#stop adding to my blocked list its getting stupid

[fyeaheddiemunson]

[sunnie-angel]

week 3 (oct. 18) | period sex

✮⋆˙bon appétit (2.2k)

jason's a vampire, you're on your period, and, well a man's gotta eat

tags: f!reader, vamp jason, established relationship, period sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blood drinking, blood as lube, slight size kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: for @luvrodite my darling, this would not exist without your encouragement

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason Todd is on you the second you walk through the door, pharmacy bag dropping from your hands in surprise. The door’s barely shut behind you before he’s crowding you up against it, cold night air still lingering on your skin, his nose buried in your neck. His lips part along your collarbone and you roll your eyes at the pinprick of fangs already descending from his gums.

“I smell blood,” he rumbles. “Are you hurt?”

With a sigh you dig your now empty hand into the thick mess of his hair and pull him off of your throat. His pupils have already started to narrow into slits, catlike.

“No, and if you’d stop thinking with your fangs for a hot second you’d realize it’s because of my period.” Reaching down for the bag you’d just let go of, you gasp as another cramp spikes through your lower belly and claws up your back. “Right, you can get the bag because you made me drop it. I’m going to find my heat pack in the kitchen.”

Jason’s already waiting for you by the time you hobble into the kitchen, slow and regrettably human. Under your breath you curse his unnatural speed but he hears you anyway and grins. He’s already put your heat pack in the microwave so there’s nothing to do but gratefully take the painkillers he’s fished out of the bag for you and wait. His stomach grumbles.

“Nope,” you declare. “Not happening tonight. I’m losing enough blood as it is, you aren’t getting your hands on any more.”

“Please, baby? ‘M starving over here,” Jason pouts. He’s suddenly behind you, arms around your midriff. He lets out a huff of air right over your jugular, goosebumps rising across your skin. Usually, that would be enough to have you caving, knees weak and and panties wet, begging for his bite. Tonight, you push his face away with annoyance.

“Go get some synth blood from you maker or something. Isn’t she always offering to hook you up with a supply? I’m off the menu tonight, so put those–” you tap at his upper lip, right over where his fangs have descended “–away.”

The microwave beeps, giving you an excuse to slip from his grasp. You moan at the warmth as you shove it down the front of your clothing, the heat already making the cramps reside a little.

“Talia’s out of town and you know nothin’ tastes anywhere near as good as you do,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You want to scream at his perfect dumb face with its stupid puppy eyes.

“Jason. I’ve got a waterfall of blood in my underwear – which is stained by the way because none of the PATH toilets had any pads in any of their dispensers – my back hurts, my stomach hurts, my boobs are pain central, and my ankles are sore for some ungodly reason. I’m not adding “mauled by a hungry vampire” to the list of reasons why I’m destroying my liver with painkillers.”

You know you’re probably being bitchier about it than you normally would be to turn him down, but you’ve just had the day from hell. First your period had started on your morning commute to work. Then the pad you had been counting on to be in your purse hadn’t been there, a casualty of Tamara two desks over last week. There’d only been a single pill left in the bottle of painkillers you kept at your desk, and you’d been so run off your feet with work that you hadn’t had a chance to run out for more. You’re tired and sore, absolutely ready to face plant into bed.

“I don’t gotta bite, you know,” Jason says slowly.

“What,” you retort flatly, already done with this conversation.

“Well if you’re already bleeding. I don’t hafta bite you.” He smirks at you like he’s solved all of your problems. Slowly, your face starts to heat up as you put together what he’s implying.

“You don’t– what. You wanna...” you splutter, unable to string the thought together.

“C’mon sweetheart,” he prowls towards you, predatory glint in his eye “let me put my mouth to good use. I promise I won’t bite.” He’s got you backed against the countertop, balancing on your tip toes. The faux marble is firm beneath your scrabbling fingertips as you let out a squeak. He traces the apple of your cheek with a deceptively gentle finger. “Besides, you always feel so nice and relaxed after you come. Might make those cramps better.”

Cotton mouthed, you swallow down your desire but you can tell from the lopsided grin that Jason can already smell it on you.

“Ye-ah, okay.” You nod and bite your lip. “But if you make my cramps worse, I reserve the right to knee you in the head.”

Jason’s got you undressed and flat on your back on the bed in under 15 seconds in what has to be a new personal record. He’d even managed to put a towel down and reposition the heating pack right over your womb between breaths. Somewhere in the trip between the kitchen and the bedroom Jason had lost his shirt and you’re reminded again of just how badly he can make your mouth water, staring at the broad expanse of muscle covered in a thin layer of fat. He looks down at your bare, bleeding cunt and you swear you see a hint of something cold and predatory tinge his desire.

You reach out to him feeling oddly vulnerable, the rabbit kicking in the jaws of the wolf. He smiles at you, and despite the narrowed slit of his pupils you feel the warmth leech back into the room. Gently, he lowers himself down to cover your body with his. Kisses and laps at your open mouth, careful not to nick you with his fangs. Jason smooths a broad palm along the side of your ribcage until it settles on the plush curve of your hip. Slowly, he starts to kiss at your jaw and throat, purposefully avoiding the lush temptation of your carotid.

When Jason takes your aching breast into the wet heat of his mouth for the first time that night, you gasp and arch your back. Your hips strain with nowhere to go against the rock solid weight of his body. He’s gentler than he usually is, keeps his promise not to bite by laving at the bud of your nipple with the flat of his tongue. Kisses and sucks at the aching flesh until you are mewling from oversensitivity, now wet with more than just blood. He barely reacts to you clawing at his back, nails leaving raw red lines that heal over in an instant.

“Too much too muchtoomuchtoomuch,” you babble, body leaden with a different type of ache.

He pulls off your breast with an audible pop, a thin line of spit connecting his lips to the wet mess he’s made of your tits. Jason smiles as he peppers kisses down your belly, still careful not to jostle the heat pack from it’s place. He licks and kisses at each thigh before placing them onto his shoulders, sucking hard enough to leave bruises in your wake. You start to roll your eyes at him for his obsession with getting as close to your blood as possible when the scrape of teeth across the thin skin has you trying to strangle him with your thighs.

“No biting,” you gasp out, the curve of your spine pushing your breasts into the air.

“No biting,” he says, humouring you.

Jason hands close around your hips and drags you down to meet him. He licks a broad stripe right across your dripping cunt, obliterating any indignant thoughts in your head. Sucks a kiss to your clit that has you grabbing for his hair, desperate to keep his face right there. Your hips struggle to move but the coiled strength in his palms traps you right where he wants you. He’s enjoying this, you can tell from the way he’s playing you like a finely tuned instrument. Alternates long slow licks with taps and flicks of his tongue just to watch you dissolving into a whining and desperate creature.

You’re wet, so wet you can feel it dripping down to the cleft of your ass. Jason slurps – slurps! – up the mixture of your blood and arousal, traces it straight back to the source until he’s sucking right over your entrance. The tip of his tongue traces your cunt before plunging in and you moan, body tensing up at the intrusion. Trying to arch up into him, Jason slams your hips back down onto the mattress, the heating pad sliding somewhere off to the side of your hip.

“C’mon baby, gotta stay still so I can finish my dinner,” he purrs, not even bothering to look up from the blood drooling between your legs.

Arousal and embarrassment flare through you, lighting you up and burning through your cheeks as he goes back to eating you out. The spread of his fangs pinning your hole wide open as he thrusts the slick muscle of his tongue back into you. Uses it to curl into you wickedly until you moan high and reedy in your throat, aching for more. A thick finger prods at your entrance, alternates thrusting in with his tongue, forcing you to clench down around the intrusion. You can do nothing but lay there and take it, as he fucks you on his fingers and tongue. There’s no  escape from him and his questing mouth, pinned down as you are.

Your thighs start to shake when he curls a second finger into you, scissors his fingers wide to make it easier to drink you down. Spreads you open and fucks back in as deep as his hand will go. Hooks those fingers into the soft spongy part of your gut that has you seeing stars and pushes as he sucks on your clit again.

“Right there, Jay,” you whine, fighting for breath as your tummy screws up tight. “Please.”

Jason keeps hitting that spot with his fingers with unerring accuracy, hammering away as he laves over your clit. It’s the barest hint of teeth dragging across it that sends you burning over the edge, vision whiting out at the corners when you come. Chest heaving as you try to breath through it, body turning to jelly, your cramps are long forgotten in the flood of endorphins.

Jason grins from between your thighs, chin red with your blood and sticky with your slick. Leans over to show you the mess you’ve made of his hand, the sticky strings that still cling, connecting it to your twitching cunt. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he licks it all up, moans at the taste of you and ruts his dick into the bed.

“You taste so good, honey–" you whine at the praise “–just had to have a little taste. And I was good wasn’t I, didn’t even bite to get it, so I think I deserve a little dessert too.”

You nod too fucked out and relaxed to move, body nearly one with the bed as your aching muscles melt. He grins, predatory again, and oh you should have seen this coming. Something about wetting his throat with blood always has Jason desperate to get his dick wet too.

Jason slowly feeds his cock into you, smile still stained red. Moves one of your legs to hook around his waist while he carefully keeps the other one pinned over his shoulder as he folds you in two. He’s big. He’s always big but in this position you can feel every inch of him, can practically taste your hips giving way as he makes space for himself inside of you. Jason sets a pace that has you shaking under him, eyes wide as he steals the air from your lungs with each deep thrust. Filthy, wet squelching noises stream from your cunt as he fucks it sloppy, driven feral by the scent of blood in the air.

He coos at your wide eyes and slack-jawed expression as you clench tighter and tighter around him. Bends his head to mouth at your neglected breasts and smear them bloody. Jason minds his teeth as he laps and suckles at your tits in a crude approximation of what he just did to your clit. All the while his thrusts speed up, jolt you up the bed as he starts to jackhammer. You wail as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your quivering walls. Jason works a hand between you and all it takes is the slightest pressure to set off the chain reaction in you again.

Smug, Jason rolls off to lie beside you, head propped on his hand to watch you gasp and twitch like a gutted fish. He reaches down between your thighs and runs a finger through the mess there, causes you to shiver. Jason licks your combined spend off his finger and sighs with satisfaction. Starts to rub the warm mixture of blood, cum and slick into the skin over your womb in idle patterns.

“You know, you tasted good before, but I think I like you best when you taste like me.”

[livelaughloveluffy]

being with monkey d. luffy

a/n: whatever the opposite of writer's block is, thats what i have, its like a disease. i cant stop writing 😭😭😭 so here's the luffy version of my little romantic headcannons!!! i'm planning on posting a zoro version a little later, because i might as well make a set for the monster trio 😌

nothing but fluff here 💗

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- luffy, who simply just radiates joy. he lights up a room the second he walks into it, with his stupid, silly, gorgeous, wide smile plastered across his face.

- his dire need for constant closeness and physical touch. even platonically, luffy couldn't keep his hands off of you. his arms, each respectively resting over your shoulders, his chin on top of your head as he stands behind you looking down to see what you're working on. when he got too excited to bump into you on the sunny, instantly pulling you into a tight hug

- his laugh, the most wholeheartedly pure sound that has ever graced your ears. music pales in comparison to luffy's laugh, what a high honor it is to hear on the daily

- his pure and unfaltering commitment to you. the second monkey d. luffy decides you are important and he wants you in his life, he's holding on to you for dear life and never letting go, he'd wage war, travel the world, fight gods, just to get to you

- but you know you really have him when, one evening on the sunny, crowded around the dinner table when he snatched the last piece of meat, only to turn to you with a cheeky smile and say "you need to eat up!!" and place it on your plate instead

oh how i dream of being loved by and loving monkey d. luffy....

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a/n: the "giving you his food instead" is so unbelievably true its practically luffy's own personal trope 😭😭😭 i couldn't resist adding it to this list 😭😭

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Series Master List Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 3: State of the Union

Sweat dripped from your brows as your fists made contact with the punching bag. You twisted and landed a kick to the left flank of it.

"I just don't get it Jay, how can someone who used to fly multimillion dollar aircrafts be so stupid sometimes?" You huffed out. You took a step back from the bag and took a long sip of water.

"Maybe all those years of inhaling jet fuel killed a few brain cells." Jaycee joked back with you.

"I mean, one minute he's doing good, everything is sunshine and rainbows, and then the next, he is a giant bone head and taking shirtless jogs around the grounds for fun. Do you know how long it took me to get all those paparazzi photos tracked down?" You sigh as you lean forward to stretch.

"You're lucky I love you and was able to stop Amber from publishing that thirst trap online." Jaycee laughs.

"I know. I owe you one." You grin at her. "You owe me several. But I am cashing in on one tonight. I can't believe I get to cover the State of the Union in person!" She squeals. You laugh at her. "Remember, you're their to work, not to oogle the vice president the whole time." You joke with her.

With Jaycee being your best friend and a member of the media, she'd been able to come to the White House several times. After a few visits, you couldn't help but notice the crush she had developed on Jake.

"You're no better than me!" She tells you as you grab your things to hit the showers.

"I do no oogle Jake." You shoot back. "No, but I've seen the way you look at Bradley." She accuses you. "I'm his Chief of Staff. It's literally my job to look at him." You defend yourself.

"I've also seen the way he looks at you. That man is constantly giving you puppy dog eyes. He's got it bad for you." Jay continues.

"He does—" You pause before lowering your voice. "The president does not give me puppy dog eyes or have it bad for me," you whisper to her.

"Sure, Jan." Jaycee mocks you in her best Marsha Brady impression.

You roll your eyes at her before hitting the showers. You let the hot water ease your sore muscles. You relaxed as it flowed over you. Kickboxing with Jaycee had become your form of stress relief when dealings at the White House got to be too much or when you needed escape. This shower was going to be your last moment of peace until tomorrow.

Tonight, Bradley was giving his first State of the Union address, and you were nervous, to say the least.

He'd been getting on your nerves lately. Choosing not to listen to you like he once did or brushing you off. But the moment he needed something that only you could handle, he'd come crawling back to you. He'd apologize for being an ass, He'd beg for your forgiveness, you'd fix the problem, and the cycle would start again.

You stepped out the shower and got dressed. You said goodbye to Jay and made sure she had her credentials for tonight. You then hopped in your car and drove back to the belly of the beast.

............................

You looked at yourself in the floor-length mirror of your room. Tonight, you were wearing a strapless cocktail gown. It was black with white geometric blocking on the sides. The bodice had a tasteful plunge with a small black mesh insert to keep it classy. The top of the dress swooped into two white peaks that accentuated your neck.

It was a beautiful dress, but try as you might, you couldn't get it zipped up all the way. You would worry about that after you put on the finishing touches of your outfit.

You took a deep breath and looked at your reflection.

You had your hair in its signature low bun. Your makeup was soft, but red lipstick added a touch of glam. You fastened your tennis bracket and reacted for the oval cut earrings Bradley had gifted you.

You had just fastened the back on the second one when you caught sight of him in your mirror.

"You used to knock. What if I had been changing?" You teased him as he stepped in with his tie in his hand.

"Your door would have been locked if you were." He shrugged. You opened your mouth to say something smart back, but he wasn't wrong.

"Well, I'm glad you're here. Can you zip me?" You ask, turning towards him. Bradley paused for a moment. He looked over the expance of your back that was visible to him. Your dress was almost zipped, save for the last few inches. He glanced at the exposed skin. His breath caught when he saw the tiniest bit of your lacy bra that was barely visible to him.

He cleared his throat before quickly zipping you up and stepping away.

"Thank you—sir." You teased him.

Son of a bitch, he thought. If only you knew what you were doing to him right now. That dress had his mind racing, especially because he wanted to know what the rest of what you had on under it looked like. Or what it would look like on the floor of his bedroom. Or what you would look like laid out in his sheets with your hair a mess and your makeup smeared. He could feel himself getting hard at the thought.

Shit! He needed to think about foreign policy or the frumpy old senators he was about to address. He could not go out there with a semi.

"Hello? Mr. President? What are you thinking about?" You break him out of his thoughts by snapping your fingers.

"Just running over my speech in my head again." He lied.

"Don't worry, you're going to be fine. Can you get my necklace, then I will fix your tie?" You gesture to the jewelry box.

Bradley quickly grabs it. His calloused fingertips brush over your soft skin as he hooks the clasp of the necklace he'd given you months ago. You thank him again before turning to knot his tie.

You have it secured in no time flat. You move to step away, but neither of you had noticed that Bradley's foot was on your dress. When you move, you lose your balance. His hands reach out and land on your hips, pulling you up right to steady you. You latch onto his forearms for balance. Your face is close to his as you catch your breath. His so close that if he leaned down a few more inches, he could kiss your perfect red pout. Both of you are frozen.

"Knock kno— am I interrupting something?" Jake trails off as he opens the door to your room. You and Bradley quickly shoot apart.

"No, nothing, everything is fine. See you down there." You brush by him as you quickly exit your room.

........................

From what you heard, Bradley's address went amazingly well. You didn't get to hear the end of it because you were whisked away to handle an emergency. Apparently, there was some unrest in the Pacific, and a foreign government was demanding American support to deal with a rouge group of pirates that had been terrorizing shipping lanes, but months ago, when the nation had tried to offer them assistance, they'd refused it. Now, they were demanding it and threatening to attack a Naval aircraft carrier that was stationed near their coast. Their government said they would have no issue with trying to overthrow the crew of the ship if the US didn't help them.

You sighed. You knew the Navy held a special place in Bradley and Jake's heart, and they would overreact to any threat against the Navy. You knew you would have to speak to Bradley and talk him off the edge when he heard the news. Even though he was the president, he couldn't just order the military to obliterate someone.

You left the conference room, and you could hear Bradley coming down the hall just as you went to find him. The rage in his voice carried down the hall. You needed to talk to him privately away from advisors and people with their own agendas.

"Bradley!" You yell as you chase after him. You need to talk to him. If he gets into that room before you, the testosterone of all of the men in there will take over, and he'll doing something that you know he will regret.

"Mr. President! Sir!" Damn him and his long legs. You kick off your heels and take after him. You poor Louboutins are left haphazardly in the hall as you sprint after him, still calling his name, but his tunnel vision has taken over. You sigh.

"ROOSTER!" You shout. He pauses and turns around slowly. In the entire time he's known you, you've never used his call sign.

"What, Y/N?" He sighs. "You need to calm down. You can't go in there like a bull in a china shop." You tell him breathlessly once you finally face him. You look up. He's a lot taller than you without your heels on.

"I don't need you to tell me what to do. I'm perfectly capable of handling this on my own." He warns you in a low voice before turning away.

"That's where you're wrong. In situations like this, you do need me to tell you what to do. If I left you to your own devices, you'd be getting in an F-18 yourself right now. You're the president, the leader of the free world. I understand that you love the Navy, but you can't just go in there with guns blazing." You reason with him.

"You don't understand Y/N, I have friends on that carrier. They are more like family to me. I can't let anything bad happen to them." He pleads.

"I get that, Bradley. I do, but you need to take a breath and think." You remind him.

"No," he begins with a fire in his voice. "What I need to do, is get into that briefing room and talk to some people who actually know what they are doing. I don't need a woman who has never severed a day—" you cut off Bradley's rant with a harsh smack across his face. He catches your wrist before you can pull back all the way.

Anger thrums through your veins. "I don't need you to remind me of my gender. You hired me to help you and to keep you from making stupid decisions. I may not know as much as you about the military, but I know my politics." You grit out. His eye are wide as they bore into yours. You maintaine eye contact with him, not backing down.

"Next time you say speak to me, remember who you're talking to." You warn him before jerking your arm out of his grasp.

You both soften a bit. Bradley opens his mouth to speak, but doesn't get the chance to.

You can hear voices approaching. You finally had Bradley's attention. You couldn't risk losing it now.

In a moment of annoyance or stupidity, you're not sure which, you grab him by his arm and drag him with you into a nearby storage closet.

"What the fuck Y/N?" He scolds you as you lock the door and block him in.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere until you calm down and listen to me. You've been ignoring me until you really fuck something up lately, and I'm not letting you send us into the next World War!" You scream at him.

Bradley looks at you and can tell that you mean business. The sting in his cheek serves as a reminder. He swallows thickly before nodding his head and letting you speak.

Now, no one quite knows what was said in that closet. The only thing anyone is talking about right now, is what happened when some poor unsuspecting media internet who got lost looking for the bathroom found.

You had just unlocked the closet door when it flew open. The intern eyes went wide as he took in the scene before him. You were sweaty from chasing down Bradley and arguing with him. Your hair was askew, your makeup was smudged, and your feet were bare. Bradley's suit was wrinkled, and his face was flush. You knew exactly what the kid was thinking before he could say it.

Before you could defend yourself, you heard someone yell at the intern. His head snapped to the side at the same time yours did. It was more members of the media.

The first one caught sight of you and Bradley as you emerged from the closet. They pulled up their cameras and started taking pictures just as the questions started flying.

"Mr. President, are you having an affair with your Chief of Staff?"

"Ms. Wiseman, did you seduce the president to obtain your position?"

"Mr. President, does this mean previous allegations against you were true?"

In the flurry of questions and camera flashes, you see Jaycee, who was desperately trying to help you.

You panicked as you looked from her to Bradley. You couldn't let the media spin this narrative. You couldn't let them ruin your career over something that wasn't there. You knew no matter how hard you tried, you'd never be able to convince them that you weren't having an affair with Bradley. So, you said the first thing you could think of that you knew would save both of your asses.

You held your hand up to silence the press. You looped your arm through Bradley's. He looked at you confused, but you shot him a reassuring glance as if to say, 'Trust me.' He nodded.

"The president and I are not having an affair. We can't be. " You began with a steady voice that oozed confidence.

You paused as you watched the facea in front of you. Their eyes were trained on you, waiting for you to spin your tale.

"The president and I are not having an affair—because we are engaged." You drop the bomb. You feel Bradley tense up beside you, but he doesn't react. He knows he can't right now.

No matter how crazy the words that have just come out of your mouth are, he knows that they are going to save both of your jobs. His presidency would never survive a scandal like this, and you would never be able to work in Washington again.

Your words seem to satisfy the media because their questions shift.

"Ms. Wiseman, how long have you and the president been together?"

"Is this why we haven't seen him dating?"

"When do you plan on getting married?"

"Why did you feel the need to hide your relationship?"

They all continue to shout at you. Suddenly, Jaycee pushes her way to the front and whistles to silence them.

"Ms. Wiseman and President Bradshaw will be more than happy to answer any questions people might have. In fact, they are going to sit down with me tomorrow afternoon in an exclusive broadcast that will be live stream on the official Washington Post website at five pm." She tells the crowd.

That pacifies them as they dispurse to break the news, talking amongst themselves.

Jaycee turns to look at both of you. You open your mouth to speak, but she puts her hand up.

"I don't know, I don't care." She beings. "All I'm saying is that I bought the two of you sometime to get your stories straight before tomorrow."

You both thank her before she leaves. As she turns to walk away, she pauses. "Bradley." She calls to him. He looks at her. "One more thing, before we meet tomorrow, you'd better have a ring on her hand." She warns before exiting.

After Jaycee leaves, you don't give Bradley a chance to talk to you before you are bolting for the bathroom. You sling the door open and vomit into the toilet. The anxietyfunally catching up with you. You stand up and wash your hands and face. You step out, and he's waiting for you.

"What the fuck was that?" Bradley demands. "That was me, saving your ass yet again. Because in case you didn't know, if you go down, I go down with you, and I'd rather not lose everything I've worked for because you wouldn't listen to me!" You scream him as you poke his chest before walking away.

"Where are you going?" He chases after you. "Home to fabricate our love story!" You scream back. "And my ring size is an eight!" You yell before rounding the corner.

Bradley takes a deep breath before pulling out his phone. He quickly pulls up the contact he needs and types out a message. He has a favor he needs to cash in.

Well, shit really hit the fan in this chapter! Thanks for the love on this series.

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @thedroneranger @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lt-bradshaw @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @chicomonks @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis

As always, likes are great, but comments and reblogs are golden!

[nimblermortal]

Okay, so background, first I gotta crosspost this from Pillowfort, when someone asked me for "my" medieval Scandinavia rant

The biggest ones currently are about the eruption of that one volcano in El Salvador; the way you can get a sense for when a scribe had a break (or really needed one) from copying their work; and the idea of writing as a public vs private work vis-a-vis runestones.

The first and last being because I have just discovered Neil Price and I am in scholarly love. I am adding him to my harem. Perhaps a step behind Shannon entropy and the marine reservoir effect, which is its own medieval Scandinavia rant.

So let's talk about writing as a public practice, which is drawing on Price's description of literacy in Children of Ash and Elm, the chapter The Performance of Power, around page 193 in my copy, because I have a copy now, because as soon as I returned my library copy I went and asked the bookstore to order one for me.

Price is coming at the subject of literacy as an archaeologist*, and notes that we have found many thousands of runic inscriptions - wait. Back up.

Saga Thing talked some months or years ago about literacy in the viking age, and how we have a lot of runestones, but we don't have books, and this doesn't actually give us an idea of how literate people were. If they were writing on very degradable things like, say, cheese, we would have no idea. Maybe all women signed their cheese! We wouldn't know! And they also noted that one common find in viking** burials is an amulet with the runes "alu," meaning ale. Which, if that ain't the most frat boy thing. And of course it is, because the demographic of vikings was exactly the demographic of frat boys! Young men, upper teens to twenties, from rich families, away from home for the first time, showing off for each other, forming insuperable bonds...

Anyway, so there's one way to look at literacy. Price notes that we have thousands of runic inscriptions, mostly on runestones, mostly as commemorations of the dead BUT in the mid-twentieth century excavations in Bergen and Trondheim, harbor towns, discovered thousands of small wooden slips inscribed with runes that had been preserved in the water. And these were covered in writing about stupid crap. Day-to-day life - shopping lists, dick jokes, "Sigmund owns this sack," apologies for not getting one's chores done... Price concludes "Not everyone was literate, but a lot of people obviously were, perhaps even children."

So now we get a little bit into the realm of speculation. Here is a people with a largely literate populace, who are regularly encountering literate cultures that produce books. They're raiding monasteries from 793! They have seen gospels. So what stops them from writing their own?

Well... it just. Didn't suit their needs. They needed shopping lists and name tags, and big public monuments indicating how rich they are, for the sake of the dearly departed of course. They weren't people who sat down and read, which of course wasn't a thing in Europe for centuries yet - note the history of the novel in Europe and the parallel to the advent of lounging furniture - but relatively-southern Europe at least had a class of people to do it for them. When we're looking at eighth to eleventh century Scandinavia, there aren't monasteries full of monks writing prayerbooks yet.

Because a book is inherently a private thing, which one person reads at a time, even if they read it aloud to a party. A runestone is inherently a public thing, which everyone passing notices and, if they're bored from walking for the past few hours, stops to read. So it's not a big leap from writing in stone with a chisel to writing on paper with a quill, but... there's no cultural reason to do so.

Never mind all of the fascinating ways that writing can happen on a runestone, such that it's notable when there's one written left to right and up to down in a rectangular block of text. (Bro church runestone, my beloved!)

...and I picked this rant because I thought it would probably be shorter.

*he led! the team that re-sexed the Birka warrior!

**which is a profession, not an ethnicity - it's a bit of a summer job for young men, like camp counselor but more violent

--------

Addendum: The Bro church runestone is my beloved not because I know enough runestones to justify the opinion, but because it's the one I've translated, and I love the way it's written. (I have only read/translated the one, but it would be a fun project. It's #617, so there's enough to keep me busy for a while, but they're usually short. It was also probably chosen for my textbook for being complete and clear.)

Anyway, the picture above shows how it's laid out. There's a curling arch over the top that reads, "Ginnlaug, Holmgeir's daughter, sister of Sigurd and of Gaut and his brothers, had this bridge built and raised this stone for her husband Ozur."

The part that drives me nuts is the loop below that: "Son of Earl Hakon, he was a viking watchman with [gæti]. God help his spirit and soul now." But the fact that it's written in a loop means it starts again the instant it stops: "God help his spirit and soul now, son of Earl Hakon, he was a viking watchman..." So the format in some sense makes it an infinite prayer in a way you can't do with textbook writing.

And maybe you can with graphic design, and certainly runestones are closer to works of art than to books, but. The options this sort of freedom opens up make me a little bit crazy.

Beyond, you know, the general medieval Scandinavia special interest crazy.

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[og-cinnamon]

please read this! it's urgent!!!

hello all! i haven't been here in very long, but i don't know what to do anymore. there hasn't been a strike this big in many years, and there has been little to no international exposure to my knowledge, so i hope some of you can read this, and try to help!

you may or may not know this already, but the situation in Colombia is pretty bad right now. because of the pandemic, unemployment rose by a stupid amount, and poverty got way worse than it already was: yesterday, about 40% of the entire country's population got reported to be in poverty. that's about 20 MILLION people living in extreme poverty.

added to these (really bad already) conditions, the government has reported there's not enough money to keep the country working for more than two weeks. this is not because there actually isn't any money. there's not enough money for governing because of ongoing, old corruption in the government; and because our president, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE THIRD PEAK IN THE SANITARY CRISIS, decided he should get himself some war planes for literally no reason.

as a way to resolve the fiscal deficit caused by the government, the government decided to draft a tax reform, according to which middle and low class citizens will have to pay a 19% added value tax for anything they buy, especially including basic goods such as meats, grains, fruits and vegetables- pretty much anything you need to eat. aside from that, there will be a 19% added value tax on gasoline (further increasing the prices on food), basic services (water and electricity supply, and internet in middle class households) and even funerary services in the event that you die. if this reform gets passed, WE CAN'T EVEN DIE WITHOUT BEING CHARGED TAXES FOR IT, EVEN IF THE ALREADY EXISTING SHIT CONDITIONS MAKE IT IMPOSSIBLE TO LIVE IF IT PASSES.

naturally, there was generalized outrage when the reform got announced, and so, on april 28th a national strike against the reform began. it's been three days of marches already, and i have never seen everyone come together like this to repel the reform: indigenous people, farmers and truck drivers are blocking national highways all over the country, many of my fellow students have been marching nonstop all the while, bus drivers are blocking highways in Bogotá. this never happens, so it's that bad.

however, this outrage has been met from day one with police repression, and the government has been blatantly ignoring the people's demands. on april 28th, a 13-year-old got shot and killed because he kicked a policeman. on april 29th, a girl lost her eye because a policeman shot her in the face while she was standing in the midst of a peaceful protest.

today, on april 30th, 7 people have been confirmed to have been murdered in a police shooting during one of the marches; there are about 300 people illegally confined in a stadium by the police; one of my best friends has had two tear gas bombs shot into her house for no reason.

the list of disappearances keeps growing, and no one knows what the death toll is; the media keeps covering it all up by bringing attention to the people burning fires on highways and breaking into banks, but there are no official reports on all of what's happening yet.

the president has said he won't lift the reform no matter what, but the strike will continue until it does, and we're terrified. this is the biggest strike in years, but influential government officials are even asking policemen to shoot people even though they're not even meant nor allowed to carry many of the guns they're using, and the national health ministry is threatening to stop vaccine supply to one of the most covid-affected areas of the country.

i haven't even gone out to march, because i live in a high risk household and vaccines haven't been delivered to a significant degree yet and so i'm scared of covid; but i'm still genuinely fearing for my life and my family's. my friend's house got flooded with tear gas because the police felt like throwing a tantrum. who knows what's next?

what's even wilder about all this is that i haven't seen any international exposure, even though it's the exact kind of thing that deserves exposure; besides, at this point i believe the government will only cave through international pressure.

please, i beg of you, if you read this please reblog it, repost it, do whatever; get informed on what's happening, please help us make it trend. the world needs to know, please help spread the word!

MAY 2ND UPDATE:

as of right now, there are no official reports on the past few days' brutality. however, most unofficial human rights organizations claim the death toll is 35, that there have been 45 seriously wounded people, and that there have been 31 disappearances. in response to that, the president threatened to militarize the main cities last night and said it was a way to defend citizens' integrity; what has been evident, though, is that the main threat to the population is police abuse.

this morning, some things happened as well: first, the largest Colombian syndicates (truckers and taxi drivers) announced they'll be going on strike tomorrow and contributing to the blockage of main highways all over the country.

after this was announced, the president announced that he will order the Congress to scrap the reform, and that a different project will be worked on. by previous experiences, this just means that they'll find a way to rephrase the reform so it's a bit more agreeable, but ultimately get us to the same place; aside from that, a reform to the health system will continue regardless of the tax reform's state.

bear in mind the nationwide health system is on the brink of collapse as it is, because even after a year of the pandemic and counting, there hasn't been enough funding to guarantee biosecurity nor treatment: in departments such as Chocó, or the entire Caribbean region, service is precarious at best. further cuts on its budget would be beyond catastrophic.

this obviously means the strikes won't stop, but with militarization seeming imminent (unless the army goes on strike as well, which has been rumored but I find unlikely), and the nonstop rise in police violence, there are no guarantees to human rights nor protest safety.

please help us keep spreading the word!!!

[rcksmith]

Nobody else — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Hello! May I request number nine from the fluff prompts and number seven from the smut prompts for Five? Maybe where the reader is a super skilled fighter, and the other Hargreeves siblings can’t get over how amazing she is, but that causes Five to become a little jealous?”

“Okayy if you're not tired of Five and smuts yet, can I request 18,70,74 and 84 from smut list with fem reader?”

Fluff prompts:

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

Smut prompts:

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

18. “Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

70. “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

74. “I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth.”

84. “Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

Thank you for requests💖 I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit smut, dirty talk, bad words, fluff, fight, mention of death, jealousy.

— — — — —

People need each other to find support, comfort and understanding. Thomas Merton said: “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life alone, but with the other. ”

And as cliché as it was, it was the truth. And that is exactly what happened to you.

It was difficult to explain how many years you had already been killing for the commission. Ever since, maybe? You did not remember a time when that work was not part of your life, your routine, your system. But you could feel, vaguely like a hazy dream, that one day the act of breathing was ... light.

Killing without conscience brought many regrets, and the weight of guilt filled your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

But you were good at that. God, you were very good. Maybe it was the endless years of training, your quick thinking, or the simple fact that you had a lot more physical stamina than the other agents. But, whatever it was, it helped you move up the board quickly.

Murdering with a gun was easy, quick, clean, and there were already many agents who did that job. For someone like you, so empowered, the commission has relocated you to more… arduous and dangerous missions.

Your job was to kill those whose gunshots could not show up at the necropsy. Someone who needed to die without the body revealing what had happened very well.

Shoot JFK? It wasn't with you.

End Hitler? It wasn't your job.

To kill Socrates with your bare hands and make everyone believe it was poison? This is where you came in.

The difference between the jobs was that you had to do the whole process. And a melee interaction instead of a weapon always brought people who wanted to fight for their lives. And that is why the commission chose you to do that, without any partner.

They elected you because you fought like a super soldier, focused on your goal like a robot, and never came back without success. It didn't matter how many fights you had to fight with your target, how many punches you had to throw and also take, or how many injuries you returned. You always won.

Over time, you learned things in practice, tricks that made it easy, scams that would save you effort. You learned to study each person in seconds, find their weaknesses, and use his own strength against them.

That's when you met Five Hargreeves. And Thomas Merton's quote made sense.

You two were so much similar. Both the best in their fields, wrecked in a sea of ​​personal traumas, buried by a job that got the best of you two. You two felt misunderstood, alone in the vastness of that world. And when you two met... well, were no longer alone.

You two got involved, in all possible ways and ways. Loved each other, adored each other, and completed each other. Life went out of automatic mode, and for the first time in a long time, you two managed to breathe lightly. The food now tasted good, the heat of the sun on the skin was now better, and the world... the world was ruled by the red color of love.

So it became the most obvious and coherent decision to you two get married. Five could no longer imagine a life in which you did not exist, and you did not know how the world could go without him.

“I can't believe we did that!” You laughed, astonished, as you entered the apartment that you and Five shared.

You two had just married, something just for you two and the ceremonialist. You two chose something very intimate, reserved. And now the ring on him left hand looked like the most beautiful thing in the world for you.

Five laughed softly, hands moving up your arms, bringing you closer.

“We did. Wife.”

After that, your two contract with the commission changed. Five would only continue to do that if no one dared to touch a hair of yours, and you swore to The Handler that if someone did something to Five, you would destroy that place brick by brick.

Five saw in you a strong and atrocious ocean, which could swallow whole cities only with the force of its fury. And he liked that. He liked having someone as competent and firm as he was. Five liked to know that if there was a disaster, he would not be the only one who would go after a solution.

You were the type who knew that if you wanted things to happen, you had to do it with your bare hands. And Five loved it, because he felt understood. He carried so many responsibilities on his back that it was relieving to find someone who also felt the same things.

Five knew that, when him found way home, you were going with him. And you went. You two exchanged vows that would be together in joy and sadness, in any situation. And if the situation now said to go to 2019, well, you would.

“It makes me so sick, God!” Five heard you say when you two fell out of that blue portal he created.

He would have laughed if his muscles didn't hurt so much. For someone so trained you got sick of his powers very quickly.

"Five?!” And then the voice of one of the brothers was heard.

And that's how you two ended up there. A week later, in the Hargreeves' living room, with Diego swearing that you wouldn't be able to beat him in a fight.

Five laughed against the margarita's straw, sitting comfortably at the bar, giving up on telling his stupid brother that you had already killed much more dangerous people with your bare hands.

“I do not want to hurt you.” You smiled understandingly, and Klaus laughed.

“I bet 50 bucks that she beats your ass, Diego.” It was only logical that he was going to encourage his brother to fall.

“There is no way you can hurt me.” Diego guaranteed, getting up and starting to push the sofa away, making room for a fight.

“Are you up for it or are you scared?” He played with you, and Five laughter it back there, having a lot of fun.

“This is ridiculous, Diego.” Allison stressed, but it was obvious that she wanted to watch too.

You smirked, getting up from the bar chair next to Five. You didn't want to defeat your husband's brother in that fight, you understood that the circumstances between the two of you were not fair.

You were created to kill, injure and decimate. Body wrestling was your job and it wouldn't be fair to Diego. You knew, from Five, that the Hargreeves were created to be heroes. Saviors of the motherland. Hurt and kill if necessary, but don't make it a goal.

But not with you. Killing was your goal, always. And your weapon was not super powers or pistols, but the body itself.

“Okay.” You laughed and went to the circle that Diego had made “But I don't want to hurt you. The first one to fall to the ground loses.” You were trying to be peaceful.

Diego agreed, giving him a friendly smile before saying:

“But I will use my knives to distract you.”

It was logical that he wouldn't make it cheap and easy, even if it was for himself, you knew that.

So you agreed, took off the suit you were wearing and rolled up the sleeves of your white dress shirt, while the Hargeeves sat in a safe area, away from that makeshift ring.

Diego delivered the first blow, and you just deflected the trunk, taking him by the same arm and twisting it against his back. At that moment, if it was something for real, you would put more strength to break the bone, but you didn't want to hurt him, so you just released Diego with a little push forward.

Diego turned to face you again, the naughty smile on the face of someone who knows his own potential. He was very good, you knew that, but the different upbringing made you a better opponent.

This time, the blow came from below. It was a trip that you jumped while pulling on the fist he used to land another blow in the same second, forcing him to come forward with force while you deflecting once more. Diego staggered forward, steadying himself on the floor once again.

It was all absurdly fast, as if you were a robot. A machine programs for that.

Diego hurled the knife in the wind while attacking with his other fist. You dodged again, but this time you struck back, slamming a blow down the side of your stomach, blocking his attack with your other arm and unleashing a kick in the chest, which made Diego stagger backward.

In a matter of seconds, the knife was at the end of its course. And while Diego was advancing again, the wind that the knife was making hit your hair. But the knife didn't finish course. You stopped the blade with your hand, holding to the object with your palm.

At that moment, you saw Diego's eyes falter. And a surprised gasp by the Hargreeves graces the ambience. Then it was your turn to attack. You threw the knife on the floor, driving the blade into the wooden floor as you went.

There were punches, deflected blows, creeps. The two of you were dancing to an agitated song, which was reaching its climax.

Diego had holding you in him arms, and you turned your body, locked him left arm in your hands while you used the momentum to propel your legs up, past his neck and turning, taking you both to the floor. He fell on his back while you used your own momentum to balance yourself, standing upright.

“YES! YOU OWM ME 50 DOLLARS!" Klaus's voice was heard.

You laughed, and you were about to walk away when Diego dug his left hand into your heel. He pulled you in a single stroke, and it made you fall, your back hitting the ground as he took the lead. Diego put his legs on your hips the first second you fell on the floor, and he used his own strength to keep you there.

You laughed out loud, and so did he.

“This is cheating!” You scolded him, punching him in the chest.

“Whatever, but you had to fall too!”

Diego was a good loser, you recognized that by the intonation of the voice. He was not possessed or reviled because you won, but he wanted it to be an eye for an eye, even if only as a joke.

But as soon as Diego got up off you, holding your hand for you got up too, your eyes went to Five. And you found the green irises burning in an atrocious fire. You frowned, not understanding, but you didn't have time to go over there and ask what happened. Klaus and Luther came to you and Diego.

Klaus charging his brother and Luther asking you how you did that final blow.

“It's for me to use when he pisses me off!” Luther looked directly at his brother in a silent threat “ But he will not get up alive!”

“Fuck you” Diego said before practically shoving 50 dollars in Klaus's face.

“Is easy.” You replied Luther “I'll show you."

But while the brothers were having fun, marveling at you, Five burned in a visseral cholera.

Wasn't it enough for Diego to have literally been on top of you, you had to want to teach that stupid gorilla too ?!

Oh fucking no!

When Diego went to Luther and started explaining with you, him your side, how the scam worked, Five was exploding. Now that stupid men butcher knife would be on your side?! Agreeing and explaining whit you as if it were your husband?!

Wasn't it enough just fucking being on top of you?!

Definitely fuck not!

“Take it easy, buddy.” Klaus appeared beside him “You are looking at them as if you want to kill someone.”

Five just snarled, not bothering to respond, his eyes never leaving you.

“Wait..." Klaus looked better at who Five was staring “Are you jealous of Y/n ?!” He was amazed.

“Shut up!” Five forced himself to swallow a handful of margarita.

“Oh my God!” And he wouldn’t stop “You like her! That must be why you live in a bad mood! You must be in the friend zone! ”

“Didn't I tell you to shut up already ?!” Five looked deathly at his brother “And I'm not in the friend zone with her.”

But Five realized that he gaved too much information to his brother, because now Klaus's face was opening in a shocked smile.

Goddam!

“So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend ?!" Klaus was loving the situation.

But, out of the corner of his eye, Five can see Diego holding your arm, showing Luther the place to deliver any stupid blow.

You gotta be fucking kidding!

“No, that girl is my wife!” Five tapped the margarita glass on the counter, teleporting to you and pushing Diego's hand off your arm, replacing his own.

“The show over!” He growled as he left the room, pulling you with him, your feet stumbling a few times before picking up the pace.

“Five!” You said, but he didn't seem to hear.

The image of Diego's legs at your fucking waist, the body sitting on you, the hand on your arm, rewound Five's mind like a curse. He felt his anger inflate, jealousy whispering in the back of his neck like a little devil, making him see the situation bigger than it really was.

You called him again, but for Five, it was like you called his brother's name. And then he exploded in his own fury.

He couldn't wait to go up all those stupid stairs, all those corridors, Five just pulled you against him, disappearing in the blue flash and reappearing in the his room.

“You are crazy?” You pulled the wrist out of his grip.

“I should be asking you that!” He said “Did you see that scene ?!”

“What a scene?” You frowned.

Five focused his eyes on you, in angry energy.

“Diego on top of you, fuck!" He snarled “Luther drooling like a dog on you!”

“Five.” You thought all that was absurd “They are your brothers!”

“You have no idea how much i don’t give a fuck!”

The situation was ridiculous, and you ended up laughing in disbelief and bewilderment.

“We were fighting!” You defended yourself "Nobody was drooling on me!"

“I swear to god tha ...” Five walked over to you, his eyes flooded with rage, his body enveloped in that intense and explosive energy.

You lifted chin to get a better look, your chest stuck to him, Five's breath hitting the top of your nose. That week had been full of emotions and issues to deal with, 24 hours being insufficient to do everything, explain everything. And, well, you and Five didn't have much time alone...

All of this compiled with the fact that your husband possessed the beauty of an angry god,and that excited you so fuck absurdly.

Suddenly, the air in the room became caustic, seething with the expectation of something improper happening, injecting heat into your chest that descended to the middle of your legs.

You sighed softly, and Five immediately noticed the waters where your thoughts were sailing.

“Does it turn you on?” His voice was hoars “See me angry?”

The sigh you gave was your whistleblower, your chest started to rise and fall more breathlessly than usual, your core starting to pulse. You wouldn't be able to say anything even your life would depended it, you drowning in the malicious and hot climate of that room, compiled with the absurd beauty and intensity of the adult in front of you.

God, you needed him!

“Yes, you like.” Five had an arrogant, boastful tone, mocking how sensitive you were.

But his eyes took on a more conscious tone, and he whispered as he said: "Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop. ”

Five knew his own limits, his own anger, his own strength. If he touched you now, in most simple, he wouldn't be able to stop. You agreed, hands moving gently up his body, resting on him hips.

“I will not be gentle.” Five wanted to you know again.

He had already fucked you hard, drowned in insatiable desire, marking your skin with slaps, hickeys. Five had already mistreated your mouth, made you scream. But never fucked you in anger. He never took his anger out on you. And now, submerged in jealousy, he knew how much strength he would discharge on you.

“I don't want it to be.” But you gave Five the go-ahead on a needy sigh, your fingers running around his waist.

Five dropped his mouth to your ear, tracing a path across your skin with warm lips, now bringing hands up to your skin, feeling how hot, needy you were.

“You're wet and I haven't even touched you yet.” His words hung over you like a warm warning of what was going to happen, what to expect.

You moaned softly, your body shivering, screaming for you to get more, seeking some friction, some contact. Then, as if Five read you thoughts, his left hand clung fiercely to the back of your neck, curling him fingers in your hair.

He forced you to look at him, watching the rage and the extraordinary lust.

“Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

Five left you brutally, telling you to take off all your clothes, watching all your movements while he got rid of the shirt himself. He left him tie beside the bed, sitting on the mattress and pulling you onto him lap as soon as you finally got naked. He fit thigh in the middle of your legs, making you sit on his thigh.

You groaned, the friction in the place you most wanted, the core pulsing against the dark cloth of him pants. You rummaged your hips for more than you wanted, but Five dropped his hand on your ass, releasing a loud, stinging slap. The groan was unable to be controlled, and you buried your face in the curve of him neck, sobbing there.

“You will be grateful for every slap I give you, do you understand?” He snarled, fingers tightening on your flesh, marking your skin.

You agreed, and thanked him when Five slapped your ass harder. This time, he moved him thigh beneath you, brushing your pulsating core, leaving you in an extremely needy state.

“Fi-five!" A sob escaped, followed by another thanks when a slap hit your in ass again.

Five's hands roughly grabbed your waist, holding you firmly in place as he started to rummage in him thigh, making you moan louder every second. That was torture. You pulsed and wet him thigh, your body rigid from wanting more of that friction, the sobs escaping your lips, the muscles contracted.

“Such a needy slut." He snarled in your ear “So desperate for my thigh.”

You groaned at him words, your fingers around him shoulders, squeezing there while Five took you so badly in him thigh. He dropped his mouth to your hot neck, pouring a hickey there before sighing hoarsely:

“The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

It sent electric currents to your swollen core, and moans got even bigger when Five increased the speed of his movements, rubbing your clitoris in those mind-boggling movements. His strong grip, compiled wheezing on his neck, his hoarse voice and the movements of his thigh took you to the limit. And you were pushed into that abyss of the climax.

“So fucking quickly.” Five delighted, in a groan, and stuck his hands on your back, holding you there, turning you in one movement to the bed.

Your back hit the mattress, Five’s warm hands roamed your legs, squeezing thighs and parting them, exposing your wet, red core at the climax. Five groaned loudly, as if seeing you hurt physically, and he took his hands off you to grab the tie next to you.

“Be good and open your mouth for me.” You obeyed, and he wiped the cloth over there, fastening his tie.

You sighed brokenly, your heart beating fast, breasts stiff and sore, your ass burning with slaps, core sensitive to climax.

“I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth." Five reflected, him hands roaming your trembling body, squeezing every bit of skin, reveling in how your skin felt at him touch.

Five reveled in the breath you took, enjoying how you looked like a fucking goddess like that. So vulnerable, so needy, so needy.

He was controlling himself until now, pushing you to the limit, making you sensitive, teasing you, making you sensitive to what was coming. Him smile was purely lustful, and Five leaned toward you, roughly sucking the nipple from your breast, nibbling at the needy skin. Then he brought hands up to his pants, opening his belt and zipper, pulling the pieces down far enough for his dick to pop out.

The moan you gave when you felt the hot, luscious member on your thigh was enough to inflate him ego even more. Five turned your body down, pulling your waist up, leaning into your ear to whisper:

“I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never forget that day.” Then he entered you, rough, strong, badly.

He forced your walls to get used to him size and sank to the bottom of the well, clutching his hands to your hips and pulling you against him dick. You screamed against the tie, pressing your fingers to the pillows, sobbing when Five set a fierce, wild and badly pace, mistreating every inch of you.

One of him hands went to your neck, closing his fingers there and pouring out all the fury and jealousy he felt in the thrusts, going in as deep as he could and pushing your limit. The pornographic sounds of the two of you moaning, the sound of his hip hitting your ass, invaded the room, mixing with the smell of sex, lust and hunger.

You shouted him name when Five left and brutally entered you, making you choke on your own sobs.

“What's it? Are you unaccustomed to my dick?” He tasted it, leaving your neck to slap your ass aggressively “Is it too much for you?”

You sobbed, stopped by the tie, and Five hit you again.

“Do you think someone can fuck you like me?!”

Now him voice was angry and his movements too. Five fucked you like he had spent his whole life in fury at you, waiting patiently for the day when he would discount everything on you. Him hand went to your mouth, pulling tie from there and releasing your toxic moans.

“Answer me, fuck!” One more slap, leaving your ass on fire.

“N-no!” You cried “Nobody ... no-nobody fucks me like you!”

You talks with a more thrust, and Five pushed your chest to the bed, keeping his hand on your back, him moans mixing with your.

Then he reached the peak of anger.

Five came out of you, turned you up and bent your legs, placing your knees on your shoulders. He entered in a brutal way inside you, the new position making him occupy all the minimum vacant spaces. You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes, your hands tightening on his arms, your heart already racing.

It was too much. Your body begged for more, for the climax, for the lust, for anything fierce that Five could give you. He dropped his mouth on yours, biting your bottom lip instead of kissing you, making you swallow his lines when he said:

“Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that? ”

You desperately denied it. Five could very well come out of you and not let you come, and just that thought made your body tremble and tears flow.

“Plea-Please!” You sobbed “I beg you!”

That did things with Five. He stuck his body to your, him arm going around your waist and fucking you as if that could chase away all his anger. This time he kissed you, sticking his lips to yours as he felt you pulse around him and break up in a hushed scream, trembling at the climax.

Five did not falter, his black hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, his heart pounding. He cum strongly inside your core, filling you with hot cum. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as he came inside of you, slowly calming down.

The two of you sighed, the room flooding with the smell of sex and desire, your hearts thudding at the same pace. You whimpered in his mouth, and when Five want to leave inside you, you denied it, tightening your legs around him waist.

“N-No.” You moaned softly, "Stay inside, please."

Five drew air through his teeth, him hands gripping the sides of your body, stirring inside you, beginning to feel the lust rising.

He kissed you again, whispering:

“You want to have a child of mine, don't you?" It was an arrogant, provocative voice, and you sighed. “You are such a fucking sensitive little thing.”

Then Five started moving again, and you stayed in that room for much longer.

[rosiesung]

7 Days || Y.JW

for @geminirules "Just Friends" collab

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Pairing: Jungwon x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Friends to Lovers AU

Words: 3.63k

Warnings: Reader calls Jungwon a dick.

Synopsis: You are dared to pretend to be in a relationship with your best friend Jungwon. Initially, you go through with the childish challenge, knowing it will be insignificant to your friendship. But as the days pass, you begin to realise your true feelings for him. Will your revelations ruin your friendship? Or will something beautiful blossom because of them?

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"I dare you to pretend like you're dating Jungwon for a whole week."

You looked at your best friend with wide eyes, a similar expression of surprise on his face. There was no way you were going to do that. It would be way too awkward.

"Come on y/n. Don't be a party pooper. It's not like you guys are going to fall in love."

Of course things wouldn't turn out that way. No matter what, nothing would change the way you saw Jungwon. He would always remain your best friend and nothing more.

Jungwon looked too embarrassed to say anything. Both of you knew it was just a dare. What was the worst that could happen?

"Fine. Starting tomorrow Jungwon's my unofficial-official boyfriend," you announced, linking your arm with his. Jungwon hid his face in his hands as everyone around you screamed and cheered. This was going to be one interesting week.

~

☀︎ DAY 1 ☀︎

Since you only had to put on a show in front of your friends, you figured the best thing to do would be to hang out with Jungwon in solitude. He didn't have a problem with your plan. You both had been having playdates together ever since you were three. He was comfortable being alone with you.

Both of you met at your secret spot. A small grove behind the schoolyard. It was a place the two of you had found while skipping classes one day. Ever since then, this was where you spent time together whenever you needed some peace and quiet.

"I can't believe you actually agreed to this," Jungwon said, mindlessly plucking the grass he laid on. You sighed, staring at the row of trees beyond. "A dare's a dare. Besides, we have nothing to worry about because we don't have feelings for each other."

Jungwon sat up. "You know that we can't avoid all of them for the entire week right? They're literally planning to hang out at the cafe just so they can see us in the act." He sounded worried. There was no need to be.

"Of course I know that. So what? We'll let them see what they want to. It's not like they're going to make us kiss or something. The most we'll do is feed each other and hold hands."

Unlike Jungwon, you had already thought everything out. You knew how far to go while respecting the boundaries of your friendship. All Jungwon had to do was trust you.

He cringed in disgust at your words. "You're going to pay for landing me in this mess. We've barely even started and I already feel so miserable."

You patted his shoulder, flashing him an assuring smile. "You're not alone in your miser mister. After this is over, I'll do all your homework for you."

Jungwon laughed. "Learn how to do your own first. Then you can come and ruin mine."

~

☀︎ DAY 2 ☀︎

As Jungwon had predicted, your friends called you out to the cafe. Both of you were supposed to show up together. Jungwon met you a block away from the cafe, looking incredibly reluctant. "Are you sure you want to do this," he asked, just about ready to turn back around.

There was a determined look in your eyes. "Remember when he had to play Hansel and Gretel's parents for that play we did in preschool?" Jungwon nodded. He could never forget that day. "If we managed to get through that, we can get through this without a problem."

That made sense. Appreciative of your pep talk, Jungwon took your hand and whisked you away to the cafe.

By the time you reached your destination, both your hands were sweaty. Jungwon was just as nervous as you were. Not only because you had to pretend like you were dating, but also because your friends weren't going to miss the opportunity to tease you.

Seeing you two enter hand in hand, everyone began hooting and cheering. Jungwon's cheeks flushed almost immediately. You had to drag him towards the table you were supposed to sit at. "It's nice to see you two arriving together," one of your friends said, making space for you.

Taking a seat, you watched in horror as they placed a glass of juice with two straws in front of you both. No one had to explain what its purpose was. You glanced at Jungwon whose eyes were fixated on the glass hesitantly.

"If we get this over with now we'll be at peace," you whispered, leaning forward to place one of the straws between your lips. You looked away when Jungwon did the same, feeling the heat in his face on your cheek. You were certain you had never downed a drink so fast in your life. It didn't take long for you to finish the contents of the glass, quickly sitting back up to catch your breath. Your friends couldn't seem to get enough of the event, laughing and clapping avidly.

"You guys are so cute," some said. "Both of you would make such a nice couple in reality," said others.

Sitting there amongst your terribly evil friends, you wondered how you were going to get through the next five days with Jungwon.

~

☀︎ DAY 3 ☀︎

Your friends had invited you to another escapade at the park. You couldn't tell what they had in plan this time but you were sure it wasn't going to be enjoyable. At least this time, you and Jungwon didn't have to show up hand in hand.

When you reached the park, Jungwon was already there. Your friends beckoned you over, making you stand next to him.

"Now that our subjects have arrived, here's your to-do list. First, remain holding hands the entire time we are here. Second, Jungwon, give y/n your jacket if she starts feeling cold. Third, walk her back home and make sure you give her a nice, sweet little kiss before she goes inside."

Jungwon let out a noise of surprise. He wanted to run as far as he could and never come back. Holding your hand was fine. He had gotten used to it because of the previous day. He didn't mind giving you his jacket, but you were already wearing one so he didn't see why he would find the need to. Jungwon could do many things. But kissing you was not one of them. It didn't matter if it was on your cheek, your forehead, or the back of your hand, because there was no way on earth that he would bring his lips anywhere near yours.

What neither of you realized was that your friends were willing to go to the farthest lengths to make sure you went through with their tasks. They made you two walk in front of them so that they could see your hands intertwined. When the sun went down and the air started getting colder, they made you take your jacket off so that Jungwon would be left with no choice but to give you his. Just when it seemed like your night of torture would come to an end, they even made you share a single cone of ice cream. When it was finally time to go home, two of your friends followed behind you to make sure that Jungwon did his bidding. It was awkward enough walking through your neighborhood hand in hand. Those who knew you cast looks of confusion and surprise upon you two. Eventually, you reached your doorstep. Jungwon let go of your hand, standing in front of you. He looked everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You glanced behind your shoulder, rolling your eyes when you saw your two friends filming you from behind your neighbor's car. They weren't even attempting to be discrete.

"Hurry up and kiss me already. This is too embarrassing," you urged, slapping Jungwon's arm. He sucked in a breath, pressing his lips in a thin line. "Do you think it's not for me? I mean, I'm the one who has to kiss you for heaven's sake."

"Stop pitying yourself and just get on with it. The longer we stand here the more reason they'll have to punish us tomorrow."

Jungwon stared at you long and hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, pressing his lips onto yours without a second thought. You froze, eyes going so wide they might have popped out of your head. Even though it was probably only for two seconds, it felt like an eternity. Time froze as you stood in the foreign feeling of his lips on yours. He pulled away almost immediately, skipping down your driveway as fast as he could with a short wave and 'good night'. Still stunned, you entered your home, breaking into a smile when you closed the door.

~

☀︎ DAY 4 ☀︎

The next day, Jungwon asked you to meet him at your secret spot. So far, your friends hadn't made any plans to get you together. You saw Jungwon sitting in the middle of the grove, laying down on the damp grass as he usually did. Walking over, you sat down beside him, flicking his forehead so that he would open his eyes.

He grinned on seeing you, sitting up with a soft groan. "So, how was your night?"

You furrowed your brows at the question. It wasn't like him to ask you things like that. But you decided to overlook it. Maybe he was still feeling a bit awkward after the kiss you both hard shared the previous night.

You shrugged. "It was fine. How was yours?"

"I couldn't sleep," he revealed. It sounded like he'd been dying to tell you. "Why's that," you asked, believing that you had an idea of the reason.

"Last night scarred me," Jungwon shared, pretending to gag. You didn't know why, but hearing him say that made your heart sink. Suddenly, you felt horrible. "Was it really that bad," you asked, genuinely curious to know what he thought of it. Jungwon nodded, making you feel even worse. "It was worse than I thought it would be," he added. Your eyes started stinging. A lump formed in your throat and the longer you held it back, the more it hurt. You knew you hadn't been eager to kiss him, but you would argue about how 'bad' it was. But bringing that up right now would just be stupid. Jungwon would misunderstand where you were coming for and that would just lead to another disaster entirely. You had told yourself that you weren't going to let this dare get to you, but four days in you were already slipping. The longer you sat there, listening to Jungwon whine and complain about everything he'd had to do with you so far, the harder it became to control your emotion. Not able to take it anymore, you got up abruptly and ran away, leaving Jungwon sitting there extremely puzzled.

~

☀︎ DAY 5 ☀︎

You didn't respond to any of Jungwon's calls or texts. You didn't have it in you to face him. He would be disappointed if he found out the real reason behind your sappy mood. So you were gonna wait till you got over it before facing him.

You still couldn't believe that you had been so affected by Jungwon saying that he hated the kiss. Despite telling yourself that you disliked it too, you couldn't help but think otherwise. There was something so magical about it. You had never felt that way because of a kiss before. Whenever you thought back to it, an exciting warmth rippled through your mind. Your heart danced in glee and a wide smile formed on your lips.

But you weren't supposed to feel that way. Jungwon was your best friend. Besides, he hadn't kissed you willingly. You didn't understand why it felt so special to you when it clearly meant nothing to him. You knew you couldn't blame him for that. His mind was wired to see you as nothing more than a friend. You found it hilarious. Here you were, realizing that you probably liked your best friend after having continuously assured yourself and him that something like that would never happen. The sad part was that Jungwon would never reciprocate your feelings. You were all alone in this.

A knock sounded at your window, startling you. Slipping out of your reverie, you glanced towards it, eyes widening in surprise when you saw Jungwon crouched before it. You didn't think twice before letting him in. He entered your room and stood in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You wanna explain what happened yesterday?"

You frowned and turned away shoulders slouching disinterestedly. "Is that what you came here for," you asked, regretting letting him in?

"Well did I have a choice? You've been blatantly ignoring me while all I've been trying to do is make sure you're alright," he said, stepping closer to you.

"I'm fine. If that's all you needed to hear, you can leave now," you replied. You didn't need him prying and prodding at you right now.

Jungwon stood his ground, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "No, you're not y/n. You aren't fine. Tell me what's bothering you."

You sighed and faced him. "Trust me, you wouldn't want to know."

Jungwon furrowed his brows. He didn't know what that meant. "I think I'll be the judge of that."

"It's you. You're bothering me," you spoke, narrowing your eyes at him. Jungwon hadn't been expecting that. But he didn't let the surprise show on his face. "What did I do?"

"You made me feel so worthless and undesirable. But that's not your fault. I can't blame you because you're right to think that way about me. I'm just pitying myself here and there's nothing you can do about it so please, just leave me alone." The tears were coming back again. You didn't want to break down in front of Jungwon. His face fell. He didn't know what to say to that. He thought you knew he was just being overdramatic. He seriously hadn't meant to hurt you. Before he could apologize, you turned to him. "I don't think I'll be good at keeping this a secret, so let me just tell you that I'm starting to catch feelings for you. If that makes you uncomfortable then you can leave. If you have something to say, just say it and go. But don't ask me why I feel the way I do because that's something I'm yet to figure out."

Jungwon was at a loss for words. He stood there, gaping at you like an open-mouthed fish before turning on his heel and exiting through your bedroom door. You heard your mother yelp on seeing him, probably wondering where he had shown up from. A part of you wished that he hadn't left, but the other was glad that he was gone. You felt like a fool for letting all of this happen. You should have never agreed to this dare. Who would have thought it would lead to something like this? There was nothing you could do now. There was no way you could change the way you felt. Because at the end of the day, it was as clear as ever, that you were undeniably in love with your best friend Yang Jungwon.

~

☀︎ DAY 6 ☀︎

Jungwon couldn't stop thinking about everything you had told him yesterday. He would never have imagined that you would catch feelings, especially through such a childish dare. Your friends had called you out to the park again today, but Jungwon wasn't going to go. He knew you wouldn't be there so there was no point. He wished he could tell you that he hadn't meant half the things he'd said about the kiss at the grove that day. He was just trying to show you that the kiss hadn't made him feel some type of way. Not just that, but he was also attempting to persuade himself that he indeed had loathed it. Maybe he should have been truthful instead of lying about it.

This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. Jungwon was always fond of you. He cared for you and he wouldn't lie when he said that he loved you. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he felt that way because he thought of you as more than a friend. Jungwon didn't want to convince himself that he liked you just because you had confessed to him. He wanted to understand the way he truly felt about you.

He knew every little thing about you. No one knew you as well as he did. Jungwon cherished your friendship and the time he spent with you. Whenever anything bugged him, he always came to you, knowing that you were the only person who could make things better. He relied on you more than anyone else. He couldn't go a day without speaking to you. After yesterday, he realized how important you were to him. The fear of losing you ate at him the longer he stayed away from you.

Jungwon hated knowing that you were sad. It hurt more to know that he was the reason behind it. He wanted nothing more than to hug you and apologize for making you feel bad. He felt guilty for everything he had done. It had only been a couple hours since he had last spoken to you, but it felt longer. He missed you so much.

So he left you a text, asking you to meet him at your secret spot. He kept his phone close, waiting till you replied. But you didn't. You probably wanted nothing to do with him. Nonetheless, he still hoped and prayed that you would give him one last chance to make things right again. He couldn't afford to lose someone as special as you. There was nothing for him if he didn't have you.

~

☀︎ DAY 7 ☀︎

Jungwon laid in the grass, staring at the dull sky above. It was filled with clouds, hiding the sun. The grove felt so big and endless when he was alone. When he was with you, it was much more cozy and bright, even if the atmosphere was gloomy.

He had been waiting for you for quite a long time now. You hadn't replied to his message last night, but he knew you had seen it. Just before he was about to lose hope, he heard the grass crunch a few feet away from him. Jungwon didn't have to look to know it was you. No one else knew the path to get here.

"What do you want," you asked, voice small but laced with malice. You were cross with him. Jungwon wished to change that today. He patted the space next to him. "Let's not pretend like we hate each other. You could do the worst thing to me but I'd still admire you."

You didn't argue and sat down beside him. Other than the tension in the air, everything felt normal. There was a scowl on your face. It must have taken a lot of convincing for you to come here. Jungwon needed to get to the point.

"I'm sorry about everything I said. I didn't even mean half of those things."

You scoffed. "Oh really? They sounded pretty heartfelt to me."

Jungwon sat up. "I was just trying to enforce the idea that I wasn't into you, on myself," he revealed, hoping that you would forgive him. "And being a dick was the only way you could do that? Jungwon, you weren't the only one who was attempting to suppress their feelings," you refuted.

"I know y/n. And it's my fault for not realizing sooner," he admitted, hanging his head. You sighed and shook your head. "This is so immature. I can't believe we're letting a stupid dare get in the middle of our friendship."

Jungwon chuckled darkly. "Maybe it's a sign that our friendship has run its course."

You turned to him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Jungwon smiled. "I gave it some thought yesterday. We're both attempting to be in denial of our feelings. Obviously, that isn't working out. If it wasn't for this dare, they would've remained buried deep down somewhere. But I guess you could say everything happens for a reason." He took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. "I never realized how much I loved this feeling until I had to go a whole two days without it."

You couldn't even hide your smile. "Where is this going Jungwon?"

"Maybe we should give this a chance. Give us a chance. Who knows? It could turn out the be the best thing that's ever happened to us," he said, meeting your eyes.

"And what if it doesn't? We would be throwing so many years of friendship away."

Jungwon shook his head. "How long are we supposed to contradict how we truly feel about each other? That would take a heavier toll on us."

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "It doesn't hurt to try I guess."

Jungwon beamed. "That's the spirit!" It felt nice to see you smiling at him again. He was grateful for that. It was funny how a large part of his mood depended on you. If you were happy, he was happy. If you were sad, he was sad. His entire world revolved around you, and Jungwon knew the best thing to do was strengthen that bond.

"So, will you be my girlfriend," he asked, smiling cheekily. You bit your lip, looking at him through your lashes. "Of course I will."

⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this fic. Please let me know how you found it! Thank you so much!

[kachuuyaa]

— MAPLE LEAVES AND BLACKOUT DREAMS.

11072021 ; g.i oneshot , gn!reader , bsd!reader .. again

genre ; fluff

includes ; spoilers for the latest archon quest... ig... one mention of fyodor, gods and heavenly powers, INAZUMA ..a...a.... kazuha is intrigued by you go you go! subtle flirting probably

characters ; kazuha, beidou, paimon (platonic), aether (platonic)

synopsis ; Only one human could make another feel safe in this world of faux bliss. (In which you meet the wandering samurai from Inazuma.)

author's notes ; so sorry if you're tired of my bsd!reader content but it won't stopYaba dasabadaba yoobabababa (blow!) Moosay Abalaba dooba, cadoosay (cadoosay) Metamorphosis aporphis of morkle laborth laba gorbalib (laboratory)

It has not been long since the reunion between the twins, and Aether seemed melancholic throughout your journey back to Liyue. It was to be expected, really. You knew it all along, yet you didn’t bother to tell him. It was quite easy to figure out, actually, yet you do not want to add on to the suspicion brought upon you. You don’t bother to confront him after that, not wanting to make any mistakes during your conversation with him. Completely blocking Paimon and Aether’s discussions, your eyes fixated themselves on the sleeping Chuuya on your shoulder.

He has been sleeping a lot, you realized, wiggling a bit on your shoulder, he rested his small head on your neck. You smiled to yourself, he was quite cute. You did not want to venture into Liyue Harbor for multiple reasons, if you were on the watchlist of the Knights, there is no doubt you are on the watchlist of the Millelith. “Hey, [Name],” Paimon’s voice entered your ears, getting your attention. You turned your head carefully so as to not wake the sleeping Chuuya on your shoulder, bored eyes staring at Paimon. “Ah-” she stuttered, “do you… possibly know how to get to Inazuma?” she asked meekly, nervousness coating her features-- she was still afraid of you. Well, after the meeting between the twins, how could she not? You were certainly at the top of her “Do Not Piss Off” list.

Inazuma. A beautiful nation shrouded with darkness and all things far from heavenly. You have heard of the nation, never being able to step inside, so you resort to the wind; it gives you information on anything and everything. The rumors of you and the ballads of the ancient traverse through the winds you depend on for information, and it has not let you down. Chuuya would also eavesdrop on others for information, his short stature giving an advantage. He would keep the information for himself, for angry squeaks are the only thing that leaves his tiny mouth.

So, no, you do not know how to get there. You may hold the fate of the world in your hands, able to make even the strongest of archons bow at your feet by a simple wave of your hand. Veins pumping with the blood of another world, and another world is where you reign and have died. This world is merely but a fleeting one, you assumed, and while you may have unimaginable battle prowess and an equally indestructible and flawless ability, you simply do not care. Who are you to care about a world which has no meaning to you? You belong here, yet you don’t have an obligation to protect it. Even the archons-- the so-called “protectors” of Teyvat, had destroyed a nation made by mortal hands.

The gods here were as selfish as the ones you have read before you’ve ever come here. Your life was held in another, chained, captive in another's hands. And even though you were free by being released-- reincarnated in another world (you can’t say another life; you know it’s a continuation of your previous one, how stupid), you know you were bound to experience the selfishness of the gods, those replicating what you have seen in mortals. “No, I don’t.” You sighed, looking back at the sea. The sea has always been a peaceful place, an abyss with numerous undiscovered creatures residing in it. “There must be someone you know..” You trailed off, still focusing on the scenery before you. Unsurprisingly, Paimon snapped Aether out of his reverie and called out his name. “Oh. Let me try and think of someone…” Aether began to think, but Paimon interrupted his train of thought before he could form a name. “Paimon’s thought of someone already -- Atsuko, in Liyue Harbor! She’s from Inazuma!” Paimon exclaimed, waving her tiny arms in the air, ushering both you and Aether to Liyue Harbor, yet you were quick to decline her offer. Dismissing her invitation, you waved your hand, and said, “No, No. People wouldn’t want to see someone like me venturing with the bigshot of Teyvat.” You said, a slight tease coated in your tone.

The traveling duo had to think about your words, you were right-- in a sense, yet they did not want to leave you alone. (they were completely disregarding the existence of a Chuuya-fied wisp sleeping soundly on your shoulder.) “Aww!” Paimon whined, “Paimon wanted [Name] to come with us!” Aether simply laughed, and nodded his head, standing up. “Well, if we find a way to get there, you will join us, alright?” He asked you, but it didn’t seem like a question, it was a demand, really. Deadpanning, you nodded your head, assuring that you will, in fact, travel with them after consulting Atsuko.

You lowered your presence before venturing to the foot of Liyue, trying to conceal yourself from wandering eyes. Aether and Paimon were barely in your peripheral vision and trying to hear their conversation with the Inazuma citizen was even harder. As if on cue, Chuuya squeaked, trying to get your attention, and you faced the tiny wisp who twirled around the air, orange particles following suit. “Ah, you want to eavesdrop?” you questioned, trying to understand his body movements. A little nod with a squeak of approval was what you received in return, and you allowed him to do so. You may not understand his body movements most of the time-- but hey, you try. The wisp navigates its way to where Paimon and Aether were, making sure that he was unseen and unnoticed by the passerby. Thankfully, though, he was.

After a bit of eavesdropping, he returned back to you, and you ultimately did not get what he meant, until he gestured-- with his head-- the direction of Guyun Stone Forest. You could only assume that much. Shortly after, Paimon and Aether returned to you both, and you turned to face them, awaiting their statement. “Uh- alright,” Paimon started, unable to look you in the eye. You found her nervousness quite hilarious, your mouth forming a smirk in amusement. Despite being small, yet wasn’t hesitant to voice out anything on her mind, was afraid of a mere human like you. “Atsuko told us that we must meet with the .. Crux.” The Crux, you have heard tell of their captain and their victories. How could you not? The strange relationship between the Tianquan and the captain was being spread throughout Liyue, including their many stories in the sea. The reputation The Crux has gotten for their many bone-chilling and jaw-dropping experiences was enough to make you interested. “Continue,” You replied, eyes analytical, boring into poor Paimon’s eyes. She shrieked, and silently pleaded to Aether to continue where she left off.

Chuuya, on the other hand, was snickering mentally, not only because of Paimon’s cowardice but also because of Aether’s hesitance to respond. He opted to let out squeaks that resembled laughter. Paimon jerked her head to the wisp, comical steam escaping her ears. “Stop laughing, you orange dwarf!” She stomped her legs, and you had to hold back your laughter. Aether cleared his throat, and Paimon halted her actions. “We must find Captain Beidou, the leader of the Crux.” He said calmly, and you nodded your head. Chuuya was sulking on your shoulder, forming a little ball. How cute, you think, and stood up to follow Paimon and Aether to their destination.

Guyun Stone Forest. An infamous landmark created by the spears of the Lord of Geo, known to hold an ancient god, Osial, one you were most familiar with after the battle that forced him to retreat yet again. Guyun Stone Forest was known to house the Hypostasis that you severely resented, as well as other monsters of each variety. It was a place created by a god, and it houses an ancient one-- waiting to awaken yet again. Some say that if you come by at night, you would experience the bloodshed and the defeat of Osial vividly, memories of the god experiencing his demise would flash through your head like a slideshow.

Soon enough, you both were able to board the Crux without unnecessary mishaps, you trailing behind Aether and Paimon, your presence still unnoticed by the rest of the crew. Chuuya was settled atop your head, seldomly wiggling to find a place to relax. He was still awake, though, that was enough. Aether’s footsteps alerted Beidou, who was currently talking to an unknown stranger you have never seen before, and it seems like Aether was unfamiliar with him, too.

“Hmm? Who’ve we got here…” Beidou turned to face Aether, and you moved to the side, out of Beidou’s peripheral vision. A flash of realization took over the captain’s features, and said, “Wait, I know you. You’re that traveler, Aether, aren’t you?” She questioned, “The one who fought against the Fatui and Osial, right?” She added. Aether blinked, processing her words. Yeah, he did all those, and it should be a given that his achievements were recognized, but a look of confusion would tell you otherwise. “Have we met?” He asked in response. He was a busy man, accepting commissions from complete strangers in both nations without hesitation, and they might remember him, but do not expect this man to remember you-- at all. He chooses not to remember irrelevant people.

Their conversation was not yours to mind, instead, looking out to sea. It was far more interesting than what you’re hearing, all too familiar with what they’re talking about. Feeling a pair of eyes on you, you shrugged it off, too immersed in the beauty of the sea in front of you. Beidou’s loud voice boomed, entering your ears, which snapped you out of your thoughts. “Judging by the clothes on your back and this floating thing-- and you! Another companion, perhaps?” Before Paimon could talk back to the captain, her eyes followed Beidou’s finger, which was pointing to you.

You stared back at them, your eyes swirling with amusement and recognition. “Hi.” you greeted, you were not one for formal greetings. “[Name], traveling partner--” Beidou’s voice interrupted you before you could finish, “aren’t you the suspicious fellow the Millelith was to keep track of?” Ah. So she knows. Who wouldn’t, really? Your supposed title along with Aether’s name being spread throughout Teyvat, one outshining the other. You were feared, unlike Aether, who was respected throughout the continent, yet you were one who they would want to avoid-- to show you who you need to respect. Although that didn’t bother you, it certainly irritated Paimon and Aether.

“They’re my traveling companion-- my friend.” Aether emphasized the word ‘friend’, making you smile fondly at the boy. Paimon nodded vigorously, and Beidou let it slide, albeit hesitant in doing so. “I’ll let it slide, for now.” She monotonously said, eyeing you and Aether, “but if you do something sketchy, I won’t hesitate to do something to you.” She threatened, making Paimon yelp and hide behind Aether, while you smirked in amusement. “A deal’s a deal, captain.” You muttered, turning your back on her to face the scenery you were focusing on. “And by the way, Paimon’s not ‘floating thing,’ it’s Paimon!” She said, shouting each vowel of her name.

“Paimon… hmm..” Those words that belonged to a foreign voice caught everyone’s attention-- excluding Chuuya’s, who was too entertained by the floating particles around his body-- to turn to said man. “What a fascinating being. You two give off not only the essence of wind and earth,” He paused, “but also of… yes… the stars…” He concluded. You blinked, “Eh? The fragrance of what now?” Paimon questioned, confusion lacing her tone, “That’s the weirdest compliment Paimon’s ever heard.” She muttered, and the mysterious man turned to you. “But you… you give off the essence of the stars, and the aura of the divine.” He stated, while you turned to him, and said, “Is that an insult?” You voiced out, while he merely chuckled and shook his head. “Pay it no heed… I mean only to say I am certain… that it is by fate, not chance alone, that we should meet… and that gives our encounter meaning.”

You couldn’t bother to listen to their conversation, for you were not included. Yet you managed to catch his name, Kaedehara Kazuha. Upon studying his appearance more, you realized that he was not local. The frame around his vision confirmed your assumptions, and you could only wonder what that frame came from. Where he came from, exactly. There was an oddly calming and melancholic aura emanating from the man behind you, and it may look like he was aware of it, too. The group exchanged words relating to something about a Crux Clash, something you have never heard of before. Leaning forward to the railings, you let Chuuya sit on your shoulder while nuzzling his face on your neck. Sleepy, he was, all the time. Though that didn’t bother you, really.

“Does your friend over there have some experience in fighting?” I think they do, considering their unusually suspicious yet powerful aura, Beidou wanted to add, yet she refused those words to slip past her tongue. Aether knew you never wanted to be put in the spotlight, to be the center of attraction even for a few minutes, all of those things irked you. Even though you were the center of attraction back in your past life-- for all the right reasons, you don’t want it to happen again. Tranquility is what you desire. You were offered the curse of the gods and the blessing of death, yet tranquility is what truly made you feel human amidst everything else.

Everything passes, tranquility doesn’t. “They would probably decline if you asked them.” He said, it was the truth, really. “They’re not one for formal events,” He trailed off, running out of reasons for vouching for you. You were a mysterious individual, and while you have been their traveling companion for quite some time, you still left lingering questions on your trail. Curiosity swirling in his eyes whenever he manages to take a good look at you, wondering what you are-- who exactly you were. Perhaps being mysterious came with good looks. “Oh? Is that so?” She quirked an eyebrow and glanced at your figure before tearing her gaze back to the traveler. “Yeah, they're a tough one!” Paimon exclaimed, “They don’t fight unless necessary!” Paimon then added, recalling your previous statements to the pixie. You were ruthless and merciless in battle, cunning in strategy, resorting to being the brains between the duo. That doesn’t excuse your methodical and malicious way of swerving through the situation, however.

“I’m not interested.” Your sharp voice cuts through the conversation, dismissing every thought the wandering samurai and the captain may have had. Still facing the sea, elbows on the railings of the ship. “You, too, are not interested in the masterless vision?” Kazuha asked, and you nodded. “I am only interested in following Aether.” You uttered nonchalantly, and a blush rose to Aether’s cheeks, quickly faltering. “Well, it seems like the traveler will only be partaking in the event. Let’s get you signed up, yeah?” she questioned, “Head to the tournament arena in Guyun Stone Forest. Kazuha and I will be over soon.” She smiled, clasping her hands together. Before anyone could say anything else, you disappeared. (poof! You’re gone, and honestly, it’s a surprise that no one noticed Chuuya, at all.)

Beidou turned to look at you, yet you were gone. All that was left was a little wisp with orange particles surrounding its body. It seemed to be looking around frantically, beady eyes locking with ruby-colored ones. It blinked, and it disappeared as soon as they made eye contact. Was that [Name]? The captain blinked and shrugged her shoulders. It would be an understatement to say that both of them were confused, they genuinely thought that you turned into a wisp. Kazuha’s face remained neutral, yet there was a lingering swirl of amusement in those vermillion hues of his. “Well, well. It seems like it will only be a matter of time before the answer is revealed.” (AWOOOOAOAOAOAO WOOOF WOOF. anyway.)

You didn’t want to be noticed by the Liyue participants, having been popular on the list of suspicious individuals. You knew that if they saw you, even if it was just a glimpse, they would panic. So, what was the best option? Well-- hide, obviously. You were sat atop one of the spears, right above the reception area. The endless praises coming from the other competitors soon reached your ears, but that didn’t make you interested. They have only witnessed him in his power, but were they able to walk alongside him? You didn’t think so, besides, they’re but mere specks of dust in his house of memories. You crossed your legs, blocking out any sounds entering your ears. That is until a familiar squeak is what you heard. Looking to your left, you saw a visibly furious wisp. When you landed your eyes on him, he started smacking your head as if he was scolding you-- well, he was. In his tiny little head, he was cursing you out, and he had embarrassed himself in front of two complete strangers. You laughed, not quite loud, and gently encased your hands on his tiny body. He slept after that.

You only watched some of Aether’s matches before you appeared-- out of nowhere-- behind Beidou and Kazuha. The samurai noticed your peculiar presence the second you got there, really, you had a very, very unique scent. He would describe it as flowers-- laid out in a field, wilting ever so slowly. An enigma that presents itself as a gentle soul, malicious in movement and methodical if necessary. You had eyes that resembled that of a certain archon he grew to despise, yet he failed to sense any correlation between the two of you. If he had, though, he would be utterly speechless that you haven’t stolen him away, yet. You presented yourself as swift in movement and uninterested in talking, although he noticed a playful side that you only revealed to Aether. He now realized that you weren’t the wisp that disappeared after a few double takes, situated on your shoulder. Even that small wisp radiated the same aura that you did.

Just who were you? Kazuha couldn’t decipher you that much, he thinks he has only so little information about you, and he was right. You were a black and white canvas, one who presents themselves as plain, quiet, yet you were familiar with all emotions at once. The ability to be stoic and to have separate personalities were one of your most prominent features, being able to lure your target into a seemingly well-made trap. Your eyes were closed, listening to the waves meeting the sand, oh, how you missed that sound.

The waves crashing never failed to land a small smile on your face, unnoticed by many, tranquility was the only word you would describe the sounds the oceans make. Calming, it was. Beidou’s laugh entered your ears, “I knew I wouldn’t regret choosing you as the favourite!” You opened your eyes slightly, directing your sharp eyes to Aether and Paimon. “So what do you think, Kazuha? [Name]? He totally dominated that guy, and did it with style, too!” She said, visible pride laced within her words. To be fair, you were proud of Aether as well, but your pride was overshadowed by nonchalance. “Impressive,” Kazuha praised, “But I also observed our favorite exercise some restraint, as if to protect the opponent from harm.” He added, and paused, turning to look at you. “Ah,” you uttered, “Good work, Aether.” you were simple, Aether knew that, yet you never praised him verbally, resorting to ruffling his hair. It did not fail to make him smile, though. Paimon smiled brightly, for that was the first time she heard those words slip past your lips. You smiled gently, genuinely, and whispered, “I know you will win.”

Paimon was ready to cry then and there. Comical tears run down her face, hugging you from the neck, “Paimon didn’t know you could be so nice!” Her voice was shaky, yet you laughed in faux offense and Aether smiled, and whispered a ‘thank you', in response. Beidou laughed heartily, and Kazuha crossed his arms with a small smirk. So not only were you playful, you had a soft spot for Aether! Lovers, perhaps? Softly chuckling, you leaned back to the stone behind you, letting your eyelids rest. As the wind kissed your face you were vaguely reminded of the man beside you, yet you made no intent to look at him. You were only brought back to reality when Beidou told Aether that he would be put in the semi-finals, and you nodded in agreement. Aether smiled, his eyes forming crescents, and sent you a thumbs up in return.

After quite a long wait, it was time for the semi-finals. After some words from Kazuha and the announcement from Beidou, you patted Aether’s back gently and gave him a look that said ‘you can do this’. Well, needless to say, he was quite hyped after that exchange. Chuuya squeaked from beside you, and you let him start floating on your shoulder. This attracted Kazuha’s attention, “What’s that?” He asked, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could ever give it a thought. Chuuya and you side-eyed him, and said, “ah. This little guy?” You pointed to Chuuya, and it seemed angered at your comment. “This guy’s Nakahara. A… memoir of a... friend, in short.” Said wisp halted its actions, although it didn’t go unnoticed by both of you. “Hm, fascinating. You two carry the same aura.” You remained silent for the most part, yet a simple sigh escaped your lips. “Hm, do we?” You muttered, softly patting the wisp’s head with your pointer finger. It seemed delighted, unconsciously leaning to your touch. “Perhaps we do,” you whispered, knowing the truth behind this small wisp below your finger. “Do you… perhaps… have some history with this creature?” He asked, curiosity and attentiveness evident in his wine-colored eyes. You paused for a moment, thinking of your words. “Well, if you phrase it like that, then… sort of, yeah.” He nodded after your confirmation, yet your answers only made him insatiable; there were still so many questions he’d want to ask you, yet he knows you won’t provide for the insatiable. You never do.

After the match, you observed Aether ask other people for information about his final opponent. You weren’t bothered to watch the matches that didn’t involve him, however, entertaining Chuuya in the process whenever he wasn’t on the battlefield. But from the observations of Beidou and Kazuha, you were able to identify that seemingly suspicious man. Your intuition was never wrong, of course. He was described to be agile, swift, and seemingly formidable in battle. Well, you would be lying if he doesn’t remind you of someone you were previously acquainted with. “Wah! Paimon is starting to think that [Name] here is our final opponent!” You blinked, dismissing Paimon’s words. “Eh? No, no, no.” You shook your head, “what makes you think that?” you asked, and Paimon scratched her head, “eh… you are fast as well! Fast on your feet! Strong too! You and our opponent are far too similar!” Paimon complained, stomping her feet in the air like a child. “Now that’s just… insulting.” You muttered, and Kazuha chuckled. “Oh? How so?” He queried. You shook your head, “I would prefer to keep my prideful remarks to myself.” and Chuuya shook his head vigorously, denouncing your statement, squeaking in retaliation. Beidou’s voice cut through your conversation, stirring the topic into the final battle.

You, again, did not bother to listen, closing your eyes until someone catches your attention. Words were exchanged between the 3 elemental wielders, and the voice that snaps you out of your reverie was none other than Aether’s, “Can [Name] come too?” You snapped your eyes open, staring at Aether, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, you spoke up, “Where, exactly?” Paimon cut through the discussion, “With Kazuha!” and a flash of realization flooded her features, “Wait, Aether, why do you want them to come exactly?” Her voice was laced with a slight tease, and a sly smile formed on her lips, making Aether pinch her cheeks and stick his tongue out when he heard her whine. Beidou did not want to interrupt, but you know what kind of thoughts are forming on the captain’s mind. Something about “are they together?” Well, something like that. Kazuha, on the other hand, never once failed to show amusement during their exchanges, especially when the topic is about you. “Well, that’s settled, come with me. Some post-match entertainment is in order.”

What you didn’t expect is that he’d completely focus on Aether in the secluded place he led you both to. “Now that we’re alone, let me cut to the heart of the matter.” He began, he eyed Aether, then to your still, peaceful figure. Seemed like Chuuya was sleeping, once again. “Traveler, you are skilled in manipulating the elements.” He began, and that is when you snapped your eyes to Kazuha, fully invested in the conversation as if you weren’t resting your eyes ten seconds ago. Kazuha brushed off your intense gaze on him, and continued, “And not just a single element, but multiple, is that correct?” You weren’t shocked, no. You witnessed it firsthand, and all the subtle attempts to cover up Aether’s otherworldly ability were futile when it came to you. Besides, you were capable of revealing even the smallest details.

“Although I cannot make sure of [Name], while yours were not as subtle as you presume, they give me an unfamiliar aura. One I cannot discern,” He uttered, turning to face and making eye contact with you. “Now, then, may I be so bold to inquire just what power you hold?” Despite the soft tone he presented you with, you still denied it. “I do not have such power as you may think I do.” You shut down his question, “I may hold the aura of the gods, but I do not have any affiliation with them.” You said sternly, hoping that he would dismiss this subject, and swallow up your lies. If anyone knew about your ability and the status you had compared to the gods above, including Chuuya’s, everyone would be against you. The sheer power you hold in your body surpasses that of bygone gods and wandering travelers. You were an unstable yet powerful force, never truly revealing your plans, and never using the ability you were cursed to use again. You never used it to spite the gods who have cursed you in the world you know you will never fit in. You were anything but human in this world of selfish souls, well, you know who would agree with you. (you know Fyodor would have a field day if he was here.)

Although you remained composed and stoic, you silently wished Kazuha would let you slip past his questions. He was, obviously, completely oblivious to your thoughts. Kazuha wasn’t oblivious about your power, though, you knew he knew that you have one. After that exchange, you completely retracted yourself from the conversation, simply observing the two who discussed Aether’s powers and skills. You didn’t miss the slight concern that Paimon held towards you, though. You didn’t like talking; to strangers, especially. Save for your interrogation victims back in the day, in meetings, you usually butt in when necessary, or riling up the boss and Chuuya whenever you felt like doing so. The only relevant thing to come out of the conversation you listened to was everything relating to Inazuma. Ah, so that’s where he came from. No wonder the frame encasing his vision looked foreign to you. You briefly made eye contact with Kazuha, and you recognized that look in his eyes. As if he was still wary of you, and your motives.

Truth is, he was completely intrigued because of you. Still wary-- yet enamored. He knows you are observant, calculating, and seemingly notorious due to all of these traits, including your intimidating appearance. You carry yourself with utmost royalty, independent in all situations, and overpowering most of your enemies with ease. He could tell by your scent that you were one to be avoided, and one who is more powerful than most vision wielders-- scratch that, maybe all. Although that would be an overstatement to some, he just has this feeling that you are stronger than you present yourself as. That was true, obviously. What is a mysterious person without their secrets? He secretly hoped he did not give you a bad impression, for you were a mysterious one who attracts even the wisest of men. He’ll make sure to ask Aether about you, even if it’s just the simplest of information. He was certain that he hears all things in nature, yet you were one who grew in a field of foreign flowers. That, he cannot decipher.

2021 © kachuuyaa. do not steal or claim my work as your own.

[v3nusaphr0d1t3]

doin’ that night thing

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: explicit warnings: sex so much sex. just so much horny afab reader, gender neutral. reader is not described.

it was only so long before you texted the number. it was natural curiosity! the number might be hawks’! you let it marinate in your head. the little paper he slipped into his tip to you when you two met at the club that had his phone number sat on the coffee table. you stared at it for a while, eventually just deciding to text him.

you: hey, this is ____

you still used your stage name, since you had decided that you’d trade your real name for his. he replied surprisingly quickly (it was later on in the evening on a sunday so you assumed he was off), with only a couple minutes of anxiously making your way through your carousel of social media before you heard your text tone.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: heyyy. it’s hawks, what u up to?

you would not admit that your stomach did a little flip. this was genuinely his number, or at least you prayed it was. you added him to your contacts. 

you: off day, so i been sittin around. wyd?

birdie: i had patrol today but i’m off the next two days, thank fuck.

you: thats good, bet its stressful as hell to do what u do.

birdie: you sayin that out of consideration or you sayin it to kiss my ass?

you genuinely laughed out loud. you didn't expect him to be upfront, and you had expected to stroke his ego if you wanted into his pants, but it didn’t look like it would turn out that way.

you’d find out soon enough.

---

he said he was off for the next two days, monday and tuesday. you worked evening shift on monday and got out by 11 PM, so you got an idea.

you: pick me up from the club tonight? 11:30?

birdie: is this what i think it is?

you: i don’t know birdie, you tell me

he didn’t reply to that. it made you a bit nervous, but you weren’t gonna fret. if he didn’t come, you could just take the subway. that’s how you got there most nights, just like tonight. the train ride was bustling in the late afternoon, most people just getting off of work and heading home. you instead got off at your stop to walk the few blocks to the club, work bag slung over your shoulder and knife in your hand. the sun was starting to go down and you didn’t play games. being quirkless in this society was an inconvenience at best and at worst you could end up dead.

you went in the back way, readying yourself for your shift and freshening up. you put on your outfit you has chosen for today, did makeup, fixed your hair the best you could, and hyped yourself as well as a few of your coworkers up. eventually it was time for your set. you took a deep breath like you always did, grabbed your wipe you all used to clean the poles between each set, and stepped out onto the stage. and when you looked up at your audience, you met a pair of warm yellow eyes.

---

when you got off, you took a quick shower in one of the bathrooms in the back. you tried not to shower at the club when you had the choice, but being sweaty and covered in other’s people’s germs when you took hawks back to your house wasn’t at the top of your list of things to do. you dried your hair well enough when you got out, putting on some cute underwear that you had packed (because you had planned this in advance). you put on a regular t-shirt and jeans, making your way with your bag to the front of the club to look for hawks. you had your hand in your pocket on your switchblade as you surveyed the street and parking lot with your back to the club wall. you knew he was here, or you were going crazy. you saw him.

so intent on searching for a familiar figure in the parking lot across the street, you didn’t notice someone coming from your side. and when the hand fell on your shoulder, you reacted immediately, pulling your knife out and flicking it out, holding it out and steeling yourself.

instead, it was the stupid fucking bird with his hands up and an amused grin on his face. he looked casual like he did when you first interacted, just considerably less tipsy and more excited.

“god, jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” you put your knife away, sighing. hawks let out a little chuckle.

“sorry, sorry, i just thought you were paying attention to ALL of your surroundings. or maybe, since you were looking for someone…?” he trailed off, and you wanted to knock him upside the head. but you didn’t.

“you seem intent on NOT getting head tonight.” you joked, striking a chord as he spluttered.

“was that on the table? i take it back, i take it ba—” you cut him off with a flick to the nose.

“shut up and take me home already.” you chuckled gently, looking around for some sort of vehicle. and then it hit you.

“you… you didn’t drive here, did you?” you asked, sighing yet again, this time in annoyance at yourself for not remembering that this man had wings.

“no. no i did not.” he almost looked ashamed, if it weren’t for the shit-eating grin that split his face.

“and i’m guessing that you’re not driving me home, is that right?” you asked, letting him take your hand and pull you into the alley?

“where are we going?” your question went unanswered as he pulled you further away from where the people were. it made you a bit nervous, but when he suddenly pulled in close and scooped you up like you weighed nothing, you were in no state to protest. and then he shot himself AND you into the sky.

“where do you live, by the way?” you heard over the howling of the wind.

“you ass! its—” and you gave him your apartment building. you found that he smelled nice, from close proximity, and you made the very smart decision to bury your head in the crook of his neck rather than looking at the very far away ground. 

he touched the ground again on the rooftop of your building, and when you were put down you immediately shoved him.

“warn me! jesus,” you were genuinely mad for about twenty seconds, before bursting into laughter and moving to grab his shirt collar, pulling him into your first shared kiss. it was sweet, and a bit too soft considering that this was a hookup. he reciprocated almost immediately, coming up to cup the back of your neck. he tasted sweet. it was nice.

you grabbed his wrist, pulling him along and wrenching open the door to the roof. you found your way out of the staircase to the elevator (your building had way too many floors for that mess) and pressed the ‘down’ button. you waited for only a few moments before the doors opened with a ding and you dragged hawks in with you. you pressed the button for your floor, and when the doors closed you were on each other again, pressing him back against the wall of the elevator as you licked your way into his mouth.

it wasn’t only the elevator that made your stomach jump. it was the fact that this was the first person you had brought home in a while, and the fact that he was a hot ass pro hero who looked at you like you were the hottest person ever. it set you on fire, made your skin sing and lit you up from the inside. it was like being on stage but ten times better.

eventually you broke away when the elevator doors opened, and you grabbed his hand to pull him along. you approached your door, fumbling with your keys and getting your door unlocked. and the moment you were inside, like the MOMENT, he had you pinned against the door. the speed was almost hilarious if not ridiculously hot. 

he brought your lips together only briefly before pulling away to trail little nips and kisses down your jaw and neck. 

“don’t give me any hickeys, it’s bad for business.”

“i’ll pay for your shit.” he said nearly immediately, and the look he gave you was goddamn predatory. 

“i— okay.” you could only agree, because it felt too nice and that gaze was gorgeous.

and with that, he sucked a dark mark high on your neck, going on to make more.

and suddenly, your earlier promise came to mind.

“didn’t i promise you head?” you say with a pant as he bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“you mentioned it.” his shit-eating grin from earlier returned. you playfully pushed him away and grabbed his hand to lead him to your bedroom. it was humble but comfy, with your bed in the center of the room and the window cracked, letting in the sound of night traffic. your floor was high enough off the ground to not have to worry about the people below hearing you. you didn’t have a headboard to your bed, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that noise either. but you hoped that you could perhaps make a noise issue with the man you pushed to sit on the edge of your bed as you suck to your knees.

you tugged at his belt, undoing it as he watched you with his intense gaze. you unbuttoned his jeans and pull his pants and boxers down, observing his half-hard cock. you spit in your hand, giggling to yourself and hearing a giggle above you that got choked out as you wrapped your hand around him. you pumped him and leaned forward to take the tip in your mouth, twirling your tongue around it as you teased the slit. you heard his intake of breath and subsequent sigh as you sunk your mouth further down.

it was sizeable, and thick too. it made you clench around nothing as you worked your way up and down his shaft, to the point where the head was hitting the back of your throat. you tucked your thumb into your fist and breathed through your nose, putting your faith in that stupid little trick you heard as rumor from your stupid friends. it surprisingly worked, or at least it placebo-ed itself quite well, because you only gagged when hawks rolled his hips upward into the heat of your throat.

you pulled away to take a breath, looking up and meeting his apologetic expression. it was annoying that you thought that little thrust was hot. you steeled yourself again and went back to it, so the next time he ground upwards, you were prepared. he let out a groan, reaching up from where his hands were stabilizing himself on the bed to instead rest on the back of your head.

“fast learner, huh?” his little quip made you roll your eyes, but apparently he took that the wrong way, because he took a ragged breath.

“roll your eyes back again, s’hot.” you would scoff if you could, but you instead took another one of his little thrusts into your throat. his little whines were enough fuel to let him keep doing this, using your mouth like it was made for this.

“damn, baby, you’re perfect—” his words were more likely to make you blush than his actual cock in your throat. suddenly, he grabbed your head and pulled you off. you looked up in confusion.

“don’t wanna cum yet,” he murmured with a breathy chuckle. there was that little glint in his eyes again. the one that zeroed in on you like you were the only thing on his mind, like you were the most important thing in the world. it was frankly a bit frightening. that little primal part of your brain didn’t like the gaze much. but your much larger brain thought it was fuckin’ hot.

“your turn, get on the bed.” he said, standing up and shuffling out from under you to remove the majority of his clothes. you did the same, peeling off your shirt and jeans to reveal the cute underwear you had chosen. he watched you, whistling when he saw you wearing one of your g-strings. 

“keep that on, wanna pull it off with my teeth.” he said, casually, as if that wasn’t enough to make you clench around absolutely nothing. you made your way onto the bed, sitting up as he joined you, pushing you down to prop yourself up on your elbows. he leaned down to make good on his promise, catching one of the strings over your hips with his teeth and pulling them down your legs, pulling it off all the way and throwing it aside. you laughed a bit, matching his chuckle.

“now, lemme get a look at you,” he grabbed your thighs and pulled your legs apart to gaze at your dripping cunt. he bit his lip, leaning down immediately and licking a stripe over your folds with a flat tongue. he moved to suck on your clit, eliciting a moan from you as you felt your nerve endings catch fire, tingling all the way down your legs and up into your core. he moved to rub his tongue over your hole, teasing but never fully giving.

“hawks! c’mon, god— feels so good,” you were talking just to fill the silence, little murmurs threaded into barely legible sentences. he pulls away from you and you whine. you barely get time to be mortified with yourself before he says something shocking.

“you can call me keigo. just don’t tell anyone that shit, okay? you sound too good and i really want to hear my name from your pretty little mouth.” 

“i— i’m ____,” you practically gape for a minute, before giving him your own name. that was your deal, his name for yours.

“pleased to meet’cha, _____.” he joked and once again you barely had time to react when he leaned down to continue eating you out, swirling his tongue around your clit as he reached up to stroke a finger down your folds. once it was sufficiently wet (kinda gross) he slipped it inside you without much resistance, curling upwards a few times and pulling it out to repeat the process but with two fingers.

“keigo, shit! god, that’s fuckin’ great—” you babbled, the constant stimulation to the most sensitive place making your brain hazy. your eyes were closed without your realization, and once you did open them, you looked down on a gorgeous sight.

his head eyes were fucking immaculate. his golden eyes looked up at you like he wanted to own you, like he already owned you. by god, you wanted that. you wanted it bad. you wanted to do whatever it took to have this man keep looking at you. this was its own type of performance, and you feared it would be addictive. you ate up his gaze, the warmth it brought, like it was the air you needed to survive. with a knock of his now three fingers against that sensitive place deep in your core, you gasped, throwing your head back and breaking his gaze.

he was out-doing you. no one was allowed to out-do you. you decided the stretch was enough, and agonizingly shifted away from his criminal tongue. he gave you a confused look, but you guided him to lay back toward the edge of the bed, up on his elbows so his large wings would hang comfortably off the edge, and began to crawl over him. the fact that your legs were quivering was not one that was mentioned aloud, but it was definitely felt. you helped him roll a condom on and you matched eyes yet again as your plush thighs straddled his hips, grinding against his cock that was laid against his stomach. your smirk was telling as you leaned down to capture his mouth in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. he was panting and flushed by the time you were done with him, leading down to leave playful nips on his neck and shoulders.

your grinding was incessant and reliefless, promising but never giving, and it was driving him mad. any time he would attempt to take the reigns, you would raise your hips, robbing him of any friction at all and making him whine. oh what a sound, it filled you with determination. you were going to put on a show, but you didn’t work for free. he would have to beg. but he was a stubborn ass and you’d have to work him up to it. he was already nearly there, gasping and breathless while his cock jumped against your heat. you held his wrists down so he couldn’t grab your hips, and you leaned down to look him in the eye with a shit-eating grin.

“you know what i want,” you said simply, your voice piercing and thick with lust.

“oh- oh really?” 

“what’s the magic word, keigo?” you asked, watching his pupils pin at the usage of his name. whether it be your tone, or the circular little grinds you were working with your hips, or your penetrating stare, something broke his pride.

“please— please, god, please, ____” his voice was whiney, as it made the simmering heat in your gut roar as you raised up off his cock and used your hand to position it, sinking back down and making a noise low in your throat. it took you a moment to adjust, with little cants of his hips smoothening the transition. but once you had accommodated to the stretch (and by god was there a stretch), you moved your hands to rest on his thighs and set to work. 

you raised yourself up and down, up and down, getting into a rhythm that left your thighs quaking and your core aching from the ceaseless abuse. it felt so fucking good. the sounds of skin slapping and both of your breathy noises filled the room, making you blush even more. the grinds he would meet you with when your hips came together nearly make you drool, mouth hanging open and panting quietly. once again, your eyes had closed by default, overwhelming pleasure making it hard to keep them open. 

but when he sat up, grabbing you by the waist and thrusting up hard into you, your eyes shot open to his gaze again, this time focusing on where his cock was disappearing into you over and over without stop. his wings were tensed, hiked up and spread, shaking slightly from the stimulation. the streetlamp poured light in from the window, casting a strange feathery silhouette all over your room. you gasped loudly as you felt your orgasm start to build up.

“please, god, keigo, don’t stop,” you moaned as he manhandled you to lay back on the bed and started plowing into you hard enough to make your mattress creak. you didn’t think you could ever fuck someone else like this. you couldn’t think at all, actually. you could feel yourself drooling like a dog, running down the corner of your mouth as you choked on air. his hands on your hips were like fire, and you were hot, hot, hot. you burned up under his gaze, under him. you could feel the pressure building, building, building— until you gushed all over his cock. and your sheets, for that matter. the feeling was insane and you were not mentally there enough to think of the consequences. your orgasm rolled over you right after that, hitting you like a train and making you clench down hard enough to trigger a chain reaction. you felt a warm blossom in your cunt as he shot into the condom, groaning roughly a mangled version of your name.

he slowed his momentum to small little grinds until you whined from overstimulation, belittled to noises and half-words. he pulled out and tied off the condom, dropping it into the trash by your bed and laying down next to you to catch his breath. you did the same, eventually catching the rest of your mind as well.

“that was probably the best sex i’ve had in my entire life, no lie.” you chuckled, voice still cracked and airy.

“we’re gonna have to change your sheets.” you looked down to see a soaked blanket beneath you and sigh in slight annoyance and embarrassment.

“i honestly didn’t know i could squirt. i’ve never done it before.” your chuckled elevated to a laugh, and he let out a bark of a laugh along with you.

“well, thanks for the prize money. now hop up, i’ll help you with laundry.”

[wagner-fell]

Mari kicked down the dressing room door with a bang so loud Kevin jumped and spilled his hot coffee cup all over himself. Hearing his yelps of pain, Astrid peaked her head out of the curtain, laughed at his expense then shut it again. Maria ignored that.

They strutted out to where the boys were sitting and struck a pose. “Can I rock cottage core or can I rock cottage core?”

Kit didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply nodded instead. While the baby blue dress with short, ruffled sleeves looked a bit out of place paired with Mari’s bulging muscles, she looked absolutely stunning.

The Merry Hoes were located in the back room of the antique store Kevin’s family owned. The Chu’s just got a large donation of vintage clothing. Mari had just gotten their pay check from the downworlder gym she worked at. Kit and Astrid really didn’t want to do their maths homework. It was destiny.

Despite being downworlders both Blessica and Kevin still lived at home. Mari, though, lived with the rest of their pack in an old Edwardian mansion a few blocks away from school. However the five of them slept over at each other’s place of residence so often they blurred together in the young Herondale’s mind. He could really only tell them apart by their smells.

Mari’s reeked of dirty laundry as they were one of four folks on the feminine side of the gender scale out of the lycanthropy of London, Blessica excluded. Her house smelled like Ube, a type of yam her Filipino parents put in everything. Kit couldn’t complain. Ube flavoured ice cream was the best thing he’s ever eaten. Aside from Mari. Though he wasn’t usually the one… Nevermind.

Kevin’s house smelled of Longjing tea and red wine. A peculiar combination that oddly enough, worked quite well.

Astrid had two homes as her parents divorced at the age of six. Stepping into her mom’s house was like stepping into a cookie factory. Which made sense as her mom owned a bakery and lived above it. Kit didn’t know exactly what Astrid’s dad’s place smelled like, let alone looked like, but he could make an educated guess that it was similar to the Los Angeles Institute because it was in LA too.

After they separated, Miss Yang fled to Devon to dodge the possibility of seeing her ex-husband when they exchanged Astrid. Kit related to her on a deep, personal level.

Now Astrid spent her summers in America and Kit drained his battery on international phone calls.

Her three months in the USA each year helped him bond with her better when they had first been introduced. For example, her ringtone was the Perry the Platypus theme song. Blessica, Kevin and Maria had no clue what it was but when the music reached Kit’s ears, the two sang an epic duet that put Kiss Me More (the second most iconic duet in history) to shame.

“How much is this anyway,” asked Mari, turning in a circle to see if there was a price tag. In the process she sent the fabric fluttering as she went. It made them look more magical than ever.

“There is no price on fabulousness,” said Astrid. She had on loose, black dress pants, a white shirt, and black suspenders with gold blemishes.

“Yes there is,” replied Kevin. “54 euros.”

“54 euros,” exclaimed Mari.

“Well it would have been €34 but you made me spill my coffee and this shirt was 20 so..”

“Seriously, Kev. I will fuck your mom. You think I won’t?” A pause. “Wait, only twenty €20?”

“Oh, I know right! There is this incredible thrift store down on Fleet Street and-”

“Don’t care,” interrupted Mar. She took one last look in the mirror before turning back to him. “I’ll give you your parents' price, not your dramatic ass’s one.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Fine. But it’s an extra €10 for the shoes.”

Mari looked down at her tan sandals. They leaned against the door they just excited to take the footwear off. “Racist,” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m literally Chinese.”

“Homophobic, then.”

“Pansexaul,” he sang.

Mari was silent for a moment before she banged on the door into the room Blessica was changing into her rose pink gown. “Blessie! Do I have permission to call Kev transphobic in your name?”

“Hey,” said Kevin, looking up from his task of rubbing a paper towel across his sheer, white shirt. “That’s cheating. Blessie, don’t listen to them!”

The nickname ‘Blessie’ was what her family exclusively called her. She turned red when they had first found out. Granted, it wasn’t hard to make Blessica blush. All she had to do was stand in Kevin’s general area.

“Blessica,” called Mari once again. When she still didn’t answer, Maria stood up and pressed their forehead against the changing room door. “You okay?”

“No,” Blessica croaked out finally. Her hoarse voice was laced with sorrow. Upon hearing her speak, Kevin abandoned any hope of saving his top and joined Mari at the door. Kit and Astrid were quick to follow.

“Hey,” said Astrid gently. “What’s wrong?”

Blessica began to sob. “The dress doesn’t fit right,” she whimpered.

“That’s okay,” soothed Kevin. “We have other sizes.”

“Kev, it doesn’t fit my body because it wasn’t made for my body. I just feel so ugly.” All the other Merry Hoes made various sounds of distress. Kit was instantly reminded of Dru,

He was suddenly fifteen again. In Ty’s bedroom as he told him of all the times she’d been told she wasn’t pretty by members of the Shadowhunter society. And all the times Emma or Julian or another member of her family had reassured her that she was. The thought occurred to Kit that maybe they weren’t Emma-y as Blessica needed them to be.

“It’s just like,” started Blessica, “I started taking Estrogen seven months ago, you know? And I still don’t have anything to show for it.”

His mind was racing a mile a minute. “Yes you do,” he said.

“I do?” she asked, sounding dubious.

“Your voice!”

“You do have a really nice voice,” agreed Astrid. “You could totally narrate audiobooks or something.”

“No it’s not,” grumbled Kevin.

“Kevin,” said Mari, glaring daggers at him. ‘Kevin’ in this case didn’t mean Kevin. It meant ‘Shut your mouth right or I will actually kill you’.

“No, not like that! It’s just…” he was blushing profusely now. “Her voice is like the rain. Most of the time it’s soft and warm and it wraps you in one big, wet hug. You can’t help but feel, well, blessed to get to feel it touching your skin.. But when it rains hard you feel every single drop land. But no matter what kind of rain it is, the impact is always enormous. Uh, yeah, her voice is like that.” There was a moment of prolonged silence, where Blessica had stopped crying but no one was brave enough to talk.

The door opened and Kit, Kevin and Astrid stumbled backwards. Mari didn’t. Stupid gorgous jock, Kit thought as she survayed her inferiourors.

Blessica stood in the open doorway. Her eyes were puffy and red. The dress looked perfect on her. Not that this style hadn’t looked perfect on Mari but their arms were so thick, they filled up the entire selve. Blessica was so petite you could see her bones clearly through the skin. It highlighted the flowness of the gown extremely well. “You guys like my voice?” Then, “why are you all staring at me, is it that bad?”

“Blessie,” said Mari. “You can’t just put on that in front of four people who like women and expect them not to stare.”

“Respectfully, of course,” added Kit.

“Just tell us if it makes you uncomfortable,” agreed Kevin.

“Step on me,” breathed Astrid.

“But then again,” said Mari, “you validate yourself too.”

“Run me over with a cement truck.”

“We can see your hot as fuck. But more importantly you have to believe you’re hot as fuck.”

“You could literally kill me and I’d get on my knees to thank you.”

Blessica was blushing as hard as Kevin now. They sheepishly smiled at each other before turning away. “Simp,” said Kit and he held out his hand. Astrid dutifully rewarded him with a high five.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am on the trans spectrum but I am not mtf. If you are and you feel misrepresented please feel free to private message me or just leave a comment tell me how I can fix it.

@the-wckd-powers @book-dragon-not-worm @thechangeling @the-blackdale @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @illusions-give-reasons-to-live @shelvesofgold @arangiajoan @maxboythedog @noah-herondale-lightwood @its-taff @cncnbr @sofiatheskeleton @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @adoravel-fenomeno

Let me know if I left anyone out. Also let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

I’m From Brooklyn, Too ~ 145

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

I’M FROM BROOKLYN, TOO MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count:  1,500ish

Summary: The final battle begins. (Look who actually updated, lol.)

Notes: You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time.

Y/N coughed as she began to come to. There was smoke, and dust, in the air. Sitting up, she saw what was left over of the compound. Virtually nothing. Just rubble, debris, jetted out metal She looked around, almost instantly noticing Steve’s shield off to the side. Y/N stumbled in the Iron Man suit as she got up and went to the shield. She took and and looked around for her brother. 

“Steve,” she gasped when she saw him not far off. She hurried to him and knelt down beside him. “Come on, Stevie,” she shook him gently. “Wake up.” He let out a groan, eyes blinking. “There we go.” Y/N held up his shield. “Please don’t lose this again.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, looking around as he sat up and took his shield.

“When you mess with time, it tends to mess back. You’ll see.”

Y/N helped Steve to his feet. Together they walked through the rubble until they found an opening. There they spotted Thor, looking at something out in the rest of the destruction. Following Thor’s line of sight, they found Thanos sitting with a weapon on a rock.

“What’s he been doing?” Y/N asked, coming to the left side of Thor and Steve went right.

“Absolutely nothing,” Thor responded.

“Where are the Stones?” Steve asked.

“Somewhere under all this,” Y/N replied, motioning around. “All I know is he doesn’t have them, but they aren’t too far. I can feel them.”

“So we keep it that way.”

“You know it’s a trap, right?” Thor said.

“Yeah,” Y/N answered. “And I don’t much care.”

“Good. Just as long as we are all in agreement.” Thunder cracked as Thor stretched out both hands, summoning Stormbreaker and Mjolnir (which he had brought back from 2013). His casual clothes transformed into an armor and cape, with his beard becoming braided. “Let’s kill him properly this time.”

The three of them walked down the rubble they were on and towards Thanos. Y/N was searching out the Stones, trying to gather the strength. But she wasn’t stupid. She knew it would take a lot of energy for her to fight off Thanos with the power of the Stones and she needed to save it for the perfect moment. Y/N was currently grateful for the suit that she had around her, and for FRIDAY’s ability to sense what she needed.

“You could not live with your own failure. And where did that bring you? Back to me,” Thanos stated, as the three slowly moved to surround him. “I thought by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible. And as long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

“Yep,” Y/N said. “We’re all kinds of stubborn.”

“I'm thankful. Because now, I know what I must do.” Thanos stood. “I will shred this universe down to its last atom.” He placed his helmet on his head. "And then– With the stones you've collected for me, create a new one. Teeming with life, but knows not what it has lost but only what it has been given.” Thor began crackling with lightning. “A grateful universe.”

“Born out of blood,” Steve responded.

“They'll never know it. Because you won't be alive to tell them.”

Then the fighting began. Not wanting to waste her energy by using her abilities just yet, Y/N relied heavily on Tony’s suit. Thankfully, FRIDAY basically took control because she had no idea how to use it. The three heroes were working together, battling Thanos.

“Thor!” Y/N shouted, her suit opening. “Hit me!”

Thor banged his two weapons together, sending an enormous amount of energy at her back. The suit absorbed the energy and Y/N shot it out of the chest piece and hands, aiming for the Titan. Thanos twirled his blade fast to divert the energy. Thor grabbed Stormbreaker and used it to bat Mjolnir to his Thanos. Thanos quickly grabbed Y/N before she could attack and used her as a shield, resulting in damage to the suit. She was tossed away, her head bouncing around in the helmet as she slide to a stop.

“Y/N, wake up!” FRIDAY urged when the AI noticed that Y/N had passed out.

“Y/N!” Steve exclaimed. 

When his sister didn’t immediately answer, Steve growled and went after Thanos. Steve tried to attack Thanos but was easily shielded away. Thor’s attack was quickly blocked by Thanos’ sword. Thanos grabbed onto Thor and lifts him up by the neck, choking him, before slamming him down and punching him. Mjolnir is flicked away as Thanos relentlessly beats up Thor, throwing him into a tree and socking him before throwing Thor over rubble and socking him again. Thor tried to grab Stormbreaker but Thanos grabbed it and used it against Thor. 

Form not too far off, Mjolnir began to float off the ground. Thanos was digging Stormbreaker into Thor, when suddenly Mjolnir flies into Thanos. It zoomed past, stopped, and then flew back the way it came. Both Thanos and Thor looked back in amazement as Steve wields the hammer.

“I knew it!” Thor said.

Frustrated, Thanos kicked Thor to the ground. Steve charged at the Titan, swinging Mjolnir, and hitting him in the face, knocking him down. Steve threw his shield and Thanos deflected. Steve threw Mjolnir to his shield, creating a shockwave and knocking Thanos off his feet. 

Steve then threw his shield at Thanos, quickly hitting it back at the Titan again with Mjolnir. He lined his arm up with Thanos to channel lightning his way. 

Thanos eventually got the upper hand, removing his helmet. He stabbed Steve’s leg and knocked Mjolnir out of the Captain’s hand. Thanos proceeded to destroy Steve’s shield with his double-bladed Soward and threw him across the battlefield. Steve staggeredly tried to get up.

“In all my years of conquest, violence, slaughter,” Thanos said, “it was never personal. But I’ll tell you now, what I’m about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet—I’m gonna enjoy it. Very, very much.”

The entirety of Thanos’ army was then summoned to the ground. Upon seeing the army descending onto Earth, Steve slowly got back to his feet. With a fierce determination, he tightened his broken shield to his arm and stood against the army. Alone. Suddenly, a crackling came in on his comm.

“Hey, Cap, you read me?” 

Steve stopped and looked around.

“Cap, it’s Sam. Can you hear me?”

A portal began to form behind the Captain.

“On your left.”

Steve looked behind to see the portal on his left side. Three figures stepped through; Okoye, Shuri, and T’Challa, all ready to fight. Sam then zoomed in from above. As he did, dozens of more portals opened up all around the battlefield. Through one of the portals, Doctor Strange appeared, joined by Drax, Mantis, Star Lord, and Spider-Man. Everyone on the battlefield watched in confusion and awe as more and more heroes arrive through the portals from all the corners of the universe. 

Y/N came to, her helmet disappearing as she sat up. Giant-Man (Scott) appeared out of the rubble with Rhodey, Bruce, and Rocket. Every one was lining up behind the Captain, all the teams and armies that Strange and the other sorcerers brought in to help. Y/N could feel the cry of happiness that wanted to be let leashed as she looked around. Suddenly, something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Bucky was rushing towards her, a big gun in hand.

“Doll!” He exclaimed. “Y/N!” He stumbled to a stop in front of her, quickly pulled her up and checking for injuries. “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? What are you doing in Stark’s suit?”

“Bucky,” Y/N breathed out, not really believing her eyes. Her armored hand shook as she reached up to brush some hair behind his ear. Her hand rested on his check. 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky smiled softly, putting his own hand on her cheek.

“I missed you, so much. And… we need to talk. But—“

“After.” Bucky nodded.

Y/N nodded as well. “After.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Stay safe.”

“You need to stay safe to, okay?”

“Of course.”

They took gave each other one last look before Y/N’s formed covered her face again and they joined the others.

“AVENGERS!” Steve shouted, everyone gearing up as he summoned Mjolnir. “Assemble.”

next chapter >

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[delaber]

Three-Point Perspective (Part 2)

Rafael Casal x Reader x Daveed Diggs

Note: Guys! When I wrote Three-Point Perspective, I wasn’t planning on adding a second part to it but the amount of support was so overwhelming that I just had to do a sequel ...And let me tell you; I am so glad you guys wanted it because this was so much fun! I have never been more challenged with a story-line, portraying emotions, changing perspectives, and just the plot in general. I have never never never changed a story-line as much as I did for this one, haha! Crazy amounts of shout-outs and thanks to my amazing mate @einfachniemand​ for listening to countless of ideas, for feedback on several snippets, for being supportive af, and for telling me “yeah, no, that doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.” Thank you boo! You are amazing! A huge thanks to @theatrenerd86​ for starting off this sequel by providing the settings - and for just being the most supportive human being ever! Mwah! Also a huge thanks to the rest of you for your endless support! I love this community! (Oh, and anon; thanks for the (quite old, sorry) prompt but I didn’t do it for Rafa (sorry once again)). Let me know what you guys think!

Words: 13.8K

Warnings: Oh my goodness, I don’t even wanna get started... Blood, heartbreak, angst (my three tropes)

Rafael

Rafa almost tripped over his own two feet as he stumbled over to the bar and desperately ordered a large whiskey shooter. He was having a hard time keeping calm; his heart was beating fast in his chest, his throat closing in on itself, his hairline soaked in panic-sweat. He needed to put what had just happened in the very seat he was standing in front of at a distance. His hands were still itching to punch something! He needed the fucking drink!

The bartender had barely stopped pouring Maker's Mark into a small glass before Rafa quickly grabbed it and chugged its contents down his throat, desperately trying to block out what he had just witnessed.

Your tongue in his best friend's ear.

Diggs' hand sliding up your thigh.

The sensual smile you'd worn as Diggs had whispered promising words in your ear.

"Oh god," Rafa groaned as he recalled your excited smile as his best friend had escorted you out of the bar, his hand dipping uncomfortably low on your hips.

Desperately clutching the now empty whiskey glass, Rafa tried relentlessly to push away the image of what you and Diggs probably were in the midst of doing right now. Oh shit, oh no... His chest was stinging, his stomach aching horribly at the thought of you and Diggs fucking. Oh god. He tried to shift his focus to the burning sensation down his esophagus instead and quickly ordered another shooter.

It didn't take long before the bartender had placed another glass of golden-brown liquid in front of him that he quickly downed in one go, thinking about how stupid he was for not having acted on his feelings for you earlier. He had had eight fucking years to do so after all?! Why the fuck hadn't he just pulled himself together and called you up?! He wanted to punch something! He wanted to get fucked up! He wanted to call someone and get them to deliver a big fucking bag of blow - but he settled on a third shooter.

He gulped down the whiskey as the aggression subsided and was replaced by the same type of jealousy-induced heartburn that he had felt earlier that night. Fucking Daveed Diggs and the way he always seemed to be able to wrap women around his little finger! In eight minutes, he had managed to do to you what Rafa hadn't managed to do for eight years. Fuck him!

A fourth whiskey went down Rafa's throat as the jealousy was replaced by hurtful pangs in his chest; shit it hurt to think about you and Diggs together. Rafa knew that you had had a few men in your life since the summer in the taco truck, and even though it had stung to see pictures of your romances on Instagram, it didn't hurt half as much as seeing his best friend escort you out of the bar.

He ordered another whiskey. And another one after that. And then an entire bottle of Jameson just to recall the taste of your lips that night on top of the skate ramps all those years ago. Quickly, Rafa gulped down most of the bottle, his eyes watering from the sharp taste of alcohol on his tongue, but no matter how much he drank, he still wasn't able to get image of you and Diggs out of his head. It had etched itself on the back of his eyelids, somehow becoming clearer and clearer with every gulp of fiery liquid.

It didn't take long before he had reached the half-way mark on the bottle of Jameson, completely lost in constantly checking his phone to see if you had tried to contact him to tell him that Diggs by some miracle had blown his shot. You hadn't. And even though Rafa doubted that you would, he still couldn't put the phone away.

He was fumbling about on the screen as he accidentally found Diggs' name on the list of contacts. Completely lost in contemplating whether or not he should call him up and tell him to stay the fuck away from you, he jumped a little when he suddenly felt a soft hand on his shoulder. For about a mili-second, Rafa believed that the soft touch belonged to you, but as soon as he had whipped around in his seat, he felt the disappointment cloud his mind as he was met by his make-up artist Janelle instead. "Oh, hey," he spoke in an uninterested tone of voice, his words a little slurred from the amount of whiskey he'd been drinking.

"Rafa, honey, are you okay?" She looked at him with kind eyes, "you seem a little out of it."

"I'm great," he slurred into his whiskey glass before emptying it for what felt like the 100th time that night, "I'm fucking perfect! This night's just absolutely fucking perfect."

Janelle furrowed her brows and pushed the bottle of Jameson out of Rafa's reach, "is it because of Daveed and -"

"- DON'T say her name," Rafa warned, his voice turning to a low drunk growl afterwards, "I don't want to think about it."

Janelle sat down on the empty barstool next to him and sent him a slow nod, "yeah, I was afraid this might happen..." she sighed and sent him a pitiful look.

"That what might happen?" Rafa drunkenly mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Honey... I've seen the way you look at her," Janelle whispered and reassuringly put her hand on Rafa's arm as she searched his face for any kind of affirmation. Rafa groaned and met her eyes shortly before she softly added, "- and I've seen the way Daveed looks at her too."

Rafa gulped to keep the slowly forming lump in this throat at bay, "...so you don't think it's just a one-night thing?" He croaked in a small whisper, the pain in his chest suddenly twice as hurtful as before.

Janelle shook her head slowly, shooting Rafa a careful look.

"And - uhm," Rafa cleared his throat "- do you think that - uh - she's into him as well?" He added in a whisper, his face involuntarily screwed up as he was afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know, honey," Janelle said diplomatically and pulled him in for a tight hug, inaudibly giving away that she definitely thought so. Rafa appreciated Janelle's attempt to salvage the situation and let her comfort him for a couple of seconds before she slowly let go of him again, sending him a heartfelt look in the process. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No..." Rafa mumbled and reached for the bottle that Janelle had pushed away moments before.

She grabbed his arm and forced it down in his lap instead, "why don't you leave the bottle and instead call it a night, boo? You've been drinking quite a lot already."

Rafa gulped a little and realised that she was right. Nothing good would come from sitting at the bar, drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey. "Yeah," he groaned as he ran a hand through his damp hair, "yeah... You're right. Might be a good idea..."

"Go grab your jacket. I'll call you a cab, okay?"

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled before scrambling to his feet, swaying a little from side to side. He managed to balance himself and stagger over to the coat check where he retrieved his leather jacket and slowly pulled it on with great difficulty.

"I got you," Janelle was suddenly behind him, helping him pull the jacket up his arms.

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled as he pulled on the collar to rearrange the leather over his shoulders.

"You wanna say bye to the rest of the crew?" Janelle piped from behind him.

He shot a quick glance across the room and towards the table that his friends were occupying. "I better set an example," he mumbled even though he'd rather be sitting in a cab on his way home right now.

With his arm around Janelle, and her hand on his chest to steady him, Rafa walked over to his co-stars, putting up his best attempt at a cheerful smile, "I'm off guys. Have a lovely evening," he slurred drunkenly.

He thought to himself that he was doing a tremendous job of hiding away his hurt feelings until he noticed their stiff smiles. Suddenly, he realised by the sympathetic looks they were all shooting him from their seats, that they were well-aware of what was going on. Rafa quickly scanned their silent, pained faces one by one until Alessandro - one of the leads - finally spoke up, "see you Monday boss!"

Annoyed with their pitiful eyes, Rafa mumbled a, "see you Monday, bruh," and turned around, facing Janelle again as the others awkwardly looked away. It made him feel stupid.

"Cab's outside," Janelle tried to smile and pulled him in for a hug, "are you going to be okay, boo?"

"I don't know," Rafa croaked truthfully against her neck and let her pull him just a little closer.

"Call me tomorrow, okay?" She let go of him, "We'll do something fun."

"Okay," Rafa slurred, his eyes stinging as he turned away from her and towards the exit.

Slowly, he stumbled out of the bar and hopped into the yellow cab outside, closing his eyes desperately in the backseat, trying to block out any thought of you and Diggs but failing horribly. The ride home was the longest drive of Rafa's life, his thoughts sporadic and unorganised but all centred around the same thing: what would he come home to? Had you and Diggs gone to your place? Or to Diggs' place that he just happened to share with Rafa? Fuck, he almost couldn't bear the thought of coming home to meet Diggs balls deep in you on the couch. Rafa would never purposely punch Diggs, but if he came home to face that, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back his itching fist.

"He's your best friend," Rafa mumbled to himself as a reminder, hoping to calm himself down, "he's your best friend. He didn't know. He's innocent... - well apart from fucking your girl..."

Everything inside him was on fire.

"You alright back there, mate?" The cab driver shot Rafa a look in the rear-view mirror, apparently concerned about the whispered words, he'd heard coming from the backseat.

"Yeah," Rafa replied unenthusiastically, a little annoyed that everybody seemed to be so concerned with him - but he eventually stopped thinking out loud.

For the remainder of the trip, the driver kept his mouth shut too but annoyingly enough constantly checked in on Rafa in the rear-view mirror.

Rafa was relieved when the driver finally pulled over outside his home and paid him quickly, slamming the car door shut with much force, hoping to alleviate some of the all-consuming itch that he felt deep in his bones. Little did it help. He still wanted to punch something.

Rafa turned his attention towards the house and gave out a short sigh before he started swaying up the paved pathway in the small yard, briefly stopping before he reached the front door. He prayed that you had taken Diggs to your place and not the other way around. He couldn't handle being faced with his worst nightmare - and especially not after having had so much to drink. Right now, he couldn't account for how he'd react.

He stood with his key in hand for a while, scared of what might come, but eventually realised that he would have to go inside at some point. With a deep sigh, he slowly slid his key in the lock and turned it around, his palms sweating terribly. He felt his heart sinking down to the bottom of his stomach when the key didn't meet any kind of resistance, and he realised that the door was already unlocked.

Fuck... Diggs had taken you here.

With a burning sensation in his chest, Rafa quietly pushed open the front door and stepped inside the small hallway, closing the door behind him with a small thump. He closed his eyes and threw his head up against the wooden door, forcing himself to relax by taking three deep breaths - a technique he had learned from his mother when he had been nervous about doing spoken words for the first time at fifteen.

He focused on his breathing for a few seconds and after having exhaled a third time - already more relaxed than before - he opened his eyes and took in the room. He immediately saw that the floor of the narrow hallway was decorated with several pieces of discarded garments strewn randomly about on the stone floor.

Diggs' pants. Your dress. Your bra.

"No..." Rafa groaned quietly as he took in the pieces of clothes with a hard gulp, the tears stinging in his eyes when he realised what he was being confronted with. "No, no, no!" he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath to get himself under control again. His entire chest was on fire, the taste of stomach acid thick on his tongue. Everything around him went quiet as he heaved in a big gulp of air, wishing that he had stayed sober tonight. This was all getting too much; he couldn't control it. He was too drunk.

He took another big gulp of air, and was just about to slowly exhale when a soft sound hit his ear canal... It was coming from the other room.

A moan.

A sweet, heartfelt, sensual moan.

From a woman - from you...

It was the result of a sincere reaction to something that had brought you immense pleasure. A moan that someone else had brought to your lips. A moan that Rafa's best friend had brought to your lips.

Fuck! The itch in his hands that he had felt for quite some time now suddenly became too much and he punched the wall hard, causing an old, framed picture of him and Diggs to fall down, the frame shattering in several pieces on the cold stone floor. He stared at the broken shards of glass for a few seconds, torturing himself by carefully listening for more of your sweet moans echoing throughout the house.

They didn't come, however. The entire house was suddenly completely silent. Thank god.

Slowly, Rafa squatted down to brush the glass-dust off your dress, the silky fabric soft between his fingertips as he pulled the dress to his chest, thinking about what it would feel like to be the one to pull it off you.

Without warning, however, the silence in the hallway was broken by another loud moan coming from Diggs' personal space and Rafa was quickly brought out of his trance. He had to get out of there! He would go to a hotel or something! Anything to get away from the sounds you were making for another man!

Slightly panicked, Rafa shuffled to get to his feet, but overbalanced and fell forwards, his left hand immediately softening the blow as a reflex. From the moment his palm hit the floor, Rafa felt a sharp pain in his hand, but didn't realise that he had cut himself before he rotated his elbow and saw the huge piece of broken glass that was prodding out of his palm. "You're kidding me," he groaned as he tried to focus on the glass shard before he grabbed it tightly and forcefully pulled it out of his skin, the warm blood immediately running down his hand as a terribly sharp pain started pulling at his fingers. "OH FUCK!" he exclaimed a little louder than he had intended to, unable to hold back in his inebriated state.

Pressing in on the wound to try and get it to stop bleeding, he hurried to the bathroom and quickly located an old towel that he wrapped tightly around his bloody hand. "Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" He groaned loudly and slid down the wall, his ass hitting the cold floor with a small thump. He could hear hushed voices coming from Diggs' personal space next door, and he realised that he had no idea what hurt the most; the thought of you lying in there wearing nothing but your panties, or his throbbing hand that had already bled through the old towel.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself as he replaced the old piece of cloth with a clean one, "ah fuck it hurts!" He hissed and tried to push the wound shut to get it to stop bleeding. It helped for a few seconds before the gash opened back up, fresh blood spilling out again. Just looking at it made him dizzy, and he realised that he couldn't handle this on his own. He was too drunk. He needed help. Embarrassed by himself and the situation he had put himself in, he took a deep breath before calling out the name of the last person on earth he wanted to see right now, "DIGGS!"

The hushed voices from the other side of the wall died down completely. They'd heard him. Still, there was no response to his cry for help. Meanwhile, the second towel around his hand was soaked through as well. What if he was about to bleed out? What if he was spending his last moments, pathetically heartbroken on his own bathroom floor?

"DIGGS!" he tried again, this time a little more panic to his voice.

The entire house was quiet still, and Rafa listened intently for few seconds before he finally heard an angry voice calling from the other side of the wall. "WHAT?"

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa called back, embarrassment flooding his voice.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Diggs bellowed back. Rafa had never heard him sound so annoyed before.

"Come on, man... I'm serious," Rafa let out a loud groan as he took in the bloody rag that was wrapped around his hand.

He heard cursing and shuffling on the other side of the wall and a few seconds later, the door to the bathroom finally swung open, revealing a very annoyed Daveed Diggs who was trying to hide away his boxer-clad erection with the palm of his hand.

Upon seeing how Diggs was already hard and ready to fuck Rafa's girl, there was no doubt: The pain in Rafa's chest definitely exceeded the pain in his hand.

Daveed

Daveed could not believe how lucky he was! He had barely closed the front door behind him before you had pulled him in for a string of sensual kisses in the dark. His lips were moving fiercely against your warm skin, your head lolling backwards as you panted and let him press you up against the wall in the hallway. He loved the sensation of your fingers tangled in his long hair as he attacked your neck and jawline with rough, affectionate kisses. You let out a small impatient pant as he untied the bow at the side of your dress, giving himself easier access to your beautiful build underneath as the dress opened up completely.

"Fuck, you look absolutely amazing," he cupped your ass and pressed his pelvis closer to you with a groan.

Your small fingers desperately undid the buttons of his shirt and Daveed quickly shrugged it off, finally standing in front of you in nothing but his dark blue slacks. His lips quickly resumed their positions on your neck where he immediately started sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin while running his hands all over your torso.

Your fingers desperately found the button of his slacks and Daveed felt the tight sensation of his pants against his crotch disappearing slightly as you brought down the zipper and slid the slacks over his hips. Your small hand was palming him through the cotton of his boxers, and he couldn't stop the groan that fought its way all the way from his stomach and up his throat. He heard you chuckling incredulously above him as you let your dress fall to the ground before you dropped down to your knees in front of him, determinedly pulling his boxers down over his thighs.

Daveed's mind went completely blank when he felt your hand cup his balls while your wet mouth found the tip of his straining erection. Your warm breath against him had him let out an involuntary groan, and when your plump lips kissed his engorged head, the sensation sent a shiver all the way up his spine. He pulled your hair away from your face and held it in a loose ponytail on the back of your head, your eyes interlocking with his in the process. Even though you had him between your teeth, the submissive look you sent him had him feeling incredibly in control! Without giving up eye contact, you kissed his head twice before placing a long, wet lick at the tip of his erection, immediately sending hard vibrations throughout his entire body. "Fuck," he groaned and caressed the side of your face when you wrapped your lips tightly around his head, sucking a bit at the tip.

"Mmmh, pull my hair!" you panted around him and he immediately tugged on the ponytail, buckling his hips closer to your face, desperate to feel the ecstasy of warm, wet, tightness around him again. To Daveed's relief you immediately obliged and slid your lips almost all the way down to his base and back up again, releasing him with a small pop.

"Oh fuck!" He let out a groan as he looked down into your huge, submissive eyes, slowly stroking your cheek. You repeated your motions, your tongue wet and soft against him as you bopped your mouth along his length, his hips meeting you half-way, "yeah, that's it, baby, just like that," he panted softly as you kept gazing up at him, upping the tempo and bringing him all the way down your throat with a slight gag, reminding him of how big he was.

Daveed had received many blowjobs over the years but never in his life had he felt more worshipped and desired! You were massaging his balls lovingly as you brought his length down your throat, hollowing your cheeks and making him feel completely taken care of as you focused solely on his pleasure and enjoyment.

He was just about to let go and cum down your tight throat before he reminded himself that he'd have to take it easy if he wanted to last long enough to fuck you. And holy shit, how he wanted to fuck you! He knew he was very good with his hips and hands and he wanted to bring you pleasures that you'd never even dared dreaming of before.

It was hard to do, but eventually he managed to pull himself out of your wet mouth and you to your feet with a gruff, "come here!". He unclasped your bra and tossed it aside before he pushed you up against the wall, took your nipple in his mouth, and ran his fingers along your lace-covered folds. You let out a soft gasp and he repeated the motions of his fingers while attacking your neck and throat with toothy kisses. You were panting and moaning underneath him, your hand still stroking his erection lovingly.

"Okay, okay, okay, you gotta stop," he licked the shell of your ear with a low chuckle, "I still have so many things I want to do to you," he smacked your ass and you let out a small whimper when his palm came in to contact with your skin.

Slowly, you let go of him and carefully caressed his abs instead as he re-claimed your lips. The kiss was deep and soft, and it made the straining sensation in Daveed's erection even more unbearable, but he was patient enough to not touch himself.

After a few minutes of intense, passionate kissing, you pulled your face away from his and looked up at him with a dark look in your eyes, "well, are you going to do something about it? Or are you going to just leave it at talking?" You chuckled against his skin.

"Don't get cocky with me," Daveed smiled and hoisted you up in his arms. You let out a small yelp, but still threw your legs around his waist and let him carry you to his bedroom while licking his ear. He carefully positioned you with your back against the mattress of his bed and hovered above you as he put his lips to your collarbone, slowly kissing his way down between your breasts, over your stomach, and stopping when he reached the top of your panties. He sat himself down on his knees in front of you, sending you a hungry look as he ran his fingers over your body. You looked him square in the eye and raked a hand through his curls, pulling his head back slightly. The anticipating look you were sending him made his erection twitch between his legs, but he still didn't touch it. Instead, he licked his lips and kissed the laces between your legs. "I love this colour on you," he growled against the thin fabric. He could feel you shiver underneath him as he pulled the red laces down your well-shaped legs, caressing your inner thighs lovingly. "Mmh," he hummed as you spread your legs for him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. Your chest was heaving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm as he placed small kisses on your skin, his tongue just barely grazing you. He enjoyed the way you closed your eyes and dipped your head low as he repeated this motion a few times.

Slowly, he slipped his tongue inside your folds, your lips gently spreading for him as he tasted you. You gasped slightly when he reached your clit and gave it a small flick before he slowly ran his tongue over you again. You were panting above him, your fingers caressing his scalp as your face was screwed up in pleasure. Daveed couldn't look away even if he wanted to!

He caressed the back of your legs with his hands before he had his fingers join his tongue at your core. Slowly, he inserted a finger into your wet heat and was rewarded with a deep moan escaping your lips. Desperate to hear you again, he inserted yet another finger, letting his digits and tongue work in unison until you finally let out another deep moan.

He could tell you were close to letting go completely, and it was all working out so nicely, your chest heaving up and down faster and faster as you moaned loudly for him, your nails finding their way to his scalp, pulling his face closer to you - when clash!

Out of nowhere, a loud shatter was heard from somewhere in the house. It sounded like glass breaking, but Daveed was used to Rafa's clumsy ass, so he ignored what he assumed was his best friend returning home after his night out.

Daveed did, however, feel you freeze slightly underneath him, and you pulled back the moan that had been just about to escape your lips and replaced it with a, "what was that?!" a slight panic to your voice.

"Relax, it's probably just Rafa," Daveed whispered and resumed his movements.

"What's he doing here?" You panted slightly but not as sensually as before.

"He lives here," Daveed growled against your skin, annoyed by the fact that your attention was suddenly directed at his best friend instead of the very pleasurable things he knew he was doing. To make sure that you forgot about Rafa, Daveed brought out the big guns and put his lips around your clit, vibrating them while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It worked expertly, and it didn't take him long before he'd earned himself another loud moan coming from you. You looked as if you were completely lost in the sensations, he was causing you - but not for long, because suddenly a loud "OH FUCK!" from Rafa rang throughout the house. It was followed by hurried footsteps as Rafa ran to the bathroom that was located next to Daveed's personal space.

Daveed felt you shuffle underneath him as you put your weight on your elbows and closed your legs slightly, craning your neck as you looked towards the wall that Daveed's personal space shared with the bathroom. You had a concerned look in your eyes that Daveed chose to ignore. Instead, he kept going with his fingers and tongue, but you weren't moaning anymore.

"Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" Rafa exclaimed loudly from the other side of the wall.

"Don't you think you should go check on him?" You asked quietly, your eyes still glued to the wall.

"No," Daveed said curtly, and tried to get you to lie back down again so he could continue. You didn't budge, however. You were more interested in the loud groan that was escaping Rafa. You let out a nervous laugh as you once again heard him cuss and groan from the next room.

"Ignore him," Daveed panted as he spread your legs apart again, his tongue immediately finding your core, and he was rewarded with a gasp from you. He had just started moving his fingers inside you again when he heard Rafa call his name loudly from the other side of the wall.

"DIGGS!"

Daveed froze for about a mili-second before deciding to ignore Rafa and continue moving his fingers inside you instead.

"Go talk to him," you chuckled and raked a hand through his hair, suddenly totally unaffected by his movements,

"He can wait. I'm far too busy," Daveed let his tongue run over you again, once more losing himself in your wonderful wetness.

Rafa however, pulled him back to reality by yelling out his name a second time, "DIGGS!!" causing you to slightly close your legs one more time.

"You're kidding me..." Daveed muttered under his breath as his face was forced away from your wet centre. "WHAT?" he ended up bellowing back to his best friend on the other side of the wall.

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa kept calling.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Daveed bellowed while looking into your amused eyes.

You were chuckling slightly, "he needs you. Don't you think you better...?" You sent Daveed a charming grin while nodding towards the door, "he sounds quite drunk..."

Daveed shot you a pained look.

"Go," you chuckled, "I'll still be ready for you in here when you come back. Don't worry."

"Come on man... I'm serious," Rafa bellowed through the wall.

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed groaned in an annoyed tone of voice and got up on his feet with a loud groan. He quickly located a pair of boxers and packed away his erection before storming out of the room, closing the door to his personal space shut behind him.

He found Rafa sitting up against the wall in the bathroom, his eyes swimming with alcohol. "What, bruh?!" Daveed demanded as he locked eyes with him, "what's so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"...Were you sleeping?" Rafa slurred while looking like a total fucking idiot as his drunk eyes scanned Daveed from head to toe.

"Of course I wasn't sleeping! I was in the middle of eating pussy when you ruined it!"

Rafa looked as if he was about to throw up, "...you're about to fuck her?" He slurred.

"Yes?! So make whatever you want to say quick, 'cause I got a soaking wet woman waiting for me on my bed!"

Rafa looked up at Daveed with a pained expression but kept his silence.

"I swear to god, if you don't speak up now and tell me what the hell made you call me out here, I'll kick your ass!"

Rafa sighed heavily, looking as if he was about to tell Daveed someone else's secret but eventually croaked, "I hurt myself," while holding up his left hand that was wrapped sloppily in a blood-soaked towel.

First then, did Daveed notice that there were several splodges of blood on the bathroom floor. It made him drop the attitude slightly, "Jesus fuck Rafa, what the hell did you do?" He groaned and crouched down next to him on the floor.

"I knocked down the frame in the hallway," Rafa slurred and let Daveed examine the deep cut in the palm of his hand, "cut myself on the glass."

"You did a thorough job," Daveed mumbled with a sigh as he lifted the towel to check out the gash that was still bleeding heavily, "come here, run some water on it. I'll find some bandages." Daveed turned on the faucet and helped Rafa find his balance as he quickly pulled him to his feet. He could tell that Rafa was struggling to stand still as he swayed back and forth while leaning in over the sink, playing a bit with the jet of water. Daveed sent him an annoyed glance; he did not have time for this! "How much did you have to drink after I left?" he asked, the irritation practically oozing out of him as he looked for the first-aid kit in one of the cabinets.

"I dunno," Rafa mumbled sleepily as he watched the water clean the blood away from his hand, "a lot?"

"Yeah, so I'd guessed," Daveed mumbled to himself as he located the first aid kit and quickly pulled out a couple of rolls of gauze. "Come over here," he urged Rafa to sit down on the edge of the tub next to him.

Rafa gave out a small grunt and turned off the water, before turning towards Daveed with lazy movements. Daveed had to bite his tongue to avoid telling Rafa to hurry the fuck up!

Rafa's ass had barely touched the white ceramic of the tub's edge before he lost his balance and vigorously swayed back and forth a few times, finally catching himself by throwing his hand up against the sink, leaving bloody handprints all over the bathroom in the process.

"Jesus Christ, Rafa!" Daveed groaned, he did not want to deal with Rafa's drunk ass right now, "look, I'll help you with your hand but I'm not cleaning up out here!" He said harshly.

"Then don't!" Rafa muttered as he slowly slid down to the floor with a loud groan, sending Daveed and irritated look in the process.

"Come on; give me your hand," Daveed demanded, determined to be done as fast as possible so he could get back to you.

Rafa held out his arm and Daveed rotated it to look for more injuries and noticed that Rafa had bruised his knuckles quite badly too, "...have you been in a fight?" He furrowed his brows.

"Just fix my hand, okay?!" Rafa shot Daveed an annoyed look, "Make it stop bleeding!" He slurred and gestured to the blood that was already dripping from his fingertips again.

Daveed gave out an irritated grunt as he started wrapping Rafa's bloody hand in gauze, "sit still!!"

"Oh fuck," Rafa groaned as Daveed slowly draped the gauze over the sensitive wound, "fuck it hurts."

"Quit your whining!"

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Daveed slowly looked up from Rafa's bloody hand and towards the door instead. You were poking in your head, looking curiously at what the two men were doing, your hair a big mess. "Is everything alright in here?" You asked carefully as you stepped inside, tugging on the oversized shirt you'd put on to cover up your naked body.

"Rafa cut himself - and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," Daveed rolled his eyes so Rafa couldn't see. He registered your amused smile just before he turned back to the hand in his lap, immediately noticing the small change in Rafa's flexibility as opposed to before you had stepped in. His fingers had somehow gone weirdly stiff, and by further inspection, Daveed realised that Rafa's entire body was suddenly tense, the muscles in his jaw continuously flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing. Still, Rafa didn't bat an eyelid, he didn't even emit a single sound. He was just silently staring at you, his eyes going up and down your front, his breathing hard and heavy. Daveed shot him a weird look out the corner of his eye. What the fuck was going on with him? He had definitely had too much to drink...

"'s that my shirt?" Rafa slurred to you as he took in your attire.

Daveed briefly looked up at you and realised that the oversized t-shirt you were wearing were indeed Rafa's favourite Raiders shirt that Daveed had borrowed the other day. Rafa had a weird look on his face, and it looked as if he was about the say something crude to you, so to diffuse the situation, Daveed spoke: "let it go, bruh," he said in an uninterested tone of voice before he quietly turned back to wrapping the bleeding hand. Why the fuck would Rafa care if you were wearing his t-shirt or not?? He didn't mind Daveed wearing it.

"Oh..." he heard you say softly from the doorframe, "Raiders... I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"Yeah, no. Don't be," Rafa said softly and Daveed was just about to give his best friend a mental pad on the back for having enough sense to bring his attitude around so quickly, but then he added an "- it looks good on you!" in a flirty voice that vexed Daveed so much that he felt a slow anger bubble in his chest. He let go of the bleeding hand and straightened his back as he looked over at Rafa with a hard look. He could not believe that Rafa had the nerve - the audacity! - to act so disrespectfully! What the fuck had gotten into him?! He had been a huge cock-block to you and Daveed and now he found it suitable to be flirting with you???

Daveed had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, in the meantime reminding himself that Rafa was drunk as fuck and probably not even aware that his words could be misinterpreted as more than just friendly... Therefore, he purposely ignored his best friend's impudent behaviour and instead made sure to keep his eyes down low so he could concentrate fully on wrapping up the bleeding hand, determined get the fuck out of there as fast as possible so he could get back to slipping you his famous techniques.

The wound in the palm of Rafa's hand was still bleeding quite heavily, and it didn't take Daveed long to realise that he needed more gauze to make the blood stop dripping onto the floor. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and looked over at you, "baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?"

You whipped your gaze away from Rafa's face, your eyes immediately finding Daveed's. The look in your eyes instantly shifted from something that Daveed couldn't quite place to soft and cute, a small goofy smile slowly erupting on your lips as you scanned his face. You didn't say anything, just sent him a curt nod before you quietly turned to the cabinet, looking for the first-aid kit on the bottom shelf. As you bent over in front of him, your t-shirt rode up high and Daveed got a beautiful glimpse of the red laces under the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing. Your panties were hugging your ass nicely, and for a moment, he forgot about the bleeding limb in his hand - all he could think about was touching you again! He wanted to snap the useless piece of fabric between your legs in two and delve his tongue into your wet heat, bringing you untold pleasu- ...he suddenly felt Rafa's fingers do a small involuntary twitch in his lap and he realised that his best friend was checking you out too, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes glued to your ass.

What the fuck was the matter with him? Had the roles been reversed, Daveed would never have checked out Rafa's girl!

Angry with his best friend, Daveed gave Rafa's arm a small smack while sending him a threatening look, daring him to keep staring at your ass. When his and Rafa's eyes interlocked, Rafa's face curled up in a sour expression but he quickly fixated his gaze on the floor in front of him instead, probably realising that Daveed could knock him out easily.

Meanwhile, completely innocent and oblivious to what had just happened behind your back, you stood up straight and handed Daveed two extra rolls of gauze before resuming your position in the doorway.

Apparently, Rafa had learnt absolutely nothing from Daveed's silent threats and immediately went back to staring at you again. Daveed contemplated shooting Rafa a verbal threat as well but decided against it when he realised how absolutely pathetic his best friend looked. He was drunk as fuck, his eyes all foggy and glossy. Daveed would confront him about his disrespectful behaviour tomorrow.

Still, the fact that Rafa was staring intensely at you while you were only wearing the slightly oversized t-shirt and your beautiful, beautiful panties underneath, made Daveed uncomfortable as fuck, so he worked double speed on Rafa's hand to get you away from the bathroom faster.  Luckily, with the fresh supply of gauze from you, it only took him a few more minutes before he was done with the wrapping, a sigh of relief travelling through his body as he finally let go of Rafa's injured hand.

The tension in the bathroom could be cut with a knife and Daveed took a deep breath to calm himself down before breaking the silence by saying, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

"Mmh," Rafa grunted beside him, clearly not pleased with the situation. His eyes were glued to you, and he was wearing a certain hungry look on his face as he drank you in - and Daveed realised that Rafa definitely was aware of what signals he was sending.

What the hell was going on inside his pea-sized, idiot brain? Did he want Daveed to punch him? Daveed was just about to grab him by the collar when he heard you piping from the doorframe, "...I can take you."

...what? Daveed immediately turned his attention to you and saw the soft look you were sending Rafa as you continued, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

What?! You liked Rafas stares?!

"You'd - you'd do that?" he heard Rafa whisper from beside him, a soft smile erupting on his best friend's lips.

Daveed didn't like it. He thought to himself that it looked as if the two of you had developed a secret language in the time it had taken him to wrap Rafa's hand. What the hell had he missed out on?

"Of course," you nodded slowly, your eyes still interlocking with Rafa's, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Rafa whispered, a hopeful look on his face, "thanks."

What the fuck was going on between you two?

Daveed watched you send Rafa a small smile, your face flushed. The sexual tension was thick between the two of you, and Daveed felt the jealousy burn in his chest as neither of you were looking away from the other. How the fuck dare Rafa flirt with the girl that he had brought home?! How dare he send you those hungry looks?! It was itching in Daveed's hands to do something about the long, continuous gaze between you and in his frustration, he curled his fingers and accidentally pressed on Rafa's wound, making him hiss in pain as he shot back an angry look. Daveed was far too busy looking over at you, however. You finally had your attention directed at him - and not Rafa - your eyes huge and doe-like, looking as if you'd just woken up from a trance. He shot you a look as if to say 'what the fuck is going on?' and you gulped guiltily.

Suddenly realising that he finally had the full attention of both you and Rafa, Daveed spoke up in a voice that was much more strained than he had intended, "Nope! Not gonna happen! Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way," he shot his best friend a hard look, "Rafa you can take a cab!" he turned his attention back to you, "Baby go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

He noticed your eyes skating between his own face and Rafa's and he sternly let out a "he'll take the cab, okay!" He didn't like the way you were looking at each other, and he still very much intended on fucking you tonight no matter how big of a cock-block Rafa was being!

He was trying to catch your eye, but you had your gaze firmly placed on Rafa again, seemingly unable to look away. Daveed noticed how you let out a small gulp as Rafa shot you a careful nod as if giving you permission to leave.

What the hell was going on????

He also noticed the long glance the two of you shared before you gently closed the door behind you as you exited the bathroom.

What! The! Fuck!

Daveed felt his chest bubbling over. He had never felt this way towards Rafa before, but his best friend had never looked more punchable! Automatically, his fingers once more pressed in hard on Rafa's wound.

"Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Daveed spat, "you're flirting with my girl!"

"She's not your girl just because you brought her home for one night, Diggs!" Rafa hissed angrily through gritted teeth.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Daveed felt as if his eyes were bulging out of his skull, "She's crazy about me! You should've seen the way she was begging for it at the bar!"

"Yeah, I saw everything," Rafa said slowly with anger in his eyes, a low growl to his voice as he drunkenly staggered to his feet, "I saw exactly how you swooped in and thought you could erase eight years of history between me and her!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Daveed hissed before his voice turned to frustrated yelling, "Rafa, you have no history with her!" he too stood up, so they were eye to eye, "you made out with her once eight years ago and now no one else is allowed to touch her?! If you wanted a shot with her, you should have done something ages ago!"

"I did do something ages ago! I kissed her!"

"Yeah! And then you had eight years of nothing! You didn't even talk to her! How the fuck was I supposed to know that you wanted to kiss her again???"

"You could have asked me!" Rafa yelled frustratedly.

"I could have asked you?! Come on, man!! You're thirty-three years old for fucks sake! If you wanted something to happen with her, you should've engaged yourself!"

"I was planning on doing so tonight!" Rafa hissed angrily, "and she would've said yes if it hadn't been for you!"

"No she wouldn't!" Daveed was minutes away from pulling out his own hair. How could Rafa be so thick?! "Don't you think that something would've happened by now if you both wanted it so badly?"

"Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" Rafa yelled angrily, sending Daveed a hard look.

Daveed let out a low growl, "yeah, meanwhile I was minutes away from actually fucking her! If she really wanted you, don't you think she would've given you more signals than a few pitiful looks because you're drunk and hurt? She doesn't want you, man!!"

"Fuck you!!!" Rafa spat angrily and shoved Daveed in the chest causing him to stagger backwards as he was pushed out of balance.

"What the fuck's the matter with you!" Daveed spat as he took a step closer to Rafa, balling up his fists and sending him a threatening look, "you really want me to beat you up?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want with me as long as you stay away from her!" Rafa yelled and gave Daveed another hard shove in the chest. His eyes were bloodshot and Daveed had never seen him this angry before.

"What the fuck's gone into you?" He yelled louder than before, "she clearly doesn't want you! Why can't you just let her go?!"

"Because I'm in love with her!" Rafa yelled loudly, spit flying everywhere. His eyes were huge and aggressive.

Daveed took a step backwards and stared at his panting best friend as his angry words sank in. Rafa's nostrils were flared, and it looked as if he was about to punch Daveed in the face.

...Rafa was in love with you? Daveed could punch himself! Why hadn't he seen it before? Of course Rafa was in love with you... He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he quietly spoke: "Yes - well I'm crazy about her too..."

Rafa was still panting heavily, his nostrils still flared as he shot Daveed a hard look - but he didn't say anything.

They had feelings for the same girl... Daveed frustratedly pinched the bridge of his nose as the realisation sank in; a girl had come between them. How high school... "Shit," he said quietly, "what do we do now?"

Rafa shot him a dark look and answered immediately: "you back down!" he said harshly but not as aggressively as before.

"I'm not going to back down, Rafa," Daveed answered him quietly. He full-on intended on making you his no matter what Rafa's feelings were.

"I've been in love with her for eight years!" Rafa spat angrily but he had stopped yelling, "You have for eight minutes! Don't you think it's more fair that you let me have a shot?!"

Daveed was getting more and more frustrated by the second but was happy that Rafa had chosen to use those exact words: "Exactly Rafa! You had eight years! You sat on your hands for eight years and you expect her to come running to you now? You expect me to let you have a shot? You've had millions of opportunities to do something!"

Rafa's face was still wild but his tone of voice was quiet and determined: "you saw the look she just sent me!" he said darkly.

Daveed had to give it to him; the way you'd been staring at Rafa had confused him too: "Listen, I don't know what the fuck that was, but if she had any feelings for you at all, why would she go home with me?" He said quietly, "why would she take off her clothes for me and not you?"

Rafa shook his head back and forth as if refusing to believe the argument, "No..." he croaked, "please don't say it like that, man..."

"Bruh..." Daveed sighed, "I'm sorry it is this way, but I don't know what else to tell you." He felt bad for Rafa but he wasn't going to back down. No chance.

"Please don't fuck her," Rafa pleaded quietly. His heart obviously broken.

"You know I'm not going to guarantee you that..."

"Just... Let me talk to her first."

"What do you expect to gain from that?"

"She wants to talk to me too..."

"Maybe - but it won't go your way. She's lying naked in my bed right now! She made her decision, bruh."

Rafa looked pained. He was clutching his chest with his eyes screwed shut, a small tear rolling down his cheek, "fuck!" he quietly worded before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

You

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed pulled himself away from you and on to his feet, desperately looking around the room for something to wear. He finally pulled out a pair of clean boxers from his closet, pulled them on, and hurried out of the bedroom to see what was going on with Rafa. He had sounded very drunk and even though you had been slightly amused by his constant swearing throughout the house, the sound of glass smashing combined with his drunk cries for help, had also left you a bit nervous that something serious might've happened to him. What if he had cut himself badly and Daveed couldn't handle it alone? Rafa was your friend too after all. You had to make sure everything was all right with him.

Quickly, you jumped from Daveed's bed, pulled on your panties, and looked around the room for something to wear that could cover your body as your own dress had been discarded during the make-out session in the hallway. You quickly located a black t-shirt that was casually thrown over a chair in the corner of the room and pulled it over your head, grateful that it covered you all the way down to the top of your thighs. Ready to leave Daveed's bedroom, and with your hand already on the doorknob, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were decent. You tried padding down your messy sex-hair but the sound of Rafa hissing in pain from the other room had you abandon any thought of trying to fix your looks - Rafa's injuries seemed much more urgent. Forcing your eyes away from your own reflection, you opened the door to the hallway instead and listened for their voices.

"Just fix my hand, okay?! Make it stop bleeding!" you heard Rafa slur from the room next door. He was clearly very drunk.

"Sit still!!" Daveed growled.

It sounded as if they had the situation under control and you were just about to go back to Daveed's bed and wait for him there when you heard Rafa exclaim, "Oh fuck! Fuck it hurts!"

It made you do a U-turn on your heel and you decided to check in on the two men to see if they were in need of any extra help. Softly, you knocked on the door but didn't listen for an answer as you immediately poked in your head and took in the scene in the small bathroom: the two men were sitting next to each other; Daveed on the edge of the bathtub with Rafa's bloody hand in his lap while Rafa was splayed on the floor looking very drunk. Both of them were looking directly up at you with equally soft expressions on their faces. Daveed's eyes were loving as he silently apologised for having to help his best friend clean up. Rafa, on the other hand, was staring up at you with a sorrowful look on his pale face, his eyes huge and red-rimmed, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he gulped hard.

The tension between them was thick, the air cold. Both of them clearly equally annoyed with the other.

"Is everything alright in here?" You asked quietly as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, tugging on your t-shirt to prevent it from riding up.

"Rafa cut himself..." Daveed rolled his eyes so only you could see before he continued, "- and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," he shot Rafa an annoyed sideway-glance before he turned his attention to the gauze and Rafa's blood-covered hand in his lap.

You watched Rafa send Daveed an equally irritated glance, looking as if he was biting his tongue to keep himself from retorting something nasty. He had probably already realised that he needed Daveed's help to get the wound to stop bleeding and that he wouldn't get it by being crass. So instead, Rafa silently let Daveed wrap his hand as his eyes slowly found yours, his expression immediately changing from annoyed to soft.

You sent him a small reassuring smile and a goofy expression emerged on his drunk face when he happily reciprocated it. You let out a small laugh at his expression and he blinked a few times, looking as if he was saving the sound on his mental hard drive. His foggy eyes were softly gazing up at you with a soulful look, and he looked drunk but cute as he took you in, a weird undertone in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. It was a look that you recognised from somewhere, but not from him - from someone else. You scanned his face one more time, raking your brain to find out from where you knew the gaze, he was sending you, but it wasn't immediately clear. Suddenly however, you realised that it was the same look that Daveed had sent you several times over the last couple of weeks. It was a look of longing.

Softly, you cocked your head at him, and he sent you a small, sad smile in return, his green eyes kindly taking in your face before they travelled down your body, ultimately landing on your chest. You immediately folded your arms, and he looked back up into your eyes, your eyebrows now arched in an unimpressed manner, silently tell him that he'd been caught staring red-handed. His face screwed up in a painful expression and he paled a bit before he quietly slurred, "'s that my shirt?".

Unaware of what he was talking about, you looked towards the mirror above the sink on the opposite side of the bathroom wall, and when you caught your own reflection, you realised that he hadn't been staring at your chest. He'd been staring at the logo on the t-shirt. The Raiders logo - his football team. You weren't wearing Daveed's shirt. You were wearing Rafa's.

You'd seen him in it multiple times - hell, he'd even worn it the night you'd kissed on top of the skate ramps. You remembered because every so often your mind wandered back to that night. Played it on repeat. Rafa's hand on your thigh as Stevie Nicks' voice rang in the background. Your tongues intertwining. The stubble on his chin soft between your fingertips. The scent of his warm cologne. The thought of your passionate kiss that summer night eight years ago was enough to make a warm feeling appear in your stomach.

Still looking at yourself in the mirror, you let your arms drop to the side and took in your own reflection. The t-shirt was a few sizes too big for you and it covered you like a short dress, just barely reaching below the red panties you were wearing underneath. The Raiders logo took up most of the front of the shirt and the logo curved nicely along your breasts and waistline, making the oversized men's shirt actually look as if it'd been tailored to you. You liked this look. You actually looked good in Rafa's t-shirt.

From far away you heard Daveed's voice, "let it go, bruh," and it pulled you back to reality.

"Oh... Raiders..." you said quietly, unable to pry your eyes away from the way the t-shirt was hugging your curves. No wonder Rafa was staring at you. You had gone home with his roomie, yet you'd put on his shirt - and you even looked good in it. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise," you croaked.

Rafa was looking as if he was thinking about the same thing as you, and for a second you were afraid that he might get angry about the fact that Daveed's flirt was wearing his beloved Raiders t-shirt, but he just softly said, "yeah, no. Don't be. It looks good on you..."

You didn't react to his words but merely stared at yourself in the mirror as the memories of your Tacos Locos summer once more flooded your mind - and you slowly felt a dull ache in your chest when you looked back at Rafa's pained expression and realised that maybe there was a reason for his look of longing, his quiet, pained reaction to seeing you half-naked in his shirt when you'd gone home with his best friend. He probably wasn't as cool with you and Daveed as Daveed had let on. Maybe your suspicion about why Rafa had invited you to join his production was right after all...

Oh no.

The thought of kissing Rafa again had grazed your mind several times in the period of time between his phone call offering you the job, and your first day on set where you'd been introduced to his best friend for the first time. Daveed, however, had immediately pushed every sensual thought of Rafa out of your head and had instead replaced them with unholy thoughts about himself. The sexual attraction that you had felt towards Daveed for the past month was insane and you were definitely crazy about him! ...Still, you wondered if he was the type of man, you'd still fantasise about eight years after having shared a passionate kiss in the dark. The same way you so often had found yourself fantasising about Rafa.

...had you just made a huge mistake?

Rafa's cheeks paled considerably as his gaze constantly shifted between your face and the Raiders logo. He was clearly affected by the fact that you were wearing his shirt and nothing else, and it looked as if he was having a hard time sitting still. The tender yet hurtful look he sent you made you feel horrible about yourself and all the decisions that had led to this exact moment. What if things had been different back in the taco truck eight years ago? What if he had actually taken you home after one of your late nights out? And what if Daveed hadn't been so persistent in hooking up with you over the last couple of weeks? If he hadn't been so smooth and charming, would he still have been able to swoop in right before Rafa? Or would you eventually have gone home with Rafa instead?

Would it feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight?

Oh no...

"Shit!" Daveed's voice brought you back from your panicky train of thought. You looked over at him, his face sweet and innocent as he was helping his best friend recover, and you realised: no, it wouldn't feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight. But it would feel just as right as sleeping in Daveed's.

"Baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?" he continued.

Baby. It had slipped out of him. He hadn't even realised it... The caring, handsome man in front of you had called you baby and you couldn't help but send him a small smile as it had made you soft. You were baby to him.

Rafa had a reaction to the pet name too: he looked as if he was about to murder Daveed.

Desperately trying to untangle yourself from the situation you had put yourself in, you turned over to the cabinets and pulled out more gauze, promptly handing it over to Daveed before resuming your position in the doorframe.

Immediately, you and Rafa went back to staring at each other again, both unable to look away. The looks he was sending you were deep and longing, his eyes pained as he grew more and more tense with each passing second. He looked as if he wanted to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you tight. Shit.

Your eyes were flickering fast between the two men: both of them sweet and handsome. Both of them crazy about you. You couldn't decide whether or not you had made a mistake by choosing to go home with Daveed tonight.

Daveed broke the tension in the small bathroom when he in an irritated tone of voice said, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

Rafa let out a small grunt without looking away from you. It looked as if he wanted to tell you something but was unable to with Daveed being present. It was heart-breaking.

You liked Daveed very much but realised that you had to talk to Rafa as well. You had to hear what he had to say, "...I can take you," you piped up in a voice that was weirdly nervous, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

"You'd - you'd do that?" Rafa said in a whisper and sent you a warm look.

"Of course," you nodded slowly, suddenly desperate to talk to him, to hear his thoughts, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Rafa said quietly, his pained expression now completely replaced by a hopeful one.

Daveed had definitely noticed that something was going on with you because the annoyance was practically seeping out of him though he was trying his best to keep calm. He did something to Rafa's hand that had Rafa hissing in pain and shooting Daveed an angry look with his lips pressed together in a thin, white line.

Your eyes whipped over to Daveed as well. He was sending you a hurt look that said 'what the fuck are you doing?' and you gulped guiltily. Had he realised that you were unsure about what to do with the two men in front of you?

"Nope!" Daveed said loudly, shaking his head vigorously, "Not gonna happen. Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way. Rafa you can take a cab!" he shot Rafa a hard look before he turned back to you, his eyes soft, but his voice full of irritation, "Baby, go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

There it was again. Baby. You looked into Daveed's soft brown eyes that were looking pleadingly back at you, your knees immediately weak. Slowly, you let your gaze wander a bit to the left and met Rafa's huge green eyes too. They also made you feel incredibly soft.

Daveed noticed your gaze drifting over to Rafa and harshly interjected, "he'll take a cab, okay!"

Rafa sent you a slight nod as if to say that it was alright for you to leave, and that he could handle Daveed and his bleeding hand on his own. Meanwhile Daveed was staring at his best friend with a murderous look in his eyes. You realised that they had to resolve some stuff too, so even though it hurt in your chest, you slowly turned away from the two men, and walked back to Daveed's bedroom. Just before the door to the bathroom closed behind you, you heard the beginning of an argument between the two friends: "Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

To which Daveed angrily responded with a "What the fuck was that all about? You're flirting with my girl!" It was more a statement than a question.

You sat awkwardly on Daveed's bed, unsure of what to do now. Daveed had noticed the long looks between you and Rafa. Shit. Even though you hadn't intended it, you had still managed to turn them against each other.

You could hear their angry voices from the other side of the wall, but you didn't want to listen in on their private conversation, so you put your fingers in your ears. Their shouted words were not meant for you. It was a desperate conversation between two best friends, and even though you could've easily followed their screaming match, it didn't seem right to do so. Desperately, you pressed in on your ear canal and started humming softly to tune out most of their angry words. Still, snippets of their loud conversation penetrated your ears.

"Rafa, you have no history with her!" Daveed was yelling before Rafa's voice was heard a few seconds later: "Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" followed a little while later by a loud "Fuck you!" from Rafa and an angry "you really want me to beat you up?" from Daveed. They kept yelling loudly at each other, but you tried not to decipher their angry words as you found them private. There was a reason why they had sent you out of the bathroom after all.

After a few minutes, their angry yells finally died down completely and were instead replaced by muffled words in normal voices that you couldn't make out even if you tried. You slowly removed your fingers from your ears, instead burying your face in your hands, angry with yourself for having let it come to this.

Their muffled voices could be heard for a few seconds before the sound was disrupted by someone retching.

One of them was throwing up, the other completely silent. You listened intently for a few seconds to see if you could make out who was throwing up, hoping that the other would say some words of comfort, but neither of them spoke, and after about a minute of silence, you heard footsteps approaching the room you were lying in. The doorknob twisted and Daveed entered the room slowly, his eyes full of pain as he took you in. He sat down on the bed next to you, panting hard, obviously very upset about the entire situation. It hurt seeing him like this. And it hurt thinking about Rafa lying alone in the bathroom. You dried an annoying tear away from your cheek and just barely managed to reset your face before Daveed looked up at you with a sad smile. You did your best to look casual as if you hadn't got the faintest idea of what their screaming match had been about. You acted as if wearing Rafa's shirt meant nothing. Seeing his pained expression had done nothing. Hearing him sob in the bathroom made you feel no ways.

"Everything okay?" You asked Daveed carefully.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"How about Rafa?" you said quietly. Even the sound of his name hurt in your chest.

"He's..." Daveed's words died in his throat as he frustratedly buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh.

You gulped, "is he okay alone out there?"

"Can we please not talk about Rafa right now?" he said slowly.

"Yeah..." you nodded quietly, "come here," you folded your arms around his chest, hugging him tight. He pulled you on top of him and hugged you back, his strong arms squeezing you, bringing you comfort as if he knew what you were going through as well. You sat like this for a few seconds, your arms wrapped tightly around each other comforting the broken feeling you both felt in your chests until his lips slowly found their way to your neck, leaving sweet, sensual kisses to the side of your throat.

"Look," you said quietly, pulling yourself away from him and looking into his chocolate brown eyes, "it's not that I don't enjoy this, but I just think it's for the best if I go home."

"What? No?" Daveed looked up at you with a pained expression, "come on, we can't let Rafa ruin our night," he groaned and moved closer to you but suddenly paused, "unless you don't want to of course. I don't want to force you into anything," he looked carefully at you and you understood why. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable with the decision you were making. Comfortable with him.

It made you realise that the fact that you were lying in Daveed's bedroom half-naked, meant that you had made your choice long ago. You needed to stick with it.

"Yeah, okay," you said and moved your lips close to his, kissing him softly.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," he groaned against your lips and you felt him breathe a sigh of relief as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He quickly pulled Rafa's t-shirt over your head, and harshly threw it onto the ground next to the bed. You couldn't help but think of the symbolics in his heated gesture.

His warm hands immediately found your breasts and he started running his fingers over your nipples with a low growl. You enjoyed the confident, hungry look he sent you as you were once again bare-chested in front of him. He moved his face closer to yours, "I still fully intent on making you feel good and make you let loose a little," he repeated his words from earlier that evening with a smile and carefully pushed you down on the bed, a warm shiver travelling up your spine with his words and movements. He hovered above you before his lips started pressing small, peppered kisses to the side of your throat, his one hand running down your stomach and dipping down between your legs, making you gasp softly. His lips moved over your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, and making you arch your back against him, as you felt his erection pressed up between your legs. He groaned as he pushed his boxer-clad erection closer to you, looking down at you with an erotic spark in his eye. Your fingers found his soft hair and you raked a hand through his curls and reciprocated the look he was sending you; dark and sensual.

You were both getting lost in the sensations you were causing each other when you were interrupted by the sound of Rafa retching and his heart-breaking sobs from the next room. It made your stomach ache horribly and you interrupted the kiss with Daveed, looking towards the wall to the bathroom instead. "I'm sorry, I can't just leave him alone with that..."

"What? You're not serious?" He looked at you with a disappointed look on his face.

"Listen to him," you said softly, as Rafa let out another heartbroken sob.

"He'll be fine," Daveed responded harshly before he resumed kissing your throat.

You pulled your face away from him, raking a hand through his hair one more time, "he's your best friend. Do you really want him to be alone right now? He sounds so heartbroken."

"Trust me - you do not want to deal with him right now."

Rafa retched loudly.

"I'm sorry," you kissed Daveed briefly, "but I have to make sure he's okay. I'll be back in a second."

Daveed let out an irritated grunt but eventually let go of you so you could crawl down from his lap. You quickly found the Raiders t-shirt on the floor and pulled it over your head, exiting the bedroom in a swift motion.

You knocked quietly on the door to the bathroom and found Rafa lying on the floor next to the toilet sobbing quietly. "Rafa, honey, are you okay?" you said softly as you sat down next to him and carefully put your hand on his chest.

He took a deep breath and looked up at you with wet eyes. The gaze he sent you was bloodshot, but he wasn't as pale as before. Throwing up some of the alcohol had definitely done him some good. "Hey," he whispered in a raspy voice as he put his good hand on top of yours, closing his eyes again taking three deep breaths. You noticed that he didn't answer your question.

As you pulled your hand away from his chest to fix him a glass of water, he groaned at the lack of touch and sat up straight, sleepily resting his head on the edge of the tub, looking at you with tired, sad eyes.

"Are you done throwing up?" you asked him as you handed him the glass.

He took a big gulp and nodded "I think so... Listen, can we talk?"

You sent him a small smile, "tomorrow, okay?" you didn't want to cause him anymore heartbreak tonight, "let's get you to bed," you held out your hand.

"Yeah, okay..." he took your hand and let you pull him to his feet. He was still very drunk, so you had to help him with his balance, your arm tightly wrapped around his waist, "come here," you chuckled and walked him to his room with his arm draped over your shoulder. As soon as you entered his personal space, he threw himself down on the bed with a loud groan.

"You're not going to disrobe?" you chuckled at him.

"Yeah, no... I don't care right now," he said and closed his eyes, "I just want to sleep... Let this absolute shit night be over."

You guiltily shook your head and forcefully pulled off his Chelsea boots and socks.

"Are you trying to get me naked?" He joked sleepily from the bed; his eyes closed.

"I'm trying to get you comfortable," you chuckled, "you have to take off your shirt and pants yourself."

Rafa groaned but sat up straight before he pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes were still closed, and his long hair was falling in unruly strands around his face. He looked exhausted as he undid the button on his pants and slid them off himself, plumping down on the bed afterwards.

"You don't think I'll bleed to death, do you?" he groaned and lifted his bandaged hand a little.

"I'm absolutely positive you won't," you chuckled at him, "if it's still bleeding tomorrow, I'll take you to the hospital, okay?"

"Okay, can't wait," he smiled sleepily and gave out a quiet snore as if he'd briefly fallen asleep. He was lying flat on his back which gave you time to study the tattoos he had on his chest and forearms. Some of them you didn't like, others were beautiful. He had one on his pec that you'd never seen before.

"If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," you read out loud, looking at his chest.

Even though Rafa had his eyes closed and looked as if he was just about to fall asleep again, he knew what you were talking about and softly tapped the tattoo he had on his pec, "that's right," he slurred with a small smile. For the first time since he'd cut himself, he looked as if he was peaceful, and you tugged one of his long strands of blonde hair away from his eyes and behind his ear instead. Your fingers lingered on his cheek for a second and he kissed your palm with a small hum, "that means that I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," he whispered before he drifted off completely.

"Alright Rafa," you chuckled quietly as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. He had started breathing heavily, already fast asleep, "thanks for explaining the words of your tattoo with the exact same words!" You got up from the bed and quietly closed the door behind you as you walked out into the hallway.

You'd only walked a few steps towards Daveed's room when the meaning behind Rafa's sentence hit you and you froze in place. Inside your head, the written words of the tattoo and Rafa's whispered words played on repeat. He hadn't explained the tattoo to you. He had told you that he loved you.

He loved you. Rafa was in love with you.

And you were walking towards the bedroom of his best friend. You turned your head slightly, looking towards Rafa's room. Should you go back to him? Or continue to Daveed? You were completely frozen in time, desperately looking between the two bedroom doors on either side of the bathroom in the hallway, realising that even though you might have been lying naked in Daveed's arms only minutes before, Rafa's words hurt so much in your chest that your decision-making was far from over.

Rafa's room was to the left. He had just confessed his feelings for you. Or, he didn't just have feelings for you; he was in love with you. Probably had been since your summer together in the taco truck. You wouldn't say that you were in love with him, but there was definitely raw, heated attraction towards him on your part as well, or you wouldn't still be thinking about your drunk kiss in the dark eight years ago, the way he was always able to make you laugh, his soft, green eyes. It hurt in your chest to think about how you'd potentially wasted eight years without him by your side. If you went to him, you'd either finally be able to stop thinking of him as 'the one who got away' and actually engage in something romantic with him - or you'd see that eight years of absence might have grown the heart so fond that you had put him on a pedestal that he couldn't live up to.

Daveed's room was to the right. He was waiting for you in there, probably ready to fuck you so good that you wouldn't be able to remember your own name. The preview he'd given you earlier tonight had definitely shown you that he was able to bring all your sexual fantasies to life! And you had craved his touch for so long, to feel his strong hands on your body as he slid into you while whispering sweet words in your ear. You and him definitely had some insane potential - not to mention the fact that he was already calling you baby! He was so crazy about you that you were baby to him! - but did you feel the same emotional attraction to him? Or was the warm feeling in your stomach whenever you looked at him all due to sexual attraction? Could you and he ever become more than raw passion?

No matter what, you'd have to choose between them. You couldn't have both. With whomever you chose, you'd never be able to have the other.

Carefully, you weighed both your options; left or right? Rafa or Daveed?

You started at both of their doors, unsure about where to go, but eventually made a decision. With a deep breath, you stepped closer to the wooden door, grabbed door handle and stepped inside, softly closing the door behind you as you took in the handsome man on the bed.

Tagging: @exrthangel @theatrenerd86 @lonelydance @ohsoverykeri @summerofsnowflakes @ramp-it-up @alexander-hamilhoe @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @riiyy @mysearchforgratification @janthony-stan @sillyteecup @biafbunny @einfachniemand @cashskid @namelesslosers @simpinforu​ @diggsbeatriz​ (Imma keep tagging you unless you say something lol).

....No spoilers in the comments please :-) 

[katsukikitten]

WARNINGS : N!SFW 18+ AGED UP AU! SOME SCENES MAY CONTAIN GRAPHIC CONTENT, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YANDERE THEMES GIF MADE BY ME

It started out with a package.  

Roses really, neatly tucked away in plastic and a glass vase that nestled into loud styrofoam.

Or at least that's when you started to notice it.

Actually it started with a phone call didn't it?

Just a few days ago the old rotary phone,  the one you bought for nostalgia, rang. This in itself was not odd, you picked up the aged yellow receiver and pressed the cool plastic to your ear.

But you did not speak, waiting patiently for the other line to come to life. After a few moments of silence you figure it to be a telemarketer, the automated type that doesn't start its spiel until it hears a tone, a voice. So you hang up.

The random call lost to both time and thought.

But you cannot forget this package that acted as a catalyst, to what you were not sure.

You just knew it was something.

The white box with the flower company's name on the side of the cardboard sat on your concrete steps, just past the waist high fence. You were returning from a run, huffing as you bent over, you figured it was most likely for your neighbor but it had your address. The recipient's name had been worn off from the poor handling of the package, you had figured the contents to be broken. Despite the state of the box the roses were perfectly intact. Crystal vase sparkling even through the opaque wrapping, a note on top that read.

I'll love you always.

Ah so this was not for you. You scoff, this was meant for your neighbor as you first originally thought. It made more sense that way. What with his boyfriend being long distance, it was obvious. He most likely remembered his address wrong and put yours in error. As you're haphazardly closing the box, keeping the note in hand, your neighbor waltz from his door.

"Ah, um Denki-kun" You call,  a bright smile beams on his face as he makes his way to meet you at your shared fence.

"Love!" He greets, strong hand giving your bicep a soft squeeze, "Ah flowers? Spill!"

"Well they aren't mine. I...I think they're yours. Here." You shove the box and note into his hands, stupid tears trying to prick your eyes.

Why? You were unsure.

Maybe you were a bit jealous. Thinking back you couldn't remember the last time you had even had a flirtatious comment or cat call sent your way. You lived a normal quiet life with your "abnormality". Quirkless. You worked from home, spoke to a select few and hardly left your house. It contributed to your wait gain thus adding to your small list of places to go.

The grocery store.

And the gym Denki invited you to or around the block for a run.

After a gurgling amount of time you finally achieved your dream body. Now all that was left was to maintain it.

"Wait!" Denki calls, "This isn't my boyfriend's handwriting."

Furrowing your brows, hand on the handle the answer comes to you.

"Probably just one of those fonts meant to look like handwriting."

"No, come look. It was made with a ballpoint pen." Nothing escapes his pro hero trained eye, his finger slides beneath the words, "He seems passionate! Lucky duck look at how deep love is."

He passes the card to you, giving you a wink as he passes the white box. Sure enough there are divots in the card stock, love is the deepest. Deep enough it almost ripped through the thick paper. You swallow thickly racking your brain, your job requires you to have answers to every question. Logical answers. So it's no surprise your mind wanders until it comes up with something. Your eyes shift to the right, you were lucky enough for your little house to be on the corner of the block.

The delicate roses must have been intended for your neighbor diagonal from you. You wait until Denki is halfway down the block before you rush across the quiet street to set the flowers up neatly on the porch. Throwing the box and wrapping into the trash before you speed walk into the safety of your sanctuary.

Your cats prance to the door to greet you and then sprint to the kitchen to be fed. As if you hadn't just fed them before your run a little less than an hour ago.

The rest of your night is uneventful. You curl on the couch, nestled deep within an old cardigan and the comfort of your leggings with a pile of work to be analyzed. To find the devil in the details and solve what seemed unsolvable.

The answers were always there, under your nose. Found easily by your trained eye but how could you not see the obvious answers when you had the luxury of a bird's eye view. The luxury of knowing the whole story from the shakey beginning to the bitter end.

A luxury you would not have for your own story.

The shrill ring cuts through the comfortable silence causing you to jump from your skin, the cats perk their heads up lazily to see what disturbed them before tucking their head back down.

You tell yourself it's a wrong number, a telemarketer but curiosity is beginning to get the better of you.

And curiosity is a deadly, loud thing. Louder than reason. Reason you had learned from the safety of your home, from other people's mistakes. The same very mistakes that sit on your lap with harsh red ink labeling them C L A S S I F I E D.

It rings a fourth time as you stand, the bell calling out for your attention, demanding you speak. You lift the receiver, again there is silence on the other end.

You wait patiently, is this another automated telemarketer? Had you entered your real number by mistake for one of those stupid store discounts?

You must have, still you resist the urge to tap the speaker of the phone to see if it would trigger the recording.

Instead you drop the receiver onto the base, rattling the hidden bell.

And that was that, you return to your work. Pouring over the details to find the pattern, to build a psychological profile to avoid a tragedy in the future.

Ironic how you cannot prevent your own.

It isn't until a few weeks later does the first letter find its way into your mailbox.

It seemed harmless enough you thought it to be an accident, just neatly looped words proclaiming their love. But it was never fully addressed to you and when you tried to pass it off to Denki, again he denied that the letter belonged to him.

Still, those looping letters twist into your memory, coming to the forefront of your mind every now and again. As if the paper that lies on your dining room table reads itself aloud, from beginning to end at the top of every hour.

As if the ink doesn't want you to forget.

"I am not sure when it started, but it did. I had fallen for you despite my efforts not to. A half of a year I've told myself to forget it, to forget you. And yet I cannot bring myself to stop, the more I try the more you come to mind. And the more I find myself near you. It's as if you're a bad drug I can't quit. I've been watching you. Everything you do is done in such cautious beauty. Please answer next time my dear."

Silence for weeks after that, at least as far as the rotary phone and the mailbox were concerned. You would occasionally get a text from an unknown number.

A transposed number, an error on the sender's end. Or so you assured yourself, especially when they would seem a bit too coincidental. When you were out for a jog or out at the gym at a different time than usual a text would come through.

For a second your mouth would go dry, your blood ice cold as you read the black letters atop the white screen. Huffing as your lack of breath came from a psychological response as opposed to your physical running.

Why aren't you home?

See you soon?

But these couldn't be intended for you. How could they? You could list the people you knew outside of your family and work place on one hand.

Denki.

And only because he spoke to you first!

So these texts, these little messages laced with concern could have been for an estranged spouse, a forgetful spouse or some partner who lacked the ability to properly communicate.

You just knew they weren't for you.

Or so your new mantra goes.

Paranoia didn't begin to sink it's sharp teeth into you until you noticed your cats' odd behavior.

In an immeasurable amount of time they went from lazy, happy go lucky animals to hostile even aggressive creatures. As if they were suddenly feral.

Oddly enough they only acted this way during certain times, mainly at night. Their moon eyes saw things you could not, their enhanced hearing heard things you could not, things you labeled, rat or mouse.

Would a mouse or rat cause a cat to hiss at shrouded corners? To claw at the wall with a howl that sounded more like a scream? Would it make them avoid the closet door in your room?

Maybe it was bigger? The floorboards above did groan more often than not lately. Maybe it was a raccoon even.

Yes, that had to be the cause of their behavior.

And yet there was still that one time, that one instance you sometimes dream about waking in a cold sweet.

The thing you cannot explain away, nor label as mouse, rat, not even a raccoon.

A cocktail of a tired mind and a trick of the eye but simply not vermin.

It was overcast, a sickly grey as the day wept deep into the night. The weather, naturally, caused you to melt into the plush material of your couch as you consumed comfort movie after comfort movie. You were given a reprieve from your worry as your cats seemed normal, sleepy just as you were that day. Even Nyx chose to laze on your chest as a temporary throne. Your couch is flush against the arch way that leads into the dining room and kitchen, giving it's back to part of the hallway towards the main bathroom and your bedroom at the back.

This angle always caused you great anxiety but there was no other way your luxury couch could fit in the small living room and so you always sunk low into the cushions.

Suddenly Nyx's ears twitch and her eyes snap open, waking only a cat knows how. On high alert to a sound totally lost to your draft ear. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating to adjust better to the shadowed room. The glow of the TV casts such a glow on the objects around you, flicker in soft and harsh lights. Slowly Nyx cranes her neck to see what exactly disturbed her sleep, just as her eyes lock on whatever is behind you, you see it for just a fraction of a second.

In the reflection of those moon eyes you see it. Distorted only from the curvature of her lens and the grain of the TV but there is no denying its shape.

A crude outline of a man, broad shouldered and faceless in the dark.

You freeze, mirroring your cat. Breath held as you watch the figure in the pitch black pupil. Wishing, hoping and praying that what you see is not really there.

After an eon of a moment, Nyx begins to shrink in on herself before silently slinking from the couch to find shelter beneath it.

You are not brave enough to move, to crane your head just as your cat did before you to confirm if what you saw was real. And in the milliseconds that the TV goes black you avoid the corner the figure should be standing in. Goose flesh breaks out over your skin, making you feel vulnerable and cold. While your feet burn begging you to get up.  

To run.

After a lot of mental reassurance and silence you begin to settle down. Easing yourself back into the rational world. Even becoming brave enough to stare into the TV, into the corner where the figure should be reflected in.

Each passing second as you wait for that small moment of blackness sends your heart into an irrational pace. Finally it happens and when you see nothing you sigh with relief.

Mentally giving yourself an "I told you it was nothing." talk.

That is until you hear a sound, a thump and a click from the back bedroom.

Your bedroom.

But the sound seems as if it came from within, as if it were your closet door.

Your heart explodes into frantic erratic beating.

The shrill ring of the old rotary phone rips through the dialogue of the movie but it can be barely heard over the hum of your blood.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

BRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

Tonight you are frozen in place, whether that be from petrifying fear or sheer stubborn denial you cannot say. You just know one thing.  You do not want to deal with the automated telemarketer who never seems to speak.

It rings four more times before it stops.

You chalk it up to coincidence. To nothing.

Late evening turns into late night and sooner rather than later you find yourself in the mouth of the hallway. Staring down your bedroom door as your mind plays on repeat the sound of a door closing from earlier that night.

You cannot let the boogie man keep you from sleep. Slowly you enter, flicking on all the lights.

Everything seems to be in place, the small pile of laundry still lies abandoned by your hamper, your bed neatly made, pillows haphazardly lying about the comforter. Hell even your inherited diamond drop necklace still sits snugly in the jewelry dish on your night stand.

The townhouse makes an odd sound, you jump out of your skin. Clutching your phone so hard the lock and volume buttons imprint into your palms.

No longer can you ignore the elephant in the room as the silence from this particular space screams at deafening volumes until you dare to look. Your eyes flicker to your left and there it is.

Your closet door, seeming to yawn and stretch even in the harsh hue of the overhead light. A closet is always an ominous, odd place and the sounds it may or may not have made cause a great twisting in your stomach. The shine of the knob calls to you with deadly wonder. Begging you to turn the gleaming metal to reveal the darkness behind the bland white door.

It should be inspected shouldn't it? If you ever wanted to sleep soundly you would need to reveal what may lurk in the dark.

Creeping towards the door with baited breath until finally your hand hovers over the knob.

"Open me." It seems to whisper in delighted glee, elated to see your stressed, scared features distort in its polished brass. You retract your fingers as if burned, biting onto your lip as you scrape your large armchair against the wood. Shoving it into place against the closet door.

You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the door until your eyes burn. You turn off the overhead light but keep the soft light of your nightstand lamp on.

You dream fever dreams of flashing lights as a storm passes overhead. Dream of the closet door laughing in the night, of cool fingers pressed into your skin.  

Jolting awake you reach for your phone as your senses slowly come to you. Your eyes fly to the armchair in the mid morning light. It rests in the same spot you left it ominously staring at your bed.

Something seems off about it or maybe you just imagine that there is a deep divot in the cushion, as if someone or something sat in the armchair most of the night.

You close your eyes and go over rational explanations. Always bringing back to yourself the same question.

Who in the world would want you?

Bringing you back full circle, that you were getting ahead of yourself. The cart before the horse in a sense and letting your mind race without restraint.

Letting the season of Fall try to creep into your bones and cause an artificial fear.

Still it's not too long after that do the cats avoid your room altogether.

While you choose to do what you've always done, push the problem aside and explain it away.

The phone rings as you're lacing up your running shoes. You pick up the receiver without bringing it to your ear and place it down gently.

It's just a wrong number anyway.

Tonight air bites at your nose, leaves crunching underfoot as wind whips around buildings and trash, carrying with it the promise of a harsh winter to come.

Your feet carry you slowly back to the direction of home as they beat down your normal, safe route.

A right from your little townhome, straight for two blocks before you would find the winding black pavement. It would snake past the backs of homes through some small trees but never a path that was fully hidden.

Always out in the open but giving you the ability to peer into people's lives as you passed. Witnessing dinners, arguments and heated moments of passion. Silently you thanked Kami you were not positioned on this route.

You keep your eyes focused ahead, the music in your ears low to listen for possible passers such as a bike or a better runner than yourself.

You pass a tree that seems thicker than normal, your phone buzzes on your arm band.

An email, it has to be an email.

Yet your mind wanders to those worried texts, lingers on the thoughts of if that tree had always been that wide, if the quickly setting sun had always cast the path in blood red. The maroon leaves flutter overhead, falling to the ground.

More crunching than what you think your feet should produce has you running faster. Forcing yourself not to glance over your shoulder. Your breathing becomes rasped as you borderline sprint home, still the crunching comes closer.

It isn't until someone brushes your shoulder as they pass do you let out a blood curdling scream. Huffing to catch your breath as you take a step back.  The jogger, your neighbor from across the street that you occasionally run into, removes his earbud.

"You okay?" He addresses you by your name and suddenly you're embarrassed that you do not know his. He takes your silence as an answer, his brow furrowing.

"I thought you'd be less skittish since your new boyfriend's been coming around." Your mouth goes dry.

"Wh...what?"

"Yea he seems so sweet. He always checks the windows to make sure they are locked at night." He takes in your response and shrugs, "It's getting late. Since I didn't see your boyfriend there yet, I'll jog you home."

The jog home is agonizing,your mind racing far faster than your feet can go.

What did he mean he saw him checking the windows? What boyfriend?

Maybe, maybe he mixed up your house with Denki's again. It's happened once before when he was returning mail. So there was a good chance he was mistaken again.

Still the closer the two of you get to home the worse you feel. A brick sits in your stomach as he jogs in place before your fence. He gives you a knowing smile and a wink as you wave him goodbye.

It isn't until you turn to face your home do you notice it, the white rectangle stark against your black door.

There is an envelope taped to the thick oak, addressed to no one but "My beloved".

You rip it from the wood with ragged breath as you bring it inside. Already you can feel the contents squirming, fidgeting as it waits to be read.

Polaroid photos fall to the hardwood floors, pictures of you running down your favorite path. Blurred images of you walking down the aisles of the grocery store, and even a photo of you taken between the cracks of the fence in your front yard.  

There are no more photos after that, at least not this time. Just that fucking letter written in long looping ink  You feel the words tighten around your throat as horror wraps its spindly fingers around your guts and yanks them towards the floor.

Your knees threaten to buckle as your eyes rapidly move along the page.

"In these moments you are the most beautiful. Blissfully unaware of prying eyes. In my time I've come to care for you I've noticed I'm not the only one watching. People gaze at you with whispered murmurs, with pitying eyes as they spin tales of your life. Speculating gossip as you prance about the neighborhood. Flaunting in those tight running shorts that hold every godly curve of your thighs and ass. Of the light jacket you leave unzipped so they can get a better view of your bouncing breasts tucked in your black sports bra. I wonder, would they bounce like that when you ride on my cock? Would your hair stick to your forehead like that as I rail you from behind. Would that angelic voice squeak out for more? For me? Ah I'm salivating thinking of it, harder than I've ever been. Please do not wear those out while running. In fact you don't have to run anymore Doll. You just need to let me take care of you God damn it. You little fucking whore. You seductive vixen with your God damned doe eyes. Just...just fucking answer please."

Rage and fear fight for control as you reread the letter for the fourth, fifth time before you finally move. Rage, for once, wins. You slam the door behind you locking the deadbolt before running to the back bedroom. Throwing the heavy chair from the closet door and ripping it open.  

Nothing lies within it, just clothes that begin to smell of neglect. Of old running shoes you didn't have the heart to throw away.

Of relief that whoever was sending these letters, these ones that weren't meant for you. Wasn't currently in the house.

The floorboards overhead groan and for a moment you have half a mind to tuck your cats away into their carrier, buy a one way train ticket to bumfuck nowhere and set your house ablaze.

Instead you move the chair back in front of the closet, grabbing things from your back bedroom to start your new life on your couch.

Time passes as the trees become more bare, their spindly fingers reaching out to tap the roof at odd hours of the night.

Tomorrow you promised yourself you would run.

And yet you find yourself dressed, lacing up your shoes before slowly opening the door. Your jacket is zipped all the way up, your hair neatly tied back and just as you step foot out the front door a heavy wind rips through the yard causing Denki's unlatched gate to slam. You jump back startled as your fear clings to you like a second skin. The letter begins to overlap in your head and the polaroid photos you had trashed a few weeks ago burn into your retinas. A faint snap and a whirl comes from close by and suddenly your stomach churns. Bile rushes up your windpipe too quickly, slamming the door shut and running to the bathroom. You barely make it as you dry heave into the porcelain bowl, huffing in the air of fresh toilet water. The smell starts a vicious cycle of nausea until finally your clammy skin begins to cool, pressing yourself to the side of the tub. In your panic your skin becomes sensitive, hyper aware of each stitch in your jacket, your sports bra and your jogging leggings. Your rip at your clothes until you peel them off of you, huffing as you scramble to get into the shower.

It does not matter that the water is not yet hot. Hell it isn't even lukewarm still you find yourself in the stream as it becomes scalding. Scrubbing at your skin with soap over and over and over. Nails pulling away already raw skin until that burning water begins to cool. A floorboard creaks overhead causing your head to snap up. The ceiling holds no secrets and yet no answers until you see it. A small hole, one you aren't sure if it's always been there, gaping from the attic over your shower and bath. It's too dark to tell if there is someone peering down at you from above or not.

Instead of freaking out your head slowly tilts away from the haunting discovery. Turning off the water, opening the curtain and wrapping yourself in a towel. As if it were every day you see something like that, as if it were nothing more than a spider lingering that you'd wish to forget.

It's fine It's always been there

But that would be the last time you would take a shower in that house.

Even though you hardly left your couch, things would still go missing in yourself. Things like the remote or one of your hundreds of phone charger cords. Even documents to cases but you didn't care, couldn't care. Otherwise you would break. Shatter.

Your days consisted of lying on the couch and consuming an ungodly amount of television. Doing so until your eyes burned although you begged them to stay open. Sadly everyone needed sleep and so you did. Giving into exhaustion as your eyes fluttered closed and your body weak, relaxing into the comfort of the couch.

Hours are lost to you so you dream and dream. Of a better time or of yourself in one of your files to dissect. Giving yourself that perfect bird's eye view and wondering how the victim never saw it coming.

In your dream you feel something along your face, smooth fingertips trace down your cheek over and over at a lulling pace.

"So perfect." A whispered serenade melding in with a snap and a whirl. A flash of lightning from a passing storm.

Except there was no storm coming in.

Your eyes snap open as you jerk to a sitting position frantically looking around the room.  When your eyes find nothing you allow your beating heart to settle back into your numbed state, more than ready to melt into the couch.

Until your stomach growls forcing you to focus on a new problem.

When was the last time you ate? Your stomach had long forgotten about food, choosing to conserve energy in case you needed to run from whatever the hell it was in your head.

Forgoing dressing you place your hand on the knob, wallet in hand. Two sets of glowing eyes watch you from beneath the couch. Twisting the metal to yank the door open you are greeted with cold fall air. The wind whips hair into your face as your mind quickly wanders. You half imagined a man to be standing in the middle of the street. Mouth stretched too far over gleaming teeth, lips parting enough as the wind brings with it the sound of your name.

Frantically you move your hair from your face, eyes searching up and down the street to find no one, nothing.

As it should be at 10am on a weekday. Suddenly the weight of going outside sits on your shoulders, despite the convenience store being a ten minute walk both ways, the thought of you going alone scared you.  Slowly you shut the door, falling to your knees before lying face down on your floor openly sobbing.

A creaking board sends you back to high alert, you remove your jacket and decide to order take out instead.

The knocking at your front door jolts you awake, the TV drones in the background with hazed over words as you quickly come to. Heart slamming into your chest before your stomach growls loudly. Right, food.

Your hand hovers over the knob as if suddenly you cannot move, as if the person on the other side of the door is an imposter lying in wait. Another knock comes at the door, he announces who he works for which eases your phobia a bit. You swallow thickly before finally opening the door, hands sweating as the anticipation of the identity of the stranger on your porch.

He seems to check out, his outfit covered in logos for your takeout restaurant of choice, car labeled as such as well. He holds the receipt towards you. His eyes wander over the face of the house, giving you sudden chills.

The question falls from your numb lips.  

"D...do you see anyone in the windows?" The delivery guy visibly jarrs, eyes darting to the windows of your room and the living room. Suddenly his face changes as a knowing smile spreads on his lips.

"This is a prank isn't it? For Halloween right?" He chuckles, but when he sees the pen shaking in your grip his face goes stone cold. Eyes darting to your left, to the bedroom windows. He taps the paper, indicating where you need to sign, you take a moment to do so.

The old rotary phone screams from the living room, making you both jump.

"Guess I better get that." You gesture, grabbing for your food. He nods affirmation before stepping off of your small porch a little too quickly.

You slam the front door, appetite washed away by each shrill of the small bell. Hesitantly you reach for it,  you have to know, need to know who could be on the other side.

The receiver is cold against your ear, the other line is quiet, although you can hear something soft in the background.

Talking, it sounds familiar, like an echo or almost as if there is a delay. It almost sounds like the same commercial that's playing on your TV right now.

Gently you set the phone down, the soft click echoes in the space around you. You sit on the couch before lying, covering yourself in your blanket as your takeout sits by the door, forgotten.

It wouldn't be too long before it begins to rot, almost as quickly as you.

The phone rings

And rings

And rings.

Nightly in fact, for the next few weeks as you cry silently trying to ignore the sound. Turning up the TV as loud as it can go, 24/7 until finally the speakers blow and you are left with nothing but that shrill shriek. The demand of the small plastic item that was meant to bring to a comforting memory from the past comes more often. Every four hours, every three hours, every hour until finally when it comes to an end it breathes again.

Screaming into the night tearing away your hearing, your sanity until finally you get up from your spot on the couch. Clothes falling away from your frame as they had grown in the time you sat. The time that you watched.

Each step is agonizing as sobs rack through your body, shaking hands making it hard to reach for the cool receiver.

You press it to your ear and for a final time your mind attempts logic. It is just an automated telemarketer, a glitch or determined program but the thought crumbles as your ears strain to hear the soft breath on the other line.

"Please…please stop." You sob into the receiver when no one speaks. The silence deafening as your mind can no longer keep with the charade.

That everything is okay and has always been okay. That the red flags you studied for a living were never there, washed away by your feigned ignorance.

"Finally got a response out of you." A velvet voice chimes, agitation lacing his syllables, "Gods, I just cannot wait to have you. It was worth it you know? Living in your walls for months."

"Why are you doing this?" Your voice barely a whisper, a soggy huff more than anything.

"I'm glad you asked." You body goes rigid, a haze blankets your mind and smothers the scream tearing up your throat.  

"Now walk out the door to me. Don't worry I'll bring your cats back to our home later."

You hang up the phone, body moving on it's own as you walk towards the front door. A door you had chosen to avoid and for good reason. But you should have known the danger lied within these four walls. Although your body feels heavy it moves normally despite you trying to fight it. Or as best you can with your worn down mind.and will. It is not as joyous as a moment for you and it is for the man in the street. His lilac hair is illuminated in the moonlight while his amethyst eyes glow iridescent. His smile is as you imagined, twisted and screwed up in such a way it makes your stomach churn. Lips stretched out almost too far over gleaming white teeth. Your face does not reflect your horror as it stays neutral, only your eyes give you way as tears fall from your cheeks.

The answer was there, under your nose, the devil in the details that you normally saw with your bird's eye view. One you didn't have the luxury of for your own story.

"Come now pet. It's time I finally teach you about what it means to be mine."

EPILOGUE

Everything is hazed over and slow, as if watching an old silent movie through the static and snow of the screen. Trying to read their lips to figure out what they are saying only for the text box to come too late.

"Perfect. Now get on your knees kitten. Open wide." You follow his orders numbly body moving on it's own as he smiles down at you. "God, you're so so perfect."

Long fingers tug at his belt before the shrill of a ring tone cuts through the silence. It is the same sound of your rotary phone at home except with an added element. The foreign sound of your whimpers and pleads for the phone to stop can just barely be heard. He looks down at the cell phone and answers.

"Denki, Baby I know I said I would come tonight. I'm just running late okay?" Amethyst eyes rove over to you and it is then that it hits you. The horror of the realization is like ice water dumped over you as you put two and two together.

The first time you saw him, visiting your neighbor over a year ago. It was such a quick exchange, eye contact and nothing more as his lips were pressed to Denki's.

Your mouth goes dry as it hangs open, slowly it becomes uncomfortable.

He changes his voice to sound like someone else's, someone with a gruff deeper tone.

"Oi quit talking to dunce face so we can finish this shit!" He removed the device from his mouth

"I'll be home after this patrol. Love you bye."

He tosses the phone before gripping your chin to spit into your mouth, his hand rests on the hem of his pants.

"Now...where was I?"  

[organic-guacamole]

episode 210 here we go

awww seb doing the intro

congratulations to milky white and her baby chocolate milk😌

seb is so funny

but seriously, clean up that milk fast or else it will smell so bad in there....

was that Lauryn just randomly doing cartwheels? idk any theatre kids irl but that seems like it's a common thing...

is it just me or has ms Jenn been getting more harsh to Ricky and Seb mainly-

like what did they do to her

no because I actually snorted with laughter at the "you came back" WHAT IS THAT VOICE-

AND THE MASK OMG

yeah so my throat hurts now

I'm dying over here

KOURTNEY'S FACE

SAME GIRL SAME

Ricky's fake death got the whole place in tears /s

he looks like an asthmatic walrus

Seb's on piano, I love

we all know if he was the beast we'd all actually be crying✋

ok but I listen to Julia's version of home on Spotify when I want to cry-

right so gimme a second

is Ricky scratching his face.....while he's dying?

"belle i-" *flop*

round of applause to Ashlyn for trying to make Ricky's earthworm seizure look less.... yknow

Kourtney's just dying there

WAIT IS THAT NATALIE

did she really just disappear for 9 episodes just to come back and stare dramatically into the camera

WAIT SCRATCH THAT SHES HERE TO MURDER ASHLYN AND RICKY

oh so Ricky's wearing a gay shirt now too

so that's the real reason why Rini broke up, see y'all next season when Gini and caswen become canon /j

wait that was a long intro scene-

what was that look Carlos-

TALK TO MY BOY OR ELSE

carlos' run is so funny to me

therapist Ashlyn to the rescue

"that is...super" son you good?

ms Jenn call Benjamin, he would willingly put his loved ones on a rocket and blast them into Venus for you....

maybe

"I don't want you kids to be disappointed" girl you do realise you're the one that's most invested in this?

"a smooth opening night" wasn't there just 1 show though-

like their opening night was closing night too

"I think I was Troy at one point" PLEASE THATS THE MOST ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF THE SEASON 1 FINALE

me Jenn looks like a serial killer during that clap and I'm lowkey scared for zacky

"I have notes"

oo if you're taking suggestions, lemme get my list

"mother is freaking out" uhhhhhh

right....'mother"

"is everyone sitting down?"

*looks around awkwardly*

*big red slowly sits*

"no..."

please seb was the only one sitting-

does that mean Carlos looked at Seb as soon as he walked in and assumed that everyone else was sitting too or am I a seblos clown🤡

"is this about the transformation"

WOW MAYBE OT IS RICKY

WOW HES A DETECTIVE FOR FIGURING THAT OUT SO QUICK🤩

YO WHY IS NATALIE HERE-

she just shows up when it's convenient? is she gonna be at the sleepover too?

Seb's heavy swallow after Carlos shouts at him makes me so sad

"I never learned how to lie but I figure if I keep my mouth closed, I can't tell the truth" *nods and smiles at Nini when she asks*

why are they casually standing up all over the pizza shop, just sit at a big table and talk instead of blocking passageways and blocking off at least 6 tables-

"how about I invite myself" WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS FEEL THE NEED TO INVITE THEMSELVES TO ASHLYN'S HOUSE-

YOU CAN ASK BUT JUST FORCE YOUR WAY IN?

so Cash Caswell has a bigger house than... Dennis Caswell.... who would've thought

ah yes there's the good old EJ 1.0

Nini: "boys vs girls"

Gina: *looks devastated and glances longingly at EJ*

way to be inconspicuous

"but north high should be" *cracks her knuckles in the most uncomfortable way*

good for Ashlyn for getting more confident though

oo bossy big red

"i get bossy around the power tools"

is that why Ashlyn was holding up the drill in episode 8 orrrr 🤠

oh

Lily, leave him alone please

she's literally not blinking, is that what makes her creepy?

the diss at big red and his face afterwards is priceless

isn't that similar to what Gina's mom said to her in season 1? hmmmm

but seriously please don't try to redeem lily, let us have a character to hate, or to love because they're evil.

not everyone's a good guy.

"im not liked here and I don't know what to do"

let antoine finish his salad and it'll fix everything

"hug emoji" *gags*

y'all realize Lily's literally 14?

why is she calling a 16/17 year old from another school for personal advice-

"he gets weird around tools"

I shouldn't be laughing so hard

"deja vu maybe?" awkward silence

I'm dying here I love EJ so so so so much

"where's seb"

*cuts to seb being held hostage hoping that they'd notice he's missing and go look for him*

"don't ask"

"oh ok"

"100% real faux fur" as you should queen

sponsored by target

Kourtney is singlehandedly saving the entire show.

Seb making finger guns make me happier than it should

why is this kinda making me want to have a co-ed sleepover with my non-existent theatre friends

YES YOU DO NEED TO TALK/SING TO SEB CARLOS THANK YOU FOR KNOWING THAT

wait what-

you haven't talked to him all WEEK-

Carlos are you stupid /hj

Benjamin is so adorable I can't

he turned around to come back for her instead of going home. you're "what do you want Jenn🙄X act isn't fooling anyone Benjamin 🙃

10101

1+4+16= 21st?

they placed 21st?

or do I just not remember how to convert to base ten

GIRL DON'T BE RUDE TO HIM, HE'S GONNA SAVE YALL

no ms Jenn, the kids are not eccentric 35 year olds.

aww sebby

is he thinking that Carlos is only with him cuz he's the only other openly gay guy at school-

son you are a perfect little bean don't put yourself down

yes they all ship portwell as they should.

they'll be throwing risotto at the wedding.

not the chocolates. stop there are no chocolates. please stop I'm dying.

Gina you don't have to explain yourself to her

it was a misunderstanding and it's in the past

why is Ashlyn still laughing-

exactly it wasn't a big deal please just move on Nini

Kourtney really be out here saving everything

WHY IS ASHLYN STILL LAUGHING

why do I feel like when Gina finally told Ash about it, she didn't think it was that funny but wanted to feel included in the inside joke so now she brings it up randomly to show that she's in on it....I totally don't do that...

"idk, the farmer type" oh son...

Ashlyn and big red are just spilling the secrets back and forth huh?

OOO EJ AND GINA SITTING IN A TREE K-I-S-S-I-

cmon guys don't look at me like that-

"she is the best" and "we're buddies" don't sound right together

"pretty boy" "sweet boy" best ways to describe EJ

I love him.

and aw he's scared of rejection so he'll hold back just to keep her happy and not awkward how sweet

is Ricky wondering if letting her go(literally his song from last episode) was the best thing he did for Nini because he doesn't feel like it now? hmmm this is getting good

why is everyone so invested in Kourtney and Howie's relationship

PACK UP THE LAZY RICKY THING

oh yes Benji, that's exactly what she's doing

she couldn't follow her dream or whatever so now she's using the kids to gain some of the success she craves. why else would she have that massive hsm poster with her name on it in huge letters in her office.

just casually grab his hand with both your hands and stare at him creepily 🥰

ship jennzzara y'all

the first bump was a missed opportunity to do the baymax "falalala" as a reference to the fact that they watched big hero six while committing arson✋

wait so big red and EJ just left Ricky in the basement and now Ricky invited Carlos when they're supposed to be at the stage?

help no Ricky looks like he's about to tell Carlos he likes him (I know it's about writing the song for seb but still, look at his body language and tell me it doesn't look like that)

Ricky is so mature about this, he really just wants Nini to be happy even though he's hurting-

baby you deserve love, maybe Nini isn't the one for you but don't say you don't deserve it

why does he keep adding bro to the end like he doesn't know how to address Carlos

PLEASE CARLOS HAVING TO ADDRESS THE BRO THING

"let's write a song when we have like 45 minutes to get to the place and help our friends possibly win $50000 at the show in 2 weeks"

"can you hit a high C?"

"that's like the bottom of my range"

why am I laughing

this is so cool to see friendship interactions that we don't normally get to see

Nini why are you being like this-

Gina did nothing wrong??

I saw that, EJ and Gina being the only ones going in the same direction👀

right so obviously Kourtney's waiting until after the menkies to get back with Howie just in case he really is just using her as a way in to east high... obviously... right?

CARLOS

OK ITS COMING GET READY YALL

Why is portwell so awkward all of a sudden

OMG EJ

OMG GINA SAY YES or not, do what you want.

the way she doubts that EJ would genuinely ask so she has to make sure it's not Ashlyn behind it

OH

THE "NOT THAT I KNOW OF"

LIKE WHAT GINA SAID TO JACK ABOUT EJ BEING HER BOYFRIEND

GUYS THEY'RE SOULMATES

I want risotto now please

THEY'RE SO SWEET AND ADORABLY AWKWARD ITS LIKEEK LITTLE KIDS

OOOOOOO what is this place that seblos is in, looks fancy....and secluded

oh wait no Ricky's just standing there

wait is it the bomb shelter

it looks so good what

HSKAGSJAGAJAGWISGSKAUASBWKSVAIWBAISBQKSHIQBWOABWOABDOQBZIQBAIAQBSIWBQISVQKSIANSGOQBSAISBKASBKWBAIABQOSBBSJAHAJAVAJSBAJHSKAHSJAHAJAJAAJAHHHHHHHH

@youranxiousnerd ARE YOU OK?

CUZ IM NOT OK

LOOK AT SEBBY'S FACE

LOOK AT HOW ADORABLE IT IS

THE LYRICS ARE KILLING ME

SEBLOS IS KILLING ME

I AM DEAD

PLEASE SEND HELP

I like to imagine that Frankie and Joe practiced this in their apartment and just had a blast with it.

or maybe that Frankie practiced in secret like what Joe did for the climb

OH THE SUITS

THATS WHERE THAT CLIP IN THE PROMO WAS FROM

AWWW SEBBY'S SO CUTE

HE'S A LITTLE MARSHMALLOW

they're still so awkward with the dance I cant

let's appreciate Frankie's voice though

this episode really was made just for the seblos and portwell stans and you gotta love it

BIG RED GET OUT

WHY DOES HE ALWAYS DO THIS

Seb's little "yeah" IS ADORABLE

you can't tell me that wouldn't have been the best time for them to say I love you....IF FREAKIN BIG RED WASN'T THERE

ok but wait Ricky needs more hugs like that, look at his face

the boy needs love

"bro" please don't let Ricky and Carlos go back to not talking because their friendship is amazing

EJ laughing at Ricky sounding like a cat coughing up a furball is so funny to me

RICKY'S FLOP GETS ME EVERYTIME

I knew it was too good to be true

ok so Ricky's dead, next in line please

this episode was so short but I love it so much. this is what I signed up for for season 2✋