#pm's hair is surprisingly easy for me

[confiscatedpeaches]

Night of Fireworks - Danny Johnson x !femReader - Pt 1

Minors DNI, Reader is assumed to be 18+/21+ due to drug and alcohol use.

Who knew a chance encounter with a stranger at a 4th of July party would haunt you forever. By begging you to attend, your bestfriend unknowingly sealed your fate.

Fic takes place in Roseville, Florida, 1993 in an AU where The Entity doesn't exist/pick Danny. Attempting to stay true to 1993, but I'm absolutely using two-way pagers (invented in 1995) for convenience.

Reader's physical description is provided, but feel free to change any info about the reader to suit your needs.

TW: Weed use, alcohol use, stalking, voyeurism, love interest is a literal serial killer, vulgarity, theft, mild smutty descriptions, use of puppy as a pet name, masturbation, reader is implied to be a virgin but isn't important to plot.

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June 27, 1993 - Roseville, FL - 4:15 PM Just moved to this podunk town and yet it's already showing promise. No need to kill yet; job interview in two weeks. Waitress at T's Diner, seen at morning shift 9:45 am. Female, early to mid-20s, slightly above average height, naturally dirty blonde hair box dyed to a dark mousy brown (roots are showing). Wallflower type, small friend group, lives alone, rarely calls parents. Quiet neighborhood with backyard against pond & woods. Easy access; likely highly vulnerable. Smokes weed, reads occasionally, music lover. Makes an adorable face when frustrated, sad puppy vibes. ***Attending 4th of July party at 302 Oleander Drive at 9pm with co-worker Hailey Daye.

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Frat Party | 302 Oleander Drive | 11:45 PM:

You shut the bathroom door behind you, muffling music and other loud party bullshit. Dark and damp, but surprisingly clean. The only reason you even came to this party was because your bestfriend Hailey practically got down on her knees and begged you to go. The private firework show and free booze was nice, but this just isn't really your scene.

You lift your bag to check for a joint and lighter. Next to your pager you spot your trusty red zippo lighter a pill bottle. The lighter was a gift from someone special you don't talk to anymore, but you couldn't let them go just yet. Engraved on the side of the lighter was a message that read "KISS: keep it simple, stupid!" Inside the pill bottle was a carefully made joint packed with kief and a hybrid mix you got from your dealer.

The desire to smoke drags you out of the bathroom and towards where you last saw Hailey with her new boy-toy. Creeping around the drunk passed out teenagers, empty red solo cups, and shoes, you find your way to the kitchen. It's less crowded, only five or so people and many empty pizza boxes. Hailey smiles and nurses a soda from across the room. Her boyfriend in the middle of a genuinely hilarious drug-fueled rant about something sports related. Can't tell what sport though, dude is smashed. At least he's passionate about something. She looks over at you, and you saunter over.

"Hey, I'm gonna head out for a smoke and walk home after if you wanna join me." You say.

"Sorry babe I'd love to, but I promised to be a DD and I'm not leaving for a few hours."

"I think I'll just go by myself then, it's only a few blocks."

With that she gives you a hug and a quick "be safe" before you walk away. Weaving to the back door, you step into the damp night. Loud music vibrating through the concrete beneath you. Fireflies swirl in the distance. Closing your eyes as a light breeze rolls in; a welcome break from the smothering July air. A moment of calm before the storm.

"Hey, can I borrow a lighter?"

You turn, shocked and annoyed to find somebody else in the humid Floridian abyss.

"Sorry I didn't mean to startle you," he says with a disarming laugh.

The shadowy figure lights up his pager providing a brief but faint view of his face. His teeth reveal a soft friendly smile.

"Ha, no worries. Here."

Offering your lighter, he takes it to light a joint of his own. His hands spark into existence in the light of the flame. Strong, but well manicured fingers with a couple ink stains. Something about him makes the air thick and heavy like mud.

"Parties not really your thing huh?" He asks, the cherry of his joint bobbing your way.

"Oh..! Honestly, no. I mean I can't complain, it's been pretty good so far."

A series of loud bangs pulls your attention from the stranger. From above loud pops of red, white, & blue flutter and invade the sky. A swarm of yellow sparklers overtaking them. A blue light fires above the rest, only to be overshadowed by a red one.

You turn to continue speaking with the mysterious stoner, but you're met with an empty patch of grass. White rage hits you. That fucker stole your lighter! You consider staying and hunting for that jerk, but you're just too tired for this. You yank out your pager and send a message to Hailey.

Shoving it into your bag, you pop a tape in your portable cassette player and begin angrily walking home. Your wired headset blocking out the rest of the party sounds. Mumbling the words to a Cake song as you walk.

I want to love you madly I want to love you, love you Love you madly

After a few blocks, you check your pager. To your surprise, a message from Hailey sits in your inbox.

Between the booze and frustration you struggled to recall any remarkable details about him. You text Hailey back.

She responds instantly.

____________________________________________

July 5, 1993 | 1703 Oleander Drive | 12 AM:

Stepping up to the front door of your apartment, you stick in the keys and walk inside. It's dark, which was to be expected. Dropping your bag onto the floor. Flicking on the light, you notice everything is slightly less messy than you left it. A couple to-go boxes remain, but the dishes look freshly washed. A thick smell of cheap cologne hangs in the air. You shake your head. This is crazy, who would break in just to do the dishes? It's been a long night, surely you must've done them this morning during your high-as-a-kite cleaning binge. The smell must be from a neighbor or something.

You walk into the tiny kitchen (ignoring the freaky squeaky clean dishes) and open a drawer to get another lighter. It's not the lighter you want, but it's the lighter you have.

Pulling out the joint, you unlock the back door to your balcony. It's a small balcony, only able to fit a small chair and a side table, but you couldn't complain. At least nobody complains about the smell of weed. Being up against the woods was a blessing. Private and safe. After sitting down you light your joint. Music getting better and better with each inhalation.

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July 5, 1993 - 1703 Oleander Drive - 12:15 AM Took a big risk. Poor little puppy lost her precious lighter. Stole it just to annoy her. She looked so fussy and angry when she couldn't find me, even though I was less than 20ft away. Priceless; couldn't snap a pic as the flash would've given me away. I'll have to create another opportunity in the future. Fortunately, it was dark enough to remain unidentifiable & invisible. A cloudy night does a lot to hide a person. Although if she had remembered anything about me, it would be easy enough to pack up and leave now. Nobody knows me yet. My own desires and excitement are making me too bold. Stay calm and stick to the plan. 12:16 AM. She's smoking on her balcony, as per usual. One-hit-wonder over here coughs every other hit; she should really switch to edibles. The need to interact with her is growing stronger. Can't believe she didn't make a bigger deal out of those dishes. While I was inside I couldn't resist the urge to wipe lipstick off of her glass using my gloves just to put it to my lips for a taste. It tasted like chapstick, too far gone to have retained her scent. The disappointment only fueled my desire for her. My attraction towards her is ruining everything; this is supposed to be a test run. I suppose this is more of a Danny design than a Ghostface one. I wanted to steal one of her panties, but they were all clean and worthless to me in that state. My hand isn't doing it for me anymore, I need my cum to mix with her fresh slick in those cotton undies. I'm gonna make this bitch fuckin' scream when she cums on my cock. 1:12 AM. She's touching herself again, but she's still unsuccessful. Stupid whore can't even find her own clit. Don't worry puppy, I'll find it for you. Vibrator can't replace what you really need huh? Went through her phone book and journal, no known boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, or any ex-anything for that matter. Could she be a virgin? The thought makes my cock twitch.

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NOTES:

Sorry for the lack of real smut, but Danny has to take his time with you. So be fucking patient, you wanna be a good girl right? Act like one.

This is my first Danny x reader fic, so please let me know what you'd like to see in the future!

The song the reader sings is Love You Madly by Cake.

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

A Corduroy Tragedy

So...I was reading a tumblr post focused on Wendy (and the Wendip ship, which...I still don't care for, honestly. I mostly read it for the Wendy lore) and I came across something interesting.

And its from the Lost Legends comic. Like Journal 3, it too has hidden messages and I wanted to get mine so I can verify what was said in the post.

I don't have it immediately available at the moment (I left it in my mom's room and she's asleep, so I don't want to disturb her), but according to the post, the message had something to do with Wendy's mother.

And it's that she isn't die at some point, like many of us probably assumed (under the assumption that not everyone is privy to this).

The message hinted that she's trapped in another dimension. Sort of like Ford, but not really. Like, I don't think she's dimension hopping. She's trapped in one place. Perhaps this could give the idea that there are random portals/rifts than can appear and disappear.

And Wendy's mother accidentally encountered one and vanished without a trace. As for when...hard to say. Obviously, it was some time after the birth of Wendy's youngest brother, Gus.

We also don't know the ages of the Corduroy bros (except for being less than 15, since Wendy's the oldest child) and Marcus having facial hair surprisingly wouldn't help in this case because it could be a Corduroy thing, sort like how Wendy's height is a Corduroy trait.

Still, I'll take the facial hair for consideration just to make things easy. Of course, facial hair starts appearing during puberty, usually at the age of 13~16 (though some sources say 11~15 for facial hair growing at the corners).

So, I'd make the guessimate that Marcus (the oldest brother) is probably either 14 or 13 years old. The middle brother, Kevin, I'd say could be 3 years younger (11 or 10), and the youngest brother, Gus, is maybe 8.

I personally headcanon that Wendy lost her mother at around the same age as Dipper and Mabel. That headcanon remains true even with this new knowledge. Maybe Mrs. Corduroy went looking for something or went for a walk in the woods and fell through a random rift.

She gets reported missing and despite an extensive search, she was never found. It made no sense to the locals. Mrs. Corduroy knew the woods like the back of her hand, she couldn't've gotten lost. I can kinda see this as a reference to 411 cases.

And, perhaps, an incredible role model to Wendy.

Because...with a family like the Corduroys, I highly doubt that Mama Corduroy was a pansy. No, she was a down-to-earth and strong-willed woman with a sharp wit. She was an inspiration.

And now, she is gone. Vanished without a trace. It left the family devastated and Wendy in a bad headspace. There is a scene with Manly Dan's vehicle where there is a yellow ribbon sticker attached to the back...yeah.

To this day, Wendy still holds out hope that her mom will come back. And when she does, ask why. Even so, she knows that she's gonna have to move on.

This is...somehow more tragic than just having Mrs. Corduroy die in an accident. Because, at least with that, there is confirmation. There is a body. There isn't uncertainty. But, the idea that Mrs. Corduroy just...vanished?

It has a special type of hold...one that will linger for a long time.

Whelp, more angst fodder! Have at it!

...It's 11 pm and I should be asleep, but instead, I wrote this!

Yaaaay...

I am suffering a bit and I am taking y'all down with me.

[lonesome-witching]

The World Can Know

I have gotten the request to write a celebrity AU by @rabbitofdeath-atcastleaarrggh based on this post by @autismbarbie (I think). And I have to say I absolutely loved that post so much that I was a little excited to write this.

You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

It had all started with a drunken tweet. She shouldn’t have been drunk. It was only 2 pm and she was supposed to be working. But she had finished the last song for her album, and somebody had pulled out a bottle of champagne and now she was sipping lukewarm beers in the recording booth and scrolling through twitter.

It was then that Robin Buckley saw a picture of Nancy Wheeler. It wasn’t that she had never seen her before, she had seen Nancy everywhere. A couple of days ago, she and Steve had gone to see one of her movies. And Robin had returned the next day to watch it again. So, she knew of Nancy Wheeler. She had seen her all dolled up in movies and on red carpets. She had spent an embarrassing long time staring at her in that flowy top with her dark red lips at the Paris fashion week just a few nights ago.

The only difference was that all of those times Robin hadn’t been drunk, and therefore had been able to refrain herself from making her tiny obsession public knowledge. But this time as she noticed the picture of Nancy Wheeler in a simple blue shirt, purple cap and sunglasses walking in New York, the same streets Robin walked every single day, she was drunk.

Her fingers were typing out the words before her mind had registered them. Her thumb only hesitated a second before posting the tweet.

Literally dont FUCKIGN talk to me if u r not Nancy wheeler btw!!! dont even say hi i’ll be pissed

She regretted that tweet that same night when a text from Steve told her to check twitter. The memory of her own embarrassment came flooding back and the only reason she opened her account was with the pure intention of deleting the entire thing. That was her intention until she noticed the notification. It was a simple reply, just a simple hi with a smiley face behind it. The main reason Robin nearly went into cardiac arrest was that it was from Nancy freaking Wheeler. 

-

Talking with Nancy had been surprisingly easy. They had hung out a few times, going for walks after dark and eating take out in Nancy’s luxurious apartment. Robin had even invited Nancy to the recording studio after a mix up with the vocals forced her to drop everything. They often talked until the early morning hours, laughing and crying like kids at their first sleepover.

Now that Robin was able to see Nancy in real life it became obvious that the pictures and movies didn’t do her justice. That she looked best when she woke up with her hair all messed up and her eyes only half open.

It also became obvious that Robin was falling in love with her. Robin had difficulty not staring or stuttering when they hung out. She would always trip over her words whenever she tried to give Nancy a genuine compliment. And when Nancy returned the favor her cheeks would heat up and turn bright red. The words ‘I’m in love with Nancy Wheeler’ might as well have been tattooed on her forehead.

As the months crawled forward Robin and Nancy hung out more and more. Even when Nancy had to go to LA for some promotion material for her newest premiere, they called every night. Robin would listen attentively to Nancy chattering about her day as she stayed up way too late talking the other girl to sleep.

It almost felt like they were dating. Almost.

Robin tried her best not to dream about that possibility. After all, she had already gotten way too lucky to have her idol in her life.

Robin checked her phone for the thousandth time, waiting for a reply from Nancy. But as her screen lit up, she saw nothing but her lock screen. It had been a mere 9 hours since she last received a text from Nancy. She could survive 9 hours without Nancy. She had to.

Robin checked her phone again when the doorbell rang out, echoing through her too empty apartment. She dropped the phone on the couch and got up, shuffling to the door. On the other side stood Nancy Wheeler, her hair wet and dripping raindrops on the floor.

“It’s raining,” she stated as her eyes stared into Robin’s face.

“Nance? What are you doing here? Come in, come here.” Robin pulled her in, nearly hugging her. “I’m going to get you a towel… And— and some dry clothes. You should shower. I thought you were in LA.”

“I just got back. I— Robin, I need to speak with you.”

Robin stopped running around, a pink towel in her hand that nearly dropped to the floor as she saw the expression on Nancy’s face. “Okay.”

“I—” Nancy frowned. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Maybe at the beginning,” Robin offered.

“I don’t know if there is a beginning. And I’m hoping this isn’t the end. I just feel like there is middle. Everything has been the middle. I can’t start at the beginning because there isn’t one. There is just you.”

“Me?”

Nancy nodded, taking a deep breath. “There is just you. And then there is me. And I’m hoping you and me could be an us.” Nancy’s teeth were digging into her bottom lip and Robin worried she’d draw blood.

“What are you—” Realization dawned on her. Nancy’s doe eyes and nervous expressions might have not been enough, but her words were clear. “Oh.”

Nancy nodded again, barely. “Do you think—”

“Yes. I like that. I’d really like to be an us.”

Nancy’s lips turned into a bright smile as she closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together.

-

“I wrote you a song,” Robin said about two weeks after their first kiss.

They were laying in Nancy’s bed, cuddling and kissing. It had been heavenly to be cooped up in Nancy’s flat the entire day. It had been marvelous to sink into her mattress and feel her lips all over her body. And now Robin was enjoying the warmth of her girlfriend.

“You wrote me a song?” Nancy asked with a soft voice.

“I did.”

“That is so sweet.” Robin could hear the smile in Nancy’s voice.

“I was hoping you would be in the video.”

“I would love to be in the video.”

-

They had agreed to keep their relationship to themselves until the video came out. Which Robin knew, logically speaking, wasn’t very long. It was supposed to be released in less than a month time so it would align with Nancy’s premiere.

But Robin was ecstatic about her new situation, and she had lasted about 3 days after they had agreed. It had at first been a slip of the thumb. She had taken this adorable picture of Nancy and couldn’t not post it. Maybe she could have used a more ambiguous caption than ‘gf reveal’ but she had slipped up. It was Nancy’s fault for being so cute.

It was only when no one believed her that she kept going, that she kept tweeting about Nancy and her dating. Not that it helped.

“They still don’t believe me. It’s insane.”

Nancy laughed softly. “At least I know it’s true.,” she said as she pulled the phone out of Robin’s hands and crawled onto her lap.

-

The premiere of Nancy’s movie was scheduled for Friday. The music video was going to drop Thursday. Robin smiled as she thought about it. But tonight, on this beautiful Monday evening, Nancy was curled up into her side as they watched the Late Night Show together. Nancy was on this episode and when she was announced Robin cheered at the screen, much to her girlfriend’s amusement. 

“So, we have to ask, is there anyone special you are taking to the premiere on Friday?”

“Well, actually, there is,” screen Nancy answered, and Robin’s eyes widened. “I’ll be taking my girlfriend, Robin Buckley.”

Nancy’s arms tightened around Robin’s waist. “So, I may have told the world.”

“Yeah,” Robin replied, nodding at the screen, not even registering the reaction from the audience.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Nancy looked up with those soft doe eyes.

“Mad? Why would I be mad? I’m delighted. I’ve been talking about it for ages now. All I wanted was you and for the whole world to know.” She lowered her face to press a kiss on her girlfriend’s lips.

[gojoandtojisleftnut]

YOURS, MINE | GOJO SATORU

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x female reader

Genre: fluff, comfort, bit of angst & smut(18+). MDI

A/n & possible tw: hope y’all having a great day. I’m having trouble with chapter two of Soul Ties I’m stuck but I will update. Anyways. -> Fem!reader, she/her pronouns, established relationship, teacher student relationship, age gap(reader is 18-19), jealous reader, jealous gojo, argument, semi public sex, pet names, oral fem!receiving, rough sex, name calling, creampie, dacryphilia. Did I forget something? Dk. This sucks anyway.

After the Goodwill event ended Satoru proposed to go on a little vacation. It would be a good chance for everyone to let loose a bit. Surprisingly Yaga agreed to it, even though Gojo would organize it either way.

“Y/n c’mon we’ll be late.” “Just give me a sec Nobara.” You answered your friend while packing your makeup bag. Two days in the Bora Bora sounds really good. The only thing is that you would prefer to be alone with your boyfriend Gojo. Don’t get me wrong you love your friends but having a secret relationship with your teacher isn’t easy. You can’t show to affection publicly in front of the people closest to you. You always have to hide.

11 and a half hours later and you arrive at your destination. Thank goodness you were flying at night and slept through most of it. Satoru always checked on you very discretely in case you needed anything.

You were sharing a room with Maki and Nobara. Yuji and Meg one and Panda and Toge another. What you didn’t know though was that teachers shared a room too.

It was now nighttime and all of you were getting ready for an outing. You were walking down the hall to get back to your room when principal Yaga stopped you. “Y/n I think this bag is Utahime’s could you give it to her?” I wouldn’t want to disturb her she might be getting ready at this time. Her room is number 203 I believe.” “Yes sir of course.” You bow your head taking the bag in hand and heading to her room.

You knock at the door twice about to knock a third when the door flies open revealing a topless Gojo. He looks at you with wide eyes but before you can even utter a word Utahime comes from behind him. “Y/n? Is everything okay?” She asks you coming to stand next to Gojo “u-uh yeah. Um principal Yaga told me to give you this” “ah yeah, I thought I lost it thank you so much”. You reassure her that it’s not a problem never taking your eyes away from your boyfriend. Utahime walks back into the room and the white haired sorcerer instantly grabs your wrist as you’re about to walk away “babygirl please this isn’t what it looks like I swear they just mixed up the rooms and-” “save it Gojo.” You pull away and head back. Tears slip down your cheeks, but you wipe them away as soon as you walked into your room, not wanting the girls to see you.

22:00 pm and you’re all about to head out. You’re wearing a pair of white strap heels and a beautiful light blue dress. It’s backless and ties in the lower back showing off all the right parts. At least you should look your best even if you weren’t feeling it.

You spot Gojo next to Utahime but he doesn’t notice you just yet so just decide to get into the van that was taking you to the restaurant. Nanami gets in and then Nobara and Maki follow. He was responsible to escort you three.

Your van needed gas so you arrived a bit later than everyone else. Maki and Nobara head out first then Nanami, but he notices you being a bit reluctant and spaced out. “Aren’t you coming y/n?” he asks you “yeah yeah I’m coming sorry” Nanami stretches his hand giving to you to help you out of the car. As you step outside and look around you see a beautiful white restaurant right on the beach.

As soon as Gojo sees you step out of the car holding Nanami’s hand he felt a burning sensation in his chest. But you don’t even spare him a glance and walk straight into the restaurant. Then he sees it. Your bare back and almost bare ass. Hips swaying and Kento’s hand barely touching you to guide you inside.

Satoru sits opposite of you at the table. Never taking his eyes off of you. “Aren’t you going to eat?” Utahime asks him making you look at them. “I’m not really hungry to be honest.” He looks at you while answering to her. You look back at him feeling like your about to cry once again. And you look too good to cry right now.

You excuse yourself from the table getting up and walking towards the bathroom.

“Princess..” you know who it is but you don’t dare look up. You can’t face him. You know that if you look at him you’ll fold. “Princess please listen to me. The rooms got mixed up and I didn’t have one. So they gave me the same one with hers and-” “I saw you shirtless and she was wearing a robe Gojo don’t you dare fucking lie to me.” you raise your voice slightly tears threatening to spill. “Baby I swear I just wanted to put my shirt on, I was getting ready. Please and don’t call me by my last name. You’re breaking my heart.” “I’m breaking your heart?! I’m breaking your heart?! What are you doing to me then? Seeing you with her. You didn’t even tell me about the rooms, you hid it from me!”

“I would tell you. And do you think seeing you with Nanami holding you like that isn’t you breaking my heart?” “Are you crazy Gojo? He helped me get out of the damn car while you were too busy talking with your new girlfriend! Don’t pretend you’re the victim.” at this point you were full on crying.

Satoru comes closer to you “Baby look at me please.” he holds your waist. He takes your chin in one hand lifting it up to look at him and then wipes your tears “I swear nothing happened and nothing will ever happen. Please believe me.” he whispered, lips hovering above yours. “You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve understood.” “I know baby I’m sorry.” he apologizes to you again and goes in for a kiss. You kiss him back letting all of your emotions take control of you. Hands around your waist guiding you to the sink. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

He kisses your neck softly and then your jaw going upwards to whisper in your ear “you look so beautiful today did I ever tell you?” you shake your head ‘no’.

Gojo lifts your dress up revealing your white thong. Pushing it to the side he bends down and spreads you legs. “You’re so wet baby.” he kisses your cunt softly making you whimper “Sato we need to go back. We’ll get caught” You know you don’t mean it, nothing can make you go back to the table. Not when you have Gojo’s tongue inside your dripping pussy.

“Sato please fuck me” you whine hands in his hair tugging on them. He gets up and kisses you making you taste yourself on his lips while pulling his pants down pumping his cock a few times with his right hand. “Bend over baby.” He turns you around and bends you over the sink. He enters you slowly making sure you adjust to his size. “You’re so tight baby. So nice and warm.” He groans and looks at you through the reflection in front of you. Seeing his princess bent over like that knowing that anyone could possibly walk in on you guys makes him go crazy. His thrusts becoming more vigorous balls slapping against your clit. Your moans getting louder by the minute.

“Ugh Toru fuck baby, fuck. It’s too much. Please slow down” your pleads make Gojo want to fuck you even harder. And that he does. He rams into you quicker this time making you scream. Fingers going white while you grip the counter, tears forming in the corner of your eyes once again. This time from the intense pleasure. “That’s my little girl. Are you close princess? I’m about to cum.” “Yeah” “cum for me beautiful.” With that you both come undone at the same time. Satoru holding you still by the hips while pulling out.

You both try to catch your breath. Satoru’s cum leaking out of you already, your panties doing a poor job holding it back.

You fix your hair and makeup again and Satoru comes close to you. Putting a hair strand behind your ear. “I’m sorry again babygirl. So sorry.” he kisses your head and holds it close to his chest. “How about we go back huh?” you just nod and you feel his hand take yours as soon as you approach the table.

You receive weird looks from everyone but you honestly don’t know how to address anything.

You both sit back down when Gojo speaks up. “Um I would like to say that, Um- me and y/n are in a relationship for quite some time now and I don’t feel like hiding it anymore.” His words make you choke on your food and everyone stops breathing for a second. “And I would also like to share a room with my girlfriend so if Utahime is kind enough to share a room with Maki and Kugisaki would be great.” He finishes looking at his senpai who’s looking back at him more confused than ever.

Everyone was now up some dancing others at the bar. Your hands were around Satoru’s neck while his hands wrapped around your waist. Your forehead against his own. The summer breeze hitting you as you slow danced. His lips come close to yours once again. “I love you Satoru” “I love you too baby” “mine?” “Yours. Always yours.”

[dontfeeltoohot]

thinking about canonverse steddie where eddie is sick and sad one evening so he pops in to family video to rent a movie he can veg on the couch to, but ends up spending the last few hours before closing time hanging with steve at the counter (it's a tuesday night so there's no customers anyways). and yes he's sniffling and sneezing up a storm, and his head hurts because the lights are a bit too bright, but at least he's not alone and gets to talk to a cute boy.

anyways. lots of thoughts™

Normally, Eddie wouldn't give a shit that he's sick. Sure, he's been raised by Wayne to be polite and hygienic, but he's never really been shy about colds or the flu, not when he so rarely gets sick. At least, not until Steve Harrington came into his life with his perfect ass and flawless hair. Sure, Steve is an absolute mess when he's sick, so it's not like he'd judge Eddie for being under the weather, but the musician still doesn't want to be gross around him.

Giving one final, soupy sniffle, the long haired man opens the door to Family Video, two hours before closing. It's a Tuesday in January, so the place is dead, leaving Steve to putter around, mindlessly fixing VHS tapes and candy boxes.

"Welcome to-oh, hey man," Steve greets, his customer service voice dropping the second Eddie comes into view.

"Hey Harri'gton," Eddie smiles, tired eyes brightening slightly at the sight of his crush.

The reason for coming was straight forward- find and rent The Exorcist for a night on the couch. Instead, he finds himself drawn to the stores counter, where Steve is leaning. Moving towards him, he sniffles and clears his burning throat, tampering down a cough that wants to break free. Steve watches him with his big, dumb puppy eyes, a crinkle appearing in the middle of his forehead.

"You okay? You look a little-"

"ih'NGgkshew! hihIKshuhEW! SNF! iigKTschew!"

"-sick."

"Uh...yeah, think Gareth got me sick or some shit, I don't know. Doesn't normally happen, so..." Eddie shrugs and drops his arm that's been snuggly pressed against his face, nose swiping against the rough flannel material as it goes.

"Damn, that sucks. Shouldn't you be at home, instead of out in the cold? Eating soup?"

"As if Wayne can cook," he snorts and scrunches his nose up when it reverberates through his sinuses.

"They have cans of it ya know, all you gotta do is pour it in a pot and heat it up."

Eddie fake gasps, throwing a hand to his chest in mock surprise, but the sudden inhale makes his breath catch and he shields his face with his unbuttoned flannel shirt, turning to cough into it. Fuck his throat hurts like a bitch. When the coughs die down, he turns back to an unimpressed Steve.

"I never knew they had canned soup, when did this happen?" Eddie knows he's being a little shit, but the other man makes it too easy.

"Okay, okay, you asshole. Just...you should take care of yourself."

"Don't worry Princess, I'm..snf! I'm all good. I know I need to eat. I'm actually here to grab a movie for when I lay down on the couch and most likely fall asleep before ten minutes in."

Eddie heads over to the horror section in the back corner while Steve helps a customer who walks in. He finds The Exorcist and ends up snagging The Bloody Judge too. The lights overhead make him squint as he looks to see if anything else jumps out at him, head starting to ache. When he hears the door open and shut again, he turns and the store is once again empty.

"Find what you were looking for?"

"Jesus Harrington, you're surprisingly quiet for someone your size," Eddie huffs, using his free hand to swipe at his nose.

"Are you calling me fat?"

"No, you're just...muscular and shit," he blushes, face heating up. Maybe he has a fever, because he's definitely not embarrassed.

They end up talking far longer than Eddie intends. They migrate to the counter, and the metal head ends up sitting cross legged behind it while Steve sits on the stool. Neither realize it's eight pm until the lights overhead automatically shift to half on. The change makes Eddie rub his face and stand, nostrils twitching for what feels like the hundredth time.

"iihNGkSHuhew! hihgkSHhew! ihh...heh...igKTSHhEW!"

"Jesus Eddie," Steve frowns as the older man sniffles wetly, keeping the cuff of his sleeve pressed to his nose. "Do you always sneeze like that? Like, in threes?"

"Y-Yeah have since I was a kid, snf! Uh...you got any tissues around? Thihhnk I could use one," Eddie scrunches his nose desperately, not wanting to sneeze again, not with how stuffy he can tell he is.

"Yeah, I think so...Robin had a cold a few weeks ago, gimme a sec."

Steve walks away and into the back. Eddie keeps his cuff to his face, rubbing the tip of his nose in tiny circles to try and starve off the inevitable sneezes. It helps until Steve's walking back out, a tissue box in hand.

"ihNGKChhEW! hih-KSHuh! ihhgKSHuhEW!"

Steve holds out a tissue which he takes with his free hand, pressing it to his nose to attempt to clean up some of the mess that's now running onto his lip. Fucking colds.

"Bless you."

"Tha'gks. I should uh...head home...but it was nice ha'ging out with you."

"Yeah, maybe we can do it again when you feel better...could get some dinner or something."

Eddie grins, shoving the tissue in his pocket.

"It's a date then, Harrington."

"It's a date."

[peepsibo]

hi !!! could you possibly write headcanons for robin arellano x babysitter reader ? (platonic) w the reader maybe being like 15-17 or something. still older but still in school so they know some people robin talks abt ?<3

my first 'x reader' request <3 i hope you enjoy i have no clue what i am doing LOL. this became a lot longer than i realized... also i plan on sunday night/ monday finally answering my inbox!

(platonic) robin arellano x babysitter! reader (gn), (platonic) casper crew x babysitter! reader ; headcanons; non-canon, fluff

cw: mentions of violence, cursing, implied child abuse, small angst portion at the end that follows canon sorry i couldn't resist </3

ok so first off, you probably started babysitting him when he was like in 4th grade so like 10 years old and you were 14 trying to make some extra money

and your neighbor mrs. arellano needed someone to be with her son for four hours after school cause lets say robin's uncle had new working hours

you would pick robin up from school that let out at 3, help him with homework, make him a snack, play with him until 6 pm when his uncle would return home

very easy job!

except in the beginning robin would NOT open up

anything you would do he would look at you indifferently and not react

at like all

not even when u made his food into fun shapes

you: i cut your sandwich into fun faces! :)

robin: *slowly blinks, takes the plate of the sandwiches with no expression and walks away*

so for the first two weeks you saw him as a little brat and you couldn't handle this kid

you were considering asking mrs. arellano if she could get another babysitter so you could quit or at least watch him less

that was until one day, the day you planned to talk to mrs. arellano about getting a new sitter when this kid

absolutely out of nowhere

would not stop clinging to you

you went to pick him up from school and he zoomed out the building and fucking JUMPED to hug you

you: ????

like he wanted to be carried home, and when you couldn't cause his back pack was heavy (wtf were teachers assigning to 4th graders these days???) he settled for holding your hand and talking about his day

and when you got him home he wanted to help prepare his snack

turns out he was analyzing you to see if you were a good person, a vibe check sort to speak

and you passed! congratulations!

also turns out for his art project in school he drew you :(

(you have that photo in your wallet and show everyone even when robin is like 18 you will go 'look what robin drew for me!' and he will threaten to hit u')

so now you are stuck with this kid for the rest of your life

when his 11th birthday rolls around you're the first person this kid invites

also at this party this is when you meet finney!

robin is SO stoked to have you meet his best friend he wouldn't stop talking about it leading up to his birthday

ok so timeskip to when robin is 13 and you are 17

while he doesn't need a babysitter now he will not let you go

you are like an older sibling to him he will be damned if you stop hanging out with him

think steve and dustin from stranger things

anyways

and since now robin has like gotten in many fights now and has a rough kid reputation and now u get the pleasure of making sure his wounds don't get infected! so happy 4 u

u scold him a lot the first couple times he get in a fight while taking care of him so he has finney clean him up before he sees you after school to avoid that

speaking of finney

he would be friends with the rest of the casper crew so now you have seemingly adopted them too

i think out of the rest of the casper crew, besides robin, you would be pretty close to vance and griffin

vance, because he also is a rough kid like robin but you quickly break down vance's walls surprisingly

he tries to act tough but when u call him kiddo/ help take care of his hair he gets real quiet and has a small smile on his face

honestly ur just good with rougher kids, like when u grow up u end up going to become a therapist to help those rougher kids and understand them

and griffin because he's small, u could pick him up like a ragdoll and throw him against the wall u have this need to protect him

but he's also the biggest instigator so now u have to really control him

griffin, to vance: me, personally, i would not let that slide

you: *sighing, having to hold both vance and griffin at the collars of their shirts like cats*

you about robin: they are lovely amazing kids they are my pride and joy :)

you about vance and griffin: these are my dogs, they have rabies

for finney, you also unknowingly adopt gwen alongside him

they are a two-in-one deal tbh

when nights get bad at their house cause of their father, they leave to stay the night at yours and you comfort them

so u especially take up a more parent role for those two

also remember i mentioned u cutting robin's food into fun shapes? you bring back your star cookie cutters for finney

he acts nonchalant but inside he's freaking out over the star shaped sandwiches

for billy/ paperboy, hes like the most normal of the bunch, the straightman if u will

when u have to leave the room for like two minutes u always have billy be in charge (he has those spray water bottles u use on cats when they misbehave)

now bruce... i feel like he unknowingly makes enemies with people so now u have to protect this kid from getting jumped and he has not a damn clue what's going on

u knock on his head and u hear an echo (/lh)

so atp robin def has a key to your house so now they can terrorize u whenever u want

you, walking into your home: hello people who don't live hear

robin: yo

vance: sup

bruce: hey!

billy: *waves without looking up from his book*

finney: robin brought us here

griffin: we were out of doritos so we came to steal from you!

they all take a year away from your life

to circle this back to robin, you two are obviously the closest

as stated above, he sees you as an older sibling and while u love all the others who entered your life, it will always be you and robin

you are the first person he tells when he gets a 'C' on his math test

he will always be able to mention you to someone in a conversation

you are one of his role models in life

at the end of the day, you two will always be bonded for life

extra: canon angst!-

when robin goes missing, you are a mess. it was one of the two days you typically don't see robin, and now you feel it was your fault he was taken. how could you be so careless? late at night, you wish it was you that was taken.

[dogsongy]

Good Boy~ (19)

Masterlist- Series masterlist - Previous - Next

Chapter 19

Summary: Miyeon opens a dog cafe with her 5 dogs and two handsome young men happen to come in on opening day.

Pairing: Yunho x reader (named Miyeon) x Mingi

Genre: fluff for the most part (with a little bit of angst)

A quiet groan left Miyeon’s lips as the professor went over the syllabus of the class. Her brown haired friend turned to her while flipping his pen a couple of times. “This class is going to bore me to death, Yeosang.” She whispered towards him. In response he shrugged. “I dunno, it seems like it's going to be an easy A for me.” He leans back and smirks. “Maybe not too much for you.” Miyeon lightly elbows his side. “Yeah right I have trouble getting you to make a social media presence for us at the cafe.” 

“Well you said I can’t shitpost so it's hard to think of something.” 

“Saying that we will draw doge on peoples lattes is not a good business move”

“Whatever”

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

That Friday Miyeon had her laptop set up by the cash register around 1:30 pm. The lunch rush was not as bad as it usually is, maybe because everyone was working hard towards the weekend. She had an online English class around this time and the 4 other employees seemed to be busy with other engagements such as clubs, sports and other classes. A familiar orange haired boy also introduced himself to be in her class so she was glad to see at least one familiar face. The cafe itself is mostly empty with a couple of customers drinking coffee and working on various projects on their devices. The dogs were littered around the cafe as well except Yuo who was lying in one of the dog beds behind the counter and near Miyeon. 

Luckily the rest of the day was also pretty quiet. Customers came in to order coffees and sat quietly using the cafe as a peaceful workplace where they could even pet a dog if they got too stressed. Three pm came around surprisingly fast and Miyeon closed the shop by herself after her class ended around 2:30. She then continued with her day by showering and leashing her dogs up for a nice walk. Things were going pretty smoothly as she made sure her dogs were well trained and in life when it came to walk etiquette. Eventually they circle back to head back towards the cafe. 

“Hey! funny seeing you here.” A voice calls out to Miyeon. She turns around to look at the voice and is greeted by none other than Yunho. 

“Yunho!” She grins at the tall man jogging over to approach her. He bends down towards all the excited dogs. Even Yuo seemed a little comfortable with his presence. “What are you doing around here?” Once the dogs calm down he stands up straight. 

“I was just taking a walk around the park when I noticed you walking the puppies so I had to at least say hi.” He lets out a small chuckle as they begin to walk and talk due to the restless dogs. “Ah well I'm a little hard to miss but I'm glad to see you.”

“Likewise!”

After a slight pause in the conversation Yunho takes a deep breath. “Hey, I have a question for you.” His whole bright demeanor seemed to change to a more shy tone.

“Sure, ask away.” She glanced up at his nervous figure. He was playing with his fingers one second then fixed his hair with them the next. 

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to see that new spiderman movie sometime…. I mean it's ok if you don't want to-”

“That sounds like fun! When were you thinking?”

“How about tonight at 7:30? I checked the show and they're practically every hour.” The redhead smiles softly at her feeling slightly relieved.

“Yea I could do that!”

“Awesome I'll pick you up from the cafe if that's no problem for you.”

“Yeah that'll be great I’ll see you then Yunho!” Miyeon’s cheeks flushed as she waved to the guy that just asked her on a date.

[villainous-thorn]

Could I request a hero and villain couple flirting with a detective that managed to prove villain was innocent of a crime that supervillain framed them for? Adore your writing btw so thank you so much for taking requests!

I got a little carried away with this one...

cw: suggestive themes

“Hell of a job, Detective. Gotta say, I’m impressed.” Hero mused, boxing the other into a vacant corner of the courthouse hall as the crowd passed by.

“I was simply doing my job. What are you doing here, though? Hoping to watch Villain get put away or do you often come to watch trials?” The sleuth inquired, noting the Hero’s body language that indicated they weren’t going to be done talking with them for a while.

“Not exactly, I’m here for personal purposes, dear. But I’d like to speak to you somewhere more private, if I may?” Hero’s spoke low, dangerously so, uncharacteristic for a hero. Even more dangerous was how close the crime stopper had gotten, if it weren’t for the multiple layers of clothes they probably could have felt the heat emanating from the other. These two incredibly dangerous components struck a chord in the investigator’s gut, tightening a wire deep within. They swallowed hard.

“Do I have a choice in the matter?” The detective chuckled dryly.

“Why a’course you do, gumshoes! There’s a coffeehouse about 3 blocks down the left when you leave out the front door a’here. I’ll be there at 4 pm if you’d care to join me.” Hero smirked, their sultry tone clearly stating that they didn’t need an RSVP, it was more like a command. They nodded at the Hero, the crime fighter taking that as their cue to go and vanished into the crowd.

If the detective’s interest wasn’t piqued before, it certainly was now.

-

Surprisingly, the cafe was fairly empty, making the hero easy to spot in a corner booth. As the detective approached they noticed another a head of hair peeking over the side of the seat, but Hero had already noticed them coming and waved. Hesitantly the investigator pressed forward, addressing the crime fighter before they sat down next to whoever the hell decided to crash their date.

Oh.

Villain glanced over and smiled, one that looked alarmingly genuine, and patted the vinyl next to them, inviting the detective to sit. Warily they complied.

“Uh-” Detective began.

“So glad you decided to join us, Detective. Do you know what you would like to drink?” Hero inquired innocently.

They cleared their throat, still off put by the criminal lounging next to them, because while the villain may not have committed this particular crime, Detective knew they were no saint.

“Plain black should be fine. No sugar.” Their tone was firm despite their anxieties.

“Cliche.” Villain murmured with a grin.

“Be right back, gumshoes.”

The detective immediately turned to Villain, “What are you doing here?” they hissed.

“I can’t enjoy a date with my significant other?” Villain defended.

Detective was confused, their face spelled that emotion out perfectly. “But Hero flirted with me?”

Villain laughed, it was a warm sound, one you wouldn’t expect from someone like them, it made the investigator’s heart flip for just a moment.

“Honey, did you know you were making heart eyes at me during the entire trial?” The detective froze, a blush quickly plastering their face, clearly answering the question. The criminal crowded around the other’s body, their breath fanning Detective’s cheek as they whispered in their ear. “You were absolutely eye-fucking me and it took so much willpower not to jump your bones and ruin that wonderfully tailored suit.”

Detective was no doctor but they swore their heart literally stopped for a tick but then immediately began pumping as much blood as possible to their face and… well. It was that moment that Hero delivered their drinks, sitting back down across from the two. The bright red of Detective’s cheeks was instantly noticed, making Hero stuck out their lower lip in a pout before speaking.

“Awww, you got started without me. Here’s your mocha, baby. And your black, gumshoes.” Their lips tugging into a smile as they took a sip, watching the mini crisis Detective was expressing with their eyes. They looked at Villain, ridiculously smug, and they shot back a mirroring smile.

“So, Detective. I’m sure you’ve deduced that we’re a couple.” Hero began, the investigator nodded. “And that we’re interested in you.” Detective averted their eyes. “And you’re interested in us?” They nodded again, cheeks burning just a little brighter. “Wonderful! Now, gumshoes, would you like to come home with us, or take this slow?”

“We’re okay with either, but I think I know your answer.” Villain added.

“Um-” Their voice came out unfathomably dry and raspy, making them cough to clear their throat. “I would very much like to take your offer and see your home.” Detective said eloquently, unable to find the least crude way of agreeing.

“Oh, I think you’ll just love the master bedroom.” Villain whispered, their puffs of hot air still caressing the investigator’s cheek, forcing chills through their body.

Detective let a nervous giggle slip through, they were in way over their head, but gods was this going to be fun.

[bubblyhoney]

sandy cheeks

warnings: language of course, nipple talk??, dream being a fanny pack dad for .2 seconds, an admission of Love

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 1115

A/N: wrote this in like an hour.. not sorry!

-

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, shoulders tensing as you pull your hands up to your chest. The water is fucking cold. Like, shrink-your-balls-cold. Like, my-pinky-toe-fell-off-cold.

“Come on,” He teases, grabbing your wrist and tugging you towards him. You just stumble like a newborn deer, slamming into his chest and gasping at the splash of water rising to your hips. “It’s not that bad.”

“Tell that to my rock-hard nipples,” you sputter, crossing your arms tight on your chest and letting yourself get swayed by the current.

It’s a surprisingly windy day in Florida, sun out every once and a while to warm up the scattered groups of people on the beach. Sapnap insisted you two go down to the beach (“we don’t even have to swim!”) for dinner and to waste some of the day away. It’s summer, so you can do that. You still put on a swimsuit, deciding that relaxing would be more comfortable in less clothes anyways.

“Tell your nips to chill, then.” A large hand catches you around the waist and tugs you forward. His chest is surprisingly warm on your skin and you shiver. You press even closer, hiding your face in his neck to steal some of his warmth. “You are cold,” he murmurs, in awe, and slides his hands up and down your biceps that prickle with goosebumps.

“No shit,” you whine and shuffle closer. Gravelly sand works its way in between your toes and makes you shuffle your feet, disgusted look pulling at your face. “I hate the beach.”

Sapnap reaches to brush your windswept hair out of your face and his hand drops to thumb at your pout, brows pulled together.

“No you don’t. You just hate being cold.” His hands tug at your elbows and lift your arms to loop around his neck. “Just hug me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. Your pout softens and you silently agree. He is warm. He also smells like sunscreen and something musky you attribute to that cologne he says makes him “smell like David Beckham’s butler”. Whatever the hell that means.

Your attitude shifts as soon as you stop trembling. The sun peeks out of the clouds and warms your shoulders. The water lapping at your abdomen seems calm and warm instead of rough and piercing. And the boy in your arms is patient instead of the devil reincarnate who wants you to become a human popsicle.

“Better,” you decide, sliding a hand to the nape of his neck and tracking your fingers through his silky hair. He just hums, content. The arms slung around your waist grip tight as you two sway together to no tune in particular.

A gruff voice shouts from the shore and you peel yourself from his chest, turning. It’s Dream. Waving like an idiot from the place where your bags and towels lay in the fine sand. He must’ve just got here after finishing up a plug-in at home, too busy to come with you guys when you left but apparently not too busy to leave ten minutes after. You just lift a hand, grinning at his excitement. Everybody likes beach day.

“You hungry?” You ask, voice quiet and sweet, and Sapnap just stares back at you with a blissful expression. You blink. He shakes his head, licking at his bottom lip.

“Uh, yeah.”

You pass him a weird look.

“Is the heat getting to your head?” You suggest with a mocking tone and lift a hand to press to his forehead. He bats you away with a smile.

“I will hold you under,” is all he says before he’s letting go and walking back up to the shore. You just gape, pausing, before wading after him.

“You wouldn’t.” You sound scandalized and he just laughs, waiting until you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with him so he can take your hand in his.

“Try me.” His lip quivers with a held-back laugh. You just roll your eyes and shove his shoulder. Brat.

The sandwiches and fruit he packed are well-needed replenishment. Well, however much fruit you get—Dream is a cantaloupe fiend. And he steals like half of the bag of jalapeño chips. This is why you can’t have nice things.

But the rest of the late-afternoon swings by quickly. The wind dies down with no protest and the beach gets less and less crowded as time drags into sunset territory.

“Go stand over there,” you order, gesturing to a lump of sand right next to what used to be a sandcastle.

“I don’t want a picture, Y/N,” Sapnap complains, not very go-with-the-flow.

“Too bad, baby.” You lift your phone and snap a few pictures of a grumpy looking Sapnap in front of the beautiful sunset.

“Smile like you love me,” Dream suggests, standing to the right of you with his hands on his hips. This feels like two parents forcing their eight year old to take pictures with the Mickey Mouse statue at Disney World. Your boyfriend pulls his face into what looks like halfway between a grimace and grin, but it’ll have to do. A smile stretches your lips subconsciously at his cute face.

“So cute,” you coo, and step forward to squeeze at his cheeks. He can’t help but chuckle and lean to press a kiss to your mouth. Okay, two. Would be three if Dream didn’t make a vomit noise and stomp back to your things like a petulant child. You just shake your head.

The ride home is perfect. Sapnap has the windows down, allowing you to lean your head out and feel the wind in your hair with closed eyes. Music different to his usual modern taste drifts lazily out of the speakers and makes you uncharacteristically sleepy for 9 pm. The second he parks in the driveway you jerk awake, blinking wildly around in the night air. A yawn splits your face and you lift a hand to cover it, turning to Sapnap with watery eyes. He just gazes at you, looking somewhat in a trance.

“I love you.”

You freeze, palm dropping from your mouth. The water in your eyes stills.

It’s the first time.

First time he’s said it.

And he doesn’t sound nervous. No shake in his inflection, no quiet tone. He says it like it’s the easiest thing, deciding to love you.

You love him too. Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?

“Really?” You ask, shy grin creeping onto your lips. He just nods, cheeks pink. You wait a beat, still processing. The wind slides gentle and easy, lifting the hair up off your neck. “I love you too, you know. You have to know.”

He just nods.

Of course he knows.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

[captains-simp]

Ummmmm........

Can I have Yelena Belova "I'll stay as long as you need me too" or Fluff number 3?

I think i got the right prompt but it's definitely fluff.

If you still are accepting these requests and you haven't already done this one yet.

Chskdjks I didn't think anyone was actually going to request anything, this sparks so much joy (all of the requests are amazing and I'm working on them all). Soft Yelena let's gooooo

"I'll stay as long as you need me to."

Warnings: injury detail and my extreme lack of knowledge regarding medical treatment

2k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hearing someone knocking at your door at 11:48 pm was never something you took much comfort in. Especially when there was no previous heads up about it.

You considered not opening door, telling yourself to continue watching your show and not think about the fact that you didn't live in the best neighbourhood.

When the knocking continued you wondered if you should call someone, anyone, but the faint and very much strained sound of your friend's voice had you sprinting across the apartment to open the door.

Yelena was leaning against the door frame, frighteningly pale and looking as tired as someone who had just fought a war on their own. Given her line of work you guessed you weren't that far off.

"Lena you...what happened?" Your eyes fell to her stomach where she was holding her blood stained shirt. You felt faint imagining how bad of an injury she had sustained.

You stumbled backwards and motioned for her to come in before you shut the door behind her and rushed to the bathroom to get your well-stocked first aid kit.

You had meant to go back to the front door to help Yelena into the bathroom but she had already made her way towards you.

"I love that you have such a small appartment." She breathed out. You smiled weakly and supported her weight as you helped her manage the final few steps to your bathroom and sat her on the edge of the tub.

"You should be thankful for the friend that owns it too." You joked as you knelt down infront of her.

"I am." Yelena was quick to say. "I really am." You smiled up at her took her hands away from her shirt before you slowly peeled it away to expose the gun shot wound. You took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of it.

"You need to go to a hospital." You said as you tried to examine it without causing your friend any extra discomfort.

"I can't." You knew better than to push that. It no doubt had something to do with her mission, which meant you weren't allowed to know.

Yelena had never made it a habit of coming to you for medical assistance - especially as you weren't a doctor or nurse. The first time you had done so was when you picked up on her strained walk. You kept bugging her about it until she finally showed you the gash on her calf. It had been easy to clean and healed quickly. After that was a deep cut on her arm, then a burn on her back, then another cut. All of which you noticed. It was only when the injuries were bad that Yelena asked for your help. Too stubborn to ask anyone else and smart enough to know she needed assistance.

You never told Yelena, but you had gone out of your way to learn a little more than the basics on dealing with injuries. Once or twice you had to sneak away from her in your bathroom to double check one of your books to make sure you were doing everything right. Whenever she asked how you knew so much you made up some lie about watching a lot of TV...okay so maybe that wasn't a complete lie.

"Where's the bullet?" You asked, confused by the absence of an exit wound.

"I took it out." Yelena mumbled, she was starting to look worse now.

"Yelena!" You scolded. "No wonder you're bleeding so much." Yelena knew better than to do that but you decided you would investigate that further another day.

You placed a cloth against the wound and held it there with one hand and bit your lip as you glanced up at her.

She's lost a lot of blood...really needs a hospital...are stitches enough?

You didn't want to leave Yelena's side for a second to check one of your books. You weren't sure stitches would cut it, the wound should have been cauterized but you had no experience with that and didn't want to try your luck. Stitches would have to do.

You prepared the needle and thread as Yelena held onto the cloth. Your hand was shaking slightly in anxiety over the situation. You wanted to hear about the mission, about who shot the blonde you cared for so deeply. She wasn't meant to tell you anything, but you needed to hear her voice and it would help her stay conscious so you tried.

"Did you get the jackass who shot you?" You asked as you started to hold the skin in place. Yelena hissed sharply before speaking.

"Of course." Even bleeding out she was smug, what else would you expect from her?

"Mmm, and the mission was a success?"

"It was." You were surprised at the confirmation. "Besides getting shot." She added. You had been trying to keep her attention off of that fact.

Yelena gripped the bathtub tightly and groaned. There had been no time for anaesthetic.

"Almost done." You assured.

You stayed in a concentrated silence as you finished the last stitch. It wasn't perfect, but you had done a good job.

You got up to get a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet and handed them to Yelena with a glass of water. She waved them away at first until she begrudgingly accepted them after a firm look from you.

You carefully cleaned the blood off of her stomach with half a dozen wipes and placed a dressing over the wound as gently as you could manage. It would need constant attention for a while and you could only hope that Yelena would stay with you in that time. You wanted her by your side until she was well. You wanted her by your side when she recovered too. That was a convosation you weren't ready for.

"Thank you, y/n." Yelena said as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Let's get you to bed." You said, lifting her arm over your shoulder again to help her up.

"No, you don't have to-"

"Doctor's orders." You insisted, not in the mood to deal with Yelena's stubborness when she could have bled out in your bathroom. There was still a chance that could happen. She could sense your slightly agitated tone - she was superspy and your best friend of years, so of course she could.

"Not a doctor." She muttered as you guided her to your room. You rolled your eyes but didn't manage to stop the small smile creeping onto the corner of your mouth.

"I'll take the couch." She made a move to separate from you but you held onto her waist perhaps a little too desperately to lead her to your room.

"No way."

"It's your house." Yelena said, trying to look at you but you kept your eyes forward, afraid of what she would discover when she read you.

"Then we'll both take the bed." You sighed. Yelena managed a sly smile at your words and you gently nudged her side as you sat her down on your bed. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before." You said that to yourself more than Yelena, trying not to think about how close you would be during the night and how that would probably keep you awake.

You handed her a spare pair of pajamas and went to leave for the bathroom to change and clean away when you noticed her struggle.

"Let me." You muttered in the least pitiful and condescending tone you could, knowing if she thought she heard some she would reject any further help from you. She nodded so you lifted the stained shirt over her head as carefully as you could, using her breathing patterns as a guide to tell you if she had any discomfort.

"You want that off too?" You motioned to her sports bra and averted your eyes a little too obviously from her toned stomach.

Yelena huffed when she noticed the sports bra, clearly thinking about how much of a literal pain it would be to get off.

"Just get me some scissors." You nodded and grabbed some from your desk and handed them to her, instantly turning on your heals to leave to avoid a sight that would be stuck in you head for the rest of your life.

God, y/n. Don't be such a perv. You mentally scolded as you cleaned and cleared everything away before quickly getting into your pajamas.

You knocked on your bedroom door and heard Yelena tell you you could come in.

Her discarded and very much ruined beyond saving clothes were in a surprisingly neat pile on the floor, you would deal with that the next day.

Yelena was wearing one of your shirts, which looked much better on her, and hadn't bothered with the pajama bottoms. You gulped as you realised you would be sleeping next to her in that.

"You always have your heating on way too high." Yelena mumbled, you smiled sheepishly and let the complaint go as she was clearly not having the best of days.

"I get-"

"Cold easily. I know." Yelena smiled knowingly at you as she pulled the covers over herself and layed on her side facing your side of the bed. You got in next to her and mirrored her position.

"Please don't go disappearing as soon as I fall asleep." You said with a slight pout. It wasn't like she hadn't done that before.

"I'll stay as long as you need me to." Yelena smiled reassuringly at you. You wanted to believe that, but it seemed much more likely that you would wake up without Yelena next to you the next day.

The blonde must have picked up on your skepticalism, she placed a gentle hand on your hip and the other snaked around your back. Together, they pulled you closer to her slowly until you were pressed against Yelena as she moved onto her back. One of her legs even tangled around yours to keep you close.

You didn't move for a moment, almost not trusting yourself, but eventually you gave in to what you were craving and rested your head in the crook of her neck and wrapped your arms firmly around her.

Her familiar scent engulfed you in a way that was much more reassuring than her words. This was amplified when Yelena kept her hand on your hip while the other combed through the top of your hair in the most comforting gesture you had ever seen from her much less received. You felt yourself sink into her more as you fully relaxed.

You couldn't contain the smile on your lips. Nor could you ignore the butterflies throwing a rave in your stomach. It definetly didn't help you get a handle on your ever-growing feelings for your friend, but there was no way you were going to pull away from the embrace.

In the warmth and security of Yelena's comfort it didn't take long for sleep to overtake you. You knew she was safe, as you kept brushing your fingers lightly across the part of her shirt concealing the dressing, and you knew she was there with you. It put your mind at rest better than anything else ever had.

But just as you slipped into your deep sleep you could have sworn you felt Yelena's soft lips on your forehead.

Maybe there was a chance you could fall asleep in her arms more often and maybe it could be when she was unharmed. You were unsure about a lot of things in life, but that was something you felt confident on.

And rightly so.

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Part II

On the Wings of Desire

Warnings: Language

(I had to split this chapter into two because it was getting too long. Hence, no sexy times, but angst galore) Comments and reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Let me know what you think. 

Chapter One is here

Two Years Ago

 Azriel

 Azriel pulled up to the flower shop.

There was a surprise that he wanted to share with Elain, and like a young boy on his first date, he was both excited and nervous. But he hoped that she’d like it. Funny how he still got a little nervous with her, exuberant even.

It’s been three months since they’ve met and he loved every minute that they’d spent together. The nature of their relationship was a little undefined, but he didn’t care. So what if they weren’t ‘dating’? So there weren’t official dinners and outings, to show only the best part of each other to one another? They moved beyond that right away. They simply loved being together. It was inexplicable, how quickly it happened, how easy it was between the two of them, but Azriel could never get enough of Elain.

He came to her shop whenever he wanted, helped her out, hung out with her, and she went to the garage to meet him. If he was busy and couldn’t meet with her, she closed her shop for lunch, and brought him a sandwich, so they could eat together. He loved it, even if he actually had a restaurant and a bar on premises and she technically didn’t need to buy him food. But there was something special about her coming up the stairs to his office, dressed in one of her cute, flowery dresses and heels. Every time it was a different sandwich, a different drink and a different snack—sometimes a cookie, or good chocolate, or weird chips, or a full-on pastry with cream and ganache and whatnot. He developed a strange fascination with his lunch options, never knowing what it would be and eagerly anticipating it.

Sometimes, he took her on long rides—one of their favourite past times. If he knew that she was up to her eyeballs with orders, since this was summer and it seemed like everyone was getting married, he would bring her takeout to the shop, and they’d sit and arrange flowers until the wee hours. When things calmed down, and there was a quiet evening ahead, she usually invited him to come and eat at her place. They cooked together, drank wine, and then went for a walk.

They haven’t had a kiss yet.

Did it bother him? He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t dream of Elain all the time, of her supple, soft body, of how she’d look naked, of how she’d feel when he filled her, what sounds she’d make, what her face would look like when she climaxed around him? Was she a screamer? A beggar? Was she loud or quiet and shy?

She never spoke of her past boyfriends, so he had no idea of how many men she’s been with. Secretly, he hoped that it wasn’t too many. Maybe it was some male thing, but the idea of her with another man, the thought of someone else touching her, making her moan, making her love—it didn’t please him at all. He thought that he was more modern, more advanced in his thinking—and usually he was—but in this case, he was struggling with accepting Elain wrapped around some other male.

 Surprisingly, even though it wasn’t even 6 pm yet, the flowers that usually spilled outside the shop were not gracing the pavement and the shop looked closed for the day. But Azriel went and knocked on the glass door anyway, seeing as there was some light coming from Elain’s office in the back. There was no response, but he knocked even harder, almost banging, until he heard Elain’s muffled voice yelling, “we are closed!”

“Laney, open up! It’s me!”

A few moments later, Elain appeared in the darkness and then the door opened.

And his jaw almost dropped.

She stood in front of him, wearing a slinky, satin, cobalt dress that looked almost like lingerie. Of modest length, it nevertheless emphasized her breasts very enticingly: soft and full, and pushed together just enough to create a hint of delicious cleavage. A simple set of glittering silver chains nestled seductively in that yummy valley between her breasts. One bare foot was clad in a strappy silver sandal, while she held the other, and jumped awkwardly on one foot, balancing herself on the doorframe. Her hair was curled and arranged over one naked shoulder.

He struggled to keep his breath from whooshing loudly.

“Whoa…”

“Hi Az,” she sounded…uncomfortable.

“Hey you. Hot date?” he chuckled, eyes gliding from her pretty toes up to her eyes.

Her throat bobbed and she didn’t answer.

Shit.

He fought the urge to cross his arms on his chest. But then he’d look threatening, towering over her, much like his father did when he was in one of his moods. Azriel swore to himself long ago to never, ever cross his arms with women.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming over,” she began, voice wobbling.

“So, you figured that you could sneak out?” he spat unkindly.

“I am not sneaking out!” she snapped, flushed and defiant. “I am going out,”

“With whom?” he demanded.

He and Elain had never fought. Never even disagreed.

They laughed together. They joked and discussed. They argued over books and movies. They talked about design, food and travel, places they wanted to visit, and things they wanted to see. Elain randomly texted him names of 3 and 2 Michelin star restaurants from all over the world, telling him where she wanted to dine, why, and eagerly opining on the menus.

Elain was his.

His little foodie, who was a fearless eater, and sampled just about everything and anything.

Elain was his.

His little art lover, who had a surprisingly wide breadth of knowledge of painting, art history and strong opinions on artists and styles. When he found out that she adored Balthus and that Egon Schiele was her favourite artist of all time, his respect for her only increased.

Elain was his.

His little intellectual, who read Anna Akhmatova’s poetry, listened to Alain Elkann’s podcast, and who could easily talk about the history of Lamborghini or Aston Martin, and Formula 1, just to satisfy him.

What the fuck was this?

Why was his Elain going on some date with another man?

Anger rose in him so quickly; he had a difficult time stopping his hands from shaking. So, he clasped them behind his back.

“It’s none of your business,” she said coldly. “I don’t have to report to you who I am going out with,”

“You don’t?” he demanded absurdly.

“No, I don’t!”

“Please tell me who he is?” he decided on a different approach. His brain was working furiously, trying to dissuade her, yet not anger her, yet find out as much information as possible.

“No!” she shook her head stubbornly. “Why do you even care?”

Why did he care? WHY did he care?

He couldn’t have been misreading all the signs. He couldn’t have been misreading her interest, her acceptance, her want.

There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him—emotionally, as a friend, as a partner, as a lover. Reading people was his job, his calling, and he’d never been wrong. He certainly wasn’t wrong with Elain—she was an open book to him. He didn’t need to evaluate her reactions to his company to know that she was absolutely enthralled with him.

So why this?

Was it something he did? There were no hints of anything amiss the last time they’d seen each other. They were at her place, they cooked Italian together—spaghetti and clams—and he opened a bottle of Petilia Greco di Tufo, a pure, harmonious white from Campania. Then they went to the rooftop—their favourite place—and watched the city, enjoying gelato and playing cards.

Squeezing his hands behind his back, he demanded, “Has he been vetted?”

“Vetted? Vetted?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Who is going to be doing this vetting?”

She stared at him and bit out,

“I don’t like this side of you. This is crazy behaviour,”

“Why? Because you are going on a date? Suddenly. Unexpectedly.”

At that, she blushed furiously, squirming under his heavy, icy gaze.

He continued, “And with some guy you refuse to tell me anything about. Have you told Cass?”

“What? What exactly is Cass? My father?”

“Cass runs security for,”

“I know what Cass does!” she cried, looking furious, but also uncomfortable. Insecure. Anxious. “But I am not telling him. Leave me alone. I am not telling anyone,”

“Not even Nesta? Elide?” he demanded. “And what if something happens?”

“What’s going to happen?!” she asked nervously.

Nothing.

Probably nothing.

He was being an overbearing creep, but he couldn’t stop.

He needed to know. And yes, he wanted her to be safe.

“Who knows?” he shrugged menacingly. “He is unvetted. No one knows anything about him. Have you even Googled him?”

She blushed.

That’s a no.

“Unless you tell me his name, I am not leaving,” he warned. “I need to know who you are going to be with.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he propped himself against the door. “We’ll just stand here.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The standoff continued for another few minutes, until, exasperated, she blurted,

“His name is Dorian!”

“Dorian. As in Dorian Gray?”

She rolled her eyes. “How funny.”

He took out his phone and asked, “Does Dorian have a last name?”

“Are you seriously going to Google him?”

“Absolutely I will. Since you didn’t.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he shrugged. “I’ll await Dorian’s arrival and have a man-to-man talk with him,”

She paled.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Watch me.”

She glared at him, and then sneered, “Why don’t you invite Lorcan too! And Rowan. So the three of you can stand here, in your freaky silent vigil and glare at him, to scare him off.”

“Good idea.”

She shrugged, “And when Dorian comes here, you three can tower over him.”

“Why? Is he tiny?” Azriel snorted.

She rolled her eyes and then thrust her foot into her other heel, finally. As she tied it around her ankle, she muttered angrily, “so disappointed in you,”

“Get in line,” he snapped.

“Adarlan,”

“What?”

“His last name is Adarlan.”

Azriel immediately typed the name into the phone.

A pretty white boy. Columbia. Pre-law.

Figures.

Of course, someone like that would want someone like Elain. And she’d want him in return. Pretty, proper. Pathetic.

“Satisfied?” she rose to her full height. Her cheeks were flushed, brown eyes gleaming with anger and challenge.

She was so beautiful and so annoyed with him, Azriel was blinded by her, by her light, her spirit.

“Not for a while,” he said blandly and shrugged.

That made her redden. Not the blush of anger. Her sexy blush.

So, he went for it.

“Call it off,” he begged.

“What?”

“Call it off. Please.”

“Why?”

Because you are mine.

He wanted to tell her. To explain.

But did he deserve her? All that light and goodness? Perhaps, pretty boy Dorian was indeed more appropriate.

“Because,” he began and then heard a car pull up behind him.

Steps.

He didn’t turn around.

“Elain.”

“Dorian.”

Her face lit up with a smile.

“Ready?”

She nodded. “Just let me grab my bag.”

When she disappeared, Azriel turned around at last.

Dorian was good looking, tall, thin. Young. Looked like a kid, though Azriel figured that he wasn’t much younger than him. But Azriel’s lived about 540 years by now…at least that’s how it felt, and Dorian—Dorian probably had many girlfriends, many friends, and daddy’s money.

He was about as interesting as a bag of beans.

They stared at each other.

Azriel didn’t give a shit.

He didn’t care about anything, other than this is what Elain chose. This Dorian may end up holding Elain’s hand. Perhaps going in for a kiss. That sensuous weak mouth may touch Elain’s perfect lips—the lips that Azriel only dreamt of kissing. And what if it went further?

What if,

No.

No.

Elain was not a ‘first date sex’ kind of girl. Never. Not his Elain.

“Treat her well,” he growled a warning.

Dorian blinked.

“What?”

“Treat. Elain. Well.”

“Who are you?”

“Consider me her brother-in-law.”

“Oh. Okay. Alright. Sure, man. Yeah.”

Fucking intellectual powerhouse.

“I am one of many,”

“Many what?” Dorian asked in confusion.

“Many brothers-in-law. And they all look like me. Some are even bigger.”

“Ready?!” Elain chirped.

“Um, yeah,” Dorian’s eyes darted back and forth.

Azriel finally gave up and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Have fun you two,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you. I’ll see you at Rhys’s pool party on Saturday,” Elain acted like everything was normal.

“Sure. Bring Dorian along,” Azriel jerked his chin. “We’ll be delighted to have him.”

 Elain

 “He is a charmer,” Dorian finally exhaled once they were inside the car.

She grunted in response.

“Does he have enough tattoos?” he started to reverse. “Oh, look, a Ferrari,”

“It’s his,” she bit the inside of her cheek, glancing quickly at the unmoving figure under the awning.

“His? What is he? A drug dealer?”

“Dorian!” she snapped. She was so on edge, she sat on her shaking hands the moment she buckled up.

“Sorry. Sorry. But really, do you want me to,”

She interrupted,

“What? Are you offering to beat him up?”

“I mean,”

“Dorian. He is a Navy Seal,” she said bluntly. “His bicep is the circumference of my head. His buddies are all pushing 6”7 in height and are all former Navy Seals. I am just saying. You aren’t taking him on.”

Dorian didn’t feel the need to disagree.

 Azriel

 Elain was his home. She was his happy place. His joy.

Her smile made everything better.

When she touched him--his fingers, his cheek—that touch carried more sensual promise than anything he’d ever experienced. And he’d experienced plenty.

Azriel’s only brush with love was when he was 18 and it was right before Morgana fucked Cassian, lost her virginity to him and got pregnant by him. He wondered if that’s what fucked him up, turned him off love for this past decade. Ploughing through endless bodies felt good, though he was usually left with the feeling of residual emptiness and longing. But he accepted it.

Elain though. He didn’t plough into Elain. Never even so much as seen her breast. And yet, his head was filled with her. Images, both erotic and mundane floated through his brain constantly. Elain’s eyes lighting up when he called her ‘baby’. Elain tasting a pastry, in her own special way, sometimes dipping her finger into the cream, and driving him wild. Elain reclining her golden head on the seat of his car, eyes closed. Elain being a little drill master when it came to arranging flowers, absolutely unperturbed by the idea of ordering Rowan and Cassian and Fen around.

That Elain was offering her smile, her time, her attention to that pretty prick Dorian was just intolerable.

If he could, he would actually climb the walls. But Azriel couldn’t climb walls, even if parkour-loving Fenrys would probably teach him how. Therefore, he went back to the shop, where Nuala was just packing up for the day.

“I need your car,” he demanded.

“We are in a garage,” she reminded him reasonably, but nevertheless tossed her keys to him. He caught them with one hand and said, “I owe you one.”

“You owe me like fifty…but who is counting?”

Nuala didn’t know why he needed her car, but she did know that he was beyond pining, at this point. He was in full love mode. As in LOVE. Capital letters, heart palpitations, sleepless nights, acting-like-a-drug-addict LOVE. Who would have thought? Not only that Azriel would fall in love at all, but that it would be with Elain.

Azriel got into Nuala’s ordinary Acura, drove to Elain’s apartment, and kept vigil the very same way she told him he would.

At this point, he didn’t care at all. He sat and waited in his shadows. Waiting like this—he learned this level of patience back in the Navy, during his recon missions—suited him, and his personality. Lorcan and he could sit like this for hours. Days. They weren’t bothered at all. Cassian and Fenrys would whine, complain and bounce like little children.

Shadows were his friends, as they’d always been, since he was a boy and hid from his abusive father. They protected him then, and concealed him now.

Finally, at an acceptable, and slightly boring, 11:23 pm, Dorian’s generic Audi pulled up.

There was no way that either of them would spot him, or assume that he was around.

Dorian opened the door for Elain, and she stepped out. They talked. She smiled. Then laughed.

It all grated on Azriel’s nerves. Go inside! He wanted to shout to her.

Then, Dorian made a move. Azriel tensed, when the pretty boy reached his hand out and ran his knuckles over Elain’s bare shoulder. The hand stopped entirely too close to her breast, as he squeezed her upper arm, holding her close. If Azriel sensed even the tiniest expression of discomfort from her, he’d be flying out of the car in a snap.

They talked some more, that gross hand still resting on Elain’s arm. But then, she opened her arms and Azriel grimaced. No way. No way was she going for a kiss.

And thank all the gods above, but she only hugged him, and not a close hug either—but that awkward, butts-out, shoulders pressed together weird hug. Something males typically gave each other, so careful to avoid any penile interaction. Then she walked to her building and gave Dorian a little wave. He hopped in his car and drove away.

What a prick. Didn’t even wait for her to get inside.

But she stood still, door unopened, keys in her fingers. And then, she peered into the darkness. A long, penetrating gaze. Aimed right at him. Like she saw through the shadows. She looked and looked, and he melted in the shadows, into the darkness of the car.

And then she flipped him off, and walked inside.

 Elain

 Piled into Lorcan’s Range Rover, it was Elain ad Elide, Lorcan and Connall in the car.

It was a nice day for a pool party, for a long drive to the Hamptons, for enjoying the sunshine.

Elain was having none of it.

She hated this idea to begin with—pool parties—which were full of too-rich and affected young people, prancing around in skimpy underwear. The women too perfect. The men, full of unreasonable expectations.

Feyre and Morrigan liked this crap, Cassian too, Aelin—certainly.

All the people with their perfect bodies and big hair and bigger personalities.

This Range Rover was like the car for outcasts.

Lorcan looked like he wanted to be at a pool party as much as he wanted to have a rectal exam. Connall, she was sure, would just sit by the bar and nurse drinks all day long. Elide would always find an escape with Lor, and the two of them would huddle together and make snide comments about the attendees to each other.

Elain sighed.

She was such a stupid, inexcusably dumb, fucking idiot.

“Do you know why Az isn’t coming today?” Lorcan looked at her in the mirror.

“Oh?”

She bit inside of her cheek, stifling a pathetic cry.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Azriel decided not to attend, but she still harbored hope, somewhere inside of her that he would. That they’d be able to talk. That he’d…

Forgive her?

“No, I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Did you have a fight or something?” Lorcan’s strange black eyes looked at her like they were scraping the edges of her soul. It wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings.

“No.”

She spent the rest of the trip in sullen silence. Even Elide didn’t try to shake her out of her stupor.

 As expected, the party was ridiculously over the top.

There were throngs of people milling about, all in various stages of undress. Firm, golden flesh gleamed in the sunlight.

There were three bars—one for beer, one for cocktails and one for everything else. An ice cream station. A s’mores station. Wagyu beef sliders. Lobster hot dogs. Jamon Iberico. Wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Deep down, Elain was grateful that she’d never be this wealthy.

She was happy with her flowers, her shop, and she was considering opening a pastry shop down the road. And then Azriel had his wonderful garage, but successful as it was, it wasn’t on the Darling level of wealth…And that was alright. It was perfectly enough, too much even,

She stopped.

She should’ve just told him. Everything. A long time ago. But the intensity of her own feelings towards him frightened her, and then…she fucked it all up.

She meandered absently around the premises, listening to Feyre’s and Nesta’s screeching from the pool, where both were perched on the shoulders of their respective lovers, whacking each other and others with long plastic poles. Mor and her new girlfriend were making out passionately in a hammock. Fenrys was swarmed by a bevy of busty beauties. And so on…

She was feeling foolish and exposed in her pink bikini, wishing she had a wrap or something. Her body was no worse than all of these other girls’, but she couldn’t help but compare herself to them. They were confident. Exciting. Entertaining. They flirted and laughed loudly. They had sparkly teeth and giant lips.

She didn’t know how to flirt, and wasn’t glamorous or polished like them.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Without a drink?”

A man sidled over, his bold eyes roaming about her body, assessing.

“I am fine, thank you,” she made to get away and walk towards the pool, but he thrust an insistent hand in front of her, holding a drink.

“Come on, sugar. Join me.”

Sugar?

And then, there were four of them. Five.

None were threatening, but being surrounded by so many men, while basically naked was outside of Elain’s comfort zone. They were joking, laughing, chugging their beers. She didn’t know any of them.

“So, who are you?” asked one of them.

“A guest.”

She angled her body towards the pool, trying to sneak past them.

“A guest? We are guests too! Nice party,”

“It is. Pardon me, I have to go,”

“But why?”

One of them caught her hand in his and pulled lightly, grounding her in place.

“Excuse me!” she attempted to withdraw her hand, but he didn’t budge. They herded her a little closer to the house. A sixth man approached, carrying a little tray with tequila shots.

“Where do you got to go, baby?”

Another hand slipped down her back and brushed over her butt, making her jerk.

“What the hell?” she hissed, but her indignation was met with amused smiles.

“Such a pretty girl, all alone. Come, join us,”

“I am not alone!” she snapped angrily.

“Oh no?”

“And who are you with?”

“My fucking boyfriend!” she lied, a little scared now.

“Oh, a boyfriend?” teased one. “And who might that be?”

“Do we know this boyfriend? Where is he?”

She looked around desperately, and then lied again, “He is inside. And coming back, soon.”

Laughter.

“Ohh, I don’t think so. I’ve been watching you for an hour, and there is no boyfriend.”

“I think I need to go,”

“But why!?!”

They goaded, “Tell us about the boyfriend?”

“His name is Azriel Bagarat,” she blurted out.

More laughter. Challenging, condescending laughter.

“Really?”

“Mr. Fancy Garage is your boyfriend?”

“Good one! I almost fell for it.”

“Azriel Bagarat-I-date-a-new-girl-weekly makes for a bad boyfriend, honey,”

“You aren’t exactly his type.”

Tears threatened to pour out of her eyes, and she was horrified by her body’s reaction to the taunting.

She threw, “and what type is that?”

“He doesn’t go for squeaky clean girls like you.”

“Maybe it’s an experiment!” laughed one of them. “He is into all sorts of fucking kink. Maybe he is wetting his cock in some virgin flesh,”

“Are you even legal?”

“You look awfully young.”

At this point, Elain was not above screaming for Lorcan, or Rowan, or anyone else. Her looking weak and pathetic was the least of her concerns.

For a moment, the teasing and the laughter died down. One of them exclaimed, “Oh hey. There you are!”

Fuck. Another one.

The scent hit her first. The sharp, intoxicating smell of his expensive Armani cologne. She’d recognize it anywhere. That hint of cedar and a chilled night air. That was him. Her home.

And then, the familiar dark arm slipped across her stomach, tugging her firmly to his front. Another hand slid to her throat, laying on it, but not squeezing. He held her tenderly, close to him, possessively.

“I missed my girl,” he whispered, his gravelly, husky voice so familiar to her ear it sent a shiver down her spine.

Why couldn’t it be like this forever? Her in his arms? Forever?

“My gorgeous girlfriend always brings all the boys to the yard,” he chuckled. And then, to Elain’s utter delight and pleasure, he placed a warm, open mouthed kiss on the side of her neck.

She shuddered.

He’d never kissed her. Never intimately. Never kissed her like this.

His. She was his. And he just marked his territory.

It was glorious. To be kissed by him was something that she’d dreamt of and here it was—unexpected, sensuous, surprisingly erotic.

His thumb stroked the side of her throat, and then he leaned in and kissed her again. Same spot. Her bare vulnerable throat, her pale neck, his for the taking. She had no control of the situation, and she loved it.

“Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company, gentlemen, but I’ll take it from here.”

Not so brave anymore, in the face of this towering mass of muscle and tattoos, the men sheepishly offered him a shot, which he knocked back and then even attempted to high-five him, though he drew the line at that.

As they scampered away, Azriel did not release Elain from his embrace. She just stood there, with his arm around her, her body pressed into his almost-naked body and all she wanted was to turn around and peek. Or have him kissed her again. She really, really wanted him to kiss her again.

He did not though.

Finally, his arm fell away and he stepped back, causing a sorrowful sigh to erupt in her chest.

She turned around. His face was unreadable, as always, and though she picked out his little tells and signs of emotions now, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” was all she could mutter. He didn’t answer. “I didn’t think you were coming,”

“No need to talk,” he cut her off. Then turned around and added, “feel free to leave with Lorcan or Cass.”

He was walking away when she called out, “Wait. Az. I want to talk. Please,”

“No,” he said simply.

She ran after him, trying to keep up with his long stride.

“Az, please, I need to,”

“It’s Azriel to you,” he corrected bluntly. “You don’t get to ‘Az’ me,”

She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes.

“Okay…okay,” she begged. “Azriel, I want to explain, please,”

“You don’t always get what you want,” he threw back.

She paused, but then added,

“But sometimes, you get what you need.”

A tiny smile twitched on his lips. But he schooled his face into neutrality and without turning to her, said,

“If you must tag along for the rest of the day, pretending like you are my girlfriend, it’s up to you,” he shrugged indifferently.

She didn’t care. At least he didn’t send her away. At least, she could be near him, and with time, she’d thaw his anger.

She followed him silently, like dog. Trying to be inconspicuous, but she stayed at his side, even if they didn’t talk and he continuously ignored her. It allowed her time to ogle his incredible body, which she did with relish and without shame. If he was going to be nasty to her, she at least would feast her eyes on all that muscular gorgeousness. Those Cadre men—they were all stunning, at least when it came to their physiques. Azriel, though, was a little more stunning than the others. Only Fenrys, perhaps, was at the same level of attractiveness.

They went to the bar and she followed him faithfully, not letting him out of her sight. He glanced at her, sighed, shaking his head with annoyance, but Azriel being Azriel, he ordered her a mojito, while he drank Sipsmith London Gin and tonic, and after a while, thrust the drink in her hand and muttered, “I am going swimming.”

She took it and sat on a chair, stiff-backed and patient, watching him.

When he emerged from the water, she was waiting for him with a fresh drink.

“Your tattoos look like wings.”

He rubbed a towel over the black and blue tattoos on his shoulders and arms and looked at her.

“Your tattoos,” she said again, watching his wet body and the markings on it come alive on his skin. When he was in the pool, and his arms rose and fell in the water, they looked like wings. “They look like wings. Bat wings.”

“Is that a compliment?” his voice was still cold, bored.

“Yes.”

She handed him his drink and then took his scarred hand in hers. He made to pull away, but she squeezed.

“You are my boyfriend,” she reminded him. “Would be strange if you didn’t want to hold my hand.”

He had no choice but to grip her hand back,

and fuck if it didn’t feel nice.

Two days, and he was going nuts without that little hand. Two days, and he’d missed her touch like it was his life’s necessity.

And then, she gently rubbed her thumb over his own.

“Stop that,” he ordered.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Elain,”

“Azriel,”

“It’s not going to work,” he warned.

She shrugged, “we’ll see.”

They took a few more steps, her thumb still stroking his fingers, and then he stopped abruptly.

“What do you want?”

She looked up at him and said, voice surprisingly firm, “I want to get into your car and drive home with you. I want to cook you dinner. I want to hold your hand. That’s what I want.”

“And what do I want?”

“You want the same thing,” she assured him, unusual confidence in her voice and on her face.

He watched her, unblinking, but she did not balk from his assessing gaze, did not step back. She just clutched his hand like life depended on it. His jowls twitched and he bit his lip, before says, “go and put some clothes on. We are going home.”

“No. Come with me,” she tugged him with her. “I don’t trust you.”

He smiled, at last, and her heart fluttered with joy at the sight of that magical smile.

They found their clothes, threw them atop the bathing suits and as soon as they were dressed, Azriel took her by the hand and led her out to the parking lawn. It was a Maserati Ghibli today, beautifully embellished with subtle pinstripes. No one would dare do this to their 90K car, but Azriel did. And it looked stunning.  

 The drive wasn’t comfortable.

He still wasn’t speaking to her and she just sat there, for an hour or more, in silence, hands on her lap.

Finally, once they began approaching the city, Elain asked, “where are you taking me?”

“Home,” was all he said, his first word since they got in the car.

She thought and said, “I don’t want to go home.”

His voice mocking and obsequious, he asked, “Please tell me, Elain, where should your personal Uber take you? Would you like a coffee? A snack? A walk in the park? A trip to the library? Should I deliver you into Dorian’s loving embrace?”

“Stop it,” she snapped at him, all red and angry. “Stop with all that!”

Azriel plowed forth, ignoring her command, “where was he today, by the way? Why was I stuck rescuing the damsel in distress? Where is brave Dorian?”

“Nobody asked you to rescue me!” she lied, suddenly realizing that maybe, that kiss meant nothing to him. That it was all for show.

“Yeah, you looked like you were handling that situation very well,” he decided dryly.

“You know,” she folded her arms on her chest, “do take me home.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Once they entered the city proper, Azriel fought the traffic aggressively, swearing under his breath more frequently than usual, obviously intend on getting rid of her as soon as possible.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t break through. Couldn’t get to him, not around the walls that he’d constructed around himself. She thought that she could, but she was wrong.

Finally, they were coming towards her block.

The silence was stifling. Unbearable.

“Why did you do it?” he blurted suddenly.

She looked at him, but before she could offer any explanations or excuses, he continued, not looking at her, “Was I not enough? Was he better?”

“He is nothing,” she managed, desperation tinging her voice, her whole being. She reached out to touch him, but he jerked his arm away.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Nothing? Why would you do this, Elain? Was I not enough? Too weird? Too brown? Too low-born? Too fucked up?”

Elain stared at him in horror. She was numb. Words failed her.

He was shaking his head.

There was true sadness, dejection written on his face. Devastation.

“I was falling in love with you, Elain,” he said so softly, she barely heard the words. “For three months, I’ve been falling in love with you. I’ve loved everything about you. I knew that the hammer would drop…One day, it would drop because it’s not like this could ever be,” he made a wide gesture with his hand.

He stopped the car next to her house.

“But I thought that it would be me. That I’d fuck up somehow and you’d dump me. Which would be…expected…”

He sighed, his breath so ragged it sounded like a sob.

“But I didn’t expect this. Truly. Though looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t?” he shrugged. “That’s what Mor did—the only other one I thought that I loved. But we were young and stupid, so…” he was looking out the window, seemingly talking to himself, not to her anymore. “But now I am almost thirty and for once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this one time, I’d get what I want.”

Elain was weeping silently, fat tears pouring onto her hands, dripping off her face.

“I wanted you more than anything, Elain.”

Elain. Elain. Elain.

She hated that he called her Elain.

She hated that he didn’t use his usual endearments with her, that she was no longer his ‘baby’ nor his ‘love’. She wasn’t his ‘gorgeous’ or his ‘beautiful’. She was just Elain.

There was no warmth in his voice. Only some kind of hollowed emptiness, instead of the usual teasing smirk, the undercurrent of humour and love, of tender softness that he always used with her. Only with her.

“You can have me,” she managed finally through her sobs. “You can ha--…”

He finally turned his head and looked at her, that gaze dark and pitiless.

“I am not sure I want you anymore. We’ll coordinate the wedding situation and we’ll be civil to each other, for Feyre and Rhys’s sakes. Goodbye Elain.”

She sat there. He waited. Then, with a groan, he got out and went to open the door for her.

As she stepped out of the car, she begged one more time, “Azriel. Please. Please just allow me the opportunity to talk to you,” she wiped her face, with her fist.

It destroyed him completely.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, as he tracked her movement, that childish, simple, raw flick of her fist over her eyes. It wasn’t the modelled, reserved, dab-the-eye practiced move that you saw on reality shows, the fake tears, the faux sadness.

This was Elain; sorrowful, devastated, begging.

“Please,” she pleaded again.

“I asked you to call it off,” he reminded her. “I begged you. You didn’t.”

She choked on a sob.

“You threw it in my face, Elain. This random man, whom you also led on, by the way. Led him believe that you were interested. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am too old for this…Allow me the opportunity to just deal with this break up—or whatever it is—however I can. We both need to move on.”

He’d never left a crying woman on a sidewalk.

But he’d also never been in love before. And his heart had never been broken like this.

 ********************

 Azriel

 Nuala Gennaro has been trying to reach her boss for three days, to no avail.

He didn’t respond to texts, or to calls. He didn’t show up to work. He wasn’t at the garage, at the tattoo shop, or his design studio. He didn’t seem to be home either, because she drove by his loft a few times and the windows remained dark.

She had keys to his house, but that was a violation of privacy that she didn’t feel like engaging in just yet. Was this an emergency? He gave her the key for ‘emergencies’. Was this one? A healthy, 29-year-old handsome man disappearing for three days didn’t seem like an emergency, but still, Nuala was concerned.

She was going to give him one more day, and if he was still AWOL then she’d begin to worry.

Azriel was responsible. Whatever was happening in his life typically did not reflect on his work ethic. Besides, he was usually so guarded and seemingly unemotional, it was hard to say if he was affected by anything. Nuala had met him in high school—a beautiful, quiet, mysterious boy who looked like a fallen angel and who seemed unusually confident and astute for his age.

They reconnected after he and his brothers returned from the Navy. He was darker and quieter than she remembered, and hardened in his manner and bearing, and had a haunted look in his eyes which worried Nuala for quite some time. She’d been apprenticing as a tattoo artist and they’d met to discuss her joining his venture. She wasn’t sure if this whole garage/restaurant/tattoo parlour for rich people thing was going to be feasible or even realistic, but Azriel believed in the concept and somehow, got her enflamed by his passion as well. They’d slept together over the years, but even if she would have wanted more, he wasn’t willing to give it to her. Azriel went through women with the determination to conquer, mild interest and lack of follow up. But he never gave any of himself to them. Pleasure—yes. Self—no. So, Nuala had decided—staying with him and in his life, in his business, as his protégé and associate was more important than having him as a lover, even if he was by far the best lover she’d ever had.

The only thing that did seem to affect him—deeply, powerfully—was Elain Archeron.

Nuala didn’t think that it would happen. Didn’t think that Azriel was a man to fall in love so passionately, so completely, and even if he was denying it to himself, Nuala knew him well enough to know the truth. And whatever happened between him and Elain, approximately a week ago or so, truly devastated him.

Prior to his disappearance, he operated as if he was in some sort of fog. He answered questions, he gave instructions and directions, he did whatever was expected of him—met with clients, held meetings with his car suppliers, negotiated deals—but his heart was not in it. His beloved business was no longer his priority, and that confounded Nuala, for she had never seen him like this before.

She arrived early, earlier than usual, because she needed to get crackin’. Without Azriel, things seemed…tighter…more difficult. She’d never noticed it, but somehow, he carried this business, made it seem easy, and she falsely believed that it was a walk in the park. Gods, it wasn’t! It was busy, and difficult, and required constant attention and decision making, and reports only piled on her desk—financials, inventory, guest lists, requests, specs. It was endless.

Azriel’s office, a glass cube perched at the top of the building and overlooking everything below, the entire operation, was very dimply lit this early morning. Cassian installed one-way floor to ceiling windows in the office, so no one could look inside, but Azriel was able to see everything, if he so desired.

Nuala climbed the industrial-style stairs and opened the door without knocking.

At first, she thought that there was a fire. The office was entirely engulfed in smoke, but before she could hit the alarm button, nauseatingly pungent stench of tobacco assaulted her nostrils.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes, and rushing to open the outside windows. She left the door open as well, to encourage some sort of ventilation.

“What the hell,” she muttered again, finally making out Azriel in the dimness, who was sprawled on the leather sofa, in jeans and boots and a black t-shirt, his arm hanging listlessly to the floor, a cigarette between his fingers. On the floor, an almost empty bottle of Jameson’s and an overflowing ashtray, stuffed to the brim with butts. Tom Waits’s insanely gravelly, bourbon-and-tobacco-soaked voice filled the space as well.

“Wow,” she crossed her arms on her chest. “Wow.”

“Why are you here so early?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Funny thing—my boss disappeared for three days. Four days, actually. No word. No text. No call. No email. No warning. No idea whether he is dead or alive. So yes, it’s made for some early mornings for some of us.”

No answer.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and said nothing.

“What the fuck, Az?”

“Like you said,” he shrugged indifferently, “I am the boss. I don’t have to report to anyone.”

Nuala bit her lip, but did not retort in the way she wanted to retort.

“Where were you?” she inquired calmly.

“Vegas.”

“Vegas?”

“Rhys’s Bachelor Party.”

“Oh.”

“I won money. It’s somewhere,” he glanced around absently. “Give it to some charity…”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.”

She didn’t push him. But added, “you can’t smoke here.”

“It’s my shop,”

“Even though. State and city regulations.”

He put out his cigarette compliantly.

“It’s 5 am. When did you start drinking?” she asked, pointing to the bottle.

He gave a lazy glance and shrugged,

“Technically, I didn’t stop drinking…It’s been a few hours…”

She was shaking her head.

He stared into the ceiling blindly, wordlessly.

Nuala didn’t know, but she also knew. So she took pity on him.

“Az,”

“I’d like to be alone now.”

“I will leave you alone,” she promised. “But…” she let out a whoosh of air, preparing herself. “Elain,”

He didn’t react.

“Elain is downstairs.”

To that he did react. He sat up so quickly, she didn’t track the movement with her eyes.

“I found her on the steps, outside,” said Nuala. “She looks like hell. I barely recognized her.”

“Why is she here?” he asked stupidly.

“I think you should probably ask her that. She wouldn’t come inside,” Nuala explained. “She said that she’s been sitting outside since 4 am, hoping to catch you.”

But Azriel was already out the door, sprinting down the stairs, making Nuala gasp, as he took three at a time, and she feared that he’d fall down on the concrete floor and break every bone in his body.

It was only five in the morning, and the streets, even NYC streets, were empty.

It was drizzling, a summer thunderstorm about to erupt.

Elain was sitting on the doorstep, arms wrapped around her knees, huddling into herself in the morning chill.

“Elain,”

She jumped up and turned to him.

He never saw her like this—wrecked. Utterly devastated. Wilted.

His lovely flower girl, his little rose, his darling beauty—wilted. Instead of her usual colouring of pink and golden, caramel and honey and cream, she looked black and white. Like everything was leeched out of her, every spark, all joy, each remarkable hue.

They did not greet each other. She just looked at him, and,

“I’ve hurt you,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, the tone firm. “I know that. And you can leave and discard me, and you have every right,”

Azriel just stood there, looking at her, unable to get enough. Thinking that there was a possibility that this was going to be one of their last conversations. And that possibility was unacceptable to him. It was intolerable.

The rain began to fall.

Azriel moved under the awning, angling his body so she would come and stand under it as well, but she didn’t move.

Steady droplets pounded the pavement, giving off that fresh smell of wet asphalt. The air was heavy and humid and felt unsettled, like it was preparing for a torrent.

“But know this one thing,” she continued, staring at him, unblinking, eyes brimming with tears. “I fell in love with you on Saturday, May 9th, at 7:14 in the morning. I had loved you every moment of my life since then. I will love you every moment of my life until I die. Nothing will ever change that. I don’t speak to you as some besotted, inexperienced girl, who is smitten by a handsome man…I speak to you from my soul. You have my heart, Azriel. Every broken and sad piece of me, you’ve managed to put together with your beautiful, scarred hands. I will never ask for anything of you—not even a word back, but I needed you to know this. I want you know that I’ve never loved anyone, no man, no being, not my sisters or my parents, as much as I love you. All my joy, my peace, my dreams are connected to you. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last when I fall asleep—and then I dream of you. I don’t care if you know this, but I’ve built up my whole life around you in my head, all my fantasies are about you. All I want is to love you. That is all. Not very ambitious, I know,” she wiped the tears that were flooding her face, mixing with the rain, “but I can’t think of anything that would ever bring me more happiness, more satisfaction than to love you. And…” she choked a quiet sob, “if you don’t want me—that is alright…I want you to be happy. And if I don’t make you happy, then, so be it, but,”

Azriel couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t contain his bursting breath, his aching heart. Every bit of him felt electrified, wild, untamed.

He grabbed her, his arm pressing her soaking wet body to him, the rain pouring over them, and she trembled and sobbed next to him. Such indescribable hope in her eyes. That maybe, just maybe, it would all turn out like her fantasies.

He cupped her wet, pale face in his palm and murmured,

“You want me?”

Her trembling fingers traced his cheekbone and she nodded mutely.

“Say it,” he groaned.

“I want you,” she whispered.

“Say more,” he begged. “Say everything.”

“I love you. I choose you. I want you.”

He soaked it all up. Every breath. Every word. Every emotion on her face.

“Well,” he muttered, “if we are keeping score…then I fell in love with you on Tuesday, May 5th, at 4:47 in the afternoon.”

She laughed through her tears, clutching at him with desperate hands, as if fearing that he would disappear. Turn around and leave her.

But he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

He was exactly where he wanted to be. Yearned to be all his life.

“First glance, baby,” he lovingly caressed her face, “first glance. Love at first sight.”

She kissed the tips of his fingers.

“You are my home, Elain,” he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, her cheek pressed to his chest, his hand cradling her head, “my favourite person in my life. With you, all things are possible. Sometimes, I feel like I can fly. Like I’ve grown wings and I hear the song of the wind. But I think that it’s just your voice in my head. You won’t leave, right?”

She chuckled and shook her head, “No. Never.”

“Because this week,” he shuddered, “it’s like I lost a limb…There was this phantom reminder of you, always within me, and yet, you weren’t there. I couldn’t reach and find you next to me. I’ve never felt such emptiness,” he brought her hand to his chest and lay it on her booming heart, “there was nothing here,” he pressed her hand closer, and she felt the steady beat, “empty…You weren’t with me, and there was nothing left.

“I think I’ve been in love with you—forever. I don’t even believe in past lives or other worlds, but sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for eternity.”

She raised her face to him, surprise and awareness in her red-rimmed eyes,

“I feel the same. Az, I’ve always felt the same thing!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she nodded vigorously, “when we held hands the first time, when we just met, I recognized your touch. I knew your scars. It was all familiar to me, like stepping back into my own home, after a long absence. Reacquainting myself with something that I already loved.”

He cupped her face in his hands and asked,

“May I kiss you?”

“You have to kiss me,” she smiled a happy, luminous smile at him. “I’ve waited for a long time for you to kiss me.”

Azriel smiled, and looked up, rain drenching his face and their bodies.

“Are we really going to do this? In the pouring rain?”

She was grinning, smiling happily, nodding, “All the cliches in the world!”

He clasped her jaw in his hand, wrapping his other arm tighter about her.

“I loved when you kissed me at the party,” she admitted, a little breathless.

“Yes?” he murmured and then dipped his head, and gently pressed his lips to her throat.

Elain shuddered against him, her breasts, nicely full, round and soft pressed tightly against his chest, and she sighed her pleasure.

“Like that?” he whispered against her cold, wet skin, and she half-moaned, nodding. So he kissed her neck again, on the other side, raking his teeth gently along the warm, pulsating vein. He kissed along her collarbones, tender and sweet, but with acute intention. Her breasts moved against his chest, their shirts nor her bra providing much of a barrier between his skin and her firm, swollen nipples.

Up her throat he went with his lips, kissing softly, until he pulled away for a moment, their breaths mingling, warm next to each other. He tilted her face just so, to have better access to her full mouth, and then kissed the plump lower lip. She clutched at his shirt and pulled him closer, the rain forgotten, the world encapsulated in his mouth, in the loving pressure of his lips against hers.

Elain looked irresistible. In his arms, where, let’s face it, she belonged, with her cheeks finally, finally taking on the familiar rosy blush.

Azriel, all 6”4 or “5 of the dark, bestial sexiness of him was wrapped around her. The low, sensual purr that he emitted turned into something more primal, hungrier when his mouth moulded into hers. The base, animalistic attractiveness of him, the bronze arms, the thick markings of his tattoos all over his skin, slithering like shadows, was almost too much for Elain to handle all at once, and she moaned, loud, and desperate against his lips. He brushed his nose against her cheek, and then nose to nose, and she was so stupidly needy for him that she struggled to stay upright. He brushed his fingertips over her lips, squeezing them between his and her own, and she licked on the pad of his thumb, laving some of the scars with the tip of her tongue.

Gods, this man could kiss.

Brutal, savage and noble--all amalgamated into one indescribable, unforgettable experience. Hungry and knowing, agonizingly slow, he devoured her mouth like it was some succulent, exotic fruit that he’s been craving. His lips explored her thoroughly, unhurriedly, tasting and savouring, caressing and worshipping. It was she who slipped her tongue inside his mouth, tentatively at first, but then gaining in boldness and confidence, especially once he sucked her in and stroked it with his own. He tasted of something masculine: alcohol, maybe, deep and rich and smokey, and tobacco, certainly, which, surprisingly, she enjoyed, but also something sexual. If Elain ever thought that she could taste passion, this lazy, indulgent sucking of his tongue on hers was exactly that. He groaned into her mouth, low and hot, and then licked on her tongue, with sensual playfulness which she loved.

She was hot in his arms, against his towering, heated body, and even the pouring rain couldn’t cool her off. The slabs of his abdominal muscles pressed into her belly and she was growing positively addicted to having him so close to her, his massive strength enveloping her so nicely, cushioning her against him. Nothing in her life has ever felt so wonderful, so sublime as Azriel felt in her arms.

Their kiss went on and on, heady and glorious, with him exploring every bit of her mouth with his tongue and lips, his hands caressing her body unobtrusively.

“Gods, I want to kiss you for eternity,” he moaned, tearing himself away from her lips at last.

She was panting, glassy-eyed, in love. He squeezed her face between his palms, looking down at her, her happiness, the unabashed joy in her eyes.

He’d finally made someone happy.

“Okay,” she agreed easily.

He smiled and kissed her again, then again, his lips creating a certain magic between his mouth and her skin and their bodies.

Elain had fought for him.

She didn’t give up. Didn’t shrug it all off. Didn’t leave in anger or panic. His absence meant something to her—perhaps, meant more than he could understand. He knew the misery of not having her in his life. It was only a week, but it was a week of pure hell. Now, he assumed that it wasn’t only he who felt that gaping chasm in his heart. She, for some inexplicable reason, loved him. Of that, he was certain.

“Now, I think we’ve satisfied any girl’s quota of romantic cheesiness,” he decided and she laughed, slapping his bicep lightly. He kissed her softly, “and I am taking you inside,” he said.

Elain only now realized that her feet haven’t been touching the asphalt for the duration of the kiss. She was literally floating aboveground, in his arms, in the throes of their first kiss.

The cheesiness quotient has been achieved indeed.

“Will you kiss me more?” she asked, as he swung her in his arms and carried her inside the shop.

“I am confident that I will never stop kissing you,” he assured and made his way up the stairs, to the office, clutching the dripping mess that she was in his arms.

She’s been here before, but he brought her straight into the attached bathroom, which was appointed outlandishly, and with a nice shower too.

“Get in there,” he ordered, “now. Before you catch a cold because of your love for kissing in the rain,”

She giggled, kiss-drunk and toed off her soaking wet converse that smacked limply on the tiled floor.

“But what am I going to wear?”

“My clothes, obviously,” he shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to, which is fine, because naked is just fine by me. Actually, preferred,”

She snickered, but looked at him, a little uncertain, and he rolled his eyes and muttered, “yes, yes, I will leave! Don’t worry. Though you know, I will eventually see everything anyway. So your modesty is misplaced on me.”

Azriel was correct. A hot shower was perfect. Despite it being late August, standing under pouring rain wasn’t as much fun as they made it seem in the movies.

The door opened and he came in, “here is some stuff for you.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, probably a little sultrier than she intended, and he winked, “Nice ass!”

“Ugh, stop looking!” she croaked, but he only laughed.

“You are the one with the bare butt!”

Then, he scratched his chin and bit his lip, making no move to leave.

“Az!” she exclaimed, blushing, but also kind of … intrigued.

“This is a very, very, very nice ass,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. Her blush only intensified, when he said, “the things I am going to do with it. Mmmm,” he rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, as if contemplating what he will be doing with her butt and then finally walked out, shaking his head.

When Elain emerged from the bathroom, with her hair wrapped in the towel and wearing Azriel’s t-shirt and shorts, she found him in a leather chair, sipping coffee. He’d also changed and his hair was mussed and damp, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, resting on a leather stool.

“There is coffee for you,” he jerked his chin towards a marble coffee table that had a basket of pastries and two large cups of coffee.

He marked everything.

How she looked in his clothes, which were much too big on her, yet cozy, though the shorts that she wore were hilarious, reaching below her knee.

How she brought him his coffee first, before taking her cup.

How she sat on the stool, by his feet and crossed her legs, before giving him a croissant and biting into her own.

“Have you warmed up?” he asked, sipping his coffee. Chugging gallons of coffee American style wasn’t his thing—he preferred quick, small espressos, but this giant cup did take the chill away.

She nodded.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She tensed right away, and he said, “All is forgiven, I swear. “

She eyed him suspiciously, nevertheless.

He smiled at her, and added, “But...I think that I need to understand what happened? Did I do something to,”

“No!” she exclaimed immediately. “No. It was nothing you did. Never think that it was you,”

“Alright,” he said calmly. “Then what was it?”

She didn’t look up from her cup, running a finger over the rim.

“Talk to me, love,” he encouraged softly.

“You’ve consumed me, Azriel,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “From the moment I saw you, you’ve consumed me. And I guess…” she sighed, “I was stupid…a stupid, stupid person because I didn’t know,”

“What?”

“Whether I was infatuated, or in love with you. So I thought that maybe, if I expose myself to another man, even in some minor way, I might be able to tell what I feel,”

“And? Did you?”

“Dorian…” she swallowed nervously, “he is a nice guy. He is in Law School with Nesta—that’s how I know him. When he asked to go to dinner, and I said yes,”

She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill out from her eyes,

“And I felt nothing,” she admitted, her voice broken somehow. “I could only think of you. The entire time, I could only think of you and I knew that it wasn’t fair to him…”

Azriel agreed, “probably not”.

“And I knew that I’d made a colossal mistake… But,” she set her cup on the floor and squeezed her fingers. “I…”

She halted. Said nothing else.

Azriel waited.

“What?” he probed, sensing that there was something she wasn’t telling him. He reached for her, but she only shrunk into herself.

“Elain, what is it?” he pressed.

She blushed and murmured, “promise me you won’t leave me, if I tell you.”

His brow furrowed, “Please,” he begged, “tell me what’s going? You are legit scaring me right now.”

“You won’t lea--,”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I am not leaving you, no matter what. But are you alright?”

She pulled her hair from the towel and it spilled over her shoulders, half-obscuring her face. He reached and tucked the wet strands behind her ears, so he could see her face.

“Talk to me, baby,” he urged gently.

She exhaled and then said, looking straight at him,

“I’ve never been with a man, Az.”

He looked at her and then blurted, absurdly, “Like a virgin? But you are so hot!”

She couldn’t help and burst out laughing.

“I guess not hot enough,” she shrugged, a bit more relaxed about the situation now that he seemed relieved and smirking too.

He exhaled, deeply, bubbling his lips, “Phew…I thought it was something,” he shook his head, not able to express his relief. “Important…Something, I don’t know, serious?”

“What would be serious?”

“I don’t even know,” he admitted, “but certainly more serious than a hymen!”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“And I appreciate you telling me,” he said seriously, kissing the inside of her hand, but then, that glint in his eyes returned and he asked, “so did you want the hunky Dorian to deflower you?”

She pushed at him with her foot and he fell back dramatically in his chair,

“Auuu, you are so unbelievably violent!” he complained, rubbing his side.

“I can be even more violent!” she threatened.

He was laughing, but then he caught her feet in his hands and squeezed them gently, holding them on his lap.

“So you didn’t have boyfriends in high school? In college?” he asked at last, genuinely perplexed.

She sighed and explained,

“In high school I was dating Luce,”

“You were dating a girl?” his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know,”

She started to laugh,

“No! Luce is a man. Lucien,”

“Oh…Oh. Every time you mentioned Luce, I just assumed he was a she.”

“No, he is my best friend. The closest friend I’ve ever had, besides maybe Nesta. We’ve always been close and then in high school, we began dating,” she tugged on her wet hair, “or rather, go on dates.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I didn’t know either—not in the beginning. But then, when we were juniors in 11th grade, he came out, to me only.”

“Ahhh,”

“Lucien’s step-father is really horrible. Like, awful. Physically abusive to all his sons, and always fancied himself this alpha male. So for Lucien to come out to him would have been suicide.

“We agreed that we’d continue our ‘dating’, until we graduate, and Luce was looking at schools only in California. As far as possible from here, from Beron.”

“And you were…okay with it?” he inquired, gently massaging her feet.

She shrugged, “I suppose I was. Luce and I had a good relationship,”

“But it was without any,”

“Intimacy,” she nodded. “I don’t know, I suppose it was enough…My mother had died recently and we lost most of our money, so I guess dating and boyfriends weren’t a priority, if I am being honest.”

He nodded with understanding.

“And college?”

“I had a boyfriend,” her voice wobbled a little, “but he…”

The heavy gaze that Azriel levelled at her told her that he already guessed.

“Sometimes,” she said, “when you are in the situation, you don’t see the warning signs,”

“Did he hit you?” his voice, so cold and menacing, sent a chill down her body.

She shook her head, “No. It didn’t get that far…Cass interfered,”

“Cass?”

“We’ve known Cass for at least a year,” she reminded him, “before he started dating Nesta. He spent a lot of time with us, at the house, because I think he didn’t want to part with Nesta,”

Azriel smiled, “No he didn’t. He wouldn’t stop talking about her for a year…I’d never seen him like that. First Rhys, then Cassian…Guess there is something special about these Archeron sisters,” he decided and stroked her face lovingly, smiling at her. She tucked his palm between her cheek and shoulder and kissed it.

“They do have a tendency to fall in love with the three brothers,” she agreed.

“Yes, they do.”

“Cass, he called us ‘his girls’—Feyre and I. Always asking after ‘his girls’, bringing us presents, doing fun things with us. And I came to love him so much,” she sighed. “And I know that he truly loves us too…But you know Cass—he is a no-nonsense kind of a guy. So once, he observed Graysen with me,”

“Graysen?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “That’s a horrible fucking name,”

She laughed,

“It matched his personality. But you know, on paper, he looked great. Handsome, good family, money,”

“So basically Dorian?”

Elain rolled her eyes,

“You are never going to have me live this down, will you?”

“Not for a while.”

“At least you are honest. Gray, he just…didn’t care, I guess? It was all about him. When I’d talk about opening my shop, it would just be a plain ‘no’. He’s put me down…” she sighed, “sometimes comment on my weight—I was either too fat or too thin.” Azriel flinched at that. She continued, “He’d tell me what to eat. What to wear. Where to go,”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.

Then, he sat up straight in the chair and opened his arms to her.

“Come here.”

Elain, a bit unsure, and a bit rattled by the memories, moved towards him. He cupped her face in his broad scarred hands and said, “All in the past. Now, it’s just you and me.”

She nodded, gently squeezing his wrists. He leaned in closer and she nodded. His sort of power, the more aggressive and primal, and seemingly more dominant than what Graysen could ever conjure up, did not scare Elain at all. He beckoned and seduced her with that pursuit and challenge, but he did not frighten or oppress. It was similar to what Cassian possessed and how he managed to seduce Nesta with it, turned her compliant to his demand and instruction, or Lorcan with Elide. Azriel’s power, his seduction, were more cerebral, his affection passionate, but controlled. Elain could abandon herself to him, and yet she knew that she’d never be abused or taken advantage of, no matter how much control she relinquished.

This kiss was sultry and voluptuous, and it felt dirtier, heavier than their first one. He sucked her lips, is tongue softly grinding against her in a smouldering, almost smug rhythm. He fucked into her mouth steadily, and purposefully, rendering her completely breathless in his arms almost instantly, forcing all thoughts of previous loves and heartaches out of her head. She made a tiny, strangled noise deep inside her throat and squeezed his wrists harder.

“Tell me things, baby,” he muttered heatedly against her lips, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

She smiled, “what things would you like to hear?” He kissed her softly, lips pecking on hers playfully, and said, “all the things…all the good things that you told me before,”

“That I love you?” she asked simply, looking at him with earnest, undimming desire.

“Yes,” he groaned, pulling her closer to him, until she was straddling his thighs, her legs naturally falling on either side of him. A desperate moan escaped his lips, as Elain licked on them with the tip of her tongue, before he demanded, between kisses and caresses of his tongue in her parted mouth, “more,”

“I love you. I love you,” she breathed, then panted, “you are mine…I am yours. Forever, if you’d like,”

“I’d like forever,” he agreed.

She pulled away, her soft, lovely face serious,

“Az,”

“Elain,”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, and he grinned, nodding. She sounded absurdly solemn about this, like she was signing a business contract. “I love you. I want you to be my boyfriend,”

“Alright, babygirl, I will be your boyfriend,” he nodded easily.

“No jokes.”

“No jokes.”

He then said in turn, “But you’ll be mine.”

She nodded.

“In every way,” he added, in a tone that did not allow space for much argument. “Body,” and he lightly ran his knuckles against the side of her breast, and she nodded. He added, “but I want more,”

“What do you want, Az?”

“Love,” he said simply.

She kissed him. “I love you,” she said.

He waited.

“I chose you, Azriel, the moment I saw you. When my heart dropped at the sight of you, and when everything fell into place. I don’t mind choosing you for the rest of my life, if you have me,” she murmured shyly.

“I will have you,” he agreed, her admission making him swallow hard, a thick glob of air lodged in his throat. He might have cried, if he weren’t so happy. His flower girl. His.

He looked and looked, and considered something. She waited, silent. Silence was always a friend between the two of them. Silence was easy and unoppressive and welcome. It allowed them space, and yet they remained together in that mute, mutual understanding. While he was thinking, she took his hand and softly kissed each scarred fingertip.

“I am calling on my bargain,” he declared suddenly, and stroked her head.

Confused, she scrunched her face and muttered, “what?”

He grabbed her behind in his strong hands and somehow, managed to rise up, with her clutching at him. His nose burrowed into her ear and she squirmed, giggling, when he grunted, “what a nice little ass!”

“You seem to like it,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.

“I love it!”

“Now what about this bargain?” she reminded him, a bit concerned. “What are we doing?”

“Whatever I want!”

“Az!”

“Lainey.”

He headed for the door, with her in his arms, and she screeched, “I don’t even have shoes on!”

“You don’t need shoes where we are going,”

“Azriel!”

“Why are you so fussy?” he mused, smirking, as he made it down the stairs.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to tell you. All I promised was that it’s not going to be ‘bad’ whatever that means.”

She sighed, shaking her head, muttering under her breath. He, in turn, very much enjoyed her clutching at him, her body in his arms, her wet hair swiping over his arm. She looked very cute, if very ridiculous in his clothes, and frankly, he was too elated, too disbelieving that this was even real, to let her go. He held her and nuzzled at her neck, at her face, sometimes returning to her beautiful mouth.

He carried her through the still-empty premises, though waiters at the bar and delivery people in the kitchen were starting their day. When they saw their boss carrying a woman, who frequently visited him here in the past few months, they pretended not to notice, as if this was a normal affair. In fact, no other woman ever came here, to visit him. He’s never been seen with a woman, never said that he had a girlfriend, even if women seemed to lose their minds in his presence. But until this one—absolutely not the type of a woman he typically attracted—he never allowed anyone to get close to him.

Azriel made his way into the cavernous insides of the building, at last entering the tattoo shop that he had on premises. It was elegantly outfitted and bore his usual aesthetic—restrained, modern, striking with its use of black, white, and splashes of cobalt.

Elain looked around, when he set her down and pointed out, “I’ve been here before.”

He nodded.

As she wandered about, looking at various lithographs and prints with unique tattoo designed, she finally stopped abruptly and whirled to him,

“No!”

He was laughing under his breath.

“No!” she exclaimed again.

“No what?” he winked, sitting down on a stool, and patting on a leather recliner beside it.

“You…” she fumed. “No!”

He tsked, “A bargain is a bargain.”

“Azriel!” she stomped her foot.

He crossed his arms on his chest and looked at her, “Elain.”

“I am not getting a tattoo!”

“You most certainly are. Stop being a wuss and come here.”

“I am not going to,” she insisted.

“You know,” he notified her conversationally, as he started to prep his equipment, “a shitty little Bagarat tattoo is like $800 bucks,”

“Congratulations. Give it to someone else,” she offered, scowling. “Maybe someone would like a sleeve for twenty grand!”

“I won’t give you a sleeve. Jeez, you’ll probably faint at the first prick,”

She huffed, “I will not!”

He shrugged.

She pressed, “I will not. I am not afraid of needles and I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Lots of talk, babe, no action,”

Stomping angrily, she crossed the open space and challenged, “do you even know how to tattoo?”

“Cass and Rhys…” he winked. “And whenever Rowan decides to add to his collection…Or Gavriel,”

Those were some of the finest, most intricate designs that Elain’s ever seen.

“You did those?” she asked, brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“They are beautiful,” she whispered.

“Will you trust me?” his voice softened and he extended his hand to her.

Elain sighed and then slid on the lounge chair. It was comfortable. She was nervous.

“What will it be?” she asked. “May I see it?”

Wordlessly, he pulled a piece of paper from a folder, but then did not give it to her. She waited. He suddenly seemed uncertain, almost shy.

“Az,” she said gently, “may I see it? I am sure it’s beautiful.”

He swallowed and then explained, “I traced it the first day…evening…When we met, and you were here, at the garage. I,” he exhaled and then looked at her, “anyway…I was overwhelmed, I guess. I fell in love with you and all I could think of was you.”

The words warmed her up, and everything in her softened at his nervousness, at his admission.

“I want it,” she took the paper from him.

“It’s just for you,” he clarified. “It’s unique to you. I needed to quiet my brain and capture the essence of you, and this was it,”

Elain looked at the drawing. It was smaller than she expected, and rendered masterfully—an absolutely exquisite flower cradled in an embrace of two wings.

He swallowed tightly, and then said, “It’s called On the Wings of Desire.”

Without saying anything, Elain pulled up the shirt that she was wearing, just up to her chest. He looked down at her, expectantly.

She put her hand under her left breast, where her heart was and said, “there. I need it there.”

He nodded, remaining silent.

She saw that this was important to him, some ritual that he desired for her to go through, some sort of marking. That’s what it was. It dawned on her, at last. This was his mark, on her. He was going to do it himself, put a part of him, of his creation, of his work, not just on her skin, but within her blood, into her.

She clasped his hand and his eyes flew to her, a shadow of apprehension and anxiety in them, probably as much emotion as he’d be willing to show. He feared that she’d changed her mind.

“Az,” she licked her lip, suddenly nervous to request this of him. “Can you,”

“What?”

“Can you do it on you as well?” she proposed quietly.

He, it seemed, was unable to verbalize what he needed to, so she helped him, “Same spot, alright? Across your heart. So you know that I am always with you, as you are with me.”

He nodded vigorously, clearly relieved and absolutely in love with her proposition.

“Who will do it?” she wondered. “Please don’t ask me!” she laughed.

He smirked. “Nuala. She will do it. Only Nuala or Rowan tattoo me.”

She nodded and then relaxed back into the leather.

“No crying,” he said.

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Kind of weird that you are this sensitive to pain, but okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

He was laughing.

“I thought only Nesta had a big mouth like that,” he said, as he prepped the skin and pulled on his gloves.

“Mistake number one,” teased Elain.

“I am seeing that now,”

He then said, “Okay, I may accidentally brush against the boobie,”

“How accidentally?” she chuckled, while he pressed the outline into her skin. Then, the needle began its wheezing and Elain winced, as the first prick of the needle stung her skin.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” it was more painful than she expected, and she figured that the spot that she selected was probably not the best and would hurt more than an arm or a leg, but she was set on it.

“Absolutely, totally accidentally,” he lied. “You are the one who chose the spot,” he pointed out.

Elain was a trooper. She did not make any hissing noises or any sounds at all throughout the tattooing. The shading was the longest and most painful part, and even then, she remained composed and only winced a few times.

“I am sorry,” he murmured repeatedly, especially when a bit of blood seeped onto her skin.

“Prick your finger,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Prick your finger,”

“And?”

The soft doe-eyes blinked at him a few times, and she said, “I think you know what to do.”

So he did. He pricked his finger and mixed his blood with hers.

 Nuala offered to tattoo ‘No Regerts’ on Azriel’s chest, if Elain so desired. She considered it, while Nuala explained that Azriel was now at their mercy and they could do whatever they wanted to him. At the end, he walked away with only a small tattoo over his heart.

 It was about 8 am when Azriel and Elain left the garage. The sun was shining and there were no remnants of the previous storms. It was like it never happened. But it did happen. Everything happened.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, slinging his heavy, muscled arm around her shoulders. She’s been clutching at her side the whole time.

She shook her head no and looked at him. He smiled and then kissed her.

“I love you,” he murmured suddenly. Elain’s face broke into a loving smile and she reciprocated by kissing him back. “Let’s go home.”

[figgyfaeth]

4 Days to Zeppelin

The first chapter for a fic I’ve had rolling around in my head for a few days. Do with it what you like. Essentially the core four take a little vacation for themselves to see Led Zeppelin in the city. 

Chapter One: Tickets Acquired! 

John’s hair was soft. Softer than Carlos had originally anticipated but delightfully so. Not as soft as Lata’s hair but much softer than Mary’s. He wasn’t sure when him playing with their hair became a thing, but it had certainly become a thing. His favorite activity in the car was sitting behind whoever was driving and giving them a little head massage, or braiding Lata’s hair, or running his fingers through John’s truly incredible head of hair.

This was how he found himself at 4 pm on a Thursday when it happened. Laying on the bed, above John who was sitting cross-legged on the floor teaching Lata how to clean a pistol. His fingers were weaving their way through the roots when Mary all but kicked the door to their motel room open, flushed and seemingly fresh from a fight.

The action was immediate. He literally felt John’s attention snap to Mary, like she was his platoon leader coming to give them orders. Lata nearly fell over trying to twist herself to face the doorway, pistol taken apart and abandoned between them on the floor. Carlos was the only one who did not move. His eyes lazily slid to Mary’s, looking just uninterested enough for her to know it wasn’t the case.

The energy in the room was… weird. They were waiting for her to explain herself and she was trying to catch her breath.

“I got them.” She breathed, a smile spreading slowly across her face. “I fucking got them.” She extended her hand far enough out for them all to see 4 tickets, Led Zeppelin, Baltimore, in 4 days. “Nearly had to fight some dude who thought he could get in front of me, but I scared him–” Before she could finish John and Lata were both enveloping her in a hug, smiles on their faces, bouncing up and down. Carlos sat up on the bed and looked at his friends, he took a mental snapshot of this moment before rolling his eyes and crossing over to them. For a moment they feel like just a group of friends, not hunters, not far-too-young adults who face down nightly horrors that would make most people break down.

–

It had actually been Lata’s suggestion. They had been hard on the trail of Samuel and the Akrida, and non-stop hunting for months. A werewolf had brought them to Maryland and Lata had seen the ad in the paper. It took a little convincing, Carlos had been in immediately, Mary was easy to sway as they were her favorite band, John had been the lone hold out. He had been so gung ho as of late to stay on target. Finally after convincing him the world would still need saving after a little vacation he relented.

They had sent Mary to get the tickets because she, surprisingly, was the most intimidating and most likely to stay on target and not get distracted. Her teachers had told her she was incredibly task oriented.

So for the first time in months they were going to relax. Carlos grabbed the keys and John and took off for the store, coming back with liquor and junk food. Mary and Lata attempted to make the motel look like something other than a place to stay for the night, as they were going to be there for a little bit longer than anticipated. Lata even convinced Mary to put away all weapons, lore books, and notes. For a vacation isn't a vacation unless you actually take a break.

The party, if you can call it that, started simply. They did shots, toasting to Jimmy Page and then another, toasting to Robert Plant. They traded stories of their best hunts, toughest kills, and John contributed a tale or two from Vietnam. Mary told them tales of growing up as a hunter, her first solo hunt, the ghost she took out at 7. Carlos told them more about the interesting people that he met on the road than the monsters he hunted. Lata waxed poetic about the different myths she had studied in the library and how it had blown her mind to find out that they were all true.

After a while John just sat and listened, the whiskey relaxing him. Watching these three beautiful humans who leaned into each other, trusted each other. Trusted him . Lata at some point rested her head on his bicep, he caught himself smiling at the trust, the comfort of such a small simple action. Their circle got smaller, the bottles got lighter, and the world went just a little blurry.

At some point, no one knows when, Carlos began putting on a show, performing his rendition of Zeppelin songs. Lata signing back-up when necessary. Soon coerced Mary and John into singing an especially maudlin version of Tangerine with them as they danced around their dingy hotel room before collapsing to sleep. Comfortable, safe, and all just a little in love with each other.

[little-writers-posts]

Shall We Dance, Sunflower? (Elliot 'Mirage' Witt x GN Reader)

Author's Note: Hello! I wrote this because it has been on my mind for a while, so I wanted to let it out. I hope you like it! Please, excuse my writing, if anything is misspelt it is because English isn't my native language, but I did my best, :D

Warnings: SLIGHT SPOILER OF THE BOOK, if you have not read it yet it contains a bit of the lore on the book, mainly about Mirage's past.

Word Count: 2397

(Y/N's POV)

‘Meet me at the bar tonight? Got a surprise ;)’

I looked over at my phone, ‘Elliot’ was written on it and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Ever since I joined the games, I have grown close to all the other legends, however, I’ve had a soft spot for the curly haired man for a while now. We’ve been getting closer ever since we got teamed up the first time, Mirage has always been there for me, had my back in every game, even when we’re in different teams, he manages to get to me.

We’ve been meeting often at his bar, after each match. Lately, I’ve been staying a little longer than the rest of the group, even after Wraith and Rampart, Elliot and I have been talking back and forth about our lives outside of the games, getting to know each other, and surprisingly, his company is really good, and I started looking forward to our little chat at the end of each night. Most of the times I even help getting the bar cleaned and he walks me home. Slowly I’ve started to like him more and more.

It’s obvious that I find Elliot handsome, but his ways are the ones that really get to me, he may be an idiot, but sure as hell he makes me laugh like no other, and deep down he cares a lot about his friends, his family. He’s been through so much in his life, yet he still manages to have a positive view of life.

I got my phone and texted back.

‘Sure thing, handsome. What you got for me?’

‘Well, sunshine, it’s a surprise, so you’ll have to wait and see. Come by at 9 pm. :D’

I smiled and looked over at the clock, still, a couple of hours to go, so I got in the shower, got a nice set of clothing and some light makeup, nothing too fancy and then order some dinner.

When it was time, I left my apartment and went to Elliot’s bar. I noticed that the door was closed, it’s a bit weird since he usually has the bar opened at this hour. I knocked on the door and heard him urging me to go inside.

Once I got in, I saw him cleaning some of the cups, as soon as his eyes landed on me, he got a huge smile on his face.

“Welcome to the Witt’s, sunflower”

“Hey, handsome. Where’s everyone?”

“What do you mean everyone?... OH, the bar! Right, I closed it early today, didn’t have a lot of customers, so…”

“I see… So what you got for me, Witt? I’ve been looking forward to your surprise.”

I sit down on one of the stools near the counter, right in front of Elliot and let my chin rest on my hand.

“Someone’s pretty eager… Well, I… drumroll please!” He made little movements with his fingers as drumsticks while hitting the counter “I made a new bevi… bevere… cocktail!”

Elliot cheered as he shows me a couple of bottles.

“And I want you to be the first to try, sunshine! I mean, I’ve already tried it, but I want someone else’s opinion.” He said as he took out a glass and some drinks.

“Am I going to die, Elliot?” The amount of alcohol he was pouring mixing with other fruits was unbelievable.

“I’m still here, so I don’t think so. Plus, I´ll kill you in the ring, not outside. Although, I think Revenant might kill all of us in our sleep.”

“I believe he might kill Loba first, to be honest” I grinned a little “Though I think he’ll have to face Bangs first, and she won’t go easy on him.”

“You think they are a thing? Loba and Anita, I mean.”

“I don’t know, but sure as hell, they look like it, and they look cute together.”

Elliot muttered something under his breath as he finished preparing the drink.

“What was that?”

“What was what? I didn’t say anything” Elliot nearly spilled the drink when he put it in front of me.

“I didn’t know that the great Mirage was afraid of speaking what’s on his mind. Guess you are afraid of something.”

“I don’t fear anything, sunshine. Now, you are the one afraid of having a taste, right?”

“No, no, I’ll taste it… eventually.”

I smiled. The drink had a yellowish colour and the smell seemed to burn my nostrils due to the alcohol, but I brought the glass to my lips and took a sip. Elliot was looking rather nervous at me, biting his bottom lip. I took another sip.

“So… How is it? C’mon, don’t leave me hanging, (Y/N).”

I laughed a little. “It’s great, Elliot, as surprising as it may seem, it tastes really good. You should definitely put it on the menu, the guys are gonna love it.”

“Really?? You don’t think I should add anything else, lemon or…”

“No, I like it the way it is, really.”

Elliot had the widest grin I’ve ever seen.

“Do you have a name for it yet?”

“Name? No, not really, I didn’t think about it.”

“You could name it ‘The Unwitty’” I laughed.

“What does that mean?” Elliot looked confused.

“Unwitty? It usually refers to someone who’s not clever, and I believe that after a few of these, you are definitely not the brightest person in the room” I said as I looked at the half-empty glass “Also, it rhymes a little with your last name, so it could be a pun, since… well… you know… you made the drink…”

“Well, that’s a lot cleveree… cleverir… more clever than what I thought”

“And what were you thinking?”

He looked at me and ended up scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, something in the lines of sunflower, maybe… or sunshine…”

“Oh, because of the colour! I get it! Never knew a drink with a name like that, but it should work.” I smiled.

“Yeah… the colour…”

Elliot started to pack up the drinks and clean what was left on the bar. He turned his back to me as I finished the drink, so I jumped over the counter and started to clean the dirty glasses in the sink.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that (Y/N)”

“It’s alright, you know that I like helping you out, plus I got a free drink” I smiled and bumped against his shoulder.

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

We finished cleaning the rest of the bar and I leaned against the counter, Elliot did the same on the other side. However, he did have a foolish grin on his face, like he was up to someth…

“I got an idea!” he clapped his hands and smiled at me.

“This can’t be good…”

“Of course it’s a good idea! I only have good ideas, sunshine!”

“Hm… No, not always, remember that one time on the zipline across Airbase…”

“No, no, no, no, no. That doesn’t count! It was all Crypto’s fault, not mine!!” He whined at me, pointing his finger like he was schooling me which made me laughed out loud “ANYWAYS, it is still pretty early to take you home, so…”

Elliot grabbed the Bluetooth controller for his sound equipment at the bar and started to go through the songs.

“What are you doing, Elliot?”

“Choosing a song.” He smiled.

“For what, exactly?” God, I think I know where this is going…

Elliot picked a pop song, one of those popular ones that are on the radio stations and stretched out his hand, bowing slightly to me.

“Shall we dance, sunflower?”

“No, absolutely not, sorry. Not happening.”

The look on his face was hilarious, I would’ve laughed harder if it wasn’t for his genuine heartbroken expression.

“But why…?”

“Elliot, dear… I don’t dance, I’ve never danced in my life, and I know I’m terrible at it. So, I’ll spare your toes and I won’t step on you.”

“I don’t mind it. Plus, I’m a pretty good dancer, I’m sure I can lead you through it.” He smiled and this time he took the liberty to take my hand and guided me to the centre of the bar.

“Elliot, this is not a good idea.” I shook my head in disbelief.

“Shhhh… I’ll guide you. Let Mirage take the lead.”

We started slowly moving at the rhythm of the song, shifting weight from one foot to the other and soon we were swinging backwards, dipping low and then soaring into the air. Elliot never let go of my hand and guided me through every move. I never felt so carefree and happy, in a small space it was just him and me having one hell of a good time.

I have no idea how many songs went by, my heart was pounding against my chest rapidly like I was in training. And then a slow melody came into play, Elliot’s smile grew wider, and he pulled me against him, one hand on my waist, the other holding my hand.

I looked up and his face was close to mine, my heart was beating faster than before, and I thought it wasn’t possible, and all the butterflies started to fly in my stomach.

Elliot started to guide me through the song once more, this time in a very slow rhythm, one step at a time.

“You’re doing great, sunshine.” He praised.

I felt my cheeks getting warmer and I looked away, anywhere but his face.

He then tried a turn, however, he stopped midway through, and pushed my back against his chest, the arm on my waist circled all the way as he hugged from the back, his other hand still holding on to mine. He leaned his face against mine, so our cheeks were touching. I felt like my breath got caught up in my throat and everything around us stopped.

We were still swinging slightly, but I could feel him moving his face, and then slowly he left a kiss on my neck.

And then another kiss.

And then another kiss.

And the last kiss had me shiver all over. He noticed.

“Seems like I found a sweet spot… Right?”

I smiled.

“Hm… I don’t know, maybe you should try it again, just to make sure.”

He chuckled, turning me back to face him. This time we were much closer than the last, so much that the tips of our noses were barely touching.

We stood still for what it felt like an eternity, I was too afraid to move, I didn’t want to ruin anything.

Elliot looked down, staring at my lips as he gulped.

“Damn… I want to kiss you so bad…” He whispered.

“Why don’t you…?”

“I’m scared, (Y/N).”

“Wha..”

I tried to look back into his eyes, but Elliot held me closer, and I had to rest my forehead against his shoulder.

“All my life, (Y/N), I saw the ones that I care about, the ones that I love, leaving me. I saw friends die, disappearing, leaving. It started with my father, who barely even knew me. Then, my brothers I couldn't even have a proper goodbye, because no one cared to try to find them. My mom is slowly leaving me, with each passing day her memory gets worse and I fear the day she won’t remember me at all and I…”

He was shaking a little which had me hugging him even more, trying to encourage him to talk to me.

“Elliot.”

“I can’t stand the thought of you leaving me, (Y/N), in any way. Makes my heart sting, my breath disappears, and my all body physically hurt. If anything happens to you while you’re with me, I’ll never forgive myself, I want to keep you safe, but it seems like I bring bad luck to everyone that I’m close to, and I can’t do that to you, (Y/N), not you…”

“Elliot, look at me.” I tried to push him lightly, but he wouldn’t let go. “Please, please look at me.”

He loosened his grip on me a little. I manage to look back into his eyes, and I realise that I’ve never seen those eyes that sad, bearing so much pain, that it started to hurt me too.

“Elliot, listen, I’m not going anywhere. I know how to defend myself and I’m here to stay, you’re stuck with me, at least as long as you’ll have me. If anything, you’ve been my good luck charm, ever since I joined the games you’ve had my back, you’re there for me every single time, you make me laugh more than anyone has ever made me, when I’m with you I’m genuinely happy like I have no cares in the world. We all have our ghosts, but we’re here to fight them, I’m here to help you, Elliot. You are the life and soul in every place you go, how could you ever be bad luck? You have a golden heart, and don’t tell yourself otherwise. Please, Elliot… I…”

He didn’t let me finish.

He held my check in his hand and leaned in, kissing me.

I never felt anything like that before, like he was made for me, all my thoughts were clouded by the feeling of his lips on mine. I reached my hand to the back of his neck, pampering with the hairs there.

I felt his tongue pushing its way into my mouth, and I let it. My heart was beating louder in my chest, my hands were shaking, but I wanted him to know how much I cared, how much I wanted him, how much I loved him, just him.

We fell breathless and broke the kiss, leaning our foreheads against each other.

“You have no idea, how long I’ve wanted that, and how much I needed you, (Y/N).”

I smiled and hugged his neck, pulling him more to me. His hands were massaging my back, up and down.

“My heart is beating so fast, it feels like it’s gonna jump out of my chest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before, with anyone… Can we do it again?”

“Oh, Elliot, you don’t have to ask that. Of course, you can.”

He leaned in and we kissed once more.

If this is dancing… We definitely need to do that more often.

[bruhstories]

Baby, I’ve Already got Your Heart

Summary: An accidental meeting between Armin and Y/N leads to an unhealthy obsession. Pairing: Armin Arlert x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings: stalking, language, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), oral sex (female receiving), switch!Reader, switch!Armin, rope is involved. Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: This fic is heavily inspired by this song. It is surprisingly wholesome, considering the tags xD

Armin Arlert. The purest man in the world. You accidentally met him one cold, rainy day when he entered your coffee shop for shelter and warmth. He naively talked to you, grateful for how nice you were with him, grateful for the cappuccino on the house, grateful for the towel you offered him to dry himself off. Little did Armin know, a fixation sprouted in your mind and heart, developing into the unhealthiest obsession. He was just so cute — and you just had to have him. It helped to know that you were both going to the same university, and after that, you knew everything about him: his Facebook, Instagram, email address, hell, you even knew his real address. To be fair, it was a piece of cake, the boy was absolutely clueless and whenever he 'accidentally' met you, he thought it was by pure chance. The next and most obvious step was to befriend people in his social circle, one Jean Kirstein, one Sasha Braus and one Connie Springer. Naturally, you did your homework, and you knew his best friends were Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman, but they weren't easy targets. Besides, it would jeopardise your entire plan, as you found Armin was considered a genius. An oblivious genius. He didn't know it yet, but you loved him and he loved you too, right?

A text from Sasha, months after you first met the angelic man, set your plan in motion. A casual gaming night at Armin's place, and you were invited. How perfect. Poor glutton Sasha had no fucking clue how much you were using her, how you told her you want to meet a cute guy, someone nice and caring, someone smart and attentive. The girl put two and two together and decided she just had to introduce you to one of her friends, especially that he was also interested in meeting a girl like you. Unbelievable — you acted surprised, met up with Sasha and left for Armin's little gaming night. You wouldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Starting from tonight, he'd be yours. Forever.

"Armiiiiiiiiin, I brought a plus one!" Sasha barged into his house. "This is my friend, Y/N. Y/N, Armin! Oh shit, pretzels!" The brown-haired woman left the two of you in the hallway and the blond flashed you a smile.

"I feel like I've seen you before." He mused as he closed the door behind you.

"If you ever drink coffee at Rose's you might've seen me there." You smiled and removed your leather jacket, revealing a Pearl Jam t-shirt.

"No way you listen to them!" Armin blurted.

"Are you kidding me? They're my favourite!" You lied through your teeth with a sickly-sweet smile.

"Mine too! Oh, I know, you're the girl who gave me a free cappuccino months ago!"

"I remember! You were drenched in rainwater." You laughed as the two of you entered the living room. "I had to mop up the puddles you left behind."

"I'm so sorry about that..." He blushed. Your heart fluttered and you couldn't wait to get your hands on him, but for the time being, you needed to behave.

"No worries, I just hope you didn't catch a cold." You assured Armin and sympathetically placed a hand on his shoulder. There he goes, blushing again. It couldn't be... was he a virgin? Fuck. This was better than you could've imagined.

"Who's this?"

"Oh, Mikasa, Eren, this is Y/N. She's friends with Sasha."

"Nice to meet you!" Eren shook your hand. "Oh, God, you listen to Pearl Jam, too? You nerds are going to get along just fine." He joked.

The night went great, and you actually had fun with Armin and his friends, despite not intending to mingle with them too much. People started leaving around 2 am, but Eren and Mikasa stayed longer. Too fucking long — and things were boring now anyway. You and Armin kept talking about video games and books, Mikasa fell asleep on Eren who was playing fucking Farmville on his phone. They had to leave as soon as possible.

"Hey, Y/N, we can take you home." Eren suggested and you froze. Shit.

"Didn't you say you're almost out of gas?" Armin questioned his friend.

"Ah, fuck, you're right. I still don't know how that happened — I fuelled the tank yesterday!" The brunette scoffed. "Guess you're on your own, Y/N."

"It's alright, I'll take an uber." You politely smiled.

"Alright, we'll wait for you."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Truth be told, you appreciated how nice and caring Armin's friends were, but you had a different goal to accomplish.

"You really don't have to, plus I have to use the bathroom." You excused yourself. "Um, where is the bathroom exactly?"

"Upstairs, first door on the right." Armin told you while gathering plates and cups from the table. You nodded and climbed up the stairs. Your hand hovered over the bathroom doorknob for a good minute, eyes drifting to the door next to it. Armin's bedroom, by the looks of it. Surely, you could take a look, right? Fuck it. You opened the second door and at first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. LED and fairy lights encircled a corner of his room and, curiously, you walked closer to see what that was, because it didn't look like a desk. Your Y/E/C widened when you saw tens of framed photographs of yourself on the square table, objects you thought you lost and — Jesus, was that your bra? A rush of anxiety hit you, but before you could do anything, a blow to your head blurred your vision.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

Dark lashes fluttered as you opened your eyes. The sudden realisation that you were naked and restrained to a bed made you jolt. What just happened?

"Fucking finally, I thought you'd never wake up." Armin greeted you, but his voice was different, deeper and darker.

"Ar-ugh, Armin?" You groaned at the stinging sensation at the back of your head.

"You know, I was relieved you didn't leave with Sasha, otherwise you would've slipped between my fingers again."

Again?

"Ugh, and Eren and his stupid idea. 'We'll take you home.'" He mocked his best friend with a high pitch. "I've been dreaming for this moment since I walked into that shitty coffee shop."

You were at a loss for words. This was not the Armin you fantasised about, not the Armin you wanted. He was much more and much worse. And. So. Much. Better.

Alright then, you'd put up a show for him.

"P-please, Armin, please untie m-me! I'll be good, I p-promise!" You stuttered and whimpered, trying your best to sound genuine.

"Why, so you can run away?" The blond scoffed. So, he didn't know you stalked him. What a twist.

"I won't r-run, I swear!"

"Bullshit." Armin bent over your body, hands around your neck. You gasped and pretended to be startled by his touch, but in reality, your core was already burning with lust. You knew you couldn't keep up with this charade. "No, Y/N, I won't untie you. But we'll have so much fun." He sneered.

"You promise?"

"Yes. Wait—"

Your laughter filled the bedroom, genuine laughter that baffled Armin. Was this some sort of reverse psychology trick?

"Oh, Armin, even when you reveal your true colours, you're still oblivious to the reality of what's in front of you."

"Then enlighten me, what am I so oblivious to?" He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

"The fact that this was my fucking plan, too." You stretched as much as your restraints allowed you to and licked your lips. "I guess we both stalked each other without even knowing. How ridiculous."

"I think I would've known if you stalked me, Y/N."

"Really? Let me prove it, then. Your favourite food's Carbonara pasta, your favourite drink is peach and lychee iced tea, favourite movie is Interstellar, you lived on Sheena street until you were 12–"

"That's common knowledge, Sasha could've told you any of that." Armin blurted, growing impatient.

"You watch BDSM and asphyxiation porn between 10 pm and 11 pm every Tuesday, you're a virgin, you own a fleshlight–"

"Fuck, alright!" He threw his hands in the air, defeated. "So, what next?"

"You untie me and you tear me apart, Armin, that's what's next."

The blond hesitated before removing the cuffs on your ankles, still unsure about the ropes around your wrists. Clearly, you weren't making things up, but what were the chances of both of you stalking each other? For a brief moment, Armin felt guilty for hitting you and practically holding you captive, and you could see that on his face, but obsession and desire soon took over, and he reverted back to his darker self. His soft hands moved from your ankles to your knees, up your thighs and stomach, stopping above your chest, deciding it's best if you're not fully free. Armin licked his lips and climbed on top of you, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. You thought was surprisingly strong for such a thin man, but when the unbuttoned shirt revealed his chiselled abdomen, it made sense why he was strong.

"The wrists, Armin." You insisted but the blond clicked his tongue.

"I like you better when you're helpless." He pressed his lips onto yours in a hot kiss. A great kiss, you thought, your tongues wrestling for supremacy.

"Please, I want to touch you! I need to..." You trailed off, intoxicated by his smell, notes of saffron and cardamom. His hands roamed your shoulders, tickling your axilla and groping your breasts. "Please let me touch you, Armin!" You begged again, but he didn't say a word, his hot breath fanning over your oversensitive nipples, goosebumps all over your skin. His pink tongue poked out of his mouth and you watched him painstakingly slowly lick one of your nipples. It literally pained you to be unable to touch him, pull him closer to you. Alas, you had no choice, and despite yearning to be in control, it aroused you to have him control you.

"You smell so sweet." He abruptly stopped. "I bet you taste sweet, too."

"Armin..." His words made you brace yourself. While you weren't a virgin, you've never had anyone eat you out. The blond was already in between your legs, one hand resting under your thigh, the other gently touching your slick folds. Armin was so careful, like you were made of glass, and the ticklish sensation didn't help you at all. You wanted him to ram his cock inside of you and rearrange your guts, but he wanted to take his sweet time. The teasing only made you dizzy with pleasure, and you bucked your hips, trying to get him to move faster.

"You really need to learn to be patient, Y/N." Armin purred, pressing gentle kisses on your thighs. He lazily dragged his tongue across your slit, electricity shooting through your body. God, how you wanted to rip those ropes apart. Two fingers entered you and the blond gingerly licked your clit.  

"Fuck– so... so good ah–" You couldn't form a sentence even if your life counted on it. Gradually, you could feel your orgasm building up and Armin sensed it, picking up the pace. His fingers thrusted harder and you arched your back, the intensity too much for you. "Armin, please! I wanna come with your cock in me!" The begging didn't stop him, he was determined to make you finish then and there. And he did — within seconds you melted under his touch, legs trembling with pleasure. Armin pulled back, his mouth messy with saliva mixed with your juices.

"You come when I want you to come." His voice was low, almost like a growl. He unbuttoned his jeans, and you watched him like a hawk, waiting to see just how big his was, and you were not disappointed.

"Please please please let me suck it, please!" You begged him, eager to taste him. He smirked and kissed you, all the while rubbing his cock.

"You want this?" Armin quirked a brow at you. The little shit, jacking off in front of you and you couldn't even do anything about it.

"Armin..."

"Say it. Say you want it."

"Armin!"

"Say it, Y/N." He groaned, precum leaking from his member. Fuck.

"I... I want it..." You eventually gave up.

"Good girl." The blond climbed back on top of you. He raised your hips and you placed your legs on his shoulder, his first thrust slow and deep. Armin couldn't help the moan escaping his lips — this was so much better than that shitty fleshlight and countless porn videos. You couldn't deny the fact that it hurt, despite your soaking cunt, but you quickly adjusted to his size. As Armin pounded you, the bed underneath the two of you started moving and screeching, and the ropes tied to the metal bedframe loosened and you felt your arms fall onto the pillows. In his frenzy, the blond didn't notice, so you took this opportunity to lower your legs and wrap them around his waist, one hand grabbing his soft locks, the other wrapping around his neck. You used his weight against him and turned him over. You were in control.

Armin was taken aback by this, but the feeling of your fingers squeezing his throat only turned him on more. You bounced up and down, throwing your head back and groaning. He gripped your hips tightly, thrusting his own hips against yours.

"F-fuck me harder, Y/N!" He begged and you sped up. You felt like a queen — no, a goddess — when he asked you to fuck him, the feeling of him inside of you so addictive. He was your drug, and your rehab, your poison, and your antidote. And you were his and his only. His cock was twitching in your cunt and knew he was close but you didn't want to risk it. Swiftly, you got off of him and wrapped your lips around his dick, bobbing your head up and down. It didn't take long for him to finish, hot liquid shooting down your throat with one final grunt. You swallowed it all and threw yourself next to him. It was breaking dawn already, but you weren't tired. Physically, yes, both of you were exhausted, but mentally it felt like you discovered a hidden gem.

"What the fuck did we just do?" Armin calmly caressed your hair as you nuzzled his neck.

"Are we talking about the obsessively stalking each other part or the part where you hit me in the head? Or the fucking?"

"The everything." He explained. "This is wrong."

"Did it feel wrong?" You asked him, your fingers idly tracing circles over his chest.

"Well, no..."

"Then it's not wrong." You shrugged. "Am... am I yours?"

"Yes." The blond instantly replied without a trace of hesitation in his voice. "Am I?"

"You've been mine the moment you set foot in that shitty coffee shop." You laughed.

"And what are we going to tell the others?"

"That we ended up talking all night and I stayed over?"

"Sounds like a plan." Armin kissed your forehead.

"By the way, I really don't like Pearl Jam." You admitted.

He laughed and it filled your heart with warmth. You have no idea why you and Armin were like that, or how things would be from now on, but you had a good feeling about it. Things were okay. You two were okay.

[wordstro]

[12:06 PM] + pirate!au + “you really think you can steal from me and get away with it?”

2.3k, implications of seggsy times but no descriptions of it at all, surprisingly not angsty - just pirate king hongjoong

-

it was supposed to be an easy steal. take over a shift at the bar to catch his attention, distract him, find the rusty coin your clients wanted you to steal so badly, toss it under your dresser, out of sight, out of mind, all while he’s preoccupied, wait until morning to complete the assignment, collect the reward money. easy. 

and it was. 

except you miscalculated one single, important detail. your target wasn’t just any pirate. he was the pirate king. 

he was captain kim hongjoong. 

the initial start of the plan ran smoothly, in fact he had been kind to you that night, his dark eyes watchful, observant, safe even throughout the night. he cleaned you up afterwards, made sure you were hydrated and comfortably tucked away, and left a peck on your forehead before he slipped out into the summer night, his pretty smile and dark eyes seared into your brain. a trickle of guilt crept under your skin as you slipped out the bed the moment the door clicked shut behind you. you fished out the rusty coin your client was willing to pay handsomely for and tried to think of the reward rather than the guilt. you expected the pirate king from the rumors. the mean, bloodthirsty, horrible man that everyone across the great seas knew. stealing from that version of him would have felt less burdensome than the man who stepped into your bedroom. 

the next morning, however, everything went to shit. you spent most of the walk to port examining the rusty coin, flipping it over in your fingers as you wondered what kind of value it could possibly have - clearly there was something there if your rich clients were willing to spend thousands of gold pieces on this and it was in the personal possession of the elusive pirate king. it looked like any other old coin from the northern islands.

as you slipped through the crowded marketplace towards port, you made a plan, grinning to yourself. 

let’s just say your business practices were never the most ethical.

you quickly found out that, apparently, neither was your client’s.

the eye-patched ex-navy captain handed you a heavy pouch of gold, watching you weigh it in your palms before clipping it to your belt beside your own pouch of gold coins.

you plucked the rusty coin from the folds of your shirt. the moment the coin passed from your hand to your clients crooked fingers, his gun was on you.

he shouted at you, claimed that you knew too much and he did not leave loose ends, fingers twitching over the trigger, and you barely let him finish his speech before you lunged at him. he dropped his gun, letting loose a gunshot into the sky. you truly did not believe he would have actually shot you. navy men were supposed to have morals, no matter their current affiliations with the navy.

still, you wasted no time in snatching the coin right back, elbowing the man in the nose when he tried yank at your hair. you gasped in pain when he punched you, landing on your ass with a throbbing lip and, undoubtedly, a giant, unsightly bruise blooming over your cheek. the force of his hit left you seeing stars, clutching your stinging face as you scrambled across the deck, the coin digging into your palm. he loomed over you, but you kicked at his legs, tripping him up long enough for you to scramble to your feet, a nervous giggle spilling from your lips as you watched him teeter at the edge of the port, flailing his arms 

after a moment of stunned silence - you’re sure you sounded insane, giggling to cope with such a deadly situation - his crewmates finally turned on you, brandishing their weapons, anger rolling off them in heavy waves. one of them advanced on you, swinging his sword. you tried to step back, but he managed to slice at your skin, making you yelp in pain.

that’s when you made the decision to reel your arm back and toss the damn coin into the ocean, as far as you could throw it. the silence on the port following the soft plop was deafening. you were not planning on sticking around for the aftermath, not with the way the ex-navy man clutched his crewmates as they pulled him from the dock nor with the way he screamed bloody murder a moment later, swiveling on you, fists clenched and veins popping out along his forehead.

you did what you do best. you ran.

his crewmates were clearly torn between retrieving the coin and coming after you. you did want to look back and find out if they were, intent on putting as much distance between yourself and your furious client as possible as you weaved through the familiar marketplace, ducking under bystanders and around merchant stalls.

now here you are, cursing your luck as you weave through the marketplace, trying and failing to staunch the bleeding from the cut on your leg. you can still hear the shouting from the dock, but you don’t dare look back, veering around the corner. all you can do is hope that you don’t leave a blood trail for your client and his crew to follow. you can only hope that you didn’t just -

you’re yanked back, so hard you let out a sharp yelp. you thrash in the grip, but it’s too strong and you think, gods, this is it, this is how i die, fuck, fuck, fuc -

“get off - hongjoong?” you freeze at the familiar face looming over you, thinking shit shit shit as he glares at you, gaze icy, stiff. he’s furious. he looks every bit the part of the pirate king the rumors warned you about and nothing like the man you met the night before. you can’t quite blame him for it, not when you stole something so obviously precious from him. 

your coin pouch burns against your hip, almost as badly as your wounds. you try to pull away, but he yanks you forward until he hovers inches from you, dark eyes burning holes into your face. if looks could kill, you’d be dead a thousand times over.  

he speaks sharply, grip tightening around your shoulders, “you really think you can steal from me and get away with it?”

maybe it’s the adrenaline rush from turning on your client or stupidity or something else entirely turning your mouth loose, but you raise a brow, grinning half-heartedly, your heart slamming against your ribs all the while, “that’s exactly what happened, though.”

he bristles at your smile, his scowl deepening and his grip tight enough to leave bruises. 

“oh, i know.” he yanks you out of the alley, and you stumble in his hold, reminded of the night before and how he pulled you into your apartment the moment you opened the door for him. you shove the thought from your mind, focusing on his pinched brows and furious eyes as he looks over his shoulder at you, “and i intend on having you scour every inch of that beach until you find the fucking coin. once you do, i’ll skin you alive and leave you for the fish.”

you dig your heels into the dirt, “hong -”

“let’s go.” his voice is low, commanding, never once letting up on his grip on you.

you protest the entire time he drags you back through the marketplace, but he does not relent. the townspeople do nothing, as expected. your hometown is a safe haven for pirates, and the people here make it a point to never meddle in pirate’s business. no matter what. you can’t even find it in yourself to be disappointed when you pass by familiar faces and they merely glance away. 

he pulls you all the way back to the port. your ex-navy client is shouting at his crewmates across the port, desperate as he points to the sea. you barely have time to look at the consequences of your actions when hongjoong finally lets go of you.

“climb,” he orders.

you glance up at the steps leading into his ship. black sails flutter overhead, and the ship is huge. you glance sideways, at the ocean, and hongjoong shoves your back. “don’t you fucking dare. now, eyes forward and climb.”

you could jump, still, but he’ll probably just shoot you and let you drown. frankly, you are not in the mood to die such a gruesome, undignified death.

you climb into his ship, nearly face-planting onto the deck when he grabs your arm only to toss you forward. it’s embarrassingly easy for him to knock you onto your knees. he looks down at you, expressionless, and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you realize you two are not alone on this deck. you groan, fixing your gaze on hongjoong. 

“look. if you’d just listen to me -” you start. he gives you a sharp look that you think could skin you alive all on it’s own. you wonder if you should have just jumped into the ocean and taken your chances. you don’t back down, however, rolling your eyes. you’re not sure what’s come over you. maybe it’s the realization that you’re going to die either way or maybe it’s just that you know he’s not always like this, at least he wasn’t yesterday, and you can’t imagine someone like that could be as cruel as the rumors say. you glare, “don’t look at me like that - the fucking coin isn’t in the ocean.”

his eyes narrow, “i watched you throw it. we all did.”

you flush at the thought of an audience, glancing at the men eyeing you with various degrees of irritation. you scratch the back of your neck, hurrying to explain yourself.

“well, okay. i see how that looked, and i get it, but i swear i didn’t throw the coi - ow!”

hongjoong is crouched in front of you, butt of his pistol pressed to the sword cut on your thigh. the wound burns and you attempt to slide back. he doesn’t let you, grabbing your jaw, fingers tightening. He presses his thumb into the growing bruise on your cheek, jostling your split lip. the pain curls inside you, unshed tears springing to your eyes. hongjoong’s dark eyes are void of any of the kindness and warmth, the comfort, he held the night before and it makes this moment worse.

he says, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop lying to me.”

you tear yours eyes off his face, focusing instead on the men around you. their irritation has morphed into disdain. another spike of fear runs down your spine at your situation and this time you deflate, hating how defeated and tired you are. hongjoong adds pressure to your bruise, the wound on your thigh, and you look back up at him, jerking away from his grip.

he...lets you, his hand falling from your face. he must have seen the fear in your eyes, the beginnings of complacency. it’s unfair. you were only trying to make a decent living in a town devoid of any kind of decency. it’s just your luck that’d you’d fuck up so royally.

you’re afraid he’ll grab your face again, but settles back to a crouch in front of you, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares intently at you, waiting for you to speak. the butt of the pistol remains at your thigh, though he lets up on the pressure there, too.

you gulp under his scrutinizing stare, the silence stretching on between you two. he merely raises a brow. 

“the coin pouch,” you take a deep breath before you dip a chin towards your hip, “i switched your coin with one of them, so it’s still in there.” his brows furrow together and his eyes fill with disbelief, his jaw ticking and his fingers flexing near his knees. 

he starts to move as he bites out, “you -”

“i swear i’m telling the truth! no, please listen -” you shake your head quickly, hands in the air, ignoring the sounds of guns clicking all around you, “the one with the pink ribbon is my coin pouch. the client offered a shit ton of gold pieces for that damn thing so i figured i’d switch it with a fake, collect the reward, and after he leaves port, i thought you’d -” you pause under his intense gaze, recollecting your jumbled thoughts, “i thought you’d come back for the coin once your realized. i was going to give it to you, demand a reward or something, you know? though in hindsight, that was probably a death wish in the making. but still. double the money and all that, right? so...i....well...”

you clamp your mouth shut when he reaches out and tears your pouch off your hip. he casually dumps the contents of pouch onto the deck, the sounds of coins rattling against wood grating on your ears. the rusty coin stands out. not only is it bigger than the others, but it’s nearly the color of the wooden deck. 

the relief in his eyes, however, has your shoulders slumping, watching as he tucks the coin into his pockets with a strange gentleness.

you tear your eyes from him, glancing around the deck, past a few of his crewmates and the large sails, and you say, “you’re not gonna make me walk the plank are you?”

there’s a small snort behind you, but you don’t turn to the sound. not when hongjoong turns his sharp gaze on you, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. “maybe i fucking should.”

you wince, “i am sorry, okay. i was just doing what i had to. for survival and all.”

hongjoong just stares at you, gaze unreadable. it reminds you of the look he gave you when you first laid eyes on him last night.

“i’ll just...uh,” you clear your throat, jabbing a thumb behind you, towards the port, “i’ll go.”

you figure it’s best to dismiss yourself before hongjoong remembers his promise to skin you alive. you push yourself to your feet. one of his crewmates, a man with long dark hair pulled into a messy bun, helps you to your feet, patting your back as he does so.

“you double-crossed the navy.”

you look up at hongjoong, glancing past him, to the ship where your client is overseeing his crew as they wade through the ocean. you frown, “did i?”

you thought he was merely an ex-navy-captain-turned-bounty-hunter. the eyepatch was not very professional of him, not to mention that current navy members typically avoid your hometown due to how much money the merchants pay them to stay far, far away. you only took the man’s job because ex-navy members tend to hold onto all their morals long after serving. they’re easier to scam.

you shrug, then, “they have no jurisdiction here. it’ll be fine.”

you stumble from the burning cut in your leg, however, yelping as you flail. one of his crewmates catches you before you actually fall flat on your face. he doesn’t let go, steadying you carefully. you barely register his face, focusing on hongjoong’s next words.

he says, “stay on board until they're done searching for the coin at least.”

one of his tall, scary-looking crewmates lets out a low whistle and an obnoxious snicker. hongjoong throws him a scowl, before turning back to you. 

he gestures to your figure, “you can do whatever you want, but we both know you’re in no shape to run if one of them catches you. we have a doctor that can check your injuries."

his eyes are neither kind nor warm. merely factual. clinical. you wonder, briefly, if you imagined the looks he gave you last night, the feathery soft touches in between the tugs at your hair and your clothing, the small, sweet smiles and his sweet nothings.

still, you know he’s right. he knows it as well. you sigh and say, “fine.”

hongjoong doesn’t smile, doesn’t say another word. he merely nods once, brisk and short, before he spins on his heels and walks away. 

[spenciegoob]

The Fifteenth

A/N: I’m so sorry in advance.

Pairing: Spencer!POV x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst/Fluff

Content Warning: death of a major character, talk of drug abuse, mentions of blood/cases (usual criminal minds terminology), mentions of panic attack/depression

Masterlist

Word Count: 2,163

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As I sat down with the woman that made me feel whole, I felt the familiar serenity of her presence fill my senses even as the rain around us poured down in sheets. The pressure felt like sharp, cold glass sinking into my skin, but with her in front of me, I couldn’t find myself to care because her warmth held me like it was always meant to do.

“Hi, sweet girl. Do you remember the day you told me I was your world for the first time? I think about it everyday. I wish I could go back and just-”

She laid her head on my bare chest, her hair spreading out to tickle my sides, and her arms tucked securely around my back. Usually, a position so intimate would cause me a great deal of discomfort, but with her it felt natural; peaceful; perfect.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” She asked out of the blue. Even as a whisper, the question startled me. Before, in the moments of serene quiet, her breathing evened out, and I thought she was fast asleep. I was about to allow myself the relief of saying everything I couldn’t find the perfect words for when she was awake, looking at me with those loving eyes I fell in love with.

“I love you, too, Y/n.” But that answer did not satisfy her. She pulled her head from it’s previous position to look at me directly, and while I love to look at those eyes, the tears that welled there were gut twisting: soul crushing; heart wrenching.

“I mean it, Spence. You are my whole world.” A tear escaped when the words left her mouth, the ones that caused my own eyes to water, threatening to join hers.

I brushed my thumb across her cheek, catching the fallen drop before it finalized on my chest.

“And you are mine, sweet girl.”

“But what I meant to say was you’re not mine. Y/N, you are bigger than my world. You are the sun, the one that I rotate, the light that I need to survive, the power source that keeps me habitable.”

I had to clear my throat before continuing. 

“The first day I met you, you unknowingly saved my life, and to this day, I regret not telling you until now. It was the day I quit. I didn’t understand it then, how my mind changed so suddenly, but now I do. It was that smile, it was always that smile-”

I need a fix. Just one. It was one of the worst cases I’ve ever worked. I deserved a fix. I would say it was out of my control once I set that text message, but it was long before that. The second the jet landed my mind had been made, and once that happens, not even me could stop it. 

So I walked out of my apartment into the night that held too many unknowns, pulling myself further into my jacket and keeping my head down. I know that no one knew me to judge, but if I were to look at the very few strangers as they walked past me to live their own equally as destructive lives, I would’ve felt daggers piercing my skin instead of a needle that night.

But then I turned a corner, and from my position with locked eyes on the concrete, I could see a head come into my vision, hit my chest, and fall to the ground.

“Oh my g- I’m so sorry I wasn’t loo-” I had started to explain myself before a giggle interrupted my plan. I allowed my eyes to forget the laser vision on the sidewalk, and meet the eyes of the source.

My god was she beautiful. Her eyes so full, looking up at me from the hard ground with something that could only be described as pure, unadulterated joy. 

“It’s quite alright, I wanted to be on the ground tonight, anyway.” I titled my head, peculiar with the beautiful strange woman on the ground, but when she let out another giggle at my confusion, I couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle.

And then she held her hand up, silently asking for help from the position I so rudely shoved her into. While I would usually politely decline hand-to-hand contact, it didn’t feel right to refuse to help her stand after I all but tackled her.

So I took her hand, and the warmth generating from her in the cool night was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for so long.

When she regained her balance in front of me, she asked the question I least expected her to.

“I was just on my way to get coffee. Would you like to join me?”

“Wha.. I um- I’m a stranger on the street that just pushed you to the ground, and you’re asking if I want to get coffee?” When she nodded, I asked her another question, hoping to be able to teach her a lesson in stranger danger she so obviously lacked.

“How do you know I’m not a murderer?”

“With kind eyes like yours? I find that highly unlikely.”

“How could I say no to you? Y/N, you were my guardian angel that night. I didn’t look back when you linked your arm with mine, and led me to your favorite coffee shop. I still go there, you know? I don’t even have to order anymore, they just silently start making my coffee when I make my presence known-”

“Can I have an iced french vanilla with 3 pumps of liquid sugar?” She asked the barista Sam who had already started punching in her order before Y/N started speaking.

“What the hell did you just order?” I couldn’t stop the question from leaving my lips. Whatever concoction the barista was making was quite possibly the weirdest coffee order I’ve ever heard.

“Hey, Sam, can you make it two?” She ordered another instead of answering my question. “Trust me, stranger on the street. It’ll change your life.”

“Oh, um, my name’s Spencer by the way.”

“Well, stranger on the street named Spencer, I’m Y/N, and it looks like our coffee’s ready,” she said to me with the most beautiful smile. That smile can cause grown men to drop to their knees. Quite frankly, I almost did. She was the most peculiar and intriguing woman I had ever met.

She grabbed the two cold drinks and sat on one of the many different couches around the tiny shop. I just watched, my eyes following her lead without my control as she put me in a trance her presence induced.

“You coming?”

“Oh, uh, yeah sorry.” She only giggled as I quickly shuffled my way to her. We were the only people in the cafe, not surprisingly so as it was 10:42 pm on January 15th, a Tuesday night.

“You, Spencer, are infatuating.”

“Me? Why me?”

“It has to be something in those eyes.” We stared deeply at each other for what felt like an eternity, even if it was merely a second too long. She was the one to pull away as if she was done studying whatever she found. 

With a deep inhale, she shook her head and handed me my beverage.

“Allow me to change your life?” She asked like I wouldn’t let her if she continued to beam at me the way she did.

But instead of freaking her out and saying that, I took the coffee from her hand, and hesitantly took a sip.

It was so sickeningly sweet, like drinking melted candy with the amount of sugar to send someone into sugar shock. It was perfect.

She was perfect.

“When I first started showing up to work with a large iced coffee that was basically cream with a dash of coffee bean, I got weird looks. Derek even made a couple comments, but I didn’t care. It was a part of you you decided to share with a stranger that night. Eventually I told them the story, and now when I walk into the bullpen with the same coffee like clockwork, they give me solemn looks, but no comments.”

“The day you met them was one of the best days of my life, even if it was by accident-”

“Reid and Morgan, I want you two to go down to the dump site. The woman who found the body is there, I want you to interview her.” Hotch’s voice boomed. It was a local case, and while no case is the end goal, the locality was enough.

I got to go home to lay in her arms.

Derek and I drove to the site, bouncing off theories to each other to fill the time. When we got there, news vans had already taken up most of the space, and a sea of reported crowded behind the barricade. 

We shuffled our way through, avoiding eye contact and the “dire” questions from the press. When we made it to the front and flashed our badges, one of the officers led us to the body.

A prostitute in an alley. Easy profile, not so easy scene. There was major overkill, the blood from the body deep in the hallway trailed all the way to the sidewalk. It was only 7 am, my theory being a morning jogger found the trail and followed it to the horror show.

“Do we know where the person who found the body is?” I asked the officer who was next to me.

“We tried to ask her questions, but she got too worked up and couldn’t breathe. She’s on the back of the ambulance now I believe.” A panic attack.

It wasn’t uncommon for an unready participate in a criminal investigation to have a panic attack. Not everybody was made to see such things.

Derek and I made our way over to the ambulance when we started to hear a very heated argument.

“I AM FINE! There’s no reason for thi-”

“Y/N?” There she was, sitting in the ambulance, fighting with the EMT who was just trying to do his job. I don’t know who I felt bad for more in this situation. She knew how to win an argument, trust me.

“Oh Spence, thank god.” She quickly got up to crash her body into mine. I don’t think there was a speed that would be sufficient when it came to how quickly I squeezed her back. “It was so scary.”

Her body started to shake with tears she was probably holding in. She didn’t like to cry in front of me for the longest time, let alone hundreds of cops, reporters and pedestrians. 

“I know, sweet girl. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m so sorry.” I ran my fingers through her hair. It aways calmed her down.

And it seemed to partially work, because she pulled her head from my chest to look up at me with wet cheeks and terrified eyes.

“I just... I was runni... She’s d-”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s over now, okay?” Slowly she nodded, her eyes trailing down to her feet. That was until Derek spoke up. In the midst of my concern, I had completely forgotten he was there.

“Uh... what?”

“Oh Derek, this is Y/N. My uh, my girlfriend. Y/N this is Derek.” She looked up to find my baffled coworker looking between me and her and smiled. Hey, his stupidity got her to smile!

“So you’re the lady’s man he tells me about?” Shit.

“Hey now wait a minu-”

“Maybe we should go back to Quantico. You’ll be safe, and we can ask you questions when you’re ready, yeah?” I had to deflect quick, but Derek would rip me a new one for this.

We all piled into the SUV. I got in the back knowing that she gets car sick back there ever since she was a little girl.

“So, you and Spencer, huh?” Maybe that was a mistake.

“They loved you so much. I loved you so much. I still love you so much. I miss you every day of my life, but it doesn’t hurt to think about you anymore. Life gave us all the time it could spare, and I am so grateful I literally ran into you that Tuesday night 8 years ago. Sometimes I hate my mind, my eidetic memory is a curse on it’s own, but when it comes to you? The memories we shared I will never forget are the ones that keep me fighting. You still keep me going, sweet girl. You always will.”

With that, I got up and placed the sunflowers on top of her headstone, brushing off the dirt and leaves that accumulated during the fall season.

The rain stopped pouring then, and the sun shone down on me. On us.

My sun.

____

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