw Nat and Richie standing in the doorway.

“Hey, you two,” Nat said, with a smirk.

“You okay?” Carmy asked, helping you up off the floor. Richie’s eyes stayed glued on the both of you.

“What’s with you two?” You asked, gesturing towards Nat and Richie. They both frowned at you, knowing it was obvious. “We’re not gonna address the two of you cuddling on the couch?” Richie asked, raising his eyebrows.

You and Carmy quickly looked at each other and then back at Nat and Richie. “No, it wasn’t. Not like that.” You corrected them.

They didn’t believe you.

“Yeah, you were totally curled up in each other’s arms in a friend way,” Richie said, sarcastically.

“Can you leave us alone?” Carmy asked Richie, exasperatedly. Richie furrowed his eyebrows at Carmy. “But teasing you is so much more fun, cousin,” Richie said, chuckling to himself.

“Alright will this shut you up?” Carmy asked and then leaned over and gave you a quick peck on the lips. You felt butterflies in your stomach. You barely had time to react to the kiss. But you went along with it.

Richie and Nat both looked shocked as they watched in disbelief. “Now we’re going to go get some coffee, if you don’t mind.” Carmy said, putting his hand on the small of your back and leading you out the back door.

As soon as you both were in the alley, Carmy dropped his hand from your back. You quickly turned to face him.

“You mind telling me what that was?” You asked him, referencing the kiss.

“I’m sorry. I panicked, and I was trying to shut Richie up.” He quickly apologized.

“Well I think you nailed that, Berzatto. Instead of thinking we got drunk and fell asleep, now Richie thinks we’re together.” You said, laughing at the craziness of the situation.

Carmy's mind was racing with all the things he wanted to tell you. “I don’t think we should lie to Richie though.” Carmy said, making you even more confused. You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate on what the hell he was talking about.

“You want to run in there and say you were kidding? Richie’s not gonna buy that.” You said. You were waiting for this genius plan that Carmy seemed to think he had.

He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. He stepped closer to you. “Maybe we just make it not a lie,” Carmy suggested.

If it was possible, you were more confused. “Carmy, what are you talking about?” You asked him. Normally, you both were pretty close to sharing a braincell, but right now, you couldn’t even read his expression.

“Last night was great. It was almost therapeutic. I feel so safe with you, and it just feels natural. I don’t know if I said any of this last night cause last night’s a little fuzzy, but it just feels right with you.” He said, stepping closer to you and cupping your face with his hands.

“Just kiss me, Berzatto,” you said, smiling at him. He quickly closed the distance between the two of you. You wrapped your arms around him. You felt goosebumps race across your skin.

He grabbed at your waist, your body curving against his. You could feel him smiling against the kiss. He softly nipped at your bottom lip and smirked. “Your ex didn’t appreciate you, but I will,” he mumbled against your lips.

You knew he meant every word of it. Carmy was going to worship the ground you walked on.

You both pulled away from each other. When you met his gaze, smiles instantly spread across both of your faces.

All it took to get you both together was an expensive bottle of wine and a few years of pining.

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[delehosies]

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 — benedict bridgerton x female reader . in which benedict discovers a lady asleep on his bed after retiring from the annual bridgerton ball for the night.

3200 words | a fluffy mess ! | masterlist | suggest fics ideas

The last thing that Benedict had expected to see when stumbling into his bedchambers after retiring from the ball for the night, still slightly tipsy, was a lady fast asleep on his bed. But Alas — there you were. Fast asleep, chest slowly rising and then falling again, your lips parted and the material of your ballgown draped in a rather messy manner around you.

He rubbed at his eyes harshly, as if doing so would prove that you were indeed a figment of his imagination, that he was coming down with a fever and therefore hallucinating, that a shadow had taken form on his bed and he had simply mistaken it for a girl. But no. You were actually there. On his bed.

Benedict felt his mouth fall open and shut again – bewildered but slowly coming to his senses. He finally closed the door behind him, so as to ensure nobody would see you, that your reputation wouldn’t be ruined over something which wasn’t anything. “Alright… alright.” he mumbled to himself, taking a few steps closer to the bed and kneeling onto the mattress besides you. Hoping that perhaps his weight shifting underneath would wake you up but… no. Instead you just mumbled something incoherent in your sleep, shifting onto your side as you did so. 

The annual Bridgerton ball had taken place that night, was still taking place downstairs in fact, and was still running into the early hours of the morning. But Benedict decided that he had had enough of the ton for one day, that he would get a somewhat early night. Instead one of his mother’s  guests was napping in his bedchambers. Which he had to admit was something completely new to him, in their many years of hosting balls he had never experienced this. 

“Um… Excuse me? Miss?” he half whispered, placing a light hand on the soft skin of your arm and attempting to gently shake you awake. “You really need to wake… You don’t wish to be caught alone together, hm? Especially not in my bedchamber…” 

Upon further inspection, Benedict noticed that your hair had been lazily removed from its updo, and instead fell around you, framing your face and complimenting your features perfectly. He brushed a piece away from you, tucking it behind your ear and frowning as he stared down at you. He was entirely unsure of what to do, and far too aware of how the situation would appear to anybody else - your reputation would be completely ruined if you were caught in this situation. Benedict wanted to ask his mother for help, but was frightened to leave you here alone. What if something happened to you? What if something had already happened to you? 

Benedict was unaware that just a few hours earlier, you had began to grow incredibly bored of the ball – by the mundanity of it all, the endless stream of men that your mother insisted on parading in front of you, the dances, the meaningless and far too polite conversation. You had instead decided to plant yourself in a corner nearest to the drinks table… where you had been drinking the night away ever since. 

You were unsure of how much you had actually drank, but when the entire room began to spin in a rather unpleasant way you had decided that it was probably time to stop. You had managed to stagger out of the ballroom and into a hallway – though you can hardly remember the journey upstairs and through the hallways into Benedict’s bedchamber, nor can you remember falling asleep, but you know that you certainly didn’t intend to fall into such a deep slumber. 

“Miss?” your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a concerned voice – a man. You sat yourself up quickly, too quickly. You immediately regretted it as the room began to sway again, the unfamiliar surroundings rocking back and fourth. You soon discovered the source of the voice, sat besides you on the bed with his eyebrows pulled together in concern. A Bridgerton. You weren’t entirely sure which one, but you knew that he was a Bridgerton.

“Oh dear God.” the words fell from you before you could stop them, bringing your hands upwards in an attempt to cover your face. Although you were still very drunk, you had enough sense to be embarrassed, mortified in fact, by the entire situation. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Mr Bridgerton.” you mumbled — refusing to meet his eyes, which were burning through you with an undeniably intense curiosity. 

Benedict blinked in surprise, he had never got quite used to the entirety of the ton being aware of who he was — most of the time they cannot tell him apart from his brothers, but they are still aware that he is a Bridgerton, meanwhile he is half asleep when introduced to people by his mother, it can be quite rare that he actually remembers a name.

“Are you quite alright?”

“I’m a little bit...”

“Drunk? I know that. I can smell the alcohol on you. But are you alright? I mean you were hiding in my bedchambers, asleep on my bed. Did something happen? Other than the copious amounts of alcohol.” Underneath his concern, his curiosity, his twenty questions – was amusement. You could tell that he was repressing a smile, perhaps even in a small laugh. 

You felt your cheeks begin to warm, feeling completely and utterly  embarrassed – he could smell the alcohol on you after all. You stood from the bed as soon as you could get up, an action which ended up being a complete mistake, you began to stagger sideways almost instantly. Benedict having to stand from where he was sitting in order to prevent you from falling. He placed two firm yet gentle hands on your arms, holding you in one place. 

“It’s alright… I’m not angry, if anything I’m quite amused…” you were forced to make eye contact with him at that point, and discovered that he was practically gazing at you, smiling as if he was biting back a laugh – he became serious again rather quickly. “But are you alright? Has anybody hurt you? Or was the annual Bridgerton ball just that boring?” 

You shook your head quickly. “I’m quite alright… I didn’t mean to fall asleep, do you see? I just needed a rest.” Your excuse didn’t give you any comfort, here you were, apologising to someone who was practically a stranger for falling asleep on his bed because you… needed a rest. 

“So you’re fine. Just sleepy, I suppose.” 

“Just sleepy.” You confirmed.

“And drunk… Too much of my mother’s famous punch.”

A quiet giggle fell from your lips – he was actually quite amusing. Why couldn’t your mother have paraded him in front of you instead of the magnitudes of bores who she insisted on you at least considering? 

“Do you care to tell me your name?” Benedict questioned, his head tilting to one side as his eyes scanned across your features, not making an attempt to hide his curiosity. 

“Y/N.” You replied, raising your head in the most confident and self assured manner that you could muster. 

“Well… It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Y/N.” He removed his hands from each of your arms, instead taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to the bare skin, before gently releasing you. “I’m Benedict — You don’t have to bother with the Mr Bridgerton stuff, I’m just Benedict afterall.” 

“I must be getting back… Benedict.” You smiled, hesitating at first but ultimately enjoying the way that his name sounded on your tongue. Benedict — you decided that you could get used to it. “I am sure that my mother will be worrying.” 

Benedict raised an eyebrow, sitting back on the edge of his mattress. “You can hardly stand, Miss Y/N. I’m not sure that you’re in any fit state to return to the ball just yet.” He stretched his legs out, removing his waistcoat and discarding it somewhere across the room.

“I appreciate the concern but I am perfectly fine.” you crossed your arms across your chest, feining irritation as you stared down at where he now practically laid across the bed. Unbeknown to you, your words were still slurred – very slurred. 

He was now laying back, gazing up at the ceiling. “You’ll be the talk of the town! I can picture it now… Do you think that you’ll be the main feature on Lady Whistledown? Or instead one of the more minor segments?” You stayed silent, arms staying tightly crossed. “Miss Y/N…” He held out an arm dramatically above him “drunken disaster…” 

“That is very rude! Were you not taught never to speak to a lady in such a manner?” you exclaimed, picking up what was nearest to you and throwing it across the room, where it landed on his chest – luckily, it was quite a small book, and did no damage when it came into contact with him. 

Benedict seemed utterly unfazed, laughing quietly to himself and opening the book to a random page – where he seemingly pretended to be utterly engrossed in the chapter. “Apparently not… I have four sisters so I am quite used to bickering with these so called ladies that you speak of.” He paused for a moment. “I will find something to sober you.” he stood, suddenly serious, his gaze turning to where you stood. “But only if you promise to stay here for the time being. If someone sees you leaving my bedchambers it would look most suspicious.” 

You nodded quickly, knowing that as much as you wanted to disagree,  he was most definitely right. “Just sit.” Benedict pointed to the bed, and you did so without hesitating, being very obedient. “And stay there. I won’t be gone for very long.” 

Benedict managed to leave his bedchamber without being spotted – using the servants staircase in order to avoid seeing anybody, and making his way down to the kitchen in order to fetch tea and biscuits for you. Meanwhile, you sat on the edge of Benedict’s bed, inspecting the surroundings the best you could without moving. You noticed an easel in the corner of the room and raised an eyebrow – you wouldn’t have guessed that he was a painter, but then again, you hardly knew him.

The minutes dragged on for what felt like eternity, waiting for Benedict to return to his room, and when he finally did you weren’t expecting him to return carrying a huge tray in a rather clumsily manner. He placed it down on the table besides his bed, shutting the door behind him as quick as he could. “Sorry that took me so long I…” He hesitated for a moment, seeming to carefully think his words over. “If I’m being completely honest I couldn’t work the stove to heat the water… but I got there eventually. Tea and biscuits, for you.” Benedict smiled sheepishly, before beginning to pour you a cup of tea. He handed it to you, and you gratefully took it. “You actually stayed sat there, how obedient!” 

You rolled your eyes, attempting to pay no mind to the way that particular comment made you feel – deciding to ignore it completely. “Thank you, Benedict.” Silence fell between the two of you, Benedict pouring a cup for himself before sitting besides you. “You’re an artist?”

He glanced over at the easel in the corner of the room before looking back to you, nodding as he did so. “Something like that… I like to draw, but whether I am an artist or not is most likely up for debate.” 

“Are you any good? Would you be able to capture my likeness? Can I see one of your sketchbooks?” You inquired, questions falling from you with zero difficulty. You thought that perhaps you might be speaking too much, but Benedict entertained every question that you asked him. 

He paused for a moment, eyes scanning you up and down – you couldn’t help but shiver underneath his gaze. “Hm… I’m certainly not a bad painter, though sometimes I doubt myself – I suppose we all doubt ourselves at times.” He was quiet once again, choosing his words carefully. “I’m unsure whether I’d be able to capture your beauty, but I’m always up for a challenge.” Benedict began to search through his bedside drawers, holding multiple sketchbooks in his hand. “I’m not sure if all of my sketches would be exactly… appropriate for a lady.” 

Once again, your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, and you turned your attention quickly to your tea to hide just how flustered his words made you – trying to ignore him as he began to flick through the pages of the filled books, tossing a few aside as he deemed them as being too inappropriate for your eyes. Of course you were curious, but you chose not to press on. 

You crossed your legs underneath you in the best way that you could manage whilst still wearing your ballgown, leaning forwards with interest as Benedict opened a sketchbook on the bed in front of you – pointing to the charcoal sketches. “My sisters… Daphne, Eloise, Francesca and Hyacinth.” he pointed to each picture, smiling proudly as he did so – proud more so of his actual sisters than he was of the drawings (although he knew that he had captured them well.)

“They’re beautiful, truly. You’re quite gifted.” You turned the page, smiling as you took in each sketch. 

You certainly didn’t miss how Benedict’s cheeks flushed a reddish hue with each compliment, how his lips turned up at the corners into a shy smile. He was clearly passionate about his work, cared more than he wanted to about what others thought of his art, that he valued your opinion. “Thank you… it means a lot. Truly.” 

The two of you spent as long as possible, talking, laughing, looking through Benedict’s sketchbooks, discussing books you had read recently – until you had sobered up… at least a little bit. The tea and biscuits soaking up some of the alcohol in your system, though there was nothing wrong with being a little bit merry at an event. 

“I suppose you truly should be off now.” Benedict sighed, helping you to your feet. “Most people will be leaving soon…  and you don’t want your mother to end up sending out a search party to find you.” You were certainly a lot more steady on your feet this time around, taking a few hesitant steps with the help of Benedict and feeling fine. 

You nodded, sighing quietly to yourself – you had had a much more enjoyable night, with better conversations in the short amount of time spent with Benedict than you had had at any other ball. “Thank you, for being so kind… and I’m sorry again.” 

Benedict shushed you, pressing a gentle finger to your lips – apparently feeling rather more bold than he usually would. “There’s no need to apologise – as strange as it was, I’ve had a lovely time. A better time than I would had I spent more time actually socialising.” 

“Me too.” You admitted, smiling sheepishly at him. Benedict turned from you, creeping to the door of the room and slowly opening it in order to prevent it creaking — he peered out, eyes scanning the hall to ensure that nobody was around. “It’s clear.” He reached out his hand to guide you to the door and you gladly took it, enjoying the warmth of his skin on yours as you were lead from the door. Benedict walked you to the end of the hall, pointing as he gave you directions back to the ballroom. 

You couldn’t help but feel a sadness within you as you walked the halls, taking in every tiny piece of detail: the paintings; the wallpaper; the furniture; the flooring – certain that you wouldn’t be returning. “Well… Goodbye.” You whispered shyly, offering a small wave before turning and beginning to descend the grand stairs. 

“Wait…” Benedict mumbled, turning and taking your hand in his and spinning you around to face him. You felt your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, watching as he hesitated with his words before finally blurting out the question – “Can I see you again?” 

“Of course you can… Mr Bridgerton.” You smiled, and in a feeling of unnatural and rare moment of courage you leaned up to kiss his cheek – pressing your soft lips to his skin before pulling away and watching as his face began to flush to a pretty shade of rosy pink. Unbelievable. You had managed to make Benedict Bridgerton blush. 

Before he could speak, you practically ran from the scene, gathering up your skirt in your hands to ensure that you wouldn’t trip. You knew that it was probably quite a dangerous thing to do, considering the fact that you weren’t exactly sober.

Benedict watched as you ran from him until you were completely out of sight, his lips slightly parted in surprise as he struggled to process all of the events from that night — it  all felt very much like a fever induced dream.

On returning to his bedchambers, Benedict flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and began to draw – wanting to sketch you to the best of his abilities before his memories began to fade. Despite his previous desire for an early and long night of sleep, he ended up staying awake for most of the night working on the portrait, ensuring that it would be ready before you awoke that morning. 

And when you awoke one of the first things that you discovered was a grand bouquet of roses left on the table besides your bed, made up of all sorts of different shades and sizes… alongside a note. Your lady’s maid had brought the flowers into your room whilst you had slept, creeping along the wooden floor so as not to wake you. She was secretly excited for you, having sneakily seen the note which came with the bouquet – she had unfolded it before tucking it back into place.

Hours after the flowers had arrived, you finally awoke. Still in your nightgown, half asleep and still in your nightgown, half asleep and sporting a small alcohol induced headache - you had leaned over to inspect the flowers before reaching for and unfolding the note — discovering a drawing of yourself. 

 A small gasp escaped you as you took it in. Benedict. He had made you look beautiful, so beautiful – he had captured you perfectly, all of you, seeming to even capture the soul behind your eyes. You just seemed so alive. His signature was at the bottom of the portrait, alongside the words “Sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. – Benedict Bridgerton.” 

You ran your finger gently across the words, careful not to smudge any of it – the words repeating in your head again and again. A contented sigh falling from your lips, you fell back onto your mattress, holding the drawing close to your chest as the night’s events really sunk into you. It was hard to believe – yet the words on the page were there as proof — sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. Benedict Bridgerton.

[strrykais]

(❤︎) love shot

sometimes the best feeling is the way his mouth moves against you, and other times.. its the taste of sweet sweet revenge.

cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving), drugging, bondage, foot on crotch, mentions of death, gangs mentioned, revenge, age gap if you squint (its legal like 6-10yrs idk dont think too hard about it ! just putting here to be safe!) not proof read! wc: 1.5k

requested: Idea to distract you: the reader tying Seungmin, Han, Lee Know or I.N. to a chair for sexy times and they absolutely just melt under the readers attention.

「 authors note 」 took this and definitely deviated from their plot... and i'm very proud of it.. let me know your thoughts.. for more click here !

minho almost had a heart attack when he walked into the living room to see you sitting in the dark. you have been waiting for him to come home for hours now only thinking he wouldn't be gone for so long.

"jesus baby, you scared me. why are you sitting in the dark?" minho reached for the light switch, turning it on to see your pouting face.

"you are late babe. where the hell have you been?" you say crossing one leg over the other, the gown you wear sliding down your thigh. minho couldn't help but glance down. you knew his one true weakness was your thighs. He could spend hours in between them and that is exactly where you planned to have him tonight. if only he wasn't so late.

"i know baby, but the boss needed me and you know how demanding they are." He takes off his jacket and throws it over the couch walking to you. He places his hands on either side of the chair, trapping you in.

"you should really leave that gang. it's only gonna lead you to an unfortunate end." you reach out to caress his cheek as he leans into your touch.

"don't say that baby, plus i can't exactly say my girlfriend wants me home before 11. if anybody knew about you, you cou-"

"yes min i know, i could be seriously hurt. but it would be great to you know see you more than once every two weeks." you say leaning back into the armrest. minho takes this opportunity to lean in and press a kiss into your lips. you open your mouth letting him deepen the kiss as you are melting into it.

minho places both hands on your cheeks, running them down your arms and firmly placing them on your thighs. You sigh into his lips as he gently separates your crossed legs, gently pulling you down as he detaches himself for you taking in your appearance. 

Your blushed cheeks, your puffy lips, your gown slipping off one shoulder, minho loved that he had this effect on you. He never got tired of seeing how needy you begged for him and tonight was gonna be no different. He places a kiss on your temple, then gets down on his knees right between your legs.

You watch as he pushes your legs further apart, the gown slowly riding up. He takes notice of you not wearing any underwear and lets out a soft groan. 

“Not wearing any panties? Since when did you become such a dirty girl.” squishing the meat of your thighs, rubbing his hands all over your legs but never rubbing the place you needed him to.

“I can’t help it when you look so good.” hips lifting trying to get him to touch you, to relieve the ache. 

Minho lets out a breathy laugh at the way he completely had you under his spell. He usually loved to tease you, but the way you looked was so pretty he just needed to taste you. Minho glides his fingers through your folds gathering up your wetness, pressing onto your clit giving it a pinch between his fingers.

You moan at the feeling, getting lost in the way he was playing you like a fiddle. Minho did a lot of bad things in the field he worked but one thing he was good at was making you reach completion with his hands and mouth every time. 

He removes his fingers from your clit replacing them with his mouth, alternating between sucking and licking. You were completely unraveling at the way his mouth was devouring you. Its like he was a man starving and you are his next meal. 

Minho inserts two fingers into your wet hole, not giving you time to adjust as he presses against your walls in the spot he knows will make you lose your mind. Your moans were music to his ears, which only fueled him more as his fingers thrust in and out. Minho was a man on a mission he wanted, no he needed to make you come into his mouth. He sucked harder, pressed harder, thrusting harder. It didn't take long before you clenched your thighs around minhos head squeezing hard. 

“I'm gonna cum. Fuck baby please don’t stop. Dont stop.” you moan out, one hand gripping the armrest and the other lying to his hair pulling hard as you start to grind down on his face. You let out a loud moan as your legs shake, cumming in his mouth.

Minho groans still deep in your pussy, fingers still helping you ride out your high. His mouth licks up your orgasm. He falls back on his heels admiring his work. 

“Open up baby.” he guides his fingers into your mouth as you suck harshly, licking his fingers clean of your orgasm. He groans as your warm tongue wraps around them. He pulls out his fingers, your mouth making a popping noise as he pulls out.

“Fuck your mouth is so warm. Wanna be a good girl and let me use it.” 

“Yes, if you let me have some fun now.” you say glancing up at him. He groans at the way your eyes are glossed over completely willingly to suck him off. 

“Fuck baby do whatever you want, as long as you continue to look at me like that.” you smile nodding your head as you help him undo a few buttons. You kiss him, fully wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. You giggle out as he grabs a handful of your ass. 

“You gotta trust me okay?” you say as you pull away from him, switching sides with him and pushing him down on the chair. He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you walk away returning with a glass of liquid and red rope. 

“You are not tying me up.” he shakes his head in disbelief, in awe that you would even be into this, so dominating, minho has always been the dominant one in the relationship so he was quite confused about why you never brought it up.

“Baby, please. Just one time, that's all I ask.” you twirl the rope around, extending out the drink. “Here, this will calm your nerves.” you smile at his face. He looked at you skeptically, sighing, you brought the glass to your lips, but he stopped you before you could. 

“Okay give me the drink, it better be vodka.” you nod your head handing him the glass as he downs it in a gulp. Placing the glass on the table beside the chair. 

“Don't worry baby, I'll be gentle.” you go to work on tying him to the chair, starting with his arms and then going down to his legs. Minhos heart was racing, he had never been so submissive to a woman before this was new to him. He watched as you made sure the knots were tight almost like you have practiced for this very moment. 

Once you are satisfied with your work you step back grabbing minho’s chin forcing him to look up at you. “Gosh it's almost a shame it has to end this way.” you softly say, voice losing its loving tone. Making your way to the radio, putting on some music.

Minho was starting to worry about the way you were staring at him. Before minho can ask what you meant, you tied something around his mouth to get him to be quiet. Minho pulls against his restraints realizing that you have tied him tightly, and he has no way of getting out. Minho watched as you made your way back to him pulling up a chair to sit across from him. 

“You know we have been seeing each other for 3 months and you still haven’t recognized me minho.” you watch the sheer panic in his eyes trying to make sense of what you are saying. “Of course you don’t, I was only a child when we first met.” you extend your leg, pressing firmly on his crotch. Minho groans as the pain, mind becoming fuzzy, he was starting to lose control of his body, he feels like he was drunk, he couldn’t fight back against the tight hold of the ropes.

“You took something very important to me, and when I finally found you, I knew what had to be done. Who would've thought someone as pretty as you would be so dumb.” you watch as minho head fights to stay up right. You take your foot off of him, pulling his hair so his eyes were looking straight into yours. 

“Don’t worry I'm not gonna kill you, but your boss might. You see he found me and stopped me from killing you on the spot, made me an offer I couldn't refuse. All I had to do was get you all drugged up and weak and I would be set for life. Your boss is a scary man.. But he seems to hate you more than I do. Something about playing both sides? Minho people don’t like snitches.” the ringing of a phone breaks your attention from him, letting him go, head fully flopping over. 

“He’s yours. Come on up.” with one last glance to minho, completely unconscious in the chair, you grab your coat from the rack, walking out, never looking back.

ⓒ strrykais

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[help-itrappedmyself]

Summoning Game Show 3

Masterpost

I got so inspired and had so much fun writing for part 2 I just kept going. I have determined that this 'fic' should be about 7 parts long total. And here's Part 3, because I'm enjoying the nonsense of this so much.

~~~~~

“Congratulations on successfully finishing the first challenge! You can make your way back to the main room to receive your clue.”

The screen changes once Nightwing is on the stage with them. It now shows what looks like a wheel of fortune puzzle. Three words, four letters, four letters, and seven letters.

“For your clue, you can choose a letter for the puzzle!” Danny explains. “Since there are four of you we will give you four letters automatically, and you each have the chance to earn an extra letter. For the freebies! E, the most common vowel in English.”

“Looks like no E’s in this puzzle.” Danny shrugs at the boys with a grin on his face. “For the next three letters, we have the three most common consonants: T, N, and S!”

“Three letters up, two N’s and one T.” Danny turns away from the screen to face Nightwing. “What letter would you like to choose?” Dick turns to look at Red and Jason “This portion is not collaborative.” Danny cuts in with a small frown, making everyone look back at him. “You earned the letter, you choose the letter. They only get to pick a letter after they’ve earned one.”

Nightwing grimaces slightly. “A?” 

“A!” Danny turns back to the screen.

“One A!” Danny turns back. “The next challenge is a sword fight against Fright Knight! Who would like to sword fight?”

Damian very quickly raised his hand. Tim almost wanted to smack him, but as similar as a bo staff can be, and as much as he doesn’t want Damian in danger, Damian does have the most extensive sword training amongst them.

Danny takes Damian to pick out his sword. “I see that you have a sword already, but the fight is to first blood and you can’t harm Fright Knight with that sword, so that’s kind of unfair. We need to get you a weapon that will actually be able to hit your opponent.” They leave through a side door, but they leave it open so everyone can see all the weapon racks and Danny as he shows Damian around.

Tim leans towards Dick and Jason as Dick takes his seat in the middle chair. “Cool, so our weapons can’t actually hurt them, good to know. What exactly are we going to be asking the King at the end of this?”

“What do you mean?” Dick asks.

“I think he means that if we want to get back to our dimension we don’t want to piss off everyone here by wasting their time.” Jason spits out, sitting up and turning towards them. “They didn’t seem to take too kindly to that idea earlier.”

Dick winces and nods. “We could ask him to deal with the cult that brought us here.”

“What if he kills all of them?” 

“Well, you clearly have an idea Red, why don’t you tell us instead of making us guess.” Jason complains.

“Diplomatic relations.” Red states. “New dimension, new culture. We’re here to learn, maybe we could ask to set up a meeting between the King and Batman, or the Justice League.”

“The whole point of this is to get a meeting, what do you think he’s going to do if we use this meeting to ask for a different meeting?”

“Jason has a point. Maybe we could just ask to set up a way to communicate between us?” Dick suggests.

“I have obtained a sufficient weapon.” Damian calls out as he and Danny approach. Danny comes up onto the stage, heading back to the podium, but Damian doesn’t waste his time going back up and instead waits by the short stairs for further instructions. He is holding a katana, similar to the one he is used to, but with a different grip and that is glowing.

“So, since you’re using a semi unfamiliar weapon, Fright Knight is not going to be allowed to use his Soul Shredder, just to make it fair. And just in case he draws first blood, we don’t want to accidentally send anybody to their nightmare dimension!” Danny chirps out cheerfully. “You will be fighting in here, just stay on the main floor and away from bystanders. Fight will immediately end at first blood, no maiming, no killing, no excessive force. No use of powers is permitted.”

Danny gestures to where Fright Knight is exiting the armory with a regular looking broadsword. “This is Fright Knight.” Fright Knight waves as he comes over, stopping next to Damian so they’re both standing beneath the stage.

“Are you both ready?” The two swordsmen take a few steps away from each other and take positions before nodding. “Begin!”

[barrel-crow-n]

Something that makes me crazy is the difference in how Kanej deals with their issues.

Kaz was hurt so he hurt others. He got scammed so he became the scammer. He was beaten up so he became the one beating people up. He found a way to thrive in the toxic cycle of violence in the Barrel. This keeps him alive, but makes him a bad person. Kaz doesn't care. Kaz left decency behind the second that was what was necessary to survive. He shrugged it off like a cheap coat. Don't like touch? Simple. Break anybodies wrist that dares touch you; break their arm. Give them a reason to keep away. Make them scared because that keeps you safe (and as a result will keep them safer from you).

Inej was hurt so she prevents others from being hurt. She hunts down slavers so children won't have the same fate as her. She can't just leave decency behind, her values and beliefs won't allow it. She does penance after every kill, she cried after killing the first time, she isn't keen on violence and only does it when completely necessary (at odds with Kaz that attacks at the slightest provocation to the point of everyone giving him a wide berth). The violence committed on her makes her angry (and righteously) but she doesn't lash out at everyone like Kaz does, she holds that back for a select few, to make them pay for the suffering they've caused.

Kaz felt like he died and became someone new so he leaned into it. He change his name from Rietveld to Brekker, he became someone new, a stranger. Nobody knew who he was, or where he came from. Kaz Rietveld was dead, and a monster had taken his place.

Inej also says that she feels like she died. She says that the girl she had been died in the belly of a slavers ship. However, unlike Kaz, she refuses to change her name. And dehumanisation links to this!

Kaz was dehumanised so he dehumanised himself further. Dirtyhands. Per Haskell's rabid dog. Demjin. Kaz thrives in this, because it makes him feel safe, it makes him feel untouchable. Kaz Rietveld was weak, so was replaced by Kaz Brekker. When that isn't enough, Dirtyhands is there to get the rough work done.

Inej was dehumanised so she humanised herself. She is not a lynx or a spider or a wraith. She is Inej Ghafa. She is a pirate vigilante, rescuer of slaves. And the interesting thing is that Kaz offered this to her too! He asks her "Is that what you prefer to be called?" (referring to her name, Inej Ghafa) when buying her indenture at the Menagerie. He is offering her the same thing he did. A change of name, a clean slate. But she declines. She is a Ghafa and no matter what happens to her, she always will be.

Kaz was traumatised so he isolated himself. He holds people at arms length because he sees them as weaknesses, or as obstacles between him and his revenge. He put his gloves on and doesn't take them off, he failed once with Imogen and decided to never try again. He yearns for connection but it only serves to isolate him further. Because they have no idea what it's like to watch friends hug, knowing you can never have the same. Kaz builds up armour (the gloves) but he doesn't tackle the root problem that is his fear of touch. He tried once and failed and quit (which is actually out of character for him, in contrast with him learning magic ceaselessly until he has mastered it - and shows how terrified he is and how disgusted he is at himself) and this serves to make him feel like he just can't. Like the dream of friends is hopeless.

Inej was traumatised so she seeks human connection. She has Jesper and Nina. She has the other Crows. She tries to heal, to open herself up. She might still flinch at touch occasionally but her friends are helping her and she wants to try and heal. She knows how to ask for help.

In all, Inej's ways of coping are a lot healthier. Kaz is stuck in a toxic cycle, and has been for years, but Inej is giving him a way out of it. Finally, he can make the step towards proper healing. He won't change his name back. He won't stop being a gangster. But he can feel more comfortable in himself and with his friends. And that's what Inej wants to give him, because she knows how important that is.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Anger

Vicky Losada x Putellas!Reader

Summary: Your phone kept ringing

You frowned as you stared down at your phone.

"What is it, amor?" Your wife asked as she watched you stare.

"Alexia's been calling me," You replied," And then Alba's texted to say not to answer her. Huh...I wonder what's wrong."

"They're probably fighting," Vicky said," You know how they are."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, I do." You bit your lip. "But I'm a little worried. What if something bad has happened?"

"If something bad has happened," Vicky said," Then your Mama would have been the one to call. Come, sit down. The stress isn't good for the baby."

You heeded your wife's advice, taking a seat on the sofa.

Your pregnancy hadn't come as a surprise. You and Vicky had been trying for months now but each time the IVF treatment hadn't stuck until this final try. You hadn't really told anybody, content to keep it private until you got through the first trimester.

But now, as you approached the end of your second and began to show, you and Vicky had been discussing who to tell.

"If it's so bad then I'm sure you'll get another call later," Vicky assured you as you fretted throughout dinner.

"I...I'm just worried. Alexia called me so much and now it's just radio silent."

Vicky stood from her seat at the table and crossed over to you, a hand coming to rub soothing circles on your arm. "It'll be fine, amor. Your sisters probably had an argument they wanted you to finish."

You looked at your phone on last time before nodding. "You're right. Of course you are." You drained your glass of water. "Did you make dessert? The baby's craving something sweet."

Vicky grinned at you, always in sync with you. "Of course she is."

You ended up on the sofa a moment later with a warm dessert and cream. Vicky had you curled up into her side, an arm gently rubbing circles on your bump as she narrated the show to your baby.

You knew it was to be a girl, having been convinced by Vicky to find out the gender so you could plan accordingly. The pair of you were bouncing between name ideas and how to announce the upcoming pregnancy to your friends and family.

The doorbell rang just as Vicky tried to convince you that telling your family would be best if you paired it with a little Barcelona jersey like how your mother had revealed all of her own pregnancies.

"Were we expecting someone?" You asked, leaning your head over the back of the sofa to look at the door.

The bell rang again.

Then somebody thumping on the door.

Vicky sighed deeply. "If it's Julia or Katie coming to bother us, I'm going to kill them."

You laughed. "Well, if they're bringing more food, kill them after. Your baby sure is hungry tonight."

Vicky rolled her eyes even though a smile poked through on her face. She was still looking at you as she swung open the door, which was why she probably didn't realise what was going on until it was too late.

A hand clawed into the fabric of her top and slammed her into the hallway wall.

"Madre mia!" You exclaimed in shock.

Your oldest sister had your wife up against the wall, practically spitting in anger.

The sudden radio silence from Alexia now made sense.

She was still dressed in her Barcelona training shirt.

Clearly she had caught the first plane to England.

"Alexia?!" You demanded," What you doing here?!"

She ignored you in favour of shoving Vicky further into the wall.

"Where do you get off?!" She demanded," Knocking up my sister?! Huh?!"

Vicky, somehow able to wrench her eyes from Alexia, looked at you in disbelief. "You told her?!"

"No!"

"Jenni told me!" Alexia yelled," Don't talk about me like I'm not here!"

You glared at your wife. "You told Jenni?!"

"It was an accident!"

"Which part?! Telling Jenni or knocking up my sister?!"

"Shut up, Alexia!" Both of you yelled.

"How do you accidentally tell Jenni?"

"She asked about you and I told her that you'd been having me get food at stupid o'clock in the morning and she made a joke about you maybe being pregnant. And I just...kind of didn't say anything and she worked it out herself."

You let out a big sigh, rubbing your temples to try and stop the impending headache. "Amor, I know it was an accident but we purposely said we couldn't tell Jenni just yet because she would blab to everyone."

"Well, she did blab to everyone," Alexia said," But me specifically." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to get a call from my ex-girlfriend congratulating me on becoming an aunt and having no idea about it?! I even had to call Alba to check that she hadn't heard either!"

"Why don't you let go of Vicky," You said," And sit down. We'll explain everything."

"Why can't you explain everything here?"

"Because you look like you're a moment away from killing my wife and I kind of need her around when I get fat and can't move anymore."

It took a few minutes but eventually, Alexia was convinced to sit in the armchair as you and Vicky took up your spots on the sofa again.

"Well? Explain."

"Well-"

"Not you, hemanita," Alexia cut you off, staring daggers at Vicky," I want her to explain."

"Ale, really, this is-"

She held up her finger and you fell silent. You squeezed Vicky's hand.

"We did IVF," Vicky said eventually," And it didn't work and then it did."

"You got my sister pregnant, is what you're saying."

"Well, technically-"

"You knocked up my sister."

Vicky sighed. "Yes. I knocked up your sister."

Alexia was silent for a long moment before she sighed deeply. She rose to her feet and Vicky stood as well, blocking Ale's path to you.

They stood eye to eye.

Alexia shook Vicky's hand, squeezing ever so slightly and leaning forward to whisper," If you dare to make her even cry during this pregnancy, you'll be shipped back to Spain in a matchbox."

Alexia hugged you tightly, laying kisses upon your cheek. She dropped to her knees. "May I?" At your nod, she lifted your top and pressed a kiss to your bump. Your hand came to card through your sister's hair as your wife pressed a kiss to your other hand.

"Hi, baby," Alexia whispered," I'm your Tia Alexia. I probably won't see you a lot but I'll make sure that your mamas bring you back every holiday and we will kick a ball around. And I'll make sure to come to your first games when you get old enough."

"And walk her to her first day at La Masia," You continued with a smile.

Alexia looked up in shock. "Her? La Masia?"

"It's a girl," Vicky said," We found out last week."

"And La Masia?"

"Once the season's up, we're coming back to Spain. My manager is already putting out feelers for clubs."

"We're coming home, Ale. I want the bebita to grow up with you and Alba and Mama and Vicky's family. We can't do that if we're stuck in England all the time."

She surged towards you, one arm around you and the other around Vicky, holding you both tightly against her.

"You're making me a Tia," She said finally," Thank you." She looked at Vicky and wiped away her tears. "Sorry, about earlier. It's just-"

"Your littlest sister is pregnant and you found out through Jenni. I understand. But hey, now that you're here, explain to y/n that the best way to tell your Mama is to get a baby-sized Barca jersey."

[literallyjusttoa]

I have been obsessed with the idea of Paris coming to the modern day in the same way Midas, Lityerses, and Medea did. Like, If anybody had some unfinished business, it's every citizen of Troy. Anyway here are some different little scenarios I've cooked up about how this silly little war criminal fared after making a mad dash for the doors of death in HoO.

Ok, so in this scenario, Paris is recruited by Gaea just like all the other spirits who come back from the dead. He ends up being tasked with working alongside Octavian. At first, he's driven only by grief and anger at the loss of his own family and city. As they approach Camp Half-Blood, Paris regularly remarks on how happy he is that's he'll be the one storming the walls this time. But over time, he slowly finds himself growing worried about Octavian's sanity. He tries to steer Octavian away from making reckless decisions, but Octavian refuses to back down. Paris sees the deadly fervor of his fellow soldiers in Octavian, and pulls away. From here we split off into two endings. 1. (the sad one) Octavian's fate plays out the same as the books and Paris just has to deal with how his actions unintentionally spurred the young man towards his own death. Or 2. (the happy one) Paris leaving is the wake-up call Octavian needs, and he pulls himself out of battle at the last second, breaking the cycle of hatred and wrath that started at Troy. Pick your fighter I guess.

In this scenario, Paris is not the only one who comes back from the doors of death. Half of the Argo II crew find him in Ancient Greece (Don't ask why he's there instead of Turkey idk shhhhh) And he's very helpful to them in whatever quest they're trying to complete at the time. All's well that ends well, except the OTHER half of the Argo II crew actually just met up with Hector on the other side of Greece lol. Turns out neither brother knows the other is alive, and the Argo II take the time to reunite the pair. I would specifically set this in BoO, and have the focus be on Jason and Leo as parallels for Hector and Paris, especially with them both thinking about sacrificing themselves bc of the prophecy (the whole "storm or fire" thing). Like, my idea is that a lot of emphasis would be put on Hector dying first, and how he sacrificed for Troy, and how Paris wishes he could've saved Hector. And Jason would come away from that thinking "Yes, I want to be Hector, i've made peace with making the final sacrifice to keep my friends safe" and Leo thinking "I'll do what Paris couldn't and give my life so that Jason doesn't have to" and ahhhh angst.

This is a ToA scenario instead of an HoO scenario. Paris and one of his siblings come back to life like in the last one, but instead of it being Hector, this time it's Cassandra. Idk when this would happen in the timeline of ToA, bc those books are so tight knit (maybe the infamous TTT to TON roadtrip) But I would add a little side quest where Apollo and Meg have to find Cassandra bc Nero's trying to kidnap her or smth. They run into Paris while they're searching for Cassandra, and the three of them team up for a lil bit. In this scenario, Paris works as a direct parallel to Apollo, all though he's a bit further behind on his redemption journey. Basically, Apollo feels like he's looking at slightly embarrassing old pictures of himself. When they find Cassandra, Apollo offers a genuine apology for everything he did to her. Emboldened by Apollo's example, Paris also opens up to Cassandra in a way he'd never done before. The two are finally able to air out their shared grief from Troy, and they set out to ... idk New Rome or the Waystation or smth. Either way they're a lot closer as siblings now, and Apollo promises to visit them once the Trials are over.

Of course, these are only my ideas that kinda fit into canon, I have a whole bunch more that go entirely off the rails. Anyways this pathetic little failure of a man has bewitched my body and soul or whatever I love rolling him around like a balled up chewing gum wrapper.

[shxnigxmi]

[𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄!𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁] [ꜰᴇᴍɪɴɪɴᴇ!ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Another popular trend on Tiktok, the one where women sit on a black painted canvas with colored paint on their bare ass and thighs—

c/w: nudes, feminine male reader, price jacks off to your gift, the 141 boys are all so down bad for you (because i’m an attention whore)

🔞 MINORS/FEM!ALIGNED DNI 🔞

—

Thinking about how fucking hot it would be to do that viral TikTok trend on Price where a woman gifts their boyfriend a black painted canvas with their ass and legs painted a bright color and they sit on top of it.

Cheeky thing you are— sending it to him on base. A little care package to show him how much you love and miss him. He knew you were doing it to be a fucking brat.

He knew that you knew just anybody could come waltzing along and swipe it from him before he got the chance to even see it. You’d wrapped it up in simple brown paper and put a kiss mark in cherry red lipstick in the corner. The only indication that it was from you to Price was the soldier who’d said it was attached to an envelope from you.

The Captain didn’t have a moment at the time to collect his care package from you but he told the soldier to keep it safe and he’d be back for it later that night.

It was kept in the locked and monitored armory, the armory that all his men had access too. All his men who’d heard that you left something special for him, and were eager to be invasive to see what it was.

Jealous of him for getting something from you and frustrated that you sent only him something. Which didn’t make sense since Price was your husband and the rest of his boys were just a casual on and off fuck buddy situation. (With the Cap’s approval of course).

They just couldn’t stand it, they all wanted you so bad that it physically hurt to accept the fact you would always belong to their Captain and him only.

So yeah, he was rather peeved with you for sending him something so lewd and provocative when any of the three others could’ve swiped it from underneath his nose and seen it before he could.

But he was quick to change his attitude when he saw what it was that you’d gifted him. A print of your ass and deliciously thick thighs over a deep black on the canvas.

In the envelope that came with it was a letter, in which you wrote about how lonely and unsatisfied you were without your beloved husband to take care of you. And he felt his cock stir eagerly at the mental image of you whining all pretty for him.

The rest of the contents in the envelope are what made his dick jump to full mast.. polaroids. Small pictures of you. You in lingerie, you with a dildo up your ass, a picture you took in the mirror of the backs of your thighs and ass painted in a deep and sexy red.

The man moved quick, scooting the painting further up his bed and laying the polaroids all over the canvas. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed his boxers and pants down to his thighs. Sighing in relief as his hard cock jumped when it was released from the confines of his uniform. Then he was clambering into the bed to hover over the canvas and he grunted as he stroked himself with a few relived sighs sprinkled in. Pumping his cock to chase the orgasm he could feel cresting. Like a fire in his chest and broiling in his stomach. It was when he looked down at the painting beneath him that his stomach and balls tightened up and he was shooting his load all over the print of your ass.

He stroked himself through his orgasm, a deep groan that bordered on being a feral growl rumbled from deep within his chest. When he came down from his high an abrupt idea erupted into life in his head.

He grinned as he pulled out his phone and opened up the group chat he and with the rest of the boys.

[Come to my quarters. I got something here I think you’d all quite enjoy.]

—

a/n: somebody put me down like a sick animal🧍🏽

[talaok]

hi!!! request for joel being readers first kiss. He won’t go any further than kissing but they have a LOT of fun kissing

thx

post outbreak jackson pls

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: very brief talk of some sexual themes at the end, but the rest is... you guessed it, kissing!

a/n: 1000/10 idea i literally blushed when you sent it. idk about the execution tho

You were so incredibly embarrassed when you told him, when you finally had to confess that you had no experience, and by that I mean really none, absolutely zero.

But then again what could he have expected?

perhaps he knew right from the moment he set eyes on you, and perhaps... perhaps he liked it.

It oozed from your every pore... your innocence, it was in the way you couldn't meet his gaze, in the way you shivered when his hand grazed against your arm, in the shyness in your voice... it was in everything... it was all of you.

But he nicked at it, piece by piece, brick by brick, he had gotten to know you... maybe a little too much.

He had realized at one point, too late he'd grow to admit, that he liked you, really liked you, in a way he hadn't experienced in ages, in a way that made him feel sixteen all over again.

And yes you were young... much too young for him, and yes you were complete opposites, him, a rough man with enough blood on his hands to make a serial killer's skin crawl, and you, you a pretty little thing who'd lived her whole life in Jackson, safe from the atrocities of the real word... but still, still he he couldn't stop his old heart from beating faster when he was with you.

And that's why one day, one cold, windy day, as snow fell to the ground and you held onto his arm as if it was a life jacket, while he walked you back home, he couldn't do anything but tell the truth.

"Joel" you had said right outside your front door.

"yes sweetheart?" he asked, watching your pretty face fill with dread

"Joel I... I like you"

You'd told him so casually, so simply, that for a moment he wondered if he had imagined it.

But you had misinterpreted his pause all wrong

"I-I'm sorry nevermind, pretend I didn'-"

"no, no I'm sorry" he shook his head, forcing himself out of his trance "You said you like me darlin'?" he asked, taking a step closer to you so he was right there before you, looking down at the gorgeous girl who'd just made all his wishes come true.

"mh-mh" you nodded shily

And at that, he smiled, placing a hand on your reddening cheek, as his thumb gently stroked it

"well then we're in luck" he'd murmured "cause I happen to like you too sweetheart" he promised "a lot"

"r-really?" Your eyes sparked with joy

"of course baby" he breathed, bending down to meet his lips with yours instinctively before your voice stopped him

"wait-" you said

"oh, I'm sorry, I'm going too fast"

"n-no you're not it's just that..."

it was getting harder to meet his gaze again

"if you wanna wait that's ok, sweetie"

"n-no I don't wanna wait, Joel, it's just that-"

"what is it?"

A loud sigh left your mouth before you could respond

"I've never... I've never kissed anybody"

His mouth fell open slightly at the confession, but he recovered quickly, now both his hands holding your pretty face.

"oh" he breathed "that's ok sweetheart, we can wait"

"no I want to kiss you Joel, I really really do... but- but I'm scared I won't be... good at it"

"oh baby" he couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle "You'll be great at it, don't you worry"

Your heart was racing and your breathing hitched as you looked up into his hazel eyes

"do you think- do you think you could... teach me?"

Now Joel Miller didn't deem himself a romantic, but the way you said that... the way you gazed dreamily and both anxiously into his eyes as you spoke those words... he had to stop a moment to thank whoever was up there for having allowed him to meet you.

"of course I can" he said

"yeah?"

"there's nothing I'd like more baby"

And that was it, you were smiling like a kid in a candy store

"s-so what do I do?"

His hands were still on your face, holding you in a way that made your knees weak

"just follow my lead, I'll go slow, don't worry"

You nodded at that, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours and you were- you were giving your first ever kiss.

You got up on your tiptoes and held onto his arms as you closed your eyes and got lost in the feeling- and wow- you had only read in books about it and seen it in a couple of the movies they showed in Jackson, but this... this was just amazing, it felt like you were dreaming, like you had ascended to another universe.

He had kept his promise, he did go slow, but it felt heavenly for him too nonetheless.

He leaned away after what was probably an eternity, to look back at you and confirm this was all real

"so?" he asked, "how was it?"

You couldn't help but giggle as you almost jumped out of your skin from the happiness.

"good" you grinned "very very good"

"mmmhh" he hummed, moving one of his hands to your waist to bring you closer to him "'s that right"

"yeah" you breathed so lowly he wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been an inch away from your face

"well I'm glad" he smirked, kissing you on the cheek this time "Hopefully we'll do that again then"

"yes please" 

He chuckled at that, not leaning away

"would you like a goodnight kiss?"

Not a split second passed that you had already answered

"yes" you nodded, leaning up already "yes please"

And that was how it all started.

That was the night you found your true calling... kissing, and not only that, but kissing Joel Miller.

God, there was nothing better than it,

feeling his beard stroke your cheek, the way his strong hands held you as he did, the way he tasted, the way his warmth spread all over your body, it was all just... perfect

And the coolest thing was that when he said he was gonna teach you, he meant it.

Who knew there were so many ways you could kiss someone?

There were the French kisses, the kisses on the neck, the "special kisses" aka hickeys you loved giving him and that he loved pretending not to like, then the kisses standing up, laying down, and your personal favorite: kissing him while sitting on his lap, and then of course as time went on you both found out (although him especially) how much fun it was to kiss in public, at the bar, on patrol, you name it, it didn't matter, what mattered was that his lips were on yours and his arms were around you (and even if he would have never admitted it, he loved it because he loved showing everyone you were his, and he was yours).

If it were up to you, you'd spend your whole life like that, diving your fingers into his hair as his hands explored every inch of your body, your face, your hips, your ass, your belly (above clothes of course), making you shiver and whimper with every movement.

But it was only just kissing, Joel made a promise to himself he was gonna wait, and it's not that he didn't want to go further, god only knew how many times his dick got hard just by giving you a chaste kiss on the lips as he felt your body pressed against his (and yes that did make him feel like a hormonal teenager again, but then again, everything about you did), so no it definitely wasn't that, and he didn't know if it was because he felt guilty or in some way, like he would be doing something wrong, but for now, all he knew was that he needed to wait, wait until he was sure you were sure about him, and about you.

And for now... for now, you were more than happy with it, counting down the seconds until you'd get a taste of him again.

[testrella]

CRAZY RICH ASIANS..! G. SATORU X READER

𝜗𝜚 | CHAPTER THREE : just..friends!

NEXT… CHAPTER FOUR : tutoring.

gojo was reclined on his couch, legs sprawled out everywhere. the comfort of his own home at 17 was a luxury not anybody could afford. yet, it was gifted to him by his grandma on his 16th birthday. a 32 acre estate mansion designed by switzerland’s best architect. a blend of traditional japanese and a mix of modern luxury. despite the mansion being large enough to home a village, it was only filled with servants, gojo and silence.

which is why his father thought it was a great idea to have him take on a responsibility, a quite immense responsibility. 

“who the hell are you?”

gojo glances up from his phone and looks for what voice peeped from the entrance of the lounge room. the large dark oak doors were fully opened yet from his peripheral vision, there was no one there. that was until he looked down at a young boy.

his jet black hair, fair skin and green eyes stood out from any other kid has ever laid his eyes on. a shiver runs down gojo’s spine and goosebumps slowly form on his forearms as he continues to stare at the young boy.

“satoru,” his father’s voice echoed from the hallway, slowly becoming more apparent as he got closer. “this is megumi fushiguro, he will be staying with you from now on.”

the young white haired male’s jaw drops to the very floor as he repeated the last name out loud, “..fushiguro?” he glances at the boy then back at his father before raising an eyebrow, “and why is that?” there was no curiosity in his tone, just genuine concern. 

his father opens his mouth to respond before shutting it as megumi turns around to face him, seeming to have the exact same question. why is he staying with 17 year old gojo satoru?

“his father has..business to take care of. it required him to leave for a certain period of time so i’ve agreed to take him in.”

the explanation was typical; vague and left no room for any further questions. gojo knew better than to further poke the sleeping bear and just nod in agreement. but even though he answered gojo’s question, his eyes told a different answer. there was no doubt the boy’s father got into some trouble and was taken out for good.

gojo shrugged the lingering thoughts away before making his way to megumi. he knelt down to megumi’s height, to come off as less intimidating, and patted his head. “megumi, right? i’m satoru, looks like we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

“i am not sharing a room with you.” megumi spat out while clutching onto a small dog plushie. even if he tried to come off as fearless, gojo couldn’t help but notice the way he was violently shaking. 

he chuckles at megumi before pulling him into a tight and unwarranted hug. “sure man, whatever you say goes.”

the busy streets of tokyo were alive every night, capturing the life of the city and its residents. honking horns, distant chatter, and the same rhythmic footsteps of busy people wanting to get from point A to point B. gojo suggested the two shopping the day after the party, which clearly irritated megumi.

“do we really have to go shopping during rush hour?” megumi grumbled and shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have better things to do.” 

satoru only chuckled at the angsty teen’s behavior. he watched megumi grow from a know it all toddler to a slumped moody teenager. “oh come on megumi! i’ve been meaning to buy you something nice. besides, it’s not like you actually have friends to hang out with.”  

megumi shoots him a glare, “i do have friends, and i could have plans that only involved myself.”

“like what? brooding in your room all day?” gojo teased, ruffling megumi’s hair before he slapped his hand away.

as they entered a high end luxury store, gojo’s attention was immediately caught by a limited edition pair of sneakers. he nudged megumi towards the display before picking it up and carefully inspecting it. “what do you think megumi? these would look great on you!” 

megumi barely glances at the shoe before mumbling a response, “they’re fine i guess. can we get them and go home now?” irritation was written all over the poor boy’s face. 

gojo was able to immediately pick up the teen’s attitude towards him. he rolled his eyes at the moody behavior, “you’re in a mood today. something bothering you?” 

“i don’t know… maybe it's the fact you're texting my teacher and asking her out for dinner again!” he whispered-yelled in the middle of the store.

gojo clicks his tongue. “ah, so that’s what this is about huh?” he said with a stupid smile plastered on his face, “well i happen to think miss. l/n is a lovely person to be around. she’s humble, intelligent and she seems to talk to me like a normal person. she’d be a wonderful friend!”

megumi scoffs and crosses his arms across his chest, “you’re not fooling anyone, you know there’s more to it!”

gojo leaned slightly towards megumi with a slight mischievous look in his eyes, “it’s refreshing to talk to someone who isn’t obsessed with the whole gojo clan nonsense. she’s not stiff and never talks about business.” he leans further into megumi’s personal space, “but you seem to be real caught up on this. are you jealous..?!”

megumi’s face flushed in a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “i am not jealous! i just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to make plans with my teacher. it’s  weird..” he mumbled the last sentence. 

gojo raises his hand to scratch his chin and pretends he’s in deep thought. “hm, well if it makes you that uncomfortable then i suppose i have no choice but to cut contact.”

“r-really?! you’ve decided that quick?” 

“of course,” gojo said, ruffling his hair once again. “you’re more important to me than making a new friend.”

a small pang of guilt hit megumi’s chest, and his expression softened. “i mean, you don’t have to stop being her friend. just..stop trying to invite her to private dinners.”

“deal!” gojo says with a wide grin, “now, let’s go find some shoes you’ll actually like.” despite megumi’s outburst, he knew he cared for him in his own way. no matter how many times gojo has been a victim of megumi’s prickly demeanor, he would still let him have his way.

the duo exits out the store, with gojo swinging multiple bags over his back, into the bustling streets. the both continued to have a quiet conversation about tonight’s dinner options. just as they turned the corner, a small figure collided with him, again. 

“ah, miss. l/n!” gojo exclaimed, caught completely off guard. standing before them was today’s topic of discussion dressed casually with a few bags in her hand. 

“megumi, mr.gojo! what a lovely surprise to see you two here.” you smiled.

gojo cleared his throat, trying to regain any composure he had left “y-yes, quite a surprise indeed! we were, uh, out shopping for new shoes for megumi.” he tried to reach over to pat megumi’s shoulder, with his eyes on remaining on you, and ends up patting his face.

you glance at the multiple bags being held by gojo, “seems like you guys found something nice.”

“yeah thanks to this idiot.” megumi muttered before swaying gojo’s hand out his face, “he insisted i get new shoes.” 

“well, it was nice seeing you both.” you replied. “i’m actually on my way to a movie. i’ve been meaning to watch the new action movie that recently came out.” 

gojo’s eyes light up at the mention of the film, “oh really?! we were just about to grab something to eat but a movie sounds even better! right megumi?” he glances back at the teenager who seemed to be absolutely mortified by the sudden turn of events. 

“uh, sure but we really shouldn’t intrude-”

“don't be ridiculous!” gojo chuckled before turning to you, “we’d love to join you if that’s okay with you miss. l/n. tickets and snacks on me!” 

you laughed softly at the man’s eagerness, “i don’t mind at all, some company would be nice.” 

megumi gave gojo a “what are you doing?!” look but he was too infatuated with you to even notice. 

as they made their way to the theaters, gojo makes an attempt to make conversation to fill in the comfortable silence. but his nerves seem to hate him.

“s-so, miss. l/n.” gojo’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before attempting again. “i hear that the, uh, curriculum changed throughout the year. i-is it difficult for you? but i mean i wouldn't be surprised if not since someone like you is capable of handling it well..”

you smiled kindly despite being confused at his sudden awkwardness, “it’s just an adjustment. i’m fine as long as the students are.” 

megumi sighed before yanking gojo aside and whispering, “ please stop, you’re embarrassing yourself. can we just-”

“relax megumi, i’m just trying to make conversation.” gojo said while nervously chuckling.

when they reached the ticket counter, gojo confidently stepped in front of both of them. “three adult tickets please, i’ll be paying.”

the young cashier smiled, “sure thing. i’ll be sure to add on tonight's family discount.” she prints out the tickets and hands them over to gojo. “enjoy the movie and your family night out!”

both megumi and gojo froze, processing her words while you chuckled at the misunderstanding.

“we’re not-” megumi started but was quickly cut off. 

“thank you and we will!” gojo said before snatching megumi by his collar. 

as they entered the theater, megumi gave gojo a stern look before muttering “did you seriously go along with that?!” 

gojo only laughed at megumi’s response to the situation. “why not? it’s kind of nice to be seen as a family, don’t you think?” he turned to you, waiting for your approval. 

your eyes softened towards megumi, “the two of you certainly give off the dynamic of a family. it’s cute to see.”

the theater’s lights start to dim and the chatter that was once there starts being hushed. gojo, being sat in between megumi and you, couldn’t help but keep up his playful demeanor. whenever a dramatized scene came on, he would whisper in your ear witty but funny remarks on it. all megumi heard were giggles coming from his teacher, and being caused by his mentor. 

it was annoying enough to see gojo play his classic playboy persona in front of his teacher. that was what he thought until he further inspected him. despite the horrible lighting, he noticed the subtle signs of nervousness.like the way gojo would lightly tap his fingers on the shared armrest, how he would stumble over his words, or the way he constantly looked over at you as if he seeked approval.

no matter how much of a distraction the both of you were, he couldn’t help but find amusement in watching the two of you. it was a rare sight to see gojo, the overly confident playboy, be genuinely flustered. for once, he decided to let gojo’s antics slide. 

once the credits rolled, megumi leaned into gojo’s ear. “you owe me for this.”

and before gojo could question what he meant by that, he sees him turn his attention onto you. “miss. l/n, i’m actually having trouble adjusting to the curriculum you mentioned earlier. would it be okay if you could tutor me at gojo’s house? he’ll pay you!”

and being the dedicated teacher you are, you respond with genuine concern in your tone. “of course! why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” 

tag list: @poeticlovefanpage @mistyheart @sureconfused @chilichopsticks @lightshowerrr @faeryminnyx @0001010dog @myabae @therealestpussyeater @kolpvii @sleepykittycx @tojisworm-5 @universallystrangeravenue @catobsessedlady @nico707 @invisible-mori @peqch-pie @dilflover-3 @foliea @honoredalone @goldenglow149 @portgas459ace @sealsu @misorastars @silkija @r0ckst4rjk @ritsatoru @starlostwish @yihona-san06 @mx-mekla @iaminyourfloors @gabi-moureira @thesharkcollector @misorastars @hyori2 @selysixn @miffysoo @lordbugs @mimidonottouch @moonlightazriel @bubybubsters @manyno @rixyaaaa

if you’d like to be added, please do the inbox thing! it’ll make it easier on my part. this is the updated tag list (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[getlostsquidward]

a shot in the darkest dark

pairing: emily prentiss x reader; emily prentiss x andrew mendoza

a/n: pls excuse the rusty writing. it's been almost 2 years since I've written something andddd this is my first time writing for emily teehee :D

warnings: angst, hurt/(a bit of) comfort, canon-typical violence (plot is set between events of 14x15 to 15x2 with some plot changes for self-indulgent purposes), gun violence, gunshot wounds, blood and injury

summary: to save the lives at stake in the hands of an unsub, you dared yourself to reveal your deepest, darkest truth.

Everyone is tensed as the unsub, Casey Pinkner, is forcing Melissa to kill the store manager, eager to prove that she’s just as capable of hurting other people as anybody is. Casey hands Melissa the gun, reminding her that her daughter will be dead if she doesn’t follow.

JJ intervenes. “Come on. She’s got nothing to do with this, okay? Just let her go. She’s not a part of this. You have no reason to hurt her. Just let her go.”

Casey smirks, a new idea seemingly brews in his head. He grabs the gun from Melissa, walks over to JJ, and grabs her hair. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

You and Spencer stay still and silent as you let things unfurl, that is until the unsub pushes the poor store manager away and shoots her.

“Do not move!”

Casey then hands the gun to Melissa again, which she accepts easily this time. “New deal. Now you need to kill one of these three.”

She’s shaking but aims the gun in your direction still.  “Who’s it gonna be?”

Melissa looks the three of you in the eye and pleads, “Please, I don’t want to do this.” 

Looking at your peripheral vision, you know that JJ and Spence have something up their sleeve to avoid having Melissa shoot one of you. Spencer never wavers with his eye contact with Melissa, while JJ looks ahead with a determined look on her face.

“Judge, you’ve got to decide. That’s what you do, right? Decide life or death with a flick of your gavel.”

The judge trembles while aiming the gun at each of you until the shrill ring of the telephone makes all of you jump. Finally, they’ve opened a line of communication with Casey, and you were just hoping that he at least take the call even though you know that he has what he wants and most likely won’t negotiate. 

He lets it ring, contemplating if he should pick it up. Reid encourages him. “Answer it, Casey.”

Casey tells Reid to shut up, further confirming your feeling that he won’t talk to somebody from the outside. He turns to Melissa. “Pull the trigger.”

By this time, Melissa’s gun is aimed at the ground, and you’re currently steeling yourself to what might happen next — until Casey does the unexpected. 

He lets the phone off the receiver but doesn’t pick it up to speak with your team outside. He just…let it in the open, letting everyone hear what’s happening inside.

Huh.

He turns his focus back on Melissa. “Pull the trigger.”

You share a look with JJ and Reid, and before any of them can speak up. You kneeled from your position. “Casey. If Melissa won’t play, I will.”

JJ and Spence looked at you as you tried to settle with the unsub, the blonde shaking her head. You knew JJ was planning to do it as well but you beat her to it.

“Truth or dare. That’s your game, right?” You asked, standing slowly. Casey hesitates but aims his gun at you nonetheless. “I’ll play.”

On the other hand, your team outside has finally accessed the security feed, all the while listening to you. The good thing was even though the camera wasn’t capable of audio, the unsub let them listen through the phone.

“All right, looks like Reid, Y/L/N, and JJ are tied up, and it’s the shop manager that was shot. Right? Look. She’s still moving.”

Simmons studies the feed, and points at the door caught by the camera. By now they’re delegating the police with their positions and Tara asks Garcia to route the video and sound feed to the local police department where Emily is.

“Melissa, the weapon, now!”

“Casey, I know what it’s like, to be wrongly accused, sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit,” Reid says, trying to empathize with the unsub.

As expected, Casey didn’t buy it even if it was the truth. He then turned his attention to you. “Okay, agent…” 

“Y/L/N.”

“Agent Y/L/N. Truth or dare.”

Without hesitation, you responded. “Truth.”

“If I think you’re lying or stretching the truth in the slightest, I’ll kill these two.”

When you nodded, Casey continued. “You ever shoot anybody before?”

“Yes, I have.”

“You enjoy it?”

“No.”

“Liar!”

“No, no, no. I’m not lying. I had no choice when I shot those people. But I did not enjoy it. I didn’t.” He seems to accept your answer somehow, and when doesn’t follow up, you do. “Okay, you asked, and I told the truth, okay? It’s the truth. So now it’s my turn, right? That’s how this game is played. We take turns. Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“What’s it gonna take for all of us to walk out of here alive, for this to end peacefully?” You know it’s a long shot, but it never hurt to try when yours and four other lives are at stake. Casey shatters your hope with his response.

“I ain’t going back to prison. My turn. Truth or dare?”

You still picked truth, knowing that if you chose the other option, he most likely would dare you to kill JJ or Spencer or one of the civilian hostages—or yourself.

“I want you to say something you’re afraid to say, that you’d never tell anybody. And you better make it good, because if it’s not, it’s gonna be the last thing you ever say.”

You nod in understanding, wracking your brain for anything that you can use to say. You gasped as he shot Melissa, cutting you off as he viewed what you said as boring. “Next!”

Your chest is heaving as you think carefully about what to say next, nerves getting the best of you. Knowing very well that time is of the essence, your throat then decides to close up as if it’s physically hurting you to say the words that will come out of your mouth. Casey was having none of it as he dragged you back on your knees. “Last chance. Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partners here. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me, or I kill them both.”

You’re so close to hyperventilating as you look at your two teammates with tears in your eyes, and before you pass out and drop the chance to save everyone, you rush the words without thinking anymore.

“Um...I'm seeing someone, a lovely woman, but I'm... still hung up on Emily. My boss,” you chuckled sadly. Looking up as the unsub reaches out for the phone, assuming that he wanted to let your team outside hear what you have to say, you continued. “She and I uh, we kind of had a...I'm not even sure what to call it. We had a thing before she left for London. Of course, we still had communication, but we never got to talk about that. Talk about us, and now the rest is history.”

Back at the station, Emily gulped when her name was mentioned, feeling Luke’s curious eyes on her as he got ready to go to rescue Melissa’s daughter. Her jaw clenched as she kept her features schooled, she could not let her emotions take over her right now. There's a nothing-to-lose unsub with two civilian and three federal agents hostage in closed quarters. An erratic unsub whose gun is pointed at your head, for god's sake. She can deal with that later.

“I thought I'd get over it, you know. But what's that saying? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. That's when I realized that I...” you trailed off, shaking your head. The unsub is having none of it when he reminds you of the gun on your head. “When she came back to the BAU I was prepared to take this feeling down to the grave.”

“Go on, say it. Don't hold back.”

Your eyes darted to the ceiling, searching for any CCTV that could capture your face. There was none, you figured it was placed somewhere out of your line of sight. Relieved that none of the team could see your face, you took a big breath as you finally revealed your deepest secret to everyone. To her.

“I'm in love with you, Emily Prentiss. I always have, and I always will. I was fine without you knowing this, but god I think about what could've been, every waking moment of my life.”

It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest as you finally confronted your feelings. You know that you've been in love with Emily for a long time now but you didn't have it in you to put it in words. Confronting your feelings for her made you scared, so much so that you waited for Emily to say something first until case after case passed…until she eventually left to work in Interpol, words left unsaid. Years have passed and you didn't hear a peep about it from the woman, which left you hanging on to your feelings for the BAU Unit Chief. You knew that you should’ve moved on a long time ago, but you just…couldn’t.

“Hot damn,” Casey chuckles. “That’s what I’m talking about. Now those are some last words right there, but not good enough to save your life.”

The relief in saying it out loud almost made you overlook the unsub’s finger onto the trigger until Spencer shot him in the gut. You and JJ turned to him, noticing the gun holster in his ankle. As if on cue, the police then bursts out the door. You let JJ them about the wounded, allowing yourself to ruminate on what just happened.

Once outside, you let the cool night’s air hit your face, hoping that no one talks to you about what happened tonight—though knowing that you’ll have to deal with this confession sooner or later once you return home.

Perhaps it can wait until after Dave and Krystall’s wedding.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The world seems to have given you its grace as Emily didn’t bring Mendoza with her…but you know full well that grace can be and will be recalled anytime as your plus one chat with Penelope, Spencer, and Tara at the bar. 

While Penelope keeps them busy, you give in on doing what you deprived yourself of the past couple of hours—indulging at the sight of Emily, how her off-shoulder dress allows you to drink in the skin of her neck and shoulders, and how you used to—

Nope. Don’t.

Before you can’t help but go down the rabbit hole that is Emily Prentiss, you turn your attention back to the bar. “Pen, can I have double of your fancy drinks?”

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Sophie asks, her hand on your back. 

“Hmm? Nothing, just wanted to feel the bite of ‘The Rossi’,” you smile, and before she can comment on it, you let the drink burn through your throat until there’s nothing left on the glass. 

Emily goes to put her gift on the side, standing next to JJ as she subtly looks around the room to search for you. She spots you at the bar, shaking your head as you set your glass down. Emily makes a mental note to ask for one of those later, knowing that she needs to have liquid courage if she has to watch you with your date all night. She’ll need all the help she can get to talk to you.

She’s yet to speak her side about your confession, deliberately separating yourself from her as you got into the other SUV on the way to the airport that night. As she expected, you’d also kept your distance from her on the jet.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The ceremony was short and simple, but the love between the wedding couple made it so much special. You can’t keep the smile off your face as you watch your friend and father figure to get his second chance with the love of his life.

“Their marriage was in the stars…”

You find yourself mustering all of your resolve to not look at Emily as she gives her toast, so you let her voice lull you back to that rabbit hole again. With your feelings for her out in the open, it was hard not to fall back to the routine where you’ll think back to the nights of passion and words of ardor whispered to each other’s ears only, and soft smiles are exchanged. Moments which you hold very dear to your heart.

“...Twin flames, two souls that are always meant to be together.”

You keep your tears at bay on how beautiful Emily’s toast speech is, and how you can’t help but think that maybe…you wish that there’s a part of her that thinks of you while she utters those words. You wish those words were meant for you, too, because right now, she’s all you can think of. 

“Sometimes it takes time, sometimes it takes a parallel universe or something, but the thing about twin flames is that nothing can keep them apart…”

A sad smile appears on your face. Maybe, in a parallel universe, Emily Prentiss is in love with you too.

“To David and Krystall.”

The crowd’s cheer rouses you out of your deep thoughts, raising your glass to make a toast. You had the full intention of avoiding Emily physically tonight, but alas, the world has had enough of you running away as you find Emily’s dark eyes on you—like you’re the only person in the room.

Emily felt like her heart restarted again when you finally returned her gaze—and kept it. It made her burn inside. So when she spotted you walking to the bar alone, she kept that fire blazing and started up a conversation.

“Hey.”

Emily knew you’d already seen her coming and was glad you didn’t try to escape. “Hey, you,” you replied, a ghost of a smile appearing on your lips. It was fast, but Emily caught it still. She’s thinking carefully about what to say next when you speak again.

“Look, what I said back there, I needed to say something that would get his attention, and I needed to get to say something that would get everyone’s attention, you know, so I uh- I just needed to throw him off balance,” there was a slight waver in your voice which you played off with a nervous chuckle.

Emily knows that…but she needed to confirm something that’s been at the forefront of her mind lately. She needs to hear it, to see it. “Y/N… Truth or dare.”

Her eyes, at this close distance and with the lighting, offer its lucky spectator with the gold specks within her brown eyes. Before you could get yourself lost in it again, you answered. “Truth.”

“Did you mean it?”

You tried your best to convey it with your eyes, though you know she needs to hear it too—but then someone bursts the bubble you and Emily are in, effectively cutting off your trance. “Guys, they’re about to cut the cake," Sophie says, before kissing your cheek and interlacing her fingers with yours. She then turns to Emily. “Can I steal her for a second?” 

Emily nods, letting her whisk you away. Although baby steps were made today, she’s afraid that she might have to live with never hearing your answer.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The wedding allowed everyone to take a short reprieve from the horrors of your job, but the Everett Lynch case has been giving everyone a migraine (Rossi in particular) that sometimes you just want to bash your head in your desk in frustration. You feel for the man and his commitment to catching Lynch, which is why you’re now flooring the pedal on the way to the US Attorney’s Office to make sure Everett doesn’t break his daughter Grace out.

You can’t wait for backup any longer so you, JJ, and Reid split off to cover the underground garages where you can cut Lynch and Grace off. Reid and JJ ran off to the parking in Piedmont and 10th, while you now entered the parking in Trade Plaza as you spotted the father and daughter were about to get into a van. 

“Everett Lynch! FBI! Stop! Drop your weapon and place your hands on your head. Now!”

Lynch slowly puts his gun on the ground and kicks it over, so you order to do the same with her backpack. 

You've been in the same positions enough to know not to take your eyes off the suspects, even for a split second, but you guessed you’re not always lucky as you didn’t anticipate Grace shooting you down. 

It wasn’t in her profile. Like father, like daughter, you mused.

And well, your luck must have run out already, because in all places to have been shot, it’s in a place that’s not covered by your vest. You’re lying on the pool of your blood as the tires of their getaway car squeal out of the parking lot. You try to reach out for your gun in an attempt to shoot it down, but your vision is already blurring at the sides. 

You could faintly hear Spencer’s voice on your earpiece, but you can’t find the strength to answer it as you’re holding on to what remaining energy you have from succumbing to the darkness.

Eventually, you did, and the last thing you know is unfamiliar faces hovering over you, and the harsh lights of the hospital. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Your heart stopped.

Emily’s might as well do, too. 

“If I’d believe you, maybe-”

“No. There’s only one person to blame for this. Everett Lynch. He’s the one who shot Y/N, and he’s the one that we’ll move heaven and earth to bring to justice.”

Rossi reminded Emily that none of this is her fault, but she can’t help her mind going haywire over the thought of you getting hurt. She lets a few tears escape her eyes, before taking a deep breath and joining the others at the round table.

“Y/N’s gotta be okay, right? But what if she’s not okay? What if she’s—”

“Y/N’s strong, and she’s in good hands.”

Emily placed her hands at the back of the chair to keep her grounded, but her trembling hands hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team. “Spence is staying at the hospital. He’s gonna keep us updated. In the meantime, the best thing we can do for Y/N-” her voice falters at your name, but she also has to keep her head in the game as the unit chief. “-Is to find Everett and Grace before they go deep underground.” 

She reads Spencer’s update to the team that you’re now in surgery, and then her heart stutters over the next text she gets.

It’s going to be a while. She’s gonna want to see you too when she wakes up, Emily.

The sun has long been set when Emily couldn’t hold herself back anymore and asks Rossi to take charge in the meantime. The unit chief arrives just in time as the doctor tells Reid that you're out of surgery. “Is she gonna be okay?” She asked with bated breath.

“She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s currently stable.”

“Can we see her right now?”

The doctor nods and leads the two to your room. Emily lets out the breath that she's been holding as soon as she hears the steady beeping of the monitor. She couldn't help herself as she approached your still sleeping figure, her hand cupping your face, thumb softly caressing the apple of your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were missing sooner,” Spencer whispered.

“You haven't talked with her yet.” He continued, but it’s no longer directed at you.

It's not a question, everybody knows the tension that's been up with the two of you ever since the confession. No one attempted to bring it up—not when the two of you are present, anyway.

You, nor Emily didn’t bring it up anymore after the wedding, either, as both of you didn’t know how to talk about it. Now you’re back to walking on eggshells around each other.

How do you even go back to how you were before?

Emily retracted her hand. “Unless it's about a case, no.”

“Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

“No.”

Sad would be an understatement for Emily. She's been oceans apart from the team, from you, when she was in London but right now, you've never felt so far. Emily desperately wanted to reach out to you, but she didn't know what to say. There's also the fact that you're keeping her at arm's length, and that drives the two of you even further away from one another.

“You should, right now. The doctor said it’s unlikely that she can hear us, but it’ll be good for you to let it out.” Spencer pats her shoulder as an offer of consolation. “I’ll be right out.”

Unlike before, Emily didn’t bother to collect her thoughts anymore, letting her heart speak instead. “I know things between the two of us have been kind of weird lately…ever since you said you’re in love with me.”

It has been playing in her head since that moment…then there was one night when she’d hit rock bottom, and asked Penelope to get the audio file of your confession sent to her phone. It was the closest thing to ‘bringing it up’ with anyone from the team, but even then when Garcia asked Emily about it when her head was clearer, she shrugged the technical analyst off.

“I heard it, and it’s yet to leave my head, but the truth is I don’t know what to do with that. I mean I know why you said it, but what I’m itching to know is…if you meant it. But now, all of a sudden none of that matters. What matters is that you wake up. Come back to me, so I get to have more time with you.”

Emily sits at the edge of your bed and takes your hand in hers. The feeling of your soft and gentle touches against her skin now felt like a fever dream, something that she was not sure if it had happened with how long ago it was. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Y/N. Please don’t leave me.”

She lets out a breath that she’s been holding, taking in the features of your face. How your lashes kiss your skin, the way your brow furrows together as you read case reports, or how your nose scrunches up when you smile.

Emily dreams of you that night.

“Em.”

She only hums in response.

“Emily Prentiss,” you tried again, but she only groaned. “Em.” This time, you take your free hand to her head, because she’s taken your other hand hostage.

Finally, she stirs awake at your touch. “Did you sleep here all night?”

“Huh?”

You chuckled at her groggy features. She’s adorable. “How are you more out of it than I am?”

Emily only laughs softly in return, letting go of your hand as she sputters apologies.

“I’m glad you’re here, Em.”

“You’re my best friend. Where else would I be?”

…Right. I’m your best friend.

When you didn’t answer, Emily stood up. “I should go and let you get some rest.” 

“No. No, not yet,” you racking your brain on what to say next, to prevent Emily from leaving. “I…I’ve missed you.” You’ll just blame it later on the drugs they put you in.

“Me too.”

“It’s my fault that things have been weird between the two of us.” Emily tensed up at that, so you went on. “Yeah, I heard you…Um, we do need to talk about what I said.”

“No, we don’t-”

You grasped Emily’s hand in yours to stop her. She lets you continue. “I needed to say something real, and that’s what came out, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I never meant to do that to you…or her, to Sophie. I was prepared to take that secret to the grave, but now it’s out. And I can’t…lie to you and say I didn’t mean it. Because I do. I’m deeply in love with you. I know that’s not fair, springing this onto you when I know you love Andrew, and I want you to be happy…and I just want us to be okay.”

“We are,” Emily smiles, genuinely for the first time in days, also while keeping her tears at bay. She squeezes your hand in assurance.

You’re the first one to let go of her touch, already missing her hand that you think perfectly fits with yours.

Baby steps. 

But this time, maybe, you can let Emily go the same way you’ve always loved her. Silently.

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Helping Hand

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader/ Steve Rogers x fem! reader

Warning: Smut, fluff

"I can't believe this."

"What was that?" Bucky asked as he approached behind her, wrapping his arms around her. We can stop right now. You don't have to do this. I can just tell him to turn around."

"No, Don't do that to him." (Y/n) said as she leaned back into his chest, rubbing his arms. " Just... promise you won't be upset. Promise you'll still have me after this."

Bucky chuckled, spinning her around. " Doll, I'm the one who suggested this. All this was my idea."

"Still, if you change your mind, you'll tell me, right?" He pulls her close, kissing her.

Against her lips, he whispered," I am yours forever and always. Nothing will ever change that. Especially not this."

A knock at the door brought them back to reality.

"It's time. How do I look?" she said, pulling away from him and opening her robe, revealing a simple, short pink silk dress.

He whistled, " Is this new?"

"Yeah, I figured...I just thought he'd like it," she said shyly, closing her robe.

"He'll love it, " he said, giving her another kiss before he went to open the door. She stayed in the bedroom, sitting on the bed and taking a deep breath.

(Y/n) listened as Bucky let him in. She heard them talking in the living room and heard Bucky reassuring him. She stood up as she heard them open the bedroom door.

"Hi," Steve said as he stepped into the room. "Um...I-"

"Bucky told me everything. He explained everything. It's okay."

"You can say no."

"I don't want to." (Y/n) watched as a deep blush erupted on his skin.

"I guess I'll leave you to it," Bucky said as he closed the door. " I'll be in the front room. Hollar if you need me."

They both waited until they heard him walk away before turning to each other, a bit more relaxed without the audience (although he was no doubt still listening from the front room) but still tense.

"Thank you for doing this."

"You don't need to thank me. I am honored that you want to experience your first time with me." She sat on the bed and motioned for him to join her, which he did. " How about you tell me what you'd like."

"I don't know," Steve confessed, looking down at his shoes as he nervously rubbed his hands on his pants. " I've never done any of this. I mean, I've kissed people before, and I've had someone touch me with their hands before-"

"A handjob"

"Yes, that, I've had that. But nothing else." Steve said, still not making eye contact.

"Bucky was my first," (Y/n) confessed. Steve snapped up to look at her. " He was my first everything. My first kiss, the first time having sex... I've never been with anybody else."

"We can stop."

"I told you I don't want to stop. I just want you to know that I'm not some expert."

"That's not what Bucky says. Sorry," Steve quickly apologized when he realized what he had said.

"You guys ... talk about me?"

"Not in a bad way. He loves you. He loves you very much." Bucky did talk about (Y/n) a lot, and sometimes, if they were alone, the conversations got explicit.

"And he loves you too," (Y/n) said as she leaned forward. " I think that's why he trusts us." She gently kissed Steve. As she pulled away, he gave chase, finding her lips again, his movement both eager and hesitant, as if scared to take it any further.

(Y/n) gently pushed Steve away and stood up, carefully sliding her robe off.

"Woah," Steve whispered. She smiled and moved to sit in his lap. "Woah," he whispered, already panting. Steve was hesitant, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck as she connected their lips again. He might be inexperienced, but he sure as hell knew how to kiss. (Y/n) moaned as she felt his tongue slip into her own mouth, tasting her.

As she started to move her hips, grinding against him, he whimpered against her lips. He held on to her as she moved her hips, riding his cloth cock. Rocking against him in a slow rhythm. She loved the whimpers and whines he let out; Bucky never made such sounds. She was eager to hear more, desperate even as she pressed down hard.

Until Steve started pushing her away. "Wait, wait."

"what's wrong?" she asked.

"I just... I'm about to... and I don't want to." He looked down slightly. She looked down as well. Seeing the wet spot forming in his pants. " Sorry"

"No, It's okay," (Y/N) said as she stood up, pulling Steve to stand with her. He was confused for a moment until she pulled off his shirt and started unbuckling his belt.

"Wait, wait," she stopped, pulling away.

"I can- I can do it." He stuttered. The truth was, he feared that he was going to cum at that moment and wanted to slow down, catch his breath and get a grip before he embarrassed himself. He unbuckled his pants with shaky hands and let his pants fall to his ankles. He fingered the waistband on his pants, took a deep breath, and pulled down his boxers.

And, of course, (Y/n) eyes went to the saluting soldier.

"I... I know I'm not as big as Bucky-"

"But you are," (Y/n) said." You are." She stepped forward, giving him a gentle kiss before pulling back. She slowly lifted her dress, revealing her lace panties and nothing else.

The pre-cum leaking from his cock told her she did well.

"Do you want to be on top?"

"Top?" Steve asked, confused. That answered her question.

(Y/n) pushed him onto the bed, making sure he got comfortable, and put the condom on. Grabbing the condom off the side table, she then pulled off her panties and got on the bed, straddling him.

"Ready?" she whispered. He nodded and let out a breathless 'yes.'

Sitting up, she lined him up and slowly lowered herself onto him. Steve gasped as he watched his cock slowly disappear into her, gripping and pulling at the sheets as she went.

"Oh shit, oh fuck, fuck, fuck" he cursed, tossing his head back.

(Y/n) moaned out as she finally bottomed out. She had to take a moment. This was very different from Bucky. She hadn't been lying earlier when she said Steve was as big as Bucky; while Steve didn't have the same length as Bucky, he sure as hell had girth. She had to take a few moments to get used to the stretch.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked when he noticed her eyes closed and how still she was.

"I'm fine." she leaned forward, kissing as she started to move her hips. He moaned, placing his hands on her hips as she put her hands on either side of his head. Rolling and lifting her hips, just as Bucky had taught her. Slow and steady, sweet and gentle.

She could tell by the way he was gripping her hips and could no longer keep up with kissing her that he was close. She began kissing down his neck and chest. His chest had risen and fallen in its pink hue.

She had no clue what compelled her, but she wrapped her lips around his right nipple. Something Bucky had done to her numerous times. Gently biting and -

In an Instant, Steve quickly filled the condom with a shout.

Something Bucky no doubt heard.

(Y/n) gently ran her fingers through his hair, and Steve caught his breath. For a moment, she feared that he would fall into an asthma attack, but he waved her off.

"You okay?" she asked.

"yeah, " he smiled, " I'm good...um ...Did you..."

"It's okay. This is about you," she said, moving to sit up, but Steve wrapped his arms around her.

"I want you to feel good, too."

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine, Stevie."

"No, tell me what to do. Tell me how to make you feel good, please."

"Okay," she sits up, " Just... don't move. Stay inside."

Steve watches her in confusion, hands on her hips. She bounced a little as she reached down between them. If Stevie remembers correctly, the place she was touching Bucky was called the clit.

Steve couldn't stop the whine that slipped out of his mouth or the ones that followed as (Y/n) walls clenched down onto him. The tighten he was not prepared for, he was overwhelmed and overstimulated. He started bucking and shaking underneath her. She tightens her legs around him and pushes him down.

"Oh fuck, please, please, please," she begged as she arched her back into him, rubbing herself closer to her release while watching Steve whether underneath her.

Steve couldn't even form complete sentences. He was just babbling nonsense, too overstimulated to do anything else but hold on to her.

Soon enough, He was cumming again.

"Yes, yes, yes." And (y/n) followed him quickly after.

(Y/n) rolled off to the side so as not to squish him and pulled him into her chest, running her hand through his hair. Waiting for him to catch his breath.

"Are you alright?"

"G-Good," he stuttered, wrapping his arms around her waist. "That... woah."

(Y/n) giggled and kissed his forehead. "Come on. We got to clean up now." He was exhausted, though. She didn't bother him to move. Getting up, she grabbed a towel, carefully pulled off his condom, tied it up, threw it away, and used the towel to clean themselves up. By the time she was done, Steve was knocked out.

Grabbing her robe, she wraps herself up. Covering Steve up, she leaves, closing the door behind her. Just as she shuts the door, Bucky steps out of the bathroom.

"Hey," he smirked and leaned against the door frame. "How was it?"

"He's happy. Fell asleep afterward."

"Yeah, after his big finish or second big finish." Bucky teased. They both made their way to the kitchen, where he poured her a glass of water.

"I just wanted to make sure you were still okay." she sipped her glass slowly.

"Still haven't changed my mind." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. " I still love you." He tilted her head, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. " I will always love you."

"Thank you"

"You never have to thank me for loving you. " He gave her another kiss.