#thank you strings i was (read: am) in so much pain after finishing the finale ksdjfhsdshf

[august-anon]

It’s one of those stories Stede doesn’t really like, gruesome and graphic, but Ed’s gotten very close while telling it, and what started as a raucous retelling has simmered into a low, rumbling recounting with Ed’s expressive eyes mere inches away, and to be quite honest Stede has lost the thread of who died how. At least, until Ed growls “and then I ripped his guts out” with a demonstrative claw-grab at Stede’s abdomen. The shriek that flies out is three-quarters surprise, but Ed’s eyes twitch wider in the recognition of a man well-versed in finding an edge, and then he does it again—

--and honestly Stede knows he’s doomed before Ed has even really started. He doesn’t remember how he knew he was ticklish, he isn’t even sure if he remembered where, but he he does know that he is deathly so, and he wouldn’t be escaping his fate so easily.

When the second grab illicits another squeal, though not one quite so loud, Ed doesn’t even bother to hide his smirk, all teeth. Or maybe he thinks the beard does a well enough job of hiding it for him. Stede cowers back in the crows nest, with nowhere to go, feeling the heat of a blush creep up his neck and into his face.

Truly, Stede is just waiting for the mockery to start. It’s not that he thinks so lowly of Ed, it’s just that... Stede knows who he is. Little Baby Bonnet, who never grew out of things like picking flowers and being ticklish. And Ed is backing him into the corner and Stede’s heart is beating fast, probably from fear or nerves, because what else would make it do that, and then Ed’s hands are upon him, for real this time, and it all bursts forth in a bubble of laughter. Stede slaps his hands over his mouth, because the crew is still close below them and while the wind steals away much of their voices, it can’t whisk away everything.

Ed starts laughing too, despite him not being at the mercy of ten mischievous fingers, but the thing is... it doesn’t sound taunting. If Stede didn’t know better, he’d almost call it fond. And Ed leans forward, close enough so that his long curtain of hair lends them their own little pocket of privacy, and he grins at Stede in the way he always has, open and attentive and not the least bit cruel.

“This is fucking adorable,” Ed says in the scant air between them, and Stede’s heart picks up even more for reasons he doesn’t know. “Are you this ticklish everywhere?”

Stede’s eyes go wide and Ed’s fingers start to wander away from his belly and Stede’s arms start to wobble like jelly, desperate to come down for protection and--

“Captain!”

Stede inhales sharply. Ed freezes, eyebrows raised. His fingers twitch playfully over the thin fabric of Stede’s shirt when he takes a moment too long to answer.

“Y-Yes?” Stede manages, his voice nearly an octave too high.

Oluwande doesn’t reply for a moment, the pause stretching out into an uncomfortable silence. Then, with a suspicion in his tone Stede doesn’t want to explore right now, Olu continues, “Yeah, Buttons thinks he sees another ship on the horizon. We wanted to know what you think we should do.”

Stede clears his throat. Then clears it again for good measure. He deliberately does not look at Ed, because he can feel that piercing gaze and damned smirk taking him apart already and he does not need to give it more power.

“Right,” Stede calls. “Right, we’ll be down in just a moment!”

Olu hesitates, but in the end he only calls out, “Alright,” and Stede hears his chatter start back up with Jim moments later.

“Duty calls,” Ed says, his voice still low and rumbling, and this close, Stede swears he can feel it vibrating through his own chest.

And then, with one last squeeze to draw out one last shriek, Ed pulls away with a wink and starts clambering out of the nest. Stede himself takes a moment to breath, hoping the red stains fade from his face before he reaches the deck, and deliberately does not think about the fact that he’s almost disappointed that Ed didn’t get the chance to pick him apart, piece by piece.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader)

I can explain. 

Please don't come at me for starting a new project before finishing Cult Girl Doctorate. I hit a wall and needed to take a break. I am trying not to let this one take up too much time.

Y/n is a sorceress-in-training who’s known for being hard to teach. Sensing her potential, Doctor Strange takes her on as an apprentice. 

You firmly believed that shattering the urn of Fei-Amie was the best thing that ever happened to you. 

It happened a year ago, but it still replayed in your head over and over again. You made a conscious effort to remember it vividly. 

Sure, it was terrifying, Stephen Strange's initial look of anger when he heard the ceramic shatter. It softened when he saw that the culprit was just a clumsy sorceress-in-training who looked on the verge of tears with remorse. Still, it was a face you never wanted to see again: his teeth bared, his already sharp features accentuated under the constraints of anger. 

It diluted into silent, simmering frustration that revealed itself to you in short sarcastic jabs and body language. 

"Just, stop." He cut you off after a string of profuse sorries. With no disarming smile in sight, you could tell he was tense. "Artifacts get broken all the time. Don't cry. It was an accident." 

His tone indicated that he was trying to convince himself more than he was you. You were a closed-off person and could hardly stand the idea that anyone out there didn't like you. The idea of the Sorcerer Supreme being mad at you, personally, made you briefly consider ritual suicide. You lowered your head. "Yes, Master Strange."

"Hey, butterfingers." He called out after you as you tried to make a painless exit. You looked back at him and he gestured to the pile of broken ceramic pieces. "You gonna fix what you broke?"

It hadn't dawned on you that an ancient relic could be fixed. Especially one that once contained the ashes of the ancient necromancer Fei-Amie. You were embarrassed to say that your knowledge of manipulating time was surface-level at best, and couldn't think of any other solution. 

You wordlessly gathered the pieces up in your skirt and carried them off, striking out any plans to go into town that evening. Instead, you poured through book after book for any instruction whatsoever on repairing broken artifacts. You ran out of desk space, so books were just floating in the air, suspended on pages that briefly mentioned relic breakage. 

You started to believe you were given an impossible task. Or perhaps all the resources you needed, he was withholding. Even so, you didn't want to go back to him empty-handed. You changed into your street clothes and opened a portal to the local craft store.

You returned with two types of extra-strong superglue and got to work. First, you made all the pieces come together and had them hover over the desk. Unconsciously, you began to sing as you pieced the urn back together. 

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels

Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things

"Haven't heard that song in years." 

You dropped the tube of glue and the few remaining pieces fell back to the desk. "Master Strange!" 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He said, though his apology was undercut by his smug tone. "Carry on." 

You picked up a piece and began to line the edges with glue. 

"Aren't you going to finish the song?" 

You looked up to see that he hadn't been just passing by. He was leaning against the threshold, watching you. 

"I don't usually sing for an audience." You laughed, uncomfortably. "Just me." 

"A man and his sentient cape should not count as an audience," he scoffed. "But, if you insist, I guess I'll have to just listen to Julie Andrews instead." 

"What's wrong with her?" You raised your eyebrows in surprise. 

"Oh, nothing. She's a treasure." He put his hands up. "But everyone gets to hear her sing. And I take it that only a very select few get to hear your rendition of my favorite things. I just have to be one of them." 

You blushed, suddenly forgetting all the words to my favorite things. 

"Girls in white dresses..." he offered, an impatient edge to it.

You swallowed. "Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes-"

"Hey, butterfingers." He interrupted again. Before you could object, he pointed to the way that the pieces floated gracefully overhead at the sound of your voice. 

"I'd like to see Julie Andrews do that." He said with a wink.

"Looks alright," Master Strange said, running his finger along the tight seams that showed where cracks once were. 

"Will it still work?" You asked. That was really all you were worried about. 

"Beats the hell out of me." He shrugged. "I didn't know how to use it to begin with." 

"What?!" You spat back. "Are you kidding?" 

"I'm afraid not." He said, taking the urn and placing it back on its pedestal. "Don't worry, you did a good job. I'm not mad at you anymore." 

That was really all you needed to hear. "Thank you, sir." 

"You're an apprentice, right?" He asked. 

"I'm..." Your voice trailed off in embarrassment. "Between masters right now."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I were to ask around, would I receive glowing reviews from your last masters?" 

You admitted it point-blank. "No." 

"Let me guess," he folded his arms. "Something didn't make sense to you and instead of giving you the space to question it, they insisted you follow blindly." 

You wanted to throw your head back and shout in relief; finally, someone understood! 

"Bingo, bullseye." You put your hands up in surrender after being read so easily. "Right on the money."

"I see." He said, tucking that thought away for later. "Could I trouble you for one more odd job before you go?" 

"That depends." You folded your arms. "What is it?" 

He looked over his shoulder at his cape. "How are you with sewing?"

‘Sewing' was not the verb you would use to describe repairing the tears in the Cloak of Levitation. It was taller and stronger than you and it did not want to be repaired. It was closer to performing surgery on a fully grown mountain lion that could rip your head off at any minute. 

"Like putting eyeshadow on a cat," Master Strange said. It flicked its edge contemptuously, while still clinging to his shoulders for dear life. "I'm a licensed surgeon and it won't let me within 20 feet of it with a needle." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." You said, thoroughly discouraged. All he'd given you to work with was a spool of thread and a pack of needles. 

He tried with sincere force to remove the cloak, but it wouldn't budge. "Of course, now it knows you're coming at it with the sewing kit and it won't leave my shoulders." 

"Maybe I can work with that?" You shrugged. You threaded the needle and hid it in your hand. 

You approached the cloak, only for it to shove Master Strange in your way like a human shield. 

"Listen, you naughty little blanket." He scolded, turning around to face it as if it were a puppy that had just wrecked the living room. "If you don't let her fix you, you're going in the washing machine. Extra spin." 

It shuddered, and, for a moment, you thought it was going to comply. You slowly took a step forward, only for it to dart as soon as your foot hit the ground. It made its escape with a large crash through the heavy wooden doors of the library. 

"Hey!" You shouted, chasing after it. "Get back here!" 

You caught a glimpse of it headed towards the relic room, so, without thinking, you opened a portal to make it there first. You reached it only seconds before the cloak breached the threshold, with only enough time to grab it by the edge. 

"Come here!" You exclaimed, giving it a full force tug. It tugged back, overpowering you to the tenth degree. It dragged you across the room and into the foyer. You yanked on it, only for it to escape from your grip and send you flying back into the wall. You wondered for a second how such a sturdy piece of fabric could possibly be in need of maintenance. 

"Bastard." You mumbled, rubbing the spot where your head collided with the wall. The pain didn't stop you, though. You were on your feet within seconds, pursuing the naughty blanket all over again. 

You heard the words of one of your many, many masters ringing in your ears; "never outrun what you can outsmart". Or maybe that was from a Garfield comic. Either way, whether or not you could outsmart the cloak was still unknown, but you had to at least try. 

You took a second to catch your breath and tried to remember where you saw it heading next. Downstairs, you thought. To the laundry room. The one place you would never look. 

You slowly but deliberately descended the stairs to the basement where the laundry was. You turned the light on and saw overturned baskets of towels, clothes, and sheets everywhere. And then a washing machine door slammed shut. You turned your head and saw a twinge of dark red hiding in the washing machine. 

You removed your shoes and socks to minimize noise, then picked up a fitted sheet that had been thrown on the ground. You mounted the washing machine and affixed the sheet to the front. The cloak would have to come shooting out the door, and you would ambush it. 

You forced the door open with your heel, holding the sheet like a giant net. As predicted, the cloak shot out like a bullet from a gun, getting caught in the sheet. It thrashed around aimlessly, trying to escape, but you had a tight grip and it wasn't going anywhere. 

"It's curtains for you!" You said, then laughed at your own joke. "Stop struggling!" 

It flailed and fought, but eventually ran out of energy and sunk to the ground. Not trusting it quite yet, you pinned it down with your whole body weight before releasing it from the sheet. As expected, it tried to fly away, but couldn't get anywhere.

"The less you fight, the faster this will go." You said, examining the fabric for any visible tears. The rip presented itself right away. About as long as your hand, right in the center. 

"What did Strange do to you?" You asked, pulling the threaded needle from your pocket. "Hold still, I'm going to fix it." 

Once the needle hit fabric, the cloak stopped trying to fly away and instead writhed about on the floor like it was about to die. You fixed the tear with as many stitches as you could make, then pulled it shut. Once you knew the thread was secure, you rolled off the cloak and let it fly free. 

It shot up, but froze, noticing something was different. It swished itself around, unaccustomed to the feeling of air not blowing right through its center. 

"You're welcome." You said with a shrug. "It's not like I had to chase you all around the sanctum to make it happen." 

Without any warning, the cloak scooped you up and squeezed you. Your initial reaction was that this was its revenge and you were taking your final breaths, but you could tell it was gratitude by the way it gently set you down on the ground. 

"Happy to help." You gasped for air. "Just remember this feeling if I ever have to do this again." 

"Not bad, butterfingers." Master Strange told you, though the tone of his voice conveyed he was impressed beyond a simple 'not bad'. 

"Not bad?" You protested. "I absolutely crushed it." 

He ran his finger down the uneven but sturdy stitching. When his face met yours again, he was smiling with genuine enthusiasm that managed to eek through his dry, sarcastic exterior. It came out as an admittedly very handsome sideways smirk as his eyes scanned you up and down. 

“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll get out of your hair now.” You said, heading towards the open doors. 

“Wait.” The doors slammed shut before you could reach them. You turned around to see Master Strange still examining the stitching. "You wouldn't leave without tea, would you?"

A pot of chai tea sat between you, filling the air with an aroma of spicy vanilla. You held the teacup in both hands, determined to never give him a reason to reinforce the "butterfingers" nickname he'd become so fond of. 

"Chai is my favorite." You said, letting the scent waft into your nose. "Yerba mate used to be my favorite, but if I drink more than two pots of it I get sick." 

"Yeah, definitely don't do that." He chuckled, bobbing his teabag up and down in the cup. "Out of curiosity, are you wondering at all why I invited you to tea?" 

"Oh, definitely." You nodded. "I was just wondering about that." 

"Would you believe it's just because I find you interesting?" He raised an eyebrow. "Good company, perhaps?" 

"Interesting? Absolutely." You agreed. "Good company is debatable." 

"I can't believe I never thought to trap the cloak in the washing machine." He rested his chin in his hand. "It seems so obvious now." 

"If it makes you feel any better," you shrugged. "It was mostly dumb luck and reckless disregard for my own life, considering it almost threw me off the balcony.” 

He glared at the cloak. “What did I tell you about trying to kill our guests?” 

It lowered its collar shamefully in his direction. 

“Don’t apologize to me!” He scolded. “Apologize to her.” 

It turned to face you and repeated the somber motion. 

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “My family adopted a retired army German Shepherd growing up. I’m used to high-strung creatures that could end my life at any second.” 

“Well, rest assured, butterfingers,” He said, leaning back in his chair. “This will never happen again.”

“I, uh-” You opened your mouth before you could even really pick up on the implication he was putting down. “Wasn’t aware that there would be a chance for it to happen again?” 

“I suppose we should get down to brass tax, then.” He folded his hands in his lap. “How would you like to stay here?”

“Well-” You said, not wanting to come off as too enthusiastic, which you certainly were. “Not if it’s going to kill me-”

“If I could promise you that your life won’t be in constant danger, I would.” He cut you off. “But if you wanted safety, you wouldn’t have started studying the Mystic Arts.”

“Got me there.” You conceded, your made-up objection withering away. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He shook his head. “I’ll help you train and in return, you help me preserve the integrity of the sanctum.” 

“So an apprenticeship?” Your eyes widened. "Are you saying you want to take me on as an apprentice?" 

“I know you’ve got bad associations with that title, but yes.” He answered. “If it brings back memories of your previous masters treating you like garbage, we can call it a ‘partnership’, if you’d like.” 

Partners with the Sorcerer Supreme? You thought, butterflies materializing in your stomach. 

"That sounds great, but-" You broke eye contact and fidgeted with your fingers. "I feel like I should disclose that it wasn't really all that one-sided. I am… notoriously hard to teach."

"And who told you that?" He tilted his head. "The ones who refused to teach you?" 

You hadn't thought about it that way. "I guess."

"The way I see it, you've repaid your debt and are free to leave," he began. "But seeing how dutifully you reassembled that urn, wrangled my favorite piece of defiant outerwear, and how desperately this place is in need of some life, it might be a good idea to keep you around." 

You put your hand over your chest to still your heart. "It would be an honor." 

"Excellent." He nodded. "That saves me the trouble of having to convince you."

He brought you to a small but comfortable room with a bed and connected bathroom. 

"There's plenty of closet space for all your clothes." He said, gesturing to an antique looking bureau set. 

You dumped your duffel bag out on the bed, revealing the extent of your possessions. "Thanks, but this is all I've got." 

"Travel light, huh?" He asked.

"Yeah, I moved around a lot growing up." You admitted. "Got no real roots and all that jazz." 

"That changes now." He told you. "This is your home now so I want it to feel like it. Make the space your own."

“I don’t know how I can thank you for this.” You lowered your head, still feeling undeserving. 

“Don’t thank me yet, butterfingers.” He chuckled. “I’ve been told I tend to be a little on the egotistical side. That I don’t work well with others.”

"It's actually [F/N], if you were curious." You said, sitting on the bed and folding your hands in your lap. 

"Okay, [F/N]." he smiled. "You've been in and out of enough apprenticeships to know the drill. Early mornings, late nights. And I've got a laundry list of odd jobs for you that I'm too important to do." 

"Naturally." You nodded. His dry self-awareness inspired a little confidence that he wouldn't be a complete tyrant. 

"You did a good job today." He said, bluntly. "Thank you for your help. Keep it up and you'll make an invaluable addition to the sanctum."

You smiled downwards. "Thank you." 

"Do you often sing when you're trying to focus?" He posited. "Just, as an aside." 

You could tell the gears in his neurosurgeon's head were turning, undoubtedly trying to pin some kind of diagnosis on you as doctors were known to do. 

“I guess it’s just a force of habit.” You admitted. “I used to play piano, so when I’m working with my hands, it just kind of happens. My last master was not happy about that.” 

"Oh, screw him." He waved his hand dismissively. "He pissed away an opportunity to nurture a sorceress with a special gift for the sake of tradition. That's a mistake I won't make."

Special gift? You thought. Nobody who practiced the Mystic Arts had ever referred to anything you'd ever done as a 'gift'. Annoyance? sure. A symptom of ADHD? All the time. But 'gift'? That made it sound useful.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

I Need You | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! Here’s another Mikaelson Brother’s fic. This time it’s a firefighter AU. I don’t know why I was so inspired but oh well, here it is anyway. Please do ignore the blatant plot holes and dropped plot points. I wrote this purely for the fluff so the rest doesn’t matter too much! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Until next time, all my love!

Description: The brothers are firefighters and they come back to the station after a long day only to find an unconscious woman in their fire station. It turns out she’s their mate and she's seconds from death. From there it’s pure fluff/smut. Honestly the plot of this is weak, I just wanted something majorly fluffy.

Pairing: Female!Reader x The Mikaelson Boys

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! It’s not a full blown smut but it does get heated. It’s hella light smut. Honestly the warning should read something more like “inappropriate actions for on duty firefighters towards a civilian at the workplace”. Take into mind that I do not condone this behaviour outside of my fics but that they are soulmates and it’s all consensual! The other warning is angst. This is super graphic at the beginning but after that it gets better.  

Word count: 7.3k

Tags: Angst, smut, fluff

P.S. This is only in the boys’ perspectives for like five nanoseconds, after that it’s completely in the reader’s

Tag list: @activist-af​ @corishirogane3​

(Pictures not mine, mood board is!)

“Remind me, Elijah,” Klaus runs a hand through his hair, shaking some of the soot from his blonde hair, “why we decided to do this again?”

Elijah huffs indignantly, also shaking out his hair and shrugging the heavy coat off his shoulders. His hoodie underneath is soaked through with sweat and it follows the same path. Klaus already stands in just a t-shirt, the navy material glued to his skin. 

“Don’t you remember, brother?” Kol hops out of the truck from behind the wheel, his bare chest exposed, spare the straps keeping the bottom half of his turnout gear on, a cheerful grin on his lips, “He wanted us to give back to the community. I believe his exact words were firefighters or soldiers.”

It’s true, Elijah had wanted them to do something meaningful with their lives. Well, with a fraction of their lives. He wanted them to be a family again and what better way to do that than to take on a career built on teamwork. Honestly, he had expected them to last maybe six months before quitting but now they were three years deep and he couldn’t see them going anywhere for a while. Somehow station 32 in small town Virginia had become a home base for them.

Elijah leans against the brick of the old fire station, closing his eyes for a moment, “just be happy I didn’t suggest doing both.”

“What makes you think I would follow you to war,” Klaus laughs but it’s hollow, the strain of the day settling over his bones.

They haven’t had a day this strenuous in months, sixteen calls in one day and it’s only eight. Human or not, that’s a lot of heavy lifting. Klaus would do anything for some sleep. He sags against the wall next to his brother. Despite the sleep tugging at his body he can’t seem to relax. Something is keeping his spine rigid, something he can’t quite place his mind on. Oh well. 

Elijah chuckles, his eyes still shut, “you followed me here didn’t you? Face it, you needed this as much as I did.”

Klaus doesn’t speak, he just hums his agreement, something entirely unlike him but brought on from the exhaustion. His shoulders remain tight, his muscles stiff. The air feels like it's buzzing lightly, charged with something he doesn’t have enough energy to think about.

Kol laughs through his own fatigue, stretching his arms behind him, ignoring the way his bones click slightly, “I, for one, need a shower. I smell like flames and I hate it. I suggest you two do the same,” he turns from his slumped brothers, “I can smell you from here.”

Elijah pulls himself from the wall, rolling his shoulders and peeling his eyes open, “come on, Niklaus, you can take a nap for a few hours. I doubt the rest of the night will be eventful, half the town should be asleep by now.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The two brothers catch up with Kol easily, grabbing their discarded gear on the way and heading towards the locker room. Kol is the first to step through the door, adamant on jumping in the shower before his brothers take all the hot water like they usually do, when he stops suddenly, all of his senses on high alert. Something is wrong, terribly so. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, catching the faintest hint of sweetness, like vanilla and oranges, mingled with something sharper. Something too familiar. 

“Kol, what are you-” Elijah doesn’t get to finish his thought.

“Blood,” Klaus pushes past both of them, his eyebrows furrowed, “I smell blood. Someone’s here.”

Kol nods and steps further into the room, directly followed by Klaus and Elijah. As they push forward, towards the showers, the scent of fresh blood intensifies. So does the vanilla citrus perfume, magnifying and tangling around each brother. The room is electrified because of it, drawing them quicker to the heart of the locker room. The distinct sound of three heartbeats fills the room, each one louder than the last. Thump, thump, thump. 

When they turn the corner they freeze, each heart skipping a beat in the same moment. There, in the middle of the showers, is an unconscious woman. A naked, unconscious woman slumped over in a pool of her own blood. Her body is battered, more blue and black than any other color. Who knew a vampire's blood could turn as cold as theirs is right now?

“Fuck,” Kol’s voice is the first to break the tension, dropping to his knees with a dull thud, his heart strings snapping violently in his chest, “fuck!”

Klaus is in front of her in a flash, his teeth ripping into his wrist without a second thought. Kol turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s no way he can watch this. The sweet smell wraps around him, taunting him almost. The overwhelming sense of loss wraps around him like a noose, his throat closing harshly. Why now, why like this?

“Is that,” Elijah, too, sinks to the ground, his hands splayed against the concrete, his eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of him, “is that who I think it is?”

His muscles tighten, an indescribable pain rippling through his entire body. He feels like he’s drowning. No, like he’s burning alive. Fuck, it feels like both at the same time. He wants to scream but no sounds are surfacing. This can’t be happening!

Kol’s voice is sharp and cracked, too many emotions to decipher leaking into his words, “yeah, it’s her. It’s our mate.”

Klaus presses his bleeding wrist to her mouth hard, tears streaming freely down his face. He couldn’t care less about how he looks, not right now. Not when it feels like someone is ripping his heart straight from his chest. 

“Come on, love. Wake up. I need you! Wake up!”

                         *          *          *           *          *          *

“Wake up. I need you! Wake up!” 

You tear your eyes open suddenly, bright lights flooding your senses. You gasp as you regain consciousness, something that you realize too late is a mistake. Your mouth is filled with a thick, hot substance, one much too metallic and familiar for your liking, that you inhale by accident. It fills your lungs quickly, your chest burning, and you roll over, hacking up mouthfuls of the disgusting fluid. It feels like your entire body is engulfed in flames. Like you’re dying twice. 

The concrete is freezing against your fiery arms and, when it finally blurs into focus, you realize it’s also covered in a deep red liquid. You run your tongue over your mouth, the tang making your eyes widen. Your heart stutters as you finally come to an understanding. Blood. The floor is covered in blood. Your blood. This time you vomit, and almost scream when you see it matches the liquid around you.

“Shit,” a voice sounds from behind you as a pair of hands slides over your back, startling you further into the sticky redness, “holy shit you’re awake. Oh thank god!”

You flinch away from the hands, turning too quickly to face whoever it is behind you. Mistake number two. The walls start spinning around you and you have to grasp the wet stone beneath you and close your eyes for a moment. When you finally open them again you’re met with a pair of warm, brown eyes. Your heart stutters again, but you don’t have time to wonder why you don’t feel as afraid this time.

“Who are you? What the hell is going on?” you run your eyes over him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “I don’t- where am I?”

Each of your senses are on high alert, your heart beating so loud you’re afraid it’s going to jump out of your chest, as you allow yourself to finally take in your surroundings. You're in a shower room of sorts, with rows of lockers on your one side and the tiled rows of shower stalls on the other. The smell of fresh blood hits you full force and you almost vomit again. You suck in a deep breath, ignoring the burning in your lungs as you try to force the feeling away. Your eyes catch some writing on the wall; Station 32. You look back to the man in front of you, zeroing in on his navy t-shirt with the same logo. 

What the hell are you doing at a fire station? 

He shifts closer to you and you stiffen. A pained expression laces across his face and your chest stings, worse than it did when you were coughing up the blood. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again there’s a sheen of tears. You swallow thickly, your own tears forming at the sight of his. What on earth is happening?

He sits back on his knees and runs a red hand through his blonde hair, maring the light strands with blood. You tense further at the sight. For some reason you want to stop him from spreading more of the blood over him. He’s already kneeling in a puddle of it, and his arms are soaked, painted in a cruel crimson. Even his t-shirt is drenched.  You grind your teeth together, your jaw clenching harshly. He places both his hands on the floor and takes another few inches towards you.

His movements are slow as if not to startle you, “hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now. I’m Klaus, I’m a firefighter here. You’re at station 32, Lexington, Virginia.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, making what you can only assume is a strong british accent even stronger. Your heart tugs harshly when he speaks, begging you to move closer to him. You wrap your arms around yourself, ignoring the increasingly sticky feeling over your entire body. You can’t stop a few tears from slipping down your cheeks.

“How did I get here?” 

A new voice, one just as accented and gravelly, pulls your attention from Klaus, “we aren’t sure, darling. We just got back ourselves. Gave us quite a shock, actually. How much do you remember?”

Your eyes wander around the blonde and land on two more men, two brunettes. You lock eyes with each of them, your heat racing once more. You suck in a breath at the wave of emotions that hit you. Sadness, confusion, longing, comfort. Love. It all hits you at once and you have to close your eyes before the room starts spinning again. When you open them again, they’re closer. Far enough to keep you from tensing, settled next to Klaus. 

You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed. One of the men, the one with dark brown hair cut close to his head and concerned brown eyes, notices and wastes no time pulling the t-shirt from his chest and settling it on your knees. It’s warm and a touch damp but you don’t mind, gratefully shuffling it over your head and passing him a grateful nod. It lands mid thigh, circling you in a heady wood scent. Your cheeks flame as you try not to lean down and smell it directly. When you look back at him his eyes are glinting.

“I’m not sure,” you press your palms against your eyes and immediately regret it, the stickiness now smeared on your cheeks and eyelids, “I don’t remember much. Only bits and pieces from this morning but nothing after that. Wait, is that normal? God, why can’t I remember anything!”

All of a sudden you’re panicking and the room begins shrinking, at least it feels like it is. You can’t breathe, your lungs constricting painfully. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room. Was there ever enough? You’re racking your mind for any little thing that you can remember but it’s pointless, you’re going too fast and your mind can’t make sense of anything you’re seeing. You see a sink, one covered in blood. You see teeth. No, you see fangs. You smell the forest, one heavy with pine trees. None of it makes sense!

You claw maniacally at your chest, trying to suck in enough air to clear the fog in your head. Nothing is helping, your body is on fire and sticky and you just want to scream until it all makes sense. The shirt feels three sizes too small and you want to tear it over your head. Just before you can, though,  you’re pulled onto someone's lap, someone who smells like pure water, and you can finally suck in a proper breath. The flames that were lapping your skin slowly start to fade, giving over to a cool sensation that soothes your achy bones. 

“Deep breaths, love,” Klaus’ voice washes over you like a lullaby, his hands rubbing down your back, “that’s good, just like that. We’re going to figure this out but for now you just have to breathe. You’re safe now, I promise you that. We can start with an easy one, what’s your name?”

You sink into his chest more easily than you would like to admit. His arms circle you tighter, his head resting on yours in an entirely unprofessional way but you don’t care. You’ve never felt this kind of need before. You’re afraid that if you leave his arms now then the flames will come back.

“Y/n,” you murmur into his shoulder, “my name is y/n.” 

A pair of hands rub over your shoulders, drawing you into them slightly on instinct, “darling, I know you’re scared but we need to see if you’re seriously hurt. We found you in a lot of blood,” whoever is speaking his voice is rough and he has to stop to clear his throat, muttering a curse under his breath, “do you think you can let us check you over?”

When he brings up the blood, it’s all you can smell again, and you scramble from Klaus’ arms, narrowly making it before you’re vomiting again. This time you don’t puke up any blood, thank god. Just bile, which isn’t much better. The metallic scent is all around you and it’s all you can do to hang your head and suck in as much air as possible. You feel so dizzy it physically hurts.

“Shit, Elijah we gotta get this cleaned up. It’s only making it worse. C’mere love,” you’re pulled into the warm chest of a man you’ve yet to interact with.

You lock eyes with the last man, losing your breath at his honey brown eyes. He smiles softly and you feel your cheeks go hot. You bring your hands to your lips quickly, all too aware of how close you are to this man and the fact that you were just throwing up and are soaked through with blood. You blink back a few tears, embarrassment streaming through you. You glance down at his chest which is now covered in your blood. The man furrows his brows, shaking his head lightly. You can almost hear his thoughts; don’t worry. 

Elijah, the man who gave you his shirt, nods at Klaus, standing quickly, “you two take her to the captain’s bathroom, it’s nicer anyway and more private. I’m not expecting anyone else tonight but I’d rather them not see her like this,” he turns, locking eyes with you, his rough tone softening drastically, “baby, are you okay if they help you clean this blood off? They’re not going to hurt you, we just need to get you cleaned up and warm to make sure you don’t go back into shock.”

The word baby rings through your head, hitting you directly in the chest. Tendrils of warmth unfurl through your body and you find yourself nodding to everything he says. Elijah sags, relief taking over his body. It doesn’t last long though, the tension filling his frame as he looks back around the room.

“Kol,” the man under you tenses, “take her upstairs now. Niklaus, do you mind helping me with this? It’s-” Elijah looks at you again for a moment before he has to look away, “It’s going to take two people.”

Klaus stares at you longingly, the pained look back in his eyes. It makes you want to pull him into your arms, blood or no blood, and hold him. You tense at the thought. Where did that come from?

He looks at you a moment longer before crawling over to and running one of his stained hands over your cheek. He leans down and kisses the top of your head, rubbing his cheek against your matted hair. Sparks dance down your spine at the simple touch, lighting your body like a christmas tree. Too many emotions surface again, confusion and longing being the top contenders. 

“I’ll be with you as soon as I can, love,” he whispers to you before standing himself and addressing Elijah, “yeah, let’s get this over with.”

Elijah nods at Klaus, his shoulders sagging slightly, probably out of relief again. Looking around one last time it’s obvious the job is going to take some major man-power. Thankfully the blood is contained mostly to the showers, but even so it’s coating almost every surface from there on. Looking at it makes you chest heavy again but before you can lose it Kol stands, pulling you up with him. 

He holds you easily, bringing you level with Klaus and Elijah. Elijah strides over to you, taking your face in his hands. Your heart pounds mercilessly at his touch. It takes all your willpower not to jump into his arms and curl around his bare chest. You try not to stare at his taut muscles. Now is definitely not the time to let lust join the myriad of emotions  running through you. Even as you force your eyes away, though, your body ignites and you have to stop yourself from clenching your thighs around Kol. Fucking hell, what is going on?

Kol’s arms tense suddenly and when you peak back at him, his eyes are shades darker. You swallow thickly, trying not to think too much about the heated look in his eyes. Or how much you don’t want him to stop looking at you like that. You peer back at Elijah, who holds a similar expression. You have to suck in a breath, the room temperature instantly raising ten degrees. 

Elijah leans his forehead against yours, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones gently, “Kol’s going to take you upstairs now, okay baby? He’ll take care of you, help you wash some of this off. You’re in control here, alright? No one else is going to hurt you.”

You nod lightly, your forehead rubbing against his, “okay, Eli.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and presses a hard kiss to your head before releasing you. Kol shuffles you further up his body, drawing your attention to him. He grins at you but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Before you can process what you’re doing, you’re cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and so warm. He sighs quietly, sinking his cheek into your touch, his eyes losing some of the tension.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, darling.” 

You lower your hand, choosing now to wrap your arms around his shoulders instead. His muscles under your fingertips are glorious, warm and firm. When you rest your face against his shoulder, you breathe in the faintest hints of nutmeg and flames. It’s absolutely intoxicating. His shoulder is hot against your cheek and you finally give into your cravings to curl your body around his, wrapping your legs tightly around his torso and clinging to him for dear life. He holds you against him with everything he has, taking the steps two at a time. 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes until you feel him enter a separate room, one much smaller than the locker room you were previously in. You’re greeted with a spectacular sight; a spacious bathroom with a wall of showerheads and the biggest clawfoot tub you’ve ever seen. You almost jump from his arms at how badly you want to get in it.

He sets you down on a vast countertop, the cool marble biting into your bottom. You shiver lightly, a warm blush spreading down your neck and chest. He places his arms on either side of you, staring at you with a mixture of tenderness and caution. You have to will yourself to keep looking into his eyes and not at the way his arms flex from how he’s leaning. God, where did all these wanton feelings come from?

“Okay, darling, where are we going from here? What do you need me to do?” his accent is fuller due to the acoustics in the bathroom and you nearly keel over from how hard it slams through your body, tugging at every nerve south of your belly button.

“Um,” you clear your throat lightly, swallowing the sudden scratchiness, “do you think there’s a toothbrush anywhere around here?”

Kol grins knowingly, leaning down and opening a drawer next to your thigh. The heat rolling off his body rushes into your legs and when he resurfaces with a new toothbrush and a cheeky smile you’re practically panting.

“Thanks.”

You brush your teeth quickly, making sure to scrub the remnants of the past thirty minutes or so from your mouth. It instantly makes you feel a little better, knowing you can speak to Kol without your breath being a biohazard. You set the toothbrush down, looking back to him appreciatively. 

Kol cups your chin gently, spreading heat like butter through your bones,“Do you think you can stand? If you can, I can wait outside while you get cleaned up. You can take as much time as you need, darling. I’ll be right outside the door.”

Your heart pounds quickly at his suggestion, your throat closing painfully. You don’t want him to leave you alone, even if he is just outside the door. You don’t know how to ask him to stay, though, and you don’t want to cross any boundaries. You’re so damn conflicted that your chest aches.

“Okay.”

He nods, his eyes a touch less bright than they were a few moments ago, and he backs away hesitantly. You use all your energy to push yourself off the counter, using it to keep yourself upright when your feet touch the floor. Your legs feel like jelly and you wonder for a moment if you have any bones. You shake your head lightly, scolding yourself. Don’t be stupid, y/n, of course you have bones. However, when you go to take a step towards the bathtub you almost revoke the sentiment. Your legs crumple around you, bringing you to a pile on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Kol is next to you in no time at all, his hands rushing over your legs, most likely checking for damage, “I knew that was going to happen I don’t know why I let you do that, darling. I was trying to give you space. Are you okay? Elijah and Klaus are going to kill me.”

He mutters the last part under his breath but you still catch it, “it’s not your fault, I was trying not to bother you. I thought I could make it to the tub, at least, and then figure the rest out from there. I, uh,” you scrub your hands over your face, covering your eyes with your palms, “I didn’t want to be a burden, more than I already am I mean.”

A few more tears slip past your guard, tracking lines through the dried blood on your cheeks. You swallow a sob before it can make any noise, your shoulders shaking slightly from the cold tiles underneath you. You’re utterly exhausted. You wish you could just click your heels and go home. The only problem is that something tells you that you’d only end up here again if you could do that.

“No,” Kol’s voice is low and strained, “no, darling, don’t say that. This isn’t your fault,” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his hot, nutmeg chest, “you’re not a burden to me. Or Elijah or Klaus. You’re a surprise and not an unwelcome one. If you need me to stay, hell, if you want me to stay I will. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, okay?”

You peer up at him, clinging to his toned chest like you’re afraid it’ll vanish from underneath you, “please get this blood off of me, Kol. I can’t do it, I can’t even hold myself up. I need you.”

His eyes darken again, the honeyed brown turning a darker chocolate color, “you have me, darling, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he leans down and brushes his nose against yours, “never ever.”

A tiny giggle bubbles in your chest and it feels like freedom. It feels like falling asleep on the beach and hiking through the mountains and every good thing you’ve ever experienced. Kol’s eyes light up and he bites back a grin before doing it again, pulling a flood of giggles from you. Soon you're throwing your arms around him, laughing your head off for no reason at all, him joining you in the madness. You can’t stop and you don’t want to. You need this, you need him. It frightens you how intensely you feel connected to him already but you push the fear away for the time being. 

“Okay, okay,” Kol scoops you against him and stands, “enough of that, love, time for a bath.”

That effectively puts an end to your giggling, your body igniting at the thought of taking a bath with this second coming of adonis. You swallow the lump in your throat, this time caused by the rippling of his taut muscles against you. The t-shirt you’re wearing feels see through suddenly, the thin layer between your core and his stomach doing little to quell the heat seeping from the crack between your thighs. 

You dig your fingers into his shoulders a little harder than you mean to, pulling a soft grunt from him, one that you can feel in your own chest, “bath. Okay.”

Your cheeks flame at your idiotic response. Bath. Okay. What the hell was that?

He walks to the tub and sets you gently on the floor of it, the porcelain ice against your flesh. He turns, his back facing you as he pulls his suspenders off. You admire the fluid movement of his muscles as he steps out of his stained turnout gear, leaving him in a pair of grey sweatpants. His back is toned like a greek god’s and you would like nothing more in this moment than to know what it feels like to dig your nails into it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to air the wanton out of your system. Don’t be a hussy, y/n. He turns back to you and your face flushes when he catches your lingering stare.

He hooks his fingers in his sweatpants and your breath catches in your throat. He lifts his eyebrow, silently asking if it’s okay for him to continue. Your mouth feels dry, your head is spinning. Slowly you nod, your eyes glued to his. He smirks lighty, an action so doused in sex that almost has you pulling Elijah’s t-shirt from your body and falling at his feet. You hold your breath as he pulls the sweatpants from his body and your heart almost falls out of your chest when they reveal a pair of grey plaid boxers. What were you expecting? Your subconscious taunts you mercilessly.

He steps into the bathtub behind you, kneeling and grabbing the showerhead on the way down. The heat rolling off of him seems to have increased, wrapping around you and daring you to melt into him. You want to, so badly you do, but you remain upright, your hands on the side of the tub, leaving rusty smudges on the crisp, white edges. 

Kol leans forward, his mouth right next to your ear sending shivers straight to your core when he speaks, “darling, I’m going to need to take this off,” his fingers tease the tops of your thighs, curling around the hem of the t-shirt, “may I do that?” 

He presses his face against your neck, laying a few soft kisses to the skin under your jaw. You roll your head back onto his shoulder, savouring his affection and warmth for a moment without overthinking it. 

You nod against his skin, “yes, Kol.”

You can feel the breath he takes against your back and then, when he releases it, against your neck. He takes his time, his fingers gently skimming your sides as he gathers the fabric up and over your head. You raise your arms to make it easier for him, gasping gently as cool air rolls over your exposed breasts. He tosses Elijah’s t-shirt to the side, running his hands down your back and planting another kiss to your uncovered shoulder. 

You know you should feel ashamed for being this naked with a man you just met but you physically can’t bring yourself to feel any of it. All you know is that you’re comfortable and that his hands on your skin feel like genuine magic. 

“Okay, I’m going to turn the water on now,” he rubs his nose down the back of your neck, “let me know if it’s too hot or anything.”

Your eyes prickle at how sweet he is, how gentle he is with you. He definitely doesn’t look like the gentle type, all tall, dark, and broody, but the way he’s acting proves otherwise. You nod your head, leaning your chin on the edge of the tub. He starts the water, a plume of steam instantly clouding the bathroom. The first stream to hit you is heavenly and you can’t help but close your eyes.

“Is that okay, darling?” 

You hum quietly, “it’s perfect.”

You let the water lull you into a daze, picturing the stream turning red as the water rolls off you and down the drain. It’s mesmerizing, the warmth of the water combined with Kol’s heady scent. When he touches you, though, it’s like a crescendo of feeling. His fingers run over your back, no doubt washing away the events of this evening, but all you can think about is how perfect his hands feel against your bare skin. 

Everywhere he touches blazes to life. You feel like putty in his hands, willing to mold however he needs you to. When his fingers glide down your sides your body reacts without warning, your back arching against his chest. You can feel his chest rumble under your back more than you can hear it. His large hands span your back easily, spreading over your ribcage, his thumbs gently grazing your breasts. You suck in a harsh breath, clenching your teeth to keep his name in your mouth. It’s begging to be said though. Said, screamed, praised. Anything. Fuck it.

“Kol,” you breathe, reaching back to grasp at his forearms for stability, “more.”

The growl that rips from his chest is unexpected but it lights every fibre of your being alive. He pulls you hard against his solid chest, falling against the back of the tub and shifting you so you’re perfectly centered on his lap. A flare of pleasure flashes up your spine when you land on something hot and hard. You hiss at the thin layer of clothing between you and Kol.

His lips find your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sending even more heat pooling in your core, “as you wish, darling.”

Your hands fall away as his hands cover your breasts, his thumbs skillfully sliding over your hard nipples. This time you don’t whisper his name, you moan it. Loudly. Every time he rolls your nipples between his fingers, you see stars. You see the whole damn galaxy. His lips find your shoulder, biting down gently but hard enough to pull a string of incoherent praise from your lips. 

His chest rumbles with every noise you make and the ball of heat between your legs grows brighter. You rock your hips against his, trying to build some much needed friction. The noise you pull from him is the epitome of heaven and it hits you right in the chest. It compels you to keep grinding your core against him harder, taking every sound he offers up and matching it with one of your own. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, rolling your head onto his shoulder as the anticipation sings through your body. 

Your senses are flooded, your hearing muffled by the running water and your blood pumping through your ears, which is probably why you don’t hear the door open and someone step into the bathroom. It’s only when a pair of lips attaches to the base of your neck do you peel your eyes open. You meet Klaus’ stare with a gasp, just as Kol pinches your nipples harder than all the times before. 

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, tearing through your nerves without warning and rendering you to pieces. All the while Klaus takes your arm, placing tantalizing, open mouth kisses down your skin. When you finally come down from the climax, your muscles are layered with a sweet exhaustion. Kol nuzzles against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Fuck, darling,” he nips at your shoulder and your skin zings lightly, “you have no idea how much I needed that.”

Your eyes meet Klaus’ and your cheeks flame from the intensity of his stare, “I didn’t do anything, you did it all.”

You want to look away from Klaus, you want to feel some inkling of shame, but you can’t. All you want is to do is hook your arm around his neck and bring him closer to you. Your body craves his and it’s all you can do to not melt into his palm when he cups your cheek. 

“That’s the point, love,” Klaus runs his thumb over your skin, “he just wanted to touch you.”

Kol hums his agreement into your flesh, his lips still glued to you. 

“Do you want to touch me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, your eyes widening as soon as you register what you just said.

In less than a second, the brown eyes staring into your turn a dark coal color. The skin around Klaus’ eyes turns a deep purple. Your breath hitches at this side of him, a deep longing settling in your chest the longer you stare into his eyes. He's ethereal and entirely unhuman but you can’t even think about that. You want him so bad it stings. He has to shut his eyes for a few moments and when he opens them again his eyes are back to normal, if not a touch darker. 

When he speaks his voice is gravelly, “I need to.” 

You swallow hard, forcing the words out before you have time to lose your nerve, “come here then.”

Klaus’ eyes widen before he stands abruptly, shoving his own jogging pants down his legs before stepping into the other side of the tub. Kol lets you go as Klaus settles against the porcelain. As soon as he’s comfortable he wraps his hands around your hips, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest. Your legs end up on either side of him, much like how you were with Kol, your core pressed against the hardest part of him.

His crisp scent folds around you and sucks you deeper against him until your chest to chest, your breasts pressing into his firm chest. His arms settle around your back, his palms splayed over your spine. Your flesh buzzes from the contact, goosebumps rising when he traces lazy circles with his fingertips. You meet his eyes again and involuntarily clench your thighs around his hips. He’s looking at you like you’re the only girl he’s ever laid eyes on. Like he’s in the presence of a goddess and that he would gladly lay his life down for you. 

Your eyes draw down to the tattoo on his chest, an image of birds in flight, and you run your fingers over it gently. He sucks in a breath when you touch him, closing his eyes and leaning back against the edge of the tub. Something about his reaction spurs you on. If that’s what your fingers can do, what can your mouth do? You lean down, gently attaching your lips to his collarbone and tugging his skin into your mouth.

He jolts up when you bite down lightly, jostling you further onto his lap and sending waves of heat rolling over your body, “fuck,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you impossibly closer to him, “love, you have no idea how good that feels.”

You pull back slightly, your mouth still against his skin as your eyes bore into his, “show me.”

His chest rumbles under your lips before he pulls your head back gently and slams his lips against your throat. He sucks your skin into his mouth and, for the second time tonight, you see stars. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, lacing your fingers through his blonde hair. You tug him closer to you, crossing your ankles behind his back. You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours. 

He bites down, his teeth scraping pleasure into every nerve, and you pull at his soft hair, praises falling mindlessly from your lips, “Klaus.”

A second pair of hands glides over your back, “darling, let me wash your hair. I can feel Elijah getting restless. Unless you want three men in this tub with you, I need to finish getting you cleaned up.”

Your heart pounds at the thought of Elijah in the bath with you, his large body pressed against yours. You can practically smell his pine scent in the air, clinging to your skin. You bite your lip. You want to moan his name and he isn’t even in the room. You shake the thought from your mind, leaning into Kol’s hands.

Klaus kisses up your neck, peppering your jaw and cheeks with pecks before pulling you to lay against his chest. You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion that’s been building flood your system. Kol soaks your hair, the warm water pouring down your shoulders as you press your face into Klaus’ neck. His hands draw lazily up and down your sides as Kol massages shampoo against your scalp. You mewl at his touch and cling to Klaus. You could stay in the moment forever, it’s absolutely blissful.

Just as Kol is rinsing the shampoo from your hair, the door to the bathroom opens revealing a shirtless Elijah. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. In his hand is a large towel. His eyes zero in on you from across the room and, though you can’t see them clearly, you can tell they’re dark. Your head goes fuzzy as your eyes draw down his sculpted chest, lingering on his rippled stomach. You meet his eyes again and give into your instincts, reaching your arms out for him.

“Eli,” you call out to him, “I need you.”

You stand on wobbly feet, bearing everything to him. You don’t care, you just want to be in his arms. You haven’t had a chance to touch him yet and your body is screaming at you to get as close to him as humanly possible. Even more than humanly possible. Elijah closes the space between the two of you in seconds, wrapping the towel around you before pulling you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms circling his neck. 

He leans down, rubbing his nose against yours, “I need you too, baby.” 

You slip your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft strands mindlessly. He leans into your touch and your heart soars. He hikes you further up your body, leaning his face against your shoulder. You run your hands over his shoulders, sighing when the tension leaves his muscles. 

“I’m going to go sleep for a few hours,” Elijah mumbles into your shoulder but his words aren’t aimed at you, “do you think the two of you will be okay until then.”

Klaus waves his hand dismissively and Kol nods, still draped lazily over the edge of the tub, “yeah, yeah, go, we’ll be fine brother.”

Wait, what? 

Did you hear that right? Brother. Your entire body sets on fire. They’re all related. Well, there’s the shame you were missing at least. You push against Elijah’s chest, forcing him to meet your eyes. When he sees your expression his brows pull together, his brown eyes filled with concern.

“Baby-” 

“You’re all brothers?” you breathe, your face burning, “brothers? What on earth is going on?”

He stares into your eyes for a moment before laughing, turning with you in his arms and starting towards the door. You lock eyes with Klaus and Kol over Elijah’s shoulder. They, too, are laughing without a care. Kol tosses you a wink just as Elijah carries you into the hallway.

You circle your arms around his shoulders again, “Lijah this is crazy. Explain. Please.”

He pulls you through another door, exposing you to a comfortable looking bed. Just looking at it sends sleep pooling in your limbs. He sets you in the middle of it before climbing on after you. He pushes you backwards and you fall into a pile of pillows, the towel long forgotten as he crawls on top of you. Your body flares with something hot as he holds himself on his forearms, his hot chest grazing yours with every breath he takes. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to you despite your still unanswered questions.

“Lijah,” you whine as his lips find your neck, arching into his touch like two magnets connecting, “I need answers.”

Elijah’s teeth scrape at your neck, pulling soft moans from your lips. You’re so tired but the want that swirls in your core demands anything but sleep. You grip his shoulders, digging your fingers into his firm muscles. You pull his hips closer to yours, rolling against him desperately. You press your head into the pillows, exposing as much of your neck as you can to him.

He pulls away and you have to swallow your protests. When you finally open your eyes, you’re met with the same dark eyes you saw from Klaus, only now they’re accented by a pair of sharp looking fangs. You suck in a deep breath, reaching up to cup Elijah’s jaw. 

“I know, baby,” he rubs his face into your hand, “I’ll give you all the answers you need and more but first I need you. I have waited a thousand years for you and now that I have you I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go yet. Please, baby, let me have you.”

His words wrap around you, every part of your being, and sink into your core. A wave of longing hits you again, and something else that you’re not ready to explore. It makes your heart warm and your body crave every inch of his. You already knew your answer before he asked. You’ve known since you woke up to the three of them.

Maybe you even knew before that.

You pull his face to yours, capturing his lips with your own, “you already have me. I’m yours.”

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

⤷ chapter twenty six: spotlight

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It was no surprise to people who always saw Atsumu that his eyes were constantly filled with a glitter that just managed to shine regardless of whether it was day or night. Volleyball, volleyball, and volleyball - perhaps, if you take time to ask these people what they think is the reason for that glitter, that would be their only answer. To those who truly knew him though, their answer might just be a tad bit different. Sakusa YN - from the moment he met you up to the present, a certain gleam seems to appear whenever you are the center of the topic. At least, that’s what Osamu has observed.

Kiyoomi concluded it’s just him unconsciously being a hopeless romantic for you. The grey haired lad remembers him saying it was pathetic, as always. But then again, he couldn’t deny the truth behind your brother’s words.

That said, he also knows that no one would have expected the same set of bright eyes to dull its sparkle. Unfortunately for the two of them (or three if you count Kiyoomi based on how often he visits the two of them now), you managed to take it away from him. There in the couch where you once sat during movie nights laid Atsumu, staring at the endless nothing, tears occasionally welling up his eyes as he remembers you, the way you looked at him as strangers do - empty, loveless, cautious.

It was karma. No matter how many times he tries to repeat it himself, it just doesn’t ease the thorns that prick his heart every millisecond that passes and every time, he just feels so sorry because he knows you felt the same pain before. How have you managed to get through it for more than twenty years? He has no idea because he sure as hell won’t be able to last one more day with it. Still, he can’t do anything but sit, mull over his self-sabotaged fate.

As he drowns himself deeper into his misery, a series of vigorous knocks disturb the twins’ “peace.” Osamu furrows his eyebrows together, a sense of oddness and urgency coming to him because Kiyoomi doesn’t knock that way - even when it comes to announcing his presence, your brother tries to be as prim and respectful as possible, knocking only thrice before waiting for the door to be opened, another three when he thinks no one heard him from the inside. Hence why the continuous knocks annoyed the grey haired.

Still, he begrudgingly sauntered towards the door and opened it, mouth ready to scold the person in front of him but he got beaten to it, “Where’s Atsumu?”

In her usual get up, Yui stood, a very much obvious fake smile plastered on her face and Osamu wanted nothing but to grab her hair and drag her to the deepest parts of hell for making you suffer (no one gets to do that except for him, he’s the only one who has the ‘drinking buddy and best friend’ privilege’).

Mentally, he took a deep breath before mustering the most sincere smile he can give her (it’s strained and forced, he knows it deep down), “Hello, Yui-san. I don’t think today’s the best day to-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yui shoved past him and walked inside the house, acting as if she owned it. Osamu watched her trudge her way towards the living room in disbelief, fists clenching so hard it was painful already. Oh dear lord, please… just for today, let me strangle this woman… I’m willing to spend the rest of my life in jail if it means I get to do that for YN.

“Atsumu-kun!” She squeals upon seeing the blonde, ungracefully throwing her whole body to him, much to his shock (and annoyance).

“Y-Yui? What the fuck?” He shoves her away from him and backs up, creating a space which makes Osamu cheer quietly and form a devilish smile. Obviously not expecting the unappreciated response to her actions, she huffs, “You didn’t have to push me that hard, jerk Atsumu! That hurt me!”

“Yui-san…” Atsumu sighed exasperatedly, “I’m not in the mood, okay? Just… just leave, please?”

Yui’s smile disappears from her face and soon, an angry expression replaces it, “You’re such an ungrateful asshole, Miya. I’m busy and here I am, making time for you and you’re telling me to leave? Me?! THE Yui you wanted so much before? How dare y-”

“I didn’t ask you to come here, didn’t I? Just fucking read the room, Yui. I don’t like you here, not right now, not ever. I’m sorry but whatever I thought before, I was wrong. So just fucking leave,” he spat, patience running dry because all he wanted was sulk his life away in the couch.

As if finally being enlightened by the current situation, Yui begins to laugh, “Oh. my. god. Did she finally tell you? Wait… did she actually cut your thread? That’s why you look so miserable right now?”

Atsumu stands up from the couch, disbelief all over his face, “You knew?!”

The girl continues to holler her ugly laugh, “Ah, so hilarious! Of fucking course, Atsumu! One look at her pathetic face and I knew. Hell, I didn’t even need a Moira to figure it out. It was so fun, acting all sweet with the clueless you… and there she is, on the verge of tears every time!”

She wipes the fake tears away from her eyes, “But I guess she got tired too. I mean… you’re just so dumb, Atsumu. So hopeless and so easy to play with,” her fingers trace his jawline, rolling her eyes and snickering when he slapped it away from him.

“Now that I think about it again, you two shouldn’t have played Cinderella. You fit more into the criteria of Sleeping Beauty… you’re like Aurora, was it? But like, without the cure of a kiss because you ruined your true love! That’s my curse for you!”

The blonde grits his teeth, tears uncontrollably falling down his cheeks despite his desperation to stop them. Yui sees it and lets out a fake coo, “Aww, look at you, crying. You must be feeling so guilty, huh? It’s okay, I’m here… I can be the princess you’ve always wanted. You just have to behave like the foolish little prince you are.”

Osamu curses, taking a step forward to drag the girl out of their home but a voice stops him from doing so, “Is it fun? Playing with people’s fates like toys?”

Yui and Atsumu whip their head towards the source of the voice and Osamu is filled with relief upon seeing your brother standing, an unamused look on his face. Clearly liking the attention she was getting, Yui replies, “Ooh, what are you all? Avengers for YN? Protection squad or something? But to answer your question, yes! I’m enjoying it very much… but that doesn’t concern you, does it, Sakusa-kun?”

Kiyoomi paused for a second, removing his shoes and leaving them by the door, walking nearer the two, not too close but just enough to show her his height and intimidate her somehow, “You’re right, it doesn’t. If anything, I’m glad it’s all over now so my sister doesn’t have to suffer in between your acts of foolishness. But for some reason,” he trails off, looking down at her and throwing a look of disgust, “I pity you - because your fate is just as fucked up as theirs - your soulmate doesn’t remember you too and looking at you right now, something is telling me that you regret it too… because you have no one left. No Iwaizumi, no Atsumu.”

Judging by the way she glared at him, Kiyoomi feels a sense of accomplishment for hitting right on the nail.

“You-!”

“How unfortunate, Yui-san… the spotlight is not on you anymore.”

Silence filled the house right after Yui rapidly walked out of the house, a string of curses for your brother flowing out of her mouth. But Kiyoomi couldn’t care any less; instead, he turns to Atsumu who was already looking at him in awe before snapping off his thoughts and mumbling, “Omi… uhm… thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” is the only thing he replies, “I won’t do anything for you...”

Atsumu swallows harshly, the bitter truth making it hard for him to do so, “Right.”

“... at least not anymore after this one,” he finishes, handing the blonde some neatly folded documents. Osamu smiles from where he stood, side-leaning against the doorway leading to the kitchen, as if he already had an idea what the papers were for. His twin’s eyes scan them and as if by a miracle, a familiar glitter appears in them, accompanied by a hopeful expression as he lifts his head and looks at your brother.

“Omi, this…”

“Be ready in three months. I hope you’re not scared of riding planes.”

note. i'm so sorry for the very very long gap between these updates T_T i swear i'll try to update more frequently now, at least school's being less of an ass these days (don't say sike pls)

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

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

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

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

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

[batsandbugs]

A Kiss With a Fist

AN: Hey everyone another fic coming at you! This is for the Maribat Drabble Exchange hosted by @eat0crow I’m so excited to be participating! My fic was for @pixiebuggiewrites​ who wanted a Daminette soulmate fic. Sorry I couldn’t squeeze anybody else in here it was already getting pretty long! I hope you all enjoy! You can also read it here on ao3! (Pictures are NOT mine)

Damian stormed away from the hotel, aggressively zipping his coat. He didn’t care where he was going, only that it was away from here.

He didn’t want to be in Paris. He didn’t want to watch out for incompetent amateurs. He didn’t want to ‘control your anger, Damian’. He wanted to be sent home.

The calm night taunted him, the Parisian streets were too bight and too clean, resembling nothing like his dark city. He missed patrolling, he missed his animals, hell, a part of him (a small, barely negligible part he would never admit to) even missed his siblings. But no, he was stuck here, under his father’s orders until the situation in Paris drew to a conclusion.

Considering it took five years for outside help to be even called in, he had no clue how long the mission would last. He still hadn’t met the so-called-heroes of Paris, but the research he conducted showed they were ill-trained, undisciplined, and relying on so much luck it was a fucking miracle their city wasn’t a smoking ruin by now.

He sighed, sticking his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He regretted not grabbing his gloves in his storm out. He’d been so irritated at his father that even though the man was on the other side of a screen, half-way across an ocean, Damian needed to physically leave to calm his anger. It left him little time to grab essentials for a chilly winter night like a hat, or gloves. He considered himself lucky for remembering to grab a coat at all.

He wandered for a solid hour, the cold sinking into his bones chilling the raging inferno that always seemed to bubble inside him. By the time he no longer wanted to scream at anyone, he was sufficiently lost, considering he hadn’t taken his phone with him either.

Coming to rest on a bridge he took a seat on a small bench. He puffed a warm breath of air into his chilly hands rubbing them together. Nighttime in Paris was so… different compared to Gotham. While big cities never truly slept, this was positively peaceful in comparison to what he was used to. He hadn’t even heard a single sound of ruckus or distress, which seemed strange considering the city was currently besieged by a magical butterfly terrorist.

Damian inwardly scoffed. Butterfly terrorist. True, being a Gothamite meant no room to judge, but he found it hard to think of a stranger string of words.

He sighed; Damian didn’t even know what his father wanted him to do here. Sure, he knew French and was a proficient fighter, but what could that even lend to the situation? They needed a detective, and, as much as he hated to admit it, Drake would have been the better option in that department. Unfortunately, he was off-world. Grayson was dealing with a problem in Hong Kong with Cass. Brown was paired with the rest of the Sirens taking care of Gotham along with Batman, and Todd…

Well, even he recognized what an awful choice Todd would be against a villain who literally used strong negative emotions as his weapon of choice. Damian had a temper; Todd was a ticking-time-bomb.

A high-pitched screech cut through the night air, before being noticeably muffled. Damian was on his feet and running before he even mentally acknowledged it. The thud of his boots on the cobblestone bridge sent small shocks through his legs. Another large clatter directed him off to a side street a couple of feet away. Three men had cornered a tiny slip of a woman, who held her purse like a weapon.

Damian saw red. “Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” he yelled in French. There was one benefit to being in a foreign city, Damian did not have to play the part of a clueless rich kid who couldn’t hold his own in a fight.

The brutes turned to him and grinned mean smiles. One guy stepped forward. “Come on man, we’re just having a little fun. You can join if you-” Damian cut off the disgusting words with a jab to the nose. Then he spun around, sweeping the second guy’s feet from underneath him, hitting him with a punch to the face to knock him out cold. The first guy hadn’t lost consciousness, but he was doubled over which allowed Damian to knee him in the stomach. Another punch to the face and he was out cold too.

He turned to finish off the last guy, only to see the woman roundhouse kicking him to the head. The burly man fell with a thud. The alley turned eerily silent, the only sounds coming from the sharp breaths of both Damian and the girl. His pulse fluttered fast; the heat of the battle warmed his chilled limbs.

A red purse laid on the ground near his feet. Picking it up he walked over to the small woman, no teen she looked about his age, who was still sharply breathing.

“Here, this is-” a blur is all he saw before a sharp pain spread across his nose.

Did she-

Did she just punch him in the face?

The shock of it sent him sprawling onto the ground, and he blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. Damian cradled his throbbing nose, anger bubbled once more under his skin before-

*Zing*  

The connection hit him like a train. A deep well of rightness spreading through him. He looked up through bleary eyes to find the woman staring at him in similar shock.

“You’re my soulmate,” they sputtered at each other.

Damian inwardly groaned. The League made initiates kill their soulmate should they ever find them to prove their loyalty. He grew up never wanting to find his soulmate, knowing they would serve as nothing but a distraction and weakness. Even when he joined his father, the idea seemed an unneeded liability. Sure, his brothers found their soulmates within the superhero community, but what were the chances he would too?

A small whimper escaped the mouth of the guy lying unconscious on the ground, knocked out by the woman the universe thought would be the perfect match for him. Damian tilted his head. She might not be a superhero, but maybe the universe knew him better than he first imagined.

“OhmygoshIamsosorry!” the flood of words spilled from his soulmate’s mouth, her face a deep shade of red. “I was just-”

“Acting on instinct and adrenaline? Appropriate, considering the threat you just faced,” he said without anger. “Your right hook is sufficiently adequate.”

“Um… thanks? Are you alright though?” She extended a hand to help him off the ground. He took it, his larger hand enveloped hers, but she showed a surprising amount of strength as she pulled him up. The contact sent another *zing* through his body, smaller and more subdued though. Damian found himself reluctant to let go.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” He suffered worse in training before. With the initial pain dissipated, all that was left was a dull throbbing that would be gone by morning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said with a bright smile. He took the chance to finally observe his soulmate. She was small, couldn’t be more than 5’2, which meant at 6’1 he towered over her. She was of mixed descent, with dark hair spilling over her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. Her arms and legs were toned with muscle, and she held herself with grace and confidence. She wore a face of tasteful makeup and was clothed in a short red dress and a pair of strappy heels with no jacket in sight. He had no clue how she wasn’t freezing to death.

Her smile dimmed a bit. “Actually, no, I’ve had better days. Today has kinda been a perfect disaster; first I’m late for school, then I forgot my homework, and my class bully decided it was a pick-on-Marinette day. There’s a three-hour Akuma fight, involving mind-control, which is always a total drag. I finally get home to find my parents worried sick about me because I hadn’t answered my phone which got destroyed at the beginning of the fight. I go to my class’s senior Valentine’s day dance hoping to finally confess to the guy I’ve had a crush on for years, only to get humiliated because he already has a girlfriend, and everyone else in my class knew and decided not to tell me. When I get away not to cause a scene, not only do I forget my jacket, but I also get attacked by three bumbling idiots with more mouths than brains.” She chuckled, hollow and verging on manic.

Damian stood there, unsure how to take all of that. He filed away the fact she was being bullied, and that she commonly dealt with Akuma attacks. Both equally important, as far as he was concerned.

“Now, here I am, standing in front of my gorgeous soulmate I punched in the face, after beating up said earlier idiots, rambling my mouth off because I don’t know the meaning of the word chill. Yep! I’ve certainly had better days. Ohmygoshimatotalmesskillmenow.” She muttered the last part into her hands, but Damian understood her all the same.

He would come back to the gorgeous thing later.

“…Do you want my jacket? You look cold.” It wasn’t the smoothest thing he could have said, nor the most appropriate considering the mess of a day she’d had. However, the manners Alfred drilled into his brain came knocking and if he was cold with a turtle-neck long-sleeved shirt and a jacket, she must be freezing in all that… nothingness. He averted his eyes from her exposed skin, looking at her face instead.

His soulmate looked at him for a long moment, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“You know what, yeah, a jacket would be nice,” she said in a tired voice. Damian shed his coat quickly, not minding the sharp sting of cold that hit him. He helped his soulmate into the sleeves and took an odd little pleasure in seeing how tiny she looked in the folds of his jacket.  

“I’m Marinette, by the way, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She wrapped the jacket closer cuddling into the heat. “Sorry for kinda freaking out on you there.”

“The kind of day you’ve had has surely broken lesser mortals. Any coping method is your due. I’m Damian, Damian Wayne. It’s a pleasure to meet you Marinette.” He smiles, although the gesture feels odd, trying to appear non-threatening. While his soulmate (and maybe he was coming around to this faster than he thought possible) was obviously skilled at dealing with a variety of stressors, he didn’t want to add any more and risk her being akumatized.

“You as well Damian.” She shivered despite the added protection of his coat, as a gust of wind swept through the alleyway. “As much fun as this conversation has been, it might be best for us to get out of the cold.”

“Indeed. What will we do with these inconveniences?” he asked, poking one of the guys with the tip of his boot.

She sighed, picking her purse from the ground where he’d dropped it. “We’ll call the police to come pick them up. They’ll be cold, but fine.”

Damian scowled, “It’s better than they deserve.” He sneered at the guy who offered for Damian to join them. Join them in assaulting this tiny, bright girl, who’d been through enough. His soulmate. The bubbling rage began anew, and he wished he’d done more than just knock them unconscious, they deserved far worse for thinking, daring, to touch-

A small hand rested on his arm, dragging him out of his violent thoughts. “I’m fine Damian. Even if you hadn’t arrived, I would have been fine. I can hold my own in a fight. This is Paris after all.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “Fine. We’ll leave them to their fates.” And if their fates happened to involve complete ruination of their online lives, credit scores, and secure information? Well, that was hardly his fault, now was it?

“There’s a good café opened late around the corner. Would you- would you like to go there?” Marinette asked.

Damian smiled at the tentative offer. “I would very much enjoy that, yes. I’ve been out for longer than I should, coffee would be great right about now.” She giggled and he felt his stomach flutter. Funny, giggling always annoyed him, but that bright clear sound... he could grow used to that.

Walking out of the dark alley, listening to Marinette talk to the police on her phone, Damian sighed. The streets no longer felt too clean, or the lights too bright. Yes, he was colder, and yes this was a complication, but for some reason, Damian could not bring himself to care.

Maybe Paris wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[slashersins]

hi! could you possibly do the masked slashers taking off their mask for the first time in front of their s/o? perhaps jason and michael and/or whoever else you want! thank you! 🥰

sad story . i was almost finished with this ask when my computer reset and i lost everything . i am very sad , and trying my best to rewrite it . 

hi! could you possibly do the masked slashers taking off their mask for the first time in front of their s/o? perhaps jason and michael and/or whoever else you want! thank you! 🥰

jason

his face . . . his deformities . it’s the reason he was bullied at camp . it’s the reason he was chased down the pier and shoved into the unforgiving lake . it’s the reason he heard laughter as he tried desperately to thrash his way to the surface . it’s the reason water filled his lungs . it’s the reason he drowned . the reason he died . so it’s no wonder that jason wants to hide that part of himself . the part that caused him so much pain and suffering . 

jason is so very aware of his current state . he’s been half alive , half dead . a corpse , powerful and deadly and vengeful for years now . and time hadn’t been kind to him . the deformities that once marred his face have been changed . everything has changed about him , leaving him feeling as if his entire body is marred , and it is . he knows you can see it . the truth of his undead state . his skin a pale blue grey . his blood thick and slow moving , black as it oozes out of him . part of his left side has been eaten away , showing his ribs . injuries he’s received leaving deep , lasting impression into his slow healing body . he isn’t human . not anymore . he knows this . he knows you know this . you’ve seen him and stayed with him despite him being a moving corpse . 

but his face . . . his face is different . long gone are the deformities that once marred his features . changed and warped into something he would find even more terrifying . you’ve told him so many times that you don’t mind how he is . that you love him besides it . but with a face that is mostly bone , strings of muscle and blue grey flesh keeping his jaw connected , how could you ever stay with him ? he was scared . terrified of what your reaction would be . he’s a monster . a monster with barely half a face . 

it takes so long for him to finally take off the mask . and his shoulders slump , already defeated , already preparing to hear you scream and run and curse him . ready for you to see him as the monster he is . undead . unlovable . he doesn’t look you in the eyes . he looks down , not raising his head as his arm drops weakly to his side , the mask gripped harshly in his hand . he doesn’t realize that he’s shaking . so scared of your reaction . 

the feeling of your warm hands cupping his jaw , those delicate fingers tracing over the bone , over his exposed teeth , over the flesh part of his upper cheek . the way you lift his head , looking over him , trying to find his eyes , trying to get him to look at you . you didn’t run . you didn’t scream . you stayed . still cupping his face as you whisper his name , wanting his attention . he’s slow to meet your eyes , but what he finds there has tears welling up , spilling over his broken face and your fingers . he finds love . so much love . so much acceptance . he can’t hold himself back now as he tugs you in , wrapping his arms around you . your forehead pressed to his as you whisper how much you love him , mask or no mask . 

what he found in your eyes as you looked up him shattered him completely . he found that he was beautiful . 

thomas

his skin condition hadn’t been bad . looking back at the very few pictures there were of thomas as a child confirmed that . it was obvious that there was something medically wrong , but nothing . . . dramatic . but the condition that thomas had wasn’t able to be treated . his family was poor , barely making ends meet each week . so thomas was not able to get the medical attention he needed that could had stopped the spread of his condition . there were no medicated creams to help heal blackened , dry skin . no pills to take that aided his body in healing . so it got worse . and worse . and people were cruel . and thomas found no sympathy for something he couldn’t control .

he was likened to a monster . a freak . diseased and dangerous . contagious almost . and he heard it from a very young age . he couldn’t help his looks . he didn’t know why people laughed , until they called him ugly . he didn’t know why people gasped in fear , until they called him scary . and being told this over , and over , and over , and over . . . he started to believe it . he was ugly . he was scary . a monster . a freak . hiding his face behind his hands , behind a mask , it made things easier for him , but that self hatred that lingered deep inside of himself only grew and grew .

thomas won’t take off his mask . he prefers to hide behind it . he doesn’t want to risk you seeing his face . to see how bad its gotten . he’s ugly . he is so ugly . and he doesn’t want you to see it . he doesn’t want you to change your mind . asking him to take off his mask has him flinching like you burned him . he’ll get up and stomp off , upset and hurt and self conscious . no , y/n . you can’t see . he can’t show you . he can’t bare to lose you . and he knows he loves you so much that he wouldn’t be able to let you go . and that would make him even more monstrous , wouldn’t it ?

the first time you see his face is an accident . it happens after passionate love making . the ties of his mask slipping and moving . he’s nuzzling into your neck , pressing kisses over sweat slick skin as he pulls up to look at you . oh , he loves to look at you as you come down from your pleasure . he doesn’t notice that his mask has slipped off . instead he’s too focused on staring down at you with adoration . 

your eyes widen as you see what he’s been hiding from you . and he thinks the look in your eyes just you coming down , he doesn’t realize it’s from seeing him for the first time . he sighs softly when curious fingers filter over his lips , his cheeks . closing his eyes as he melts into your touch . he’s never felt your fingers on the ruined parts of his face before and -

thomas is grabbing your wrists suddenly . eyes wide as he looks to the side of your head and sees his mask . he panics , he’s sitting up , blindly grabbing for his mask as he hides his face in his hand . he’s shaking , panting , terror and fear breaking him down . 

reach out to him . sit up and touch his back softly , rubbing slow circles there . oh , tommy . how could he think you love him any less because of his face ? kiss his back , his shoulders . wrap you arms around him . tell him how much you love him . that it’s okay . that it’s just a face . his face . the face of the man you love . and you love him for his face and despite it . hold him as he calms down . as he breaks and cries . as he’s reminded of the depth of your love and he basks in it .

bubba

bubba doesn’t see himself as ugly . fears of his face scaring others isn’t the reason he wears a mask . even all drayton’s yelling and shouting and cursing at him doesn’t make him feel ugly , it makes him feel stupid and useless . which is just as bad . so his masks have before kind of a buffer from that kind of abuse . they act more like a safety blanket . something to protect him from the outside world , from other people . the world is cruel and mean and dangerous . and he wants to feel safe . 

his masks also work as tools of self expression , as an extension of himself . he has so many different ones for different moods and feelings depending on the day . you’ve counted at least seven so far , seeing some more than others . and while you loved bubba , you can’t help but be curious . 

it starts innocently enough , just simply asking if you can see bubba without a mask on . sadly , the reaction you get isn’t what you hoped . bubba seems to panic . worried babbling and soft whines and violently shaking his head no . why would you want to take his mask off ? why ? were you going to hurt him ? were you going to be mean ? he didn’t want to take it off , he didn’t feel safe without it . why would you , the person he loves so much , want to make him feel unsafe ? 

he is going to be worried , keeping away from you and even hiding for a day or two . give him some time . tell him you’re sorry , and that you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings . smother him in kisses and love and affection and all those worries will melt away . he’ll be back to his normal bubba self before you know it , even it if means you don’t get your curiosity fix . 

the day you see his face is well . . . normal . simple . unexpected . lazing in your shared bed , reading a book , you only glance up and smile when bubba bounces into the room with barely contained excitement . you can’t help but smile as he goes through the closet and takes out his favorite dress . a little flowy blue number with yellow flowers and only the smallest of blood stains on the hem . bubba was feeling pretty today , you could tell . and gosh you loved seeing him so happy like this .

watching him from behind your book , enjoying this little moment of bubba , you stilled when he took off his mask . he wasn’t looking at you , no , he wasn’t even paying attention as he went through his many masks to find his pretty one . you were in shock . staring at his maskless features , taking in the true face of your loving country man . and you watched , even as he put on his other mask , the bright colors of make up on leathered skin clashing with his blue dress . but he turned and beamed at you , twirling and showing off . you could only laugh and compliment him . you hadn’t expected to see his real face , but you knew right here and right now that it really didn’t matter . you loved bubba masked or maskless . maybe you loved him more when he could express himself like this , 

brahms

he hadn’t wanted to wear a mask . to be completely honest he never even thought about it . it was his mother’s idea . coming from the fact that she couldn’t stand to see her son’s fire marred face . and brahms found out the truth after a tantrum was thrown about the mask , and his mother let this truth harshly fly out . he’d been devastated . his own mother didn’t want to see him . thought he was ugly . it’d been a painful experience . one that he kept close to his heart . he wasn’t the beautiful little boy his mother and father had once loved . now he was shameful and dirtied and kept hidden away . and he never took the mask off because of it .

that shame , that fear , that hatred of the ‘ ugly ’ part of himself is what keep his mask on once he’s out of the walls . you loved brahms the doll , the porcelain face it had . so it only made sense to him that you’d love him , brahms the man , and his porcelain face . he doesn’t think you’d love him as much if he took the mask off . his own mother came to hate his scars . you would too . he just knows it . so he stays hidden . as much as he can . 

he won’t take the mask off in one go . it’s slow . it comes in moments . more and more of brahms’ face being shown to you . it starts when he wants a good night kiss . a real one . on his lips . he’s so shy about it . nervous fingers lifting the mask up just enough that you have access . and once he takes the slightest of kisses , he’s pulling his mask back down . he’ll revel in the feeling and soon want more real kisses . outside of the good night ones . soon he’ll want more than just those quick small kisses , he’ll want more . and when he gets them his mask is pressed up further , over his nose . he tries so hard to keep the mask on , but it’s hard when you’re so addictive . the first time you see brahms for all he is , his half fire marred face standing out in the moon light is the first time you give all of yourself to him . he’ll still wear the mask , taking it off only for sexy times , and even then not always , or when he needs to bathe . but he won’t be as scared , he won’t flinch away when you reach out to touch his face . he knows you won’t leave him . you’ve had every chance to and you stayed . and maybe , just maybe , he feels like he isn’t as hideous as his mother made him believe he was . 

michael

you don’t get a choice on when this happens . you don’t get to ask . he’ll ignore you . or worse he’ll make it so you don’t ask him again . if he doesn’t want to take his mask off , he won’t . the entire reason he wears it is because it’s a comfort . like he’s in his own little world . no one can read him , or try to , there’s no pressing eyes of doctors and nurses looking for any twitch of muscle to over analyse . he feels strangely safe , strangely right , with his mask on . it’s the control he has with it on . no one knows who he is , what he truly looks like , and yet everyone knows who he is . it’s that fear , the fear of his prey not knowing , but knowing who and what he is . 

michael doesn’t take off the mask . not when he sleeps . not when he showers . not during the moments when you two are doing . . . things . the closest thing you’ve ever seen of his face are those moments when you look up too soon from eating just in time to see him pull his mask down over his mask when he’s finished .and even then he glares at you for staring . irritated that you might have seen something , that you might have seen him . 

it’s safe to say that you do not at all expect for a freshly cleaned and laundered michael to suddenly appear next to you while you were curled up on the couch watching tv .  you didn’t even hear the shower go on or off . you hadn’t even heard him enter the house . turning with a half smile , startled at such a sudden appearance , you opened your mouth to welcome michael back home only to shout in shock as who was sat next to you . 

instead of the masked man was . . . well a man . his face turned to the tv , but his eyes watching you in a sideways glance . there wasn’t any movement , michael stiff as you had your shock . he didn’t offer anything , just turning his gaze back to the tv . it takes a few minutes for it to settle in . for you to realize that this was michael . and you looked awed . your fingers twitching to reach out and touch him , but you know better . michael had already nearly broken your wrist once for simply touching over his mask before . as happy as you were to see his real face , you really wished michael would of chosen a gentler way of showing you . 

[hansolmates]

hoshi; vowels and veracity (m)

summary: after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher. pairing: teacher!soonyoung x single mother!reader genre/warnings: fluffity fluff nuggets, humor, a lil bit of angst when yn panics, *steve rogers voice* language! alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap the pickle before u tickle), face sitting w/c: 5.2k a/n: i really have nothing to say about this but i’ve been thinking about going back to school all week so this manifested. enjoy a lil sexy but sweet hosh💕 

“Y-you,” another giggle and the press of wet lips to the sensitive spot of your neck, “stop, Soonyoung! I’m ticklish there!” 

You feel a pout imprint itself in the sweet spot between your ear and your jaw, and you sigh at the rumble of his lips against your skin, “But you taste so sweet, baby,” he croons, and you’re practically melting between the door with how much Soonyoung has pressed himself against you, all of himself. 

“What if I don’t wanna stop, pretty girl?” he husks against your soft skin, whispering things in your ear that aren’t for the faint of heart. In your haste to keep a firm grip, one hand goes to his clothes and the other nips at the undercut of his midnight black hair, “what if I just open the door right now and we slip right in, and then I slip right in you?” 

Your breath hitches and suddenly your core feels like a timebomb, ready to combust. 

Go on a date, Joshua says. He’s a sweet guy, Joshua says. He’s a friend of Joshua’s, so you know going into this blind date that at the very least, he wasn’t a serial killer. But what Joshua failed to tell you going into this was how much Kwon Soonyoung packed and how much of a temptor in disguise he is. 

“I really would love to invite you in,” it looks like it pains Soonyoung to admit this, as he presses his forehead to yours and the edge of his fingers dig into your crushed emerald velvet number, “but tomorrow’s the first day of work and I am not emotionally prepared. But, I do want to see you again. I had a great time.” 

The previous mood melting into the night sky, you reluctantly let go of the lapels of his tweed blazer. Unable to suppress your crestfallen smile you nod, “That’s fine,” you reply, inching away from him to send him a pointed look, “I wouldn’t have gone inside anyway. I don’t put out on the first date,” you cross your arms in an attempt to feign nonchalance.  

Which isn’t a lie, although if Soonyoung had asked you two minutes ago to come inside for a cup of tea, you wouldn’t have argued. He is just that tempting. Said date raises an eyebrow in response, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear at the defiance in your eyes. “Oh?” he echoes, “then what date do you put out?” 

“Date seven.” 

“Lucky seven,” he grins, “so if we go on a date every day this week by Friday we should be good to go. How do you feel about steak?” 

You slap his shoulder in his response, and the giggle that erupts from his lips in response has you feeling dizzy and giddy with excitement. Soonyoung has you feeling like a college freshman all over again, floating like Cloud 9 and drunk in anticipation. You peck one, two more kisses on his lips. He tastes like the peach champagne you shared and his own scent as he pulls you in for a much longer, much hotter kiss. 

“Good luck on your first day,” you mumble against his lips, vaguely remembering that he’s a teacher in a school nearby. 

“Mm, text me when you get home,” and with a final kiss to your forehead he unlocks his door, leaving you warm and full of heart-eyes on his front porch. 

The walk home, more like float home, has you feeling all parts exhausted and hopeful for the days to come. For the first time in a long time you feel young and unbridled, thrumming with excitement. Now you’re just playing with your phone, waiting to exchange goodnight texts. 

“Nari’s asleep,” when you walk into your shared apartment, you spot a sleepy Seungkwan on his laptop and sprawled across your couch. “How was it?” 

“It was reealllly nice,” you’re still a little wine tipsy, drunk on the taste of Merlot and a certain someone’s kisses, “he was really sweet, and surprisingly sexy.” 

“Did you get dicked down?” Seungkwan asks only the most important questions. 

You scoff, flopping down on the couch next to him, “As if, we have work in the morning.” 

“Speaking of work, are you sure you’re not able to drop off Nari to school tomorrow? It’s her first day of kindergarten.” 

“I can’t,” saying it feels absolutely awful, but a single mother has to work extra hard to keep her and her daughter happy. 

“It’s fine,” Seungkwan easily waves you off and runs a hand through his fluffy auburn hair, “her favorite Uncle is there, anyway.” 

“Hey,” you lightly punch his arm, “I’ve already talked Nari through it. I’m cooking a big breakfast tomorrow—chocolate chip pancakes, duh, and taking a million pictures before we have to part ways. I packed a little Kit-Kat for her lunch with a sweet note. When I come back in time for dinner I promised her pizza from her favorite parlor and she can tell me everything about her day.” 

“So, you’re bribing her with food.” 

“Sue me, it’s every parent’s weak spot.” 

Seungkwan stretches his arms, cradling you between his chest. You sigh into his clean linen scent, feeling sleepy. “Yeah, I’ve bribed her with my Switch once or twice,” he admits softly, eyes also drooping, “but you’re a great mother regardless. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, Kwannie,” you sigh, feeling more at ease. 

Nari is the light of you and Seungkwan’s life. Five years ago, you promised yourself that if you were more than financially stable and still sick with baby fever, you would adopt. You didn’t want to find a romantic partner for the sole purpose of having a child, you could easily do that on your own. And that you did, you researched and visited foster homes off in the countryside. 

In a little town off the coast of the shore was where you met Nari, only six months old and full with cherub cheeks and eyes that sparkled like the moon and stars. You fell in love with her instantly. Fast forward five years later and she’s the reason you wake up every morning and work hard every day. Seungkwan being your best friend, also wanted rights as the godfather and therefore is also part of your perfect family picture. 

You and Seungkwan sleep warmly tonight, both excited to share yet another year of Nari’s milestones. 

“And then Mr. Kwon said I was an ‘ace’ with my vowels!” Nari has a string of cheese hanging from her chin, and you don’t bat an eye as you reach to pat it away with a napkin. 

“I wouldn’t expect any less, baby,” you coo, carding a hand through her hair so her bangs don’t get caught in her meal, “remember when mommy and Uncle Kwannie taught you the vowels this summer? We sang that song.” 

“Yes! I sang the same song and showed everyone how ‘ta do it,” your heart is swelling with pride, and you fight the urge to tear up because Seungkwan’s already showing signs of waterworks from his side of the table, “I read a book Mr. Kwon gave me today and he said he’s so impressed I read at a Level B.” 

You quirk your brows at the new jargon. You certainly don’t know what it means to be a Level B, but it makes Nari happy and that’s all that matters. Wiping the orange grease off her lips, you muse that you must get in contact with her teacher one of these days.

“What’s a Level B?” Seungkwan similarly looks stumped at the new vocabulary. 

“I don’t know!” Nari shrugs, but nevertheless her teacher’s attention has her glowing. 

You giggle, “I’m so happy for you, baby.” 

“I’m excited to go back tomorrow, I made a new friend! His name is Jeonghan and he helped me with my numbers today. He called my bows cute.” 

“Cute?” Seungkwan perks up from his stupor, “of course you’re cute, Nari. So cute that you’re too good for this Jeonghwan boy.” 

“Jeonghan, Uncle Kwannie,” she pouts when Seungkwan scoffs, in favor of shoving half a slice in his mouth. She turns to you, tugging on your blazer, “Mama, can I go watch TV now? I finished my homework and I wanna see the new Ladybug and Cat Noir!” 

“Of course,” you pull away her plate, gesturing for her to go to the living room. 

“Thank you mama,” and she’s bouncing off her seat, pushing her chair in and off to watch Miraculous Ladybug. 

You sigh, “They grow up so fast.” 

Seungkwan’s eyes widen at your age-old phrase, the words reminding him oddly of his parents when they used to talk down to him. “And here we are, aging twice as fast,” Seungkwan bemoans, already starting to feel the greasy food settle in his stomach. “We used to eat a whole pie! We could eat absolute garbage back in college and here I am weak at two slices—oh my god, am I having a ‘back in my day’ moment? We need to go out. I need to go out. I’ve been practicing consonants and vowels all day. I need a boyfriend,” he playfully narrows his eyes at you, “I need a boyfriend like yours, sweet and sexy.” 

“Sorry,” you stick out your tongue, “but he’s mine.” 

Perfect timing, Soonyoung’s name pops up on your phone. You two have been texting sporadically throughout the day, making plans for your next date. The two of you are going to watch a drive-in movie, a situation that screams teenage-back-of-the-truck-sex but the movie is a much anticipated favorite of yours and you genuinely want to watch it. 

Soonyoung is full of humor and laughs, getting you to smile and relax at the right times during work and always manages to keep you on your toes whenever he says something flirtatious. 

“Are you gonna introduce him to Nari?” 

You stop typing, and look up towards your beautiful little girl in the living room. Her hair is out of her pigtails, drooping tiredly like she is. Her cheek is pressed against her favorite plush cat, fighting for consciousness because she’s waiting for Marinette to save the day. Your heart swells with affection. 

“Dunno,” you shrug, trying not to think too hard about it, “we’re not that serious right now.” 

You’re absolutely winded. You finished work early today, due to the fact that came in early so you could clock out and pick Nari up from school. Despite the fact that Nari says it’s okay for you not to pick her up, you can’t allow it and you want to be the one who she runs into when she comes out the door. 

“Who do you think she’s gonna hug first?” Seungkwan’s elbowing you, baiting you. “Because this morning she gave me a hug and three kisses before I dropped her off.” 

“Three?” you seethe in annoyance, “three kisses is our thing! Two on the cheek and one on the forehead!” 

The two of you slowly steep together, waiting for the colorful blue door to the kindergarten area to file out. The heel of your shoes are digging into the grass, probably making a needle-like  indentation in the dirt as you struggle not to seep into the lawn. You feel like you’re going to flop on your heels, wishing you could go run back into the car and find your flip-flops from last month’s beach trip. But before you could debate on the run the bell rings, and you’re on livewire when you see the students start to file out. 

Your smile grows ten-fold when you see Nari’s jaw drop in surprise, seeing you waiting for her. She fists whatever is in her hands in surprise, breaking into the cutest smile as she screams, “mama!” 

And you’re ready to hold your arms out and throw her around in circles, until you see who follows right behind her. 

Kwon Soonyoung is Nari’s kindergarten teacher. Kwon Soonyoung with his hair down and untextured, wearing a mint polo and looking nothing like the date you had the other night. He looks absolutely soft and so, you are weak. 

Kwon Soonyoung, the sexy deviant who sends you questionable texts and sends you funny puppy videos, is staring right at you and utterly confused when Nari rams straight into your hip. 

Momentarily distracted, you pepper your pretty daughter in kisses (all three of them, two cheeks and one forehead) and tell her how much you’ve missed her. Clearly she doesn’t miss you as much, as she’s waving around a picture she drew during playtime, one of her and Jeonghan in the sandbox. 

“Really, Nari,” Seungkwan mutters under his breath, shamelessly vocalizing his opinion on a five-year old, “can’t you choose a different friend?” 

“Seungkwan!” you chide, but he pointedly annoys you when Nari finally enters Seungkwan’s embrace. He takes extra time to cuddle her, obviously jealous that another boy has taken refuge in your little Nari’s heart. 

The moment is so sweet and simple you have no choice but to revel in it and take out your phone to snap a photo. 

“Mama!” she pops her head off of Seungkwan’s shoulder, “come meet Mr. Kwon!”

And she’s tugging your hand, only you’re much stronger and you stay firmly planted on the grass. Heck, you even sacrifice your shoes by digging your heels in for extra measure.Your eyes widen in panic, but Nari doesn’t notice because she’s paving a path of dirt with her lime green light-up sneakers, trying to get you to move. You nearly forgot your latest tryst is your daughter’s teacher, and you never told him you have a kid. 

But within seconds, there’s an audible slam and the three of you are shattered from your bubble. Turning to the noise the heavy navy door is now locked shut, all the students dismissed for the day. The crowd is gone. Soonyoung is gone. 

Seungkwan’s eyes dart between the closed door and you, the pieces clicking. His mouth forms a little ‘o’ and he nods in understanding. “He thinks I’m your baby daddy.” 

The two of you point out each other like the Spiderman meme. “He thinks you’re my baby daddy,” you echo, horror marrying your face. 

“Mama? What’s a baby daddy?” 

“Shh, Nari—” he picks up Nari in one swoop, mouthing a go to you as he leads her to the car. 

All alone on the grass, you panic as you watch your family grow smaller and smaller as they enter the parking lot. Soonyoung’s just behind that door, right? Looking left and right to assure no one is going to think you’re being that parent and harassing the teacher within the first week of school, you bound up the steps to knock on the door. Your knocks clang heavily, echoing against the building. 

Ten seconds pass. Nothing. 

You deflate, pulling out your phone to shoot Soonyoung a quick text. 

You: hey, can you come out for a bit so i can explain? Please

A minute passes. He leaves you on read. Defeated, you slump against the door. This day is really a whirlwind on your mental state. All you wanted today was some extra time off work, Nari’s three kisses, and maybe a goodnight text from Soonyoung if you were lucky. 

The door suddenly flips open, and you’re braced against someone’s hands. 

“Whoa, you okay?”

Your face crumples in relief when it’s Soonyoung that’s come out to respond to you. He’s bracing your weight by holding your arms between his hands, although keeping a respectable distance between the upper half of your bodies. It makes you a little upset, but you understand. Once you’re stable, he lets you go and leans away from you.

“Why are you waiting out here?” he asks pointedly, looking at you up and down. You seem terribly overdressed in your coral pinstripe suit, mismatching with Soonyoung’s apple sauce stains. 

“Why do you think I’m waiting out here?”

“And if I close the door again?” he retorts suddenly. 

“Then I’ll follow you home.” 

A beat passes, whatever expression he conveys on his face is practiced and primed. You have a terrible time trying to decipher his blankness. Working with kids probably does that to an adult. “Come in,” he says neutrally, and you wordlessly follow him into his classroom. 

The room is decorated beautifully, with rainbows and glitter. It’s also surprisingly organized, all the crayons in place and the play area free of stray toys. Your eyes instantly search for Nari’s desk, and a small smile fits on your face as you trace her handmade name tag. 

“Normally, I don’t let parents in my room until it’s Back to School Night,” Soonyoung says, leaning against his desk. It makes you terribly nervous, knowing the ball is in your court and he’s waiting for you to make a move. His carefree, easy going nature is nowhere to be found, and all you see is walls and a mean poker face. He pulls up the sleeves of his polo, exposing pale, strong arms. Your mouth waters a little (you can’t help it!) and you immediately reach for a bottle of water in your purse. “So, what is it you have to say?” 

“Seungkwan’s not my baby daddy,” you blurt, and you immediately blanch when Soonyoung’s eyes widen. “Wow uh. I didn’t mean to say it like that.” 

“But you did say it like that,” Soonyoung replies slowly, “no child just doesn’t give three kisses to someone who isn’t their father.” 

“I only called him my baby daddy because he said it first,” you grumble, almost childishly, “and Nari’s a baby, of course she’s going to give three kisses to anyone that feeds her and coddles her.” 

“It sounds like an excuse.” 

“It sounds like I’m freaking out because you keep talking back and forth like this!” you cry, slapping your hands against your thigh. You don’t have to look in a mirror to know that you’re quickly getting annoyed, your face morphing into a shade of embarrassment. You can’t tell if this is amusing him or this is a real interrogation. “Let me explain, Soonyoung!” 

He says your name slowly, deliberately. And then, “do you want to take a break in the Calm Down Corner?” 

“The—the what?” Soonyoung’s eyes flicker to a corner at the far end of the room. The radiator is decorated in a sky blue wallpaper, and there’s a yoga mat on the floor. There are chairs next to a desk filled with coloring pages, decorated with fairy lights. Filling three of the chairs are various stuffed animals, a tiger, a cat, and a panda, all dressed as doctors. It’s a child’s therapy corner. “You gotta be kidding me.” 

He raises a brow, and—is that a smile on his lips? “Then explain, why are you here?” 

“Because I think I really like you,” you confess, frustration melting away to reveal the uneasy upturn on your lips. You lied when Seungkwan asked if you would ever consider introducing Soonyoung to Nari. In a different world, you would’ve loved to take the time to take Nari to the museum and introduce Soonyoung there. They’d definitely bond over their love for tigers. “Seungkwan is my best friend, and helps me take care of Nari. I adopted her five years ago.” 

Something softens in Soonyoung’s eyes, and the air feels much more relaxed. But his dark brows remain knit together, and he looks at you with confused eyes. “Then if you like me so much, why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?”

“Because kids can be deal breakers,” you admit, and the colorful classroom feels smaller as you hug yourself. “I just, wanted you to like me first.” 

It’s the primary reason why it’s taken you so long to date. Sure, there’d be a fling here and there, but nothing that feels as tangible as Soonyoung is. You’re not old enough to find a partner that wouldn’t blink at the sign of children, yet you’re still at that weird age threshold where a partner could immediately run for the hills at the mention of one. Nothing will top Nari, she’s number one in your heart, but the small selfish part wanted you to put the focus on yourself for just one night. 

“You don’t have to hide, I want every part of your life no matter how long we have,” he assures you gently, firmly without an ounce of regret. Soonyoung opens his arms, and you cry in relief when you get to collapse in the scent of his cologne. You tuck your head in the crook of his neck, slightly sweaty from whatever activities he needs to do with the kids, but you don’t mind. His voice is quiet, melting in your ears, “and I really like you too. I really like Nari as well, she’s a great kid.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” 

You two pull away, and he swipes a thumb under your eyes in case some tears manage to escape. “So, Friday? Movie?” 

“It’s a date.” 

“Where’s Nari?” the question is huffed against your breath as you’re pressed between your freshly washed bedspread and Soonyoung’s body. He takes care in making sure the zipper of your delicate dress doesn’t get caught in the rush, easily slipping your dress off and throwing it on your desk chair. 

“At Seungkwan’s, why?” 

His cheshire cat eyes glow under the moonlight, positively devious. “It’s date seven,” he announces sweetly. His gaze betrays his saccarine reply, a look that only tells you that Soonyoung plans to fuck you five ways to Sunday, and you’ll gladly let him. 

You sit up on your elbows, enjoying the show as Soonyoung quickly sheds his clothing. It’s ungraceful, exciting. Tonight was a simple carnival date, easily making you feel like a giddy college student all over again. Soonyoung won you five Pokemon keychains today, you could put a whole party on your hand. 

“It’s actually date six,” you tease, tilting your head as his pants finally come off, revealing black boxer briefs that snug deliciously around the waist. 

“Oh, okay,” he looks at you like you’ve spoken God’s word, reaching to pick up his shirt, “so you don’t want my dick fucking you raw tonight? Okay, I see how it is,” he pretends to put on his clothing, jabbing a thumb out the door. 

You have the audacity to giggle, pulling him over by the waistband, “Come here so I can make an exception.”

You don’t know what it is that makes you want you want to give everything to this man. Heck, five years ago you didn’t even want a man as an excuse to have kids. But as he nudges you in all the right places and places you on top of him, you know this man will treat you like an absolute treasure. Every kiss is laced with smiles and sweetness, filled with vigor and vivacity that fills you up and leaves you afloat. 

He takes care of you first, unwilling to let you budge as he places your core over his face. He makes quick, but effective use of his tongue and fingers, making sure you’re nice and sensitive for his future plans. You’re practically throbbing with pleasure, vibrating from every cell of your body. Within minutes he’s glistening in your arousal, and he pulls you down so you’re lined up with his crotch. It’s involuntary when you pulse against his member, your body shamefully alerting you that it’s desperate with need, and the remedy is right under you. 

Soonyoung looks more satisfied than you, eager to please you. Without warning, he stuffs two fingers in your mouth, “You pretty, pretty girl,” you are keen at the attention, your body is glowing a radiant rose. 

Your tongue rolls against his fingers, sticky and tasting of your arousal. Tilting your hips up you let Soonyoung pull his member out, lining it against your entrance. Feeling the soft tip brush against your delicate folds, you moan against his mouth. With a little ‘pop’ he releases you, lips shiny and parted. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of hit-it-n’quit-it kind of guy,” he noses the sensitive spot of your jawline, which distracts you momentarily when the plush tip nudges your folds, coaxing you to unite. “Because after tonight, I’m definitely keeping you. Forever.” 

The reply that dances on your tongue is overtaken by your whines when Soonyoung slips in fully, forcing your body to clench tightly against his. You take him, all of him. You feel wet and sticky and hot and swollen with affection as Soonyoung praises you for taking him so well. His pace is firm and passionate, short nails digging deliciously into your hips for leverage as he makes sure to fill you to the brim. 

He’s right, tonight is far from being a means to an end. You feel like you can have nights like this the rest of your life. And when the both of you finish and you’re pulling the covers over one another, you finally manage to grasp the reply that was nearly forgotten. 

Pressing a kiss to his jaw you whisper, “I’m keeping you, too.” 

“So, how long can we keep this a secret for?”

“Ideally? Ten months. Realistically, I’d say Christmas.” 

“Why Christmas?” 

“Because I know you’re going to be dying to get Nari a Christmas present.” 

Soonyoung props his elbow on the pillow, looking at you petulantly. “I could say it’s a good behavior reward. She’s been racking up those gold stars during morning meetings, babe. She’s not even trying.” 

“That’s my girl,” you coo, rolling over to lean your head on his chest. Light has long flooded into your apartment, seeping through your curtains and reflecting on your white duvet. Soonyoung looks absolutely fluffy and well rested, and you can’t help but reach to pat down the ebony bird’s nest atop his head. 

The two of you lay like that for a little bit, playing with each other’s cold feet under the covers and relishing under the touch of bare skin to bare skin. You remind yourself that you need to take Joshua out to dinner one of these days, as he managed the inevitable and set you up with  an amazing partner. 

“Breakfast?” Soonyoung pops the question easily, “let’s get steak.”

“Steak isn’t eaten for breakfast.” 

“Then can I eat you for breakfast?” 

You snort, hiding under the covers while Soonyoung attempts to tickle you. The whole act in itself feels wholly innocent despite the fact that you’re both naked and smell like sweat and sex. Just as you feel Soonyoung’s head dip under the covers to meet you at your chest, the door swings open. 

“Mama!” 

The previously warm room feels like wickedly sharp ice, freezing you to your spot as you clutch the covers closer to your chest. “Baby!” you cry exasperatedly, flinching when she throws all her weight on you. She’s still in her ladybug pajamas from last night, hair falling out of her braid. 

She lifts her head from your breast to give you an adorable one-toothed grin. You try your best to maintain eye-contact, but Nari has impeccable vision. Her grin evolves into a full-on beam when she finds your bed partner.

“Mr. Kwon!” she’s squealing, clamoring over your lap. You do a double-take when you see Soonyoung sitting next to you, wearing a t-shirt. Where on earth did he get that?

Soonyoung’s eyes reduce to crescents at his (secretly) favorite student. “Good morning, Nari-ah. Had a fun time at your Uncle’s house?” 

“Nari,” you force your daughter down to stand on the hardwood, giving her a stern look, “give Mr. Kwon some space, it’s really early and it’s the weekend.” 

Knitting her brows together, she looks between the two of you, “But you two don’t have any space.” 

You wince at her perception, and nudge yourself away so you’re pressed against your nightstand. The oakwood corner digs painfully into your back. 

“We were haviång a very special parent meeting,” you fight the urge to cry when Soonyoung turns on his teacher's voice, sending your daughter a very convincing smile. You watch as your daughter’s eyes go wide, probably feeling very special that her teacher came all the way to her house to have a meeting. “You’ve been doing so well during the read-alouds that I had to tell your mama in person!” 

“I told you mama!” Nari juts out her chest, and you lean over to kiss the crown of her head. “But Mr. Kwon, why are you having it in mama’s room?” 

“Her room is the warmest!” he says like it’s the most obvious thing, his and Nari’s eyes widening simultaneously as he gestures to the open window. “The sun travels directly into your bedroom in the morning, and those rays send heat—”

“Mr. Kwon,” your voice is as steady as it can be, and  you frown when Soonyoung wiggles his brows. You already know he’s thinking of three separate ways you can use the term Mr. Kwon in private, but you’re not having any of that, “shouldn’t we uh, wrap up this… meeting?” 

“I wanna stay,” Nari glowers, obviously nosy as to what you two are talking about.

“I know baby. We just gotta finish up the meeting, okay? Can you—” you cut  yourself off when Seungkwan finally decides to make his appearance, eyes wide at commotion he’s created. He’s in matching pajamas, ridiculously red as he bends down to scoop up Nari. Absolutely sweating and as red as his clothes, his eyes dart between the two of you. You could care less that Seungkwan’s eyes have bags under their bags, and was probably too tired to catch her when she ran inside the house. No, Seungkwan doesn’t deserve the title of godfather anymore. 

“Nari! You can’t interrupt teacher meetings,” Seungkwan pretends to scold, and Nari turns her head so she can hide in her Uncle’s shoulder. 

Knowing that Nari can’t see a thing, you mouth a very explicit I will kill you to your best friend, and he immediately mouths an apology to the both of you as he ushers himself out the door. You wait ten seconds for your daughter to be out of ear shot, before dropping the blanket from your neck and throwing yourself against the pillows. 

But Soonyoung’s chuckling, pressing a litany of kisses all over your bare body in an attempt to comfort you. Instead of reveling in his lazy morning touch, you want to disappear between the sheets, never to be seen. What will the PTO moms say when they find out? How will you stop Nari from telling Jeonghan, and therefore Jeonghan telling the entire kindergarten population? Why isn’t Soonyoung freaking out about this? Instead, he favors to taste your body, in between kisses muttering something about it being kismet that Nari so happened to see right as you were discussing the secrecy of your relationship. Ten years from now, your daughter will be horrified when she realizes that no, teachers don’t normally give housecalls in your mother’s bed.

Your boyfriend pinches your thigh, regarding you with mirth in his eyes. 

“So, that means I can buy her a Christmas present now, right?” 

[kpopluvrsblog]

I got you princess

Requested: may i please request for a jealous bsf mark where he sees y/n getting wasted in the club (because she saw mark getting close with the popular girl) and she's with yeonjun so he drags her out and they fight but end up confessing to each other.. i hope that isn't confusing haha thanks !

Genre: angst + fluff, smut!

Pairing: mark x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT! Dom!mark x sub!fem!reader, unprotected sex ( uak the drill ), reader goes somewhat into subspace at the end, creampie , kind of rough sex, slight masturbation suggestive dancing, swearing, use of the word slut

A/n: this is so long,,, SORRY I ADDED SMUT i cant help myself when it comes to mark... if anyone doesn’t want to read that part it is at the end!!

You slam your locker shut, sighing loudly as “those two” pass by murmuring amongst themselves. By “those two” you mean mark and little miss popular. It’s not that you were popular but of course everyone loves miss perfect aka Jen and they can’t see through her facade. “Me and mark used to be like that..” you whispered to yourself.

“HEY Y/N” someome suddenly screamed in your ear. “YEONJUN!! oh my,,, you scared me!” You whined and smacked his arm lightly, making him chuckle to himself. “ Mmm sooo how’s your little crush on mark going? He seems to be all over jen today...” yeonjun asked with a face of concern.

“ oh a little?” Your eyebrows shot up with sarcasm. “Honestly, its... ever since they’ve gotten closer, she’s got him wrapped around her finger. Its as if me and mark had never been friends.” You look off to the side and scoffed at how whiny you sounded.

“No no no y/n... thats it!! I am not letting you sulk over this loser. He doesn’t understand anything.” He rolled his eyes before continuing “ we need to go out!!” He said happily. “ go where exactly?” You questioned as you grabbed his hand and started to walk to the exit of the school. “ go clubbing!!” Yeonjun said excitedly.

‘Clubbing huh... that doesn’t sound too bad!’ You thought in your head. “ alright clubbing it is!!”

That leads to where you are now. Looking at yourself in the mirror, wearing a burgundy fitting dress which made all of your curves stand out and matched it with burgundy heels as well. You have done light makeup with a black winged liner and added diamond jewelry pieces.

“DAMN y/n... baby you look GREAT!! wow you look so good i-“ yeonjun cut himself off when he reached up to his mouth and wiped off his drool, his actions making you laugh. “Stop!! Lets just go!” You said while laughing. You noticed his attire matches yours. He was wearing a burgundy suit as well which complimented him so well. “You look really good too though...” you smiled brightly at him as he grabbed your hand, thanking you with a blush on his face and brought you to his car.

The drive to the club was around 30 minutes. Yeonjun had found a club or as he called it “ the best club you’ll ever go to” and insisted that you both go there for the night. He said he wouldn’t drink so he could be your DD ( designated driver).

——————————————————————————

Your mouth dropped open when he pulled into the private parking lot for the club. “Yeonjun this is..” you trailed off in awe. “Amazing. I know.” He finished the sentence for you. “alright, in we go!!” He jumped excitedly.

As you walked to the large glass double doors. The bright lights and blaring music became clearer. You could see the many people that were occupied inside. Yeonjun said something to the security man standing outside, which u didn’t understand since you were too busy admiring the place, but before you knew it he was leading you inside.

“ALRIGHT, drinks first baby we gotta get you to loosen up before we get started.” He shouted over the music and the yells of the other people as he brought you to the bar. When he talked to the barista you started to scan the crowd of unfamiliar faces, smiling at the sight of everyone having fun. Suddenly you furrowed your eyebrows... ‘was that mark?? What was he doing here... wait, jen is... dancing on him.. woah, okay.’ Your thoughts ended as yeonjun poked your side and handed the shot glass to you “ thanks” you smiled at him and chugged the drink, feeling the hot liquid slide down your throat, leaving a slight burn.

“Agh” you winced at the flavor causing yeonjun to chuckle. “Its good huh?” He smirked. You turned back to the barista, “excuse me!! Can you give me the strongest shot you got?!” You questioned with a smirk. “Challenge accepted” the barista laughed and went to mix you up a drink. If mark can have fun why can’t you?? It’s time to get over him.. he’s obviously taken. “Is that mark here??! What the fuck man!!” Yeonjun shouted with a look of pure disgust when he saw who was attached to him.

“Y/n lets go! We’re going to go dance and show him what he’s missing!!” He looked back over to you just in time to see you take the mystery shot. “Damn that shits strong” you croaked and laughed when you saw yeonjun smiling at you.

He pulled your hand through the crowd of bodies and brought you to an open spot. Already feeling the alcohol take its place you started to dance with yeonjun wrapping your hands around his neck as he placed his hands on your hips. You smiled up at him and turned around in his grip, bending fowards slightly, now grinding your ass up against his bulge with his hands still groping your hips as he grinds into you.

You stood back up, still moving your hips and reached your arms over your shoulders to hold onto the back of his neck lightly. You looked up and met a gaze of who you completely forgot about. Jen was no where to be seen and mark was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, biting his lip harshly and glaring at the man groping you. Yeonjun leaned down slightly to press a light kiss to your neck and thats when mark broke.

One second you were dancing with jun and the next someone was leading you to a secluded place of this club. “WHAT the fuck are you doing mark!!! Let me go!!” You shouted as he pulled you into one of the empty backrooms. “Shut up.” Is all he said while he went to block you from leaving the room. “Shut up?!! What do you mean shut up!! Ive been shutting up since you decided to ignore me for the schools slut!!” You shouted at him trying to push him out of your way.

“HEY!! She is not a slut first of all-“ you cut him off with a slap to his face making him stare at you in shock. “Not a slut?? Mark where do you think she ran off to huh?! You think you were the only guy shes been talking too?! What a dumbass... im leaving now.” You declared waiting for him to move out of your way.

“Y/n... listen-” Mark started. “No!! I don’t want some pity apology to leave your mouth! I want to leave and never see you again.” You stated with your arms crossed until mark suddenly pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he let go it would cause you to disappear. “ what the- Let me go!!” You mumbled into his suit.

You heard him sniffle and now realized that he was crying... a lot. Even though he is a dumbass you can’t help your feelings for him. “Listen y/n... im so so sorry that i pushed you away. I just- oh my gosh. I love you y/n... so very much that I unintentionally pushed you away and when i noticed how close you were to yeonjun, i thought that i could never treat you like how he does, i could never make you happy and i KNEW THAT. When jen started to pay attention to me, i thought i could take my mind off of you and that you would have a better life without me in it. I know how she is y/n... but my jealousy got the better of me. The reason why she left just now is because I wasn’t paying attention to her. How could i when you were standing so beautifully in front of me... and thats when i noticed that i couldn’t get over you, especially with yeonjun touching all over you when that could’ve been me if i tried and i- hmmph“

He was talking too much... his words making tears rolls down your face, soaking up into his suit. You leaned up to press your lips tightly against his. His body stiffened when your lips touched his... they were so soft. He quickly loosened up and hugged you tighter, his lips now moving with yours as you continued to make out. After a few minutes you pulled apart, a string connected between you both, chests heaving. You knew you looked like a mess but mark still looked down at you with so much love.

“First of all your still a dumbass...” you whispered, causing mark to giggle. “ I’ve never stopped loving you, me and yeonjun are just friends and he knows about my crush on you. But when you started ignoring me.. wow it hurt so bad and it pains me to admit that. I was so jealous that I couldn’t be with you-“ mark cut you off with another peck. “Mark let me finish!!” You blushed trying to pry him off of you.

“No i already know where this is going... im sorry for being a fucking idiot but i really do love you and i hope you can forgive me.” He said while letting a few more tears out.

“Okay no more crying!! Of course i forgive you and I obviously still love you too... you’re lucky you only ignored me for around a month though...” you trailed off into a fit of giggles. “Lets leave this place y/n, ill tell yeonjun whats going on and ill take you to my place to get you cleaned up okay??” Mark said while caressing your hair lovingly. “Mhm lets go!”

——————————————————————————

《smut starts》

After some time, you and mark had finally arrived at his house. “Ahhh okay here we are.” He sighed when he pulled into his driveway. “ okay lets get you cleaned up hmm?” He questioned when you both entered his house. Too tired to answer you hummed an answer back hoping he would understand, of course he did. Having already been here many times before, you remember where everything is which made it easier to navigate through his home. “Lets take off these shoes first, i bet your feet hurt so bad right now.” He pouted and sat you down on his couch, leaning down to take off each heel and lightly massaging your sore feet. “ it’s alright you can close your eyes baby ill take care of you.” Mark then leaned up to peck your lips one last time to hear you mumble “ thanks baby i lovveee you hmm” you then closed your eyes and felt him pick you up, bridal style and bring you into his bathroom. He took off your jewelry and placed them safely in the cabinet. He then proceeded to remove any excess of makeup that you had left on your face.

He was debating whether or not he should bathe you, as you probably feel gross. Since you had not fallen asleep yet, you decided that you wanted to be clean. “Baby you can bathe me its okay. I trust you.” You said softly, making mark smile at your cuteness. “Alright, im going to undress you now, lift your arms up for me.” You did as you were told, he took the snug dress off of your body, leaving you in your matching lace bra and panties... he couldnt help but get turned on. He thought your body was outstanding. Mark shook his head lightly trying to get out of his thoughts, you, now with your eyes open, noticed his actions and smirked. “Whatcha looking at?” You questioned innocently while looking down at your body.

“I uh- uhm oh yeah ill start the bath” he blushed and moved to the tub, now filling it up with hot water. The alcohol had mostly wore off now, since you hadn’t drank a lot. You started to unclip your bra and pull off your panties. “Mark can you help me in the tub please” you asked. You both knew you were capable of getting in yourself but nonetheless he grabbed your hips and set you softly into the tub.

“Dont you want to get clean too?” You asked and pulled lightly on the bottom of his tie. He smirked at your request and pecked your cheek. “Let me go get clothes for us to change into and ill be right back.” When he walked out you couldn’t help but notice his hard on. God he was so hot.

You knew you had some time. Whats the harm in just touching yourself a little? You fingers slowly trailed down to your clit and you slowly rubbed circles on the sensitive nub, letting your head fall back and small moans pour out from your mouth. “Having fun without me?” Mark asked with his clothes off and standing in the doorway, his hard dick on display. Where did this Confidence come from? He came up to the tub and lifted you out now patting you dry and emptying the tub.

“Do you really want this?” He looked you in the eyes as he asked this. “Yes i really want this please” you answered and bit your lip. “We’ll bathe after this then okay?” He didnt give you time to answer as he picked you up and brought you out of the bathroom straight into his room. He placed you gently on top of his bed sheets, luckily there was a thick blanket on top that he had layed out, so now the sheets won’t be dirty.

You pulled him on top of you and trapped him between your legs as you made out with him, lightly sucking and pulling on his lips, with your hand running through his soft disheveled hair. He groaned into your mouth as the tip of his dick brushed against your slick entrance. “Just put it in im wet enough and i really need you i cant wait please please please- OH” you moaned aloud as he followed your requests. His thick dick now stretching out your tiny pussy. 

“Fuck baby your so tight for me, damn you feel so good. Does it feel good for you baby?” He whimpered into the crook of your neck as he pushed your thighs apart farther, his hips now pressed tightly against yours. “It- um.. mmh” you already couldn’t form a sentence...

He chuckled and put his hand under your head, now holding you even closer. “Fuck.. m- mm move please” you whimpered. You were so sensitive and felt so full with him pressing against your cervix. He slowly pulled out and pushed back in, which made you gasp and clench even more, making it hard for him to move. “Loosen up for me hm? Let me fuck you properly. Show you how its done baby” you followed his orders and let him keep hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you. “A- ah keep going” you let out gasps and moans as he was now pounding into you. Mark was breathing heavily as he sucked marks onto your pretty delicate skin.

He snaked a hand down to rub on the nub you were playing with earlier. “Feel good?” He questioned and got a moan in response. He knew you were close by how you started to clench uncontrollably. “Im gonna cum shit im going to-“ you stopped your rant when he went even harder than before, you could feel him in your stomach. “I know baby. Cum. Cum all over me and make a mess. I got you.”

“FU-“ your orgasm was so hard that you went silent as your eyes rolled back, nails leaving streaks on his back. “Fuck y/n im cumming” he came inside of you with long hot ropes shooting into the deepest parts of your body, filling you up to the brim with warmth. You both came down together... only mark came down actually. “You’re okay princess. You did so good. Come back down to me, im waiting” mark whispered to you as he pulled out of you slowly, watching a white mess come gushing out of you. “Mmhm i did good?” You asked with a whimper while holding onto your stomach, feeling full. “Yes princess, so so good for me. Im going to bathe you and change you now okay? You can sleep, i know you’re tired.” After hearing his words you fell into a deep sleep knowing that he would take care of you.

——————————————————————————

You woke up with the feeling of being wrapped in warmth. You groaned as you turned around in marks hold, now facing his angelic sleeping face...’ he looks so at peace’ you thought. You also noticed that he dressed you in an oversized sweatshirt of his and gave you a pair of his boxers to wear. He really did clean and take care of you last night huh...his grip tightened around you and you left a soft kiss to his lips as you fell back into your slumber with a smile, knowing that you were definitely going to spend your life with this man.

[egcdeath]

unwinding

summary: On Valentine’s Day, you receive a bit of a surprise.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.2k

author’s note: valentine’s day came early this year. like... over a month early i’m actually pretty proud of this! i hope you all enjoy :) 

p.s. this is part of @syntheticavenger​‘s lyric challenge, my prompt was: So let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions (Victoria Monet ‘Moment’)

warnings: so much fluff. before you read this, ask yourself (and your dentist) if you’re okay with getting a few cavities.

Being engaged to a fugitive from the law meant a few things.

For starters, your fiancé was almost never home, and when he was home, he wasn’t there for long. Whether it be a 3 AM knock on the door from Natasha, or soft and apologetic eyes bidding you farewell after a 4 day tryst, everything always seemed to end too soon.

The second being that you often had little to no warning when he was coming home, leaving you to go on a mad dash to put on something nice before your partner arrived at your front door. Between random messages from burner phones, and random deliveries of local goods to your door, you were often given short notice of when you’d be able to see Steve again.

Finally, despite his best efforts, Steve was frequently absent from holidays that you used to gleefully celebrate together.

As the soft clicks of the clock increased, and night drew nearer, you feared that your Valentine’s Day would end the same as the aforementioned days, yet, after hearing the chime of your doorbell reverberate through your home, you were filled with a semblance of hope.

You all but skipped down to your door to see what (or who) had arrived, and lit up with glee when you were handed a bouquet of yellow roses with a printed note attached to it.

You didn’t think I forgot about my best girl, did you? Happy Valentine’s Day, Dear. I’ll see you in an hour.

p.s. I just learned that yellow roses represent welcoming someone back, isn’t that nifty?

-S

You couldn’t help but to grin at the note, quickly thanking the delivery person, then bolting upstairs to prepare for Steve’s homecoming.

——

After debating with yourself about which candle scent Steve would enjoy smelling most, and filling up your oversized bathtub with a cocktail of soap, essential oils, and an overpriced bath bomb, you heard the door ring once again. This time, you had a good idea of who you’d be seeing. Upon opening the door, you were far from disappointed.

In the doorway stood your greek god of a fiancé, a lopsided grin on his face despite the scratches, bruises, and dried blood that seemed to litter his body. You immediately reached up to wrap him in a tight embrace and he gladly accepted it.

“Steve!” You cheered, burying your face into his chest, “I missed you so much.” Your words were muffled, and you felt tear stains begin to latch onto his suit. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, before lightly pushing you further into the house.

“You have no idea of how much I missed you too,” said Steve in response. “I never wanna leave you again.”

At this, you somehow managed to squeeze him tighter, and he let out a soft grunt, screwing his face up. “Are you okay?” You asked before letting him go completely. “Take off the suit, let me take care of you.”

----

That’s how you ended up soaking in a bathtub with Steve, running your hands up and down his chest while he leaned his head back and rested his eyes. It became more and more apparent with every second that he was completely exhausted, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Now usually, you liked to spoil your man when he came back home, but after seeing his pure exhaustion, you decided to go all out. If anyone deserved a few hours of pure relaxation, it was certainly Steve.

You stirred and sat up, sloshing around the purple water that had been dyed by the aforementioned bath bomb, and attempted to readjust yourself so that you could at least make eye contact with Steve, who had now opened his eyes from your sudden movement.

“What’s up?” He asked, breaking the prior comfortable silence, and running a large hand through your hair.

“How about we unwind. Like, really, really unwind. The whole nine yards. I completely meant it when I said I wanted to take care of you, and as much as I’m enjoying this, I don’t think that just a bath is gonna cut it,” you hummed while wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, attempting to bring your faces closer together.

“Hmm,” Steve attempted to look pensive, “Only if you insist.” At that, he gave you a toothy smile, then leaned in to close the gap between the two of you, and peck your lips.

Boy, was Steve in for it.

----

Sometime after the bath water eventually became unbearably cold, and your skin was so pruny that you swore it’d slip off, the two of you exited the bath.

The next task you set out to complete was a deep clean of your faces, which could only be accomplished with the help of a peel off face mask. You stood at your bathroom countertop and plugged in a facial steamer after filling the bottom opening.

“What’s that for?” Steve asked with a slight lisp, as he was currently flossing his pearly teeth.

“It’s a facial steaming thing. It’ll be good for your pores before the face mask, or some shit like that,” you stood back and allowed the small machine to make some strange noises as it started up.

Steve tossed the string into a trashcan before leaning over the counter and examining it, giving you the opportunity to press a button and turn the device on.

“What the hell was that?” He immediately recoiled at the sudden puff of steam, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can’t believe thee Captain America, who fights aliens and takes down governments on the regular is afraid of a little steam machine.”

“Hey, everyone gets startled sometimes,” he turned his head to give you a little pout. “How ‘bout you do it first, and show me how it’s done,” Steve stepped aside at this.

You shrugged a bit and nodded, then took his place at the sink to demonstrate how exactly to steam your face. After observing you for a few minutes, Steve motioned for you to move, and as you did, he made sure to give you a little ass squeeze, gaining him a side eye from you as a response.

“Just put your head right…. there,” you gently pushed his head down, then once his head was in the proper position, you pressed the button that turned the machine on.

“This feels kinda weird. It’s like, tickling me,” he mumbled into the machine while you reached into your medicine cabinet to grab a peel off face mask. Steve began to move his face back, but you shook your head and tutted.

“I mean, that’s kind of the point. Your pores need this. So keep that head down, big boy,” you giggled, beginning to apply the charcoal goop to your face while examining yourself in the mirror.

“Do they, though?”

“Yes! Those poor cells have probably been through hell and back with all of that fighting and… avenging you do.”

“You’re lucky that I love you. But know that I expect something in return for this hard work.”

You lovingly scoffed at this, but were pleased that Steve had found a reason to finally stop complaining.

Once a decent amount of time passed, Steve lifted his face and used the back of his hand to attempt to wipe away some of the dampness.

“Here,” you said softly, grabbing a towel, and softly patting his face with it. “Now the fun part,” you began to apply the facemask to Steve’s face, and he seemed to have no complaints.

“Hey, this feels pretty nice!” He exclaimed.

“Unless you want me to get this all over your beard, I suggest you move your face a little less,” you commented while putting the last of the mask on his left cheek.

He opened his mouth to respond, but decided it wasn’t exactly worth the risk of getting a strange substance in his sensitive facial hair. You finished up putting on the mask, then rinsed your hands in the sink while Steve checked his face out. “Ooo, I can feel it exfoliating already. Are you tingling too?”

You smiled fondly at him, then shook your head and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go to the bedroom. Since you were such a good sport, I think you deserve a little treat.” You all but dragged him out of the ensuite, grabbing a fresh towel on your way out, and setting it down on the bed.

“Take your clothes off,” you demanded. “Then lay on the bed face down. Ass up. I’ll be back in a minute.” You winked suggestively at him, then went back into your bathroom to search for the lavender scented body oil hiding in a cabinet.

When you arrived back in the bedroom, you were not disappointed by the sight of Steve with his sculpted back and perky ass out. You allowed yourself a moment to check him out before you spoke. “Hey honey…” you drawled out in a faux sultry tone. “A little birdy told me that you’ve got some sore muscles from all that crime fighting you’re doing…” You ran your hand up and down Steve’s back, and you felt his back heave as he attempted to hold back his laughter.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked, not even trying to hide his chortling.

“Shhh, don’t think. Just let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions,” you poured a bit of the oil in your hands, warmed it up, then placed your hands on his back. Steve involuntarily let out a full body shudder, and you couldn’t help but to smile at yourself with satisfaction. “Seriously though, try to relax,” you began to knead his upper back.

Steve let out a shaky sigh, and relaxed into your soft mattress. Although the tone of the massage started as a joke, he was feeling more relaxed by the second. Then those seconds seemed to turn into minutes, then… hours? Maybe even days. The point is, Steve fell asleep. Then woke up to the familiar tone of a phone alarm, and a gentle shaking on his shoulder.

“Hey, you can sleep later. It’s time to take off our masks.” You reminded him. “Meet me in the bathroom, but get somewhat decent first.” You gave a little squeeze to his shoulder before walking off.

Once Steve met you in the bathroom, he made a beeline to the toilet and sat down on top of the lid. “Will you take it off for me? I’m too tired to do it myself.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause I love you,” you teased, referencing his words from earlier before you leaned down to his level. You picked at a piece of the mask on his forehead, and began to peel it back, watching Steve screw his face and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Ow, what the fuck, Y/N,” he whined, giving you a little pout.

“I’m sorry. Just think of how fresh your skin will be after this, though. You’ll look so dewy, people will think you just came out of the ice.” You moved to remove the piece on his nose, and gained a similar response.

“Ouch! Double ouch. That was way too soon. Why can’t you be nice to me while you’re peeling off my face?” Steve looked deep into your soul while you peeled around the rest of his face, and you couldn’t help but internally melt a little.

“I only tease because I care. And I’m pulling your skin off because I care even more,” you finished up pulling the last of the mask off, then pressed the back of your hand up to some red parts of his face. “All done. You look like a whole new man, Stevie.”

You stepped back so he could stand up and look at himself in the mirror, and he rotated his face back and forth so he could examine himself.

“You’re so right, Y/N. Stark and the government will never catch me when I look like this,” he teased.

“I’m just a miracle worker, I guess.”

“Well is this miracle worker ready to head to bed? All this self care has been fun and all, but…”

“Say less,” you grabbed Steve’s hand once again, and paraded him out to your bedroom, before flopping on the bed theatrically, and grinning when Steve followed suit.

You rolled on top of your starfished fiancé, and kissed him passionately, threading your fingers through his long, sandy hair and sighing contentedly. He turned his head slightly for breath, then began to speak again.

“What I was saying was,” he said breathlessly, “All of this self care has been fun and all, but now I think it’s time that I show you how I unwind.”

[thisnoodlewritesao3]

Like Dusk And Dawn | Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Reader, Ukai Keishin, Sawamura Daichi

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Warnings: Angst to fluff, TW(hints of self-harm, suicidal ideation, depression) read at your own discretion.

Word Count:  2273

Summary:  As the day shifts into night, so do you. A change so smooth and noticeable when you pay attention, and so sudden when you don’t. Your head was always wracked with the fear and doubt; your boyfriend, Tsukishima Kei, never seemed to help the situation either.

A/N: I wrote this a little while ago and didn’t really think much of it, but now reading back on it I actually cried. Thank you @satan-ruler-of-hells for basically Beta’ing for this (sowwy I made you cry bb)

----

As the day shifts into night, so do you. A change so smooth and noticeable when you pay attention, and so sudden when you don’t. Your head was always wracked with the fear and doubt; your boyfriend, Tsukishima Kei, never seemed to help the situation either. Behind closed doors he could wash away your worries for the night, but when he was in person, he acted as though you didn’t exist, ego bloating at the compliments of other women.

Your body shook as you moved closer to the gym doors, gently knocking. You silently cursed yourself when you realised that they probably couldn’t hear you over the noises inside and proceeded to push the door open slowly, “excuse me.” Your voice is so soft that even the wind managed to triumph over you.

Tsukishima caught sight of you, expression not changing, only briefly switching to annoyance as he missed a receive.

“Can I help you?” The coach stepped in front of you, you’d heard Tsukishima mention his name, Ukai. 

“I need to speak to Tsukishima.” You swallowed hard, not sure if he even managed to hear you, that thought confirmed by the confusion on his face. “Tsukishima…” you slowly pointed at the blond and Ukai followed your line of sight and nodded with a smirk on his lips.

“Oi, Tsukishima, you have another love confession,” your heart strings tugged. You’d always assumed that he had at least told his team about you, but it only confirmed that he didn’t. Worry washed over you. He grinned at Yamaguchi, who almost looked jealous, jogging over to you. Closing the door behind him.

“What is it, Y/N?” He checked the windows over his shoulder before allowing himself to look worried.

Tears pricked in your eyes as you stepped back away from him, “another love confession?” You asked. You couldn’t help the pain it caused you; how were you ever going to compete with all the women? Kei ran his hand through his hair and rolled his eyes.

“Is that really what you want to talk about right now?” His voice is so cold that you shudder, nodding and trying to keep looking him in the eyes. “Fine, we’ll talk about that.” He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Some girls told me they liked me. There, did that make you feel better?” Harsh words. Maybe he was just trying to make sure no one heard him lose his cool.

You shook your head and he looked off into the distance.

“I just wanted to know why you don’t show me affection in public.” You clenched your fists hard until you were sure you'd broken the skin, shifting them and silently repeating the process.

There was that glare he was known for. It wasn’t special for you; you didn’t want it to be. You wanted the boy you’d fallen in love with, but each time it felt like he was slipping away from you with no hope to get him back. You weren’t any better. Each time he managed to break a wall, you’d be secretly building it back up.

“This shit again?” He growled.

“It would really mean a lot to me if you wou-”

“I already do all that shit for you behind closed doors, why do you need to make it so public?” He shifted his weight. Guilt settled in his stomach when you pulled back away from him.

Something changed on your face and his eyes grew wide. Your fists were still clenched but your body relaxed, a fire seething behind your eyes. “Because I shouldn’t have to listen to the way girls talk about you like your free game; and then you act like you aren’t even taken by me. You don’t even look at me.” Your body was still shaking, you felt so sick, but you knew you needed to face him. “Because I deserve to feel loved and not just like a broken toy.” You had to stop yourself from yelling.

“I’m not taken by anybody.” He turned to face you fully. You stared into his eyes, searching for a hint of sympathy that you’d see on those dark nights.

There was nothing.

“So, what am I to you?”

“You’re just what you said, a broken toy I can play with until I get bored.” He didn’t mean it. It felt like venom on his tongue the moment that it came out but he couldn’t stop it. “Did you actually think you were special?” Another wave of guilt and he glared harder against it. “Did you ever think I could love someone like you?” One final stab and the tears poured wordlessly down your cheeks.

He knew just how to hurt you. Every single time.

You didn’t step back away from him, neither of you moved; you were still searching for the remorse that you needed to be convinced he did still care; he was waiting for the fight back that you’d normally give him to show him you hadn’t given up.

It didn’t come.

“I guess, I thought you did.” Your voice was so soft again, shaking with a thousand emotions. Kei turned his back to you, not caring that the gym door was now open and his teammates stared at him. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone this time.”

He stopped, hoping you were going to come back to him.

Instead, your head dropped low, letting the tears pour down onto you. Overwhelming numbness filled you. You could barely walk away from him. You just wanted to break down right there, but you had enough dignity left.

You didn’t see him staring after you, longing for you to turn around.

He ran his hands through his hair, biting back the tears that formed in the corner of his eyes. Everyone stared at him in shock as he nestled back into a glare.

________________________

True to your word, you left him alone.

No longer did you look at him with that intense love in your eyes that always worried him; he watched as you buried yourself deeper behind a mask. His team had said they’d never seen a girl bounce back so quickly from what looked like a devastating time, they called you strong. But he could see right through your little act. When the eyes weren’t on you, your face was empty, lacking true emotion. You hid yourself deeper down inside yourself.

The thoughts that wracked your brain kept him awake, for months he’d been worried about you tipping over the edge, he knew you’d been close before and even then he’d had to force you back.

Some days he’d managed to walk home a few metres behind you. Your eyes lingered a little too long, body moved just a little too slow, and there was a worrying smile that tugged at your lips when you crossed almost a little too late. But the car always stopped, and you seemed dissatisfied.

Today wasn’t any different. You’d walked to school with some girls; you were laughing, but it was so empty. You lingered a little too long in the road and the car honked at you, yet you didn’t jump, just sighed and followed them with the same smile.

“Tsukki!” A voice called out to him and he zoned back into what he was doing. He jumped to block the ball, but fell just short and cursed himself. The entire game he’d been out of focus, he was lucky it was only a practice match, or this slip-up could have cost him the game.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind.” Daichi patted the boy on the back, trying to gauge his emotions with a simple smile.

It wasn’t until the third time that he failed to block did he start to feel the rage boil inside of him, his movements so frantic that it almost scared the members of Nekoma. After that, he was quickly swapped out.

Tsukishima stormed out of the gym, slamming the door shut behind him. He wanted to scream, cry and punch something all at the same time. But the thing he wanted the most was to be able to see you. To talk to you. To say sorry for being a jerk. He wanted to hold you in his arms one more time, he’d kiss you a thousand times over and over until you were begging him to stop. He’d gloat and show you off to everyone. He’d put you up on that pedestal that you deserved to be on.

The door opened behind him and he lifted his head to yell, until his eyes landed on your figure, frozen.

“What is going on with you-” Ukai called out to the boy, worry dripped from his tongue. He stopped in his tracks as you stared at Tsukki, some fear danced on your face as you took a deep breath and faced him slowly. Ukai didn’t let the door close, he’d seen a scene almost too similar a few months ago and he wasn’t going to let either party walk away hurt this time.

“Ke-” You started to say, but quickly stopped yourself, “Tsukki.” He was watching you carefully; it managed to put you on edge. There was a wave of relief as you spoke to him, your voice as angelic as ever.

“L/N…” he spoke so softly that he wasn’t sure you’d heard him. “What are you doing here?” It was late after school had finished, it wasn’t like you had any club to go to, so why were you here of all places?

You paused, lips in a tight seal. That wave of sadness smashed through your eyes. How were they always so open and yet no one ever dared to look deep enough to see the horrors of your soul? “I… I don’t know.” You admitted, scratching your neck. “I just decided to come here, I guess. I wasn’t really thinking, I can go-” you started to walk away from him, the only thing stopping you was his desperate voice calling out to you. It tugged at your heart.

“Wait!” He sounded like he was in so much pain; every movement seemed to be more painful than the last, he could finally see you again and he’d never felt so much joy. You didn’t turn back to face him, your fists clenched again. Anyone could see you were fighting back tears. “Stay.” He pleaded with you.

The wind blew your hair away from your neck, revealing a few deep scars that made him want to drag you into his arms. “Why? I’ll just end up distracting you, or pissing you off again.” Your voice was shaking now, even as you tried to remain steady.

“Because I need you.” Admitting it almost felt like a deep burn. A betrayal to himself and everything he stood for; it was worth it when you almost turned to go back to him.

“What?”

“I need you, Y/N, do you want me to scream it?” You didn’t respond and he took that as confirmation. “Fine…” he grumbled, and took a deep breath. “I need you, and I miss you! I just want you back and I want to make things better.” It was working, whatever it was, it was working and you weren’t running. “I want to kiss you. And hug you. I want to show you off to everyone and anyone. I want to hold your hands and eat your shitty lunches-” you choked back a laugh, “- I’ll parade you around on my shoulders and make sure every girl and guy knows you are mine!” This was the part he’d hated rehearsing in the mirror. “Because… I-”

You cut him off, turning around with tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t move any closer towards him, that anxious feeling pulled at you, warning you to stay back. He watched the hesitation in your eye before you took a step towards him.

There you lingered, one foot closer to him. He doesn’t mean it, your thoughts pulled you back to your senses, bringing your foot backwards. His heart shattered at the sight.

“Please…” he begged, falling onto his knees. In front of him, you broke down one barrier at a time, vicious tears slipped out of you silently. You didn’t care if their eyes were watching you as that strong exterior you’d spent the last few months building up came crashing down in front of them. You needed to hear it. You felt so weak.

“Do you mean it?” You stood in front of him like a small child, shuffling closer to him even as your mind fought to make you stay back.

Tsukki didn’t move, only kneeling in front of you until he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, he looked up at Ukai who knowingly smiled at him. Some shared understanding flowed between the two before Tsukki finally stood up, taking strides towards you.

He wrapped you in his arms, your head planted against his chest, listening as his heart picked up speed, pounding almost too much. He leant down his own head, craning his neck just to kiss the top of your head. If he hadn’t of been holding you, you would have crumbled. “I mean it,” he whispered.

After a few minutes of crying in his arms, you finally pulled away to look him in the eyes. There was something much sweeter in them than before, so apologetic and sympathetic for the pain he’d knowingly caused you.

He leant down further until his mouth was close to your ear, “I love you, F/N.”

“I love you, too, Kei.”

----

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[shuadotcom]

Letting You Go | KSJ

꙰   Summary: When returning home from vacation, the only person you want to see is Seokjin. When he isn’t at the airport to greet you, you decide to go to him. What you find breaks your heart. ꙰   Pairing: Seokjin x Female!Reader ꙰   Genre: Angst, idolverse ꙰   Rating: PG13 ꙰   Warnings: Profanity ꙰   Word Count: 2.1k ꙰   Project: @thebtswritersclub‘s February “dishonest love” project ꙰   A/N: Very big thank you to the lovely Noor @papillonsgf​ & Rid @taegularities for beta reading this for me and giving me their suggestions and commentary!! I appreciate you both so much!! 💗💗

You should know something is wrong as soon as you step into the terminal without seeing his broad shoulders hovering inches above the crowd waiting for you. You pull your phone from your backpack and check your messages, hoping to see one with a dozen exclamation points and sad faces accompanying an apology about being late. Instead, there are two new messages from Hoseok and Taehyung, asking when you would be landing back in Seoul.

You reply and tell them both that you’re already here and that you’ll stop by their dorm after dropping your luggage off at home. You scan the crowd once more before dragging your large suitcase behind you to get a taxi.

Two hours later, with your luggage sitting in the living room to unpack later, you’re leaving your apartment after a quick shower. You change into a blush pink sundress that Seokjin always compliments, saying he loves how the pastel color looks against your skin tone. On your feet are a pair of white heeled sandals he had bought you because he said he liked how they make your legs look.

The sun is hot as it beats down on you, making you start to sweat. You pick up the pace while cursing the unforgivable late summer heat. You arrive at the building soon after and greet the security guard at the desk. You’ve been here enough times that he recognizes you and always gives you a huge smile and loud greeting when you arrive. Once off of the elevator and in front of the apartment, it only takes two knocks before the door is thrown open, and you’re engulfed in a hug.

"Noona, you're back!" Jungkook pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Kook." You laugh and ruffle the younger man’s hair. Given his height, you have to stand on your tippy-toes, even in heels. You slip off said shoes and stick your feet into a pair of pink slippers by the door. Seokjin has often told you to leave a pair of your own there since you were at their place so much.

"Do I hear who I think I hear?!" Hoseok's voice reaches the living room, and you see his dark head of hair appear from the hallway as he runs over to pick you up and spin you.

"Hobi put me down. I’m too heavy!"

"Nope! And just because you said that, I'm going to keep holding you!" He tightens his grip on your waist and continues to twirl with you, making you let out a string of giggles.

"Hobi, put her down before she gets dizzy!" Hoseok sighs yet stops at Namjoon’s words. He’s next to pull you into a hug, followed by Jimin and Taehyung, who come barreling out of one of the other rooms. Yoongi is the last who’s been in the kitchen the whole time.

"I started making lunch for you since Taehyung and Hoseok said you'd be coming over." Yoongi grins at you, causing you to do the same.

"Aww, thank you, Yoongi! You guys are way too nice to me."

"Hey, stop. You're our friend, and we like having you around," Taehyung says, pulling you down to sit next to him on the couch.

"So, how was your trip? Was it nice to be back home?" Namjoon asks as he takes a seat on the couch next to you. Hoseok and Jungkook squeeze in next to him, squishing you against Taehyung.

"It was great. I enjoyed seeing my family again." You went on to tell them about your family reunion and how much had changed in your four years away from your home country. You left Korea in late June, only anticipating staying until early July, but you had gotten so caught up in being home again that you extended your trip to the whole summer.

As much as you love talking to your best friends about your family, you can’t help but gaze down the hallway. Everyone you have wanted to see has come and greeted you except for the person you wanted to see the most.

Once you finish your story, Yoongi announces that lunch is done, and he brings the large pot of noodles to the middle of the dining room table. Before anyone seats themselves, you finally ask the question that’s been gnawing away at you.

"So, where's Seokjin?" The question causes silence to overtake the room. The guys all share a look before glancing at you. Jimin is the one who speaks up first.

"He's out right now. He had a, uh, meeting."

"Oh. That's probably why he didn't pick me up from the airport. I texted him last night, and he said he would, but he probably forgot." More glances are exchanged. Before anyone else can say anything, the front door is opened, and the voice you’d waited to hear in person sounds throughout the apartment.

"I'm home!" You feel a smile break out across your face, but you don’t care about how goofy you probably look. You stand from the couch, intending to meet Seokjin when he rounds the corner into the living room.

“Hey, Y/n, wait.” With Seokjin being the only thing on your mind, you shake off the hand that Namjoon places on your shoulder and barely hear him from beside you.

"Seokjin, I'm back, and I..." Your sentence trails off as you see him enter the room, hand-in-hand with a petite Korean girl.

"Oh, Y/n, you're here!" Seokjin flashes you a large, bright grin, not noticing how your own smile has slipped away. He lets go of the girl's hand and crosses the room to sweep you into a hug that you only meekly return. "When did you get here?"

"Um, about half an hour ago." If he has any recollection of the conversation you had last night where he said he would meet you at the airport, he doesn’t let on.

"Well, I'm happy you're back! I'd like you to meet someone. The guys already met her last month, but Y/n, this is my girlfriend, Juhee. Juhee, this is my best friend, Y/n." The dark-haired girl bows to you, and you return the gesture even though you don’t want to.

Seokjin then goes on to talk about how they met, not that you’re listening. The only sound you hear is your heart beating too loudly and the blood rushing through your ears. Your stomach begins the acrobatic act that it always does when Seokjin is in the room, but it’s much different this time. Your hands are sweaty, and your body is shaking as you feel the hot, painful sting of tears in your eyes. Taehyung’s hand has slipped into yours at some point, trying to give you comforting squeezes.

"Right, Y/n?" Seokjin is speaking to you, which breaks you out of your stupor.

"What?"

"I said, we've been friends for almost three years, right?" You nod, too afraid to speak. Your throat is dry as a rush of dizziness makes your head spin.

You eye the girl that’s smiling and nodding next to Seokjin. She’s the same height as you, but that's where the similarities stop. Her hair is jet black and pin-straight, probably naturally that way. Her skin is clear and pale, and she’s the type of thin that you’d never be, no matter how hard you exercised. She’s everything you’re not and probably more.

You have to leave before you break down completely.

Without another word, you rush past Seokjin and leave the apartment as quickly as possible. Without any responses to the men calling your name behind you, you’re out of the door and all but running down the hall to the elevator.

“Fucking come on!” you hiss, fingers jabbing the call button with enough force to break it. Your vision is blurring, and your throat feels tight, feeling yourself about to cry.

Finally, the elevator dings, and the doors open, but before you can step in, you feel a warm hand on your upper arm, turning you around.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Seokjin’s close and looking at you with concern. His eyes immediately widen in panic at the sight of the tears streaming down your cheeks. "Y/n, why-"

"Do you love me?" you blurt out. He looks taken back at the outburst.

"Wh-what?"

"I said do you love me?"

"Of course. You're one of my closest fr-"

"As more than a friend?" His mouth opens and closes a few times, his grip on your arm tightening slightly.

"Y/n, I have a girlfriend now." Again, that word, coming from his mouth and not talking about you, shatters your heart all over again and pushes more tears from you.

"I thought...I thought you were in love with me..." You watch his eyebrows furrow before his mouth goes slack. "Oh, I get it. You're allowed to flirt with me and buy me things and hold my hand and call me 'baby,’ but that doesn't make me your girlfriend." You yank your arm from his hold. It feels as though your heart is going to beat out of your chest by this point. "You can fall asleep on the phone with me, and you can fuck me whenever you're horny, but I'm not good enough to date?" Seokjin glances over his shoulder, probably making sure no one has overheard your loud tone.

"Y/n, I-"

"So what were we, Seokjin? Friends with benefits?" You’re met with silence. "I've been in love with you for two years, Seokjin! Two years! I’d feel like the luckiest girl on the fucking planet when you’d pull me into your lap or brush my hair out of my face or kiss my cheek. I fall for you more and more every day! Every time you touch me or compliment me or even smile at me, I feel like I’m going to explode because I’m full of so much happiness and love for you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else except you, Kim Seokjin, but you obviously never felt the same. I was just someone to pretend with until you got a real girlfriend, right?" On top of the pain in your chest, you’re also bubbling with anger at this point.

"Y/n, it's not like that. I care about you so much, I really do. I just...I never saw you as someone who could be my girlfriend."

"Why? Why her and not me?"

“Y/n-”

“Is it because she’s prettier than me? Am I too ugly to be your girlfriend?”

"Come on, no! You're amazing, and I think you're beautiful."

"Then why don't you love me, Seokjin?!"

"I don't know! I just don't know, okay?! But it doesn't matter because I'm with Juhee now, and I really like her!" You swallow the lump in your throat. That's all you needed to hear.

You turn on your heels and press the elevator button again. This time when the doors open, you step in without being stopped by Seokjin. It isn’t until the doors start to close that his hand shoots out and stops them. "Y/n, please don't hate me." You avoid looking at him, and you push his hand away.

"I don’t hate you, Seokjin." This is true. Your outburst has erased all traces of anger in you. All you feel now is a hollow emptiness in your gut. "Just don't talk to me for a while, okay?" You hit the button to close the doors, and this time, your eyes are on his face the whole time. You take in all of his features once more before the doors close and the elevator starts to move.

Once you’re alone, the real sobs you’ve been holding in slip out in the form of a shrill scream. More hot tears run down your face as you lean back against the wall, wrapping your arms around yourself as some form of comfort.

It isn’t until the elevator stops at the lobby that you realize you’re still wearing your slippers. There is no way you’re going back upstairs for your shoes, so you leave the building in the pink, opened-toed house shoes and start your walk home. Seeing how Seokjin has bought you those sandals, it is probably better that they stay anyway. You think of it as a small piece of him you’re leaving behind.

Picking up the pace, you’re intent on going home and getting rid of everything he has ever bought for you or given you as a gift. You make a note to get rid of the dress you’re wearing as soon as you get inside. The sooner you can get all thoughts of Kim Seokjin out of your head, the quicker you hope to be able to heal the painful, gaping hole in your chest.

[kkruml]

STAY CH 16

I am absolutely gobsmacked by all the love this wee story has gotten over time. I did not intend for it to take as long as it did to find the ending to this story, but alas, life and circumstances (and a f*cking pandemic) got in the way. BUT- it’s here. The final chapter. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride. This story started off as a prompt about a trope that I had always enjoyed but never considered writing. I am glad I took the leap and am forever grateful for the support and beta magic that are @abreathofsnowandwaffles​ and @missclairebelle​. Without you both I would never have attempted this. I love you both.

To everyone who has read, shared, and enjoyed (even a little!) this story, thank you.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

AO3

Mood music

Previously

Whole.

The word danced around the corners of her mind. Her eyes shifted from him to the golden hues splashed across the sky. Was she whole? Twisting her wrist for inspection, she felt no sharp pain, just a dull ache from use.

No longer broken.

Now came the recovery. As a doctor she had seen the scans, she knew the rehabilitation trajectory. Yet here, with him, the statistics and analytical journal findings faded from mental view. Here, in this moment, she was simply Claire. With Jamie. Her Jamie. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over her.

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” drawing her gaze back to him, she exhaled contentedly. Instinctively, her hand reached out for his, taking it gently. “Thank you, Jamie.”

“Och, ‘tis nothing lass.” Dirt-stained fingertips pressed into her skin. His warmth encompassed her.

“Jamie…” she started, her eyes lowering to see their fingers intertwined. Blinking hard and tilting her face to meet his, she finished, “I don’t just mean for today.”

An echo of a smile tugged at his lips and he exhaled.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” His voice hummed, soft and tender. “There’s the two of us now.”

His words were so simple. But there was something in the blue of his eyes that spoke to the depth of his meaning. Her breath caught as she felt the same weight of prophecy to his words.

CLAIRE

Blue.

Whisky.

Stay.

The words whispered to her in a soft rhythm, beckoning her from sleep. One eye begrudgingly parted and she was blessed with the sight of Jamie’s face. His nose, straight and angled, thick stubble dappled his cheeks, and the line of his lips curled into a small smile while he slept. 

She had missed that quiet smile. 

It had been so long. Since the accident. 

She yearned for it. 

Ached for it.

Shifting slightly onto her side she felt his arm tighten around her waist, and a flutter of a giggle tickled her chest.

He had been gentle with her, almost too gentle. At first he kept a respectable space as to avoid injuring or jostling her arm, or pressing into her ribs as they healed. But then as days passed, they became hesitant with each other as a small crack formed and slowly spread to fill the space between, a sliver at a time. 

It had been weeks. But tonight, he had reached out to her in sleep. 

Perhaps it was the whisky from the hours earlier, or the heady tension between them as they traded glasses and slipped farther and farther into their own bubble, consumed by each other’s mere presence that she’d felt a shift between them. His warmth encompassed her and flushed her cheeks before dipping into her chest. She burned for his touch. Her fingers trembled as they slowly rose towards his face, before stopping just short of his jawline. She faltered for a moment, losing her nerve. 

What if he woke up? 

The thought lit the fire that had sunk just below her belly button and her lip quivered. The boldness she felt that night, all those months ago- that night he bared his soul to her, the night he told her about the accident- that strength had slowly faded from her with each passing day since her injury. 

Gently placing her hand back onto her side, her eyes traced the solid line of muscle from his shoulder down to his elbow. Perfect peaks and valleys were highlighted by the faint moonlight. Reveling in the knowledge that he was hers, she let out a satisfied sigh.

A glow from the bedside table caught her attention and she rolled her eyes. She knew who it was, and what the message said, and she silently cursed herself for the spontaneous text earlier. A moment of alcohol-induced bravery had prompted a bold proclamation. That tonight, she would reclaim that lost and most intimate connection with Jamie… in a somewhat less than mature manner of speaking.

Lifting the phone enough to see the screen, she caught the text that flashed.

    Have ye crawled out from under the Viking for air yet?

Geillis. 

To be honest, there were a few moments she thought that it might happen. Jamie’s gaze grew more menacing and his fingers lingered as they traced the lines of her hem at the small of her back, all the while whispering old stories of Lallybroch in her ear so close that she could taste the amber liquid on his breath. But then… after stumbling past the doorway into their bedroom, with fits of laughter breaking between them, they settled into a coy yet contented ball of sheets and blankets on the bed. 

She had welcomed the weight of his body against hers as their laughter softly echoed off the bedroom walls. But with a swift tug of the comforter beneath them, he had rolled clumsily onto her left side and the spell between them was broken. Stammering his way through an impassioned apology, he shifted his body, overcompensating for the contact and leaving ample space between them. The buzzing electricity between them simmered and the courage she’d come so close to wielding receded. After a few more gentle smiles and muttered apologies from Jamie, they both had drifted into blissful sleep. But that ache persisted, and it rose from a dull ache to a heady throb.  

With a half-hearted sigh, she tapped the screen to respond.

    Will catch up tomorrow. Too tired and too much whisky tonight ;)

Three bubbles quickly appeared on her screen as Geillis’s words flashed quickly.

    Aye. Too much ‘Whisky.’ As ye say. XO

That was not what she meant, but she didn’t correct Geilis. They would see each other tomorrow, and she would set the record straight then. Maybe. 

Struggling to settle her mind back into the quiet darkness of the room, she let her eyelids close and the words beckoned again.

Stay. Please stay.

Her fingers twitched. Her head swirled with the words, and then a melody slowly seeped in and clouded her thoughts. An almost torturous rhythm played over and over in her head, keeping sleep at bay and forcing out the memories of the night before. 

Sighing again, this time in resignation, she slowly slid off the bed. Gently moving his arm to rest on the space she had just vacated, she paused. Gazing at his perfect form in the tangle of sheets in their bed for a moment longer, she then turned on her heel and padded out of the room.

Where is that bloody guitar?

-

JAMIE

Claire.

Mmm. Feeling the warmth against his palm, he contracted his muscles and pulled a tangle of empty bed sheets against his chest. 

Where is she?

Thoughts came quickly, erratic and half-formed as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. 

His last vision of her was in bed next to him, a beautiful mosaic of dark curls and light skin, splintered in his mind but beautiful nonetheless.

It was still late… no- early? The soft morning light had not yet fully crept through the curtains, but it kissed the soft linen and a glow inched across the bedroom floor.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he could still, but barely, see her face as they stumbled into his, no their flat just hours before- lips parted in a beaming grin, eyes warm and glowing, curls spilling out of a bird’s nest atop her head. 

Having stopped at a local pub in a desperate attempt to prolong their evening, the memory of her leaning in closely as each drop of amber fluid eased the tension in her shoulders.  The heat on her breath as she whispered new Gaelic words she had been studying but never said aloud settled in his bones and burned just under the surface. The timidity between them had receded with every look, every brush of skin against each other. Like a balm on a healing wound, her every look and movement was a salve on his soul. 

Shaking his head, the memory slowly faded, and he blinked ruefully as it subsided. He heard a faint sound, a slight… plucking of strings? Moving quickly through the flat he eyed his guitar stand in the corner by the couch- empty.

His lip twitched and he fought the sensation. Doesna mean anything.. Or does it?

Grabbing the tumbled mass of tartan on the cushion, he slinked his way up the fire escape to the rooftop, following the sounds of his guitar as the notes tweaked and came into tune.

-

CLAIRE

There’s my C. Finally.

He said it would come with time, but neglected to mention just how tedious tuning a guitar could be. It always seemed to sing when he played, a natural extension of himself. 

Effortless. 

He was right.

A small echo of a laugh bubbled in her chest. He was always so sure when he spoke. Whether he was storytelling or gesticulating on the latest rugby match. There was a conviction in his words, and in this instance, she knew he was right. What the strings and pick are to him, a scalpel and needle are to her.

She plucked the string again. 

Bloody Scot was right. 

And she was grateful for it.

Letting out a quick breath into the crisp night air, her eyelids fluttered shut as the words undulated in her mind, like a tide rolling in. Growing closer, then receding before pushing closer and closer, she surrendered to the pulsating rhythm. 

With a quick roll of the wrist, and sigh of relief as it cooperated without sign of pain, she set her fingers against the strings. The words thrummed in her ears, echoing as the memory struggles to come into focus. 

“Nothing is lost… please stay.”

JAMIE

His breath caught as his eyes found her, freezing him. An unruly mess of dark curls cascaded around her, the wind toying with a strand as it twisted and fluttered in the air, the curves of her shoulders draped in his favorite rugby shirt.   

He stood breathlessly, watching as her hand absentmindedly grasped the errant lock and tucked it behind one ear. The movement was subtle, but made his heart pound. Her wrist, newly healed and etched with fresh scars, moved with an ease. There was a fluidity, an almost absent-mindedness he hadn’t seen in weeks.

Her chin was set in determination, her lower lip tucked between her teeth and head cocked as if the guitar was whispering its secrets to her. The curve of her back matched the line of his guitar, two of his favorite things molded into one.

A Dhia.

She was beautiful.

With a heavy exhale to take in the scene, his body rested against the metal railing. A high pitched creak filled the air and he watched as her face jerked toward him in panic. The current of gold in her eyes settled slightly as they fixed on him before igniting into a deep ember.

-

CLAIRE

His hair was tousled from sleep, but his eyes were electric, and the slope of his lips, parted as raspy breath escaped, filled her vision. The heat of his stare traveled down her throat with a hard swallow, descending into the depths just below her navel. Blinking hard to quell the feeling, she held her gaze, letting his beauty overtake her nerves.

“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?” his voice cut through the darkness. It shook just slightly as the Gaelic punctuated his question, two fingers tapping against his thigh. 

My brown haired lass.  

She remembered the first time he’d called her that. He promised one day he’d tell her what it meant. Instead, she’d found them in an old, nondescript and dusty book on his shelf... or perhaps the words found her. She reveled in knowing what it meant as he’d whisper it in darkness, tender and soft. 

“Y-yes, quite,” she started as pulled herself back to the present. Letting a deep sigh encompass her, she met his eye. “Did I wake you?”

“Ach no, I just dinna...” he started as twitching fingers ran through his hair. “ I just… dinna sleep well wi’out ye with me.”

“Oh.” she said quietly, letting a small smile play at her lips as heat rose in her chest. “I wanted to show you something.”

One eyebrow quirked and with it came a breathtaking grin framed by fiery red hair and electric blue eyes. “I seem to recall ye said once that they let anyone play.”

-

JAMIE

“Och! You don’t need to ruin the moment,” she said with exasperation.

“Wai- what?”  His ears perked at the noise. Cocking his head to the side, he tried to find the words. “Was that...Did ye just-” 

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she countered, “Wot?”

“Tis nothing,” he started, recovering from his stumble. “That was just a decidedly Scottish sound there…” 

“I most certainly did not,” her voice stuttered on the last word, her eyebrows creasing as he watched her question her own words. 

Thank the laird for small miracles and glass faces.

“Are ye sure yer a Sassenach aft-after all?” A laugh rumbled from his chest as he moved toward her, “Ye do a fine version of a salty auld Highlander indeed.” 

“Well,” her lips parted in a conciliatory smile and her eyes glowed. “I seem to have learned from the best.”

A breeze filled the space between them and he caught her slight frame shiver.

“Are ye cold, Sassenach?” he asked, drawing out the last word for emphasis. She was an outlander, a most rare and precious gift. 

“I’m alright,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders, but there was no conviction behind her voice.

“Dinna be stubborn lass, I can hear yer teeth rattle from here.” He countered with an attempt at a wink. In truth, it was an excuse, any excuse to move closer to her. 

Her face softened and she sighed, nodding as she bit down on her lower lip. His eyes darted to her mouth, tracing every curve and line. His tongue reflexively darted out and licked his lips, aching to taste her breath against his skin. Balling his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out to touch her face, his fingers dug into crumpled up fabric- the tartan soft and warm in his hand.

The tactile sensation brought him from his thoughts, and he held it out to her as he closed the space between them. His lips curled as he cocked his head, “After all… Ye canna bring dishonor on the Fraser colors, Sassenach.” 

“Oh mon dieu, first the Fréselière and now your clan’s colors and creed?” Her eyes were alight with humor as she turned to fully face him, his guitar shifting in her lap. She inhaled sharply, her eyes intent and glowing, “My hands seem to be full at the moment... might you help?”

He stood still, surprised for a moment but swallowed hard and gathered up the material in both hands. Timidly, he wrapped his arms around her, her hair tickling his nose as he leaned in close.

Pressing against him softly, her voice was low and heavy as she said, “Thank you.”

Giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, he set himself on the seat next to her- close but not quite touching. “Ach, so ye had something to play then, aye?”

“Well it’s just the start of something, I think,” she mumbled.

The familiar chords echoed between them as she hummed the melody. Had he played that for her before? He didn't think he had?

-

CLAIRE

She pulled her eyes from her fingers as they pressed into the cords to find his gaze heavy on her. She hummed for a few beats and then with eyes closed she exhaled with contentment. 

“Clear blue….” she breathed, waiting for the next chord progression to continue with a disjointed “world of whiskey.” The strings vibrated against her fingertips before she whispered the lines that had repeated over and over in her mind, “Nothing is lost… Please stay.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her. His hands were clasped together tightly, fingernails dug slightly into ruddy, sunkissed skin.

“I wasn’t sure.. I mean, it’s-” she was suddenly shy, embarrassed. It was absurd to try to explain, the words just… were to her.

His face was frozen and his lower lip quivered. With a low, shaky voice he asked, “Where did ye find those words?”

“They just…” she started. Without thinking she continued, the words tumbling out of her, “They just came to me. I think it was a dream. I was drowning, and then I saw... light. Wings. And then a voice asking me to stay.”

“Mo Chridhe,” his voice was almost a whisper, each word quiet but strong. “That was me.”

She struggled to understand the pain in his voice. “You?”

Fragmented time flashed through her mind. Her father, the heron’s wings. The tattoo. The flutter of wings in her ears as she lay in that bed. Through it all, the words, those words- they cut through the noise. 

It was him.

-

JAMIE

He watched her, waiting. The realization flashed across her face.

Her voice was almost a whisper, but her eyes were a smoldering amber.  Her voice was sure, true. “It was you.” 

She remembered.

The weeks lost to the accident and the uncertainty of what was to come when she couldn’t remember- the truths they had shared… it was still there. A weight lifted from his chest and he exhaled for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Whatever it was between them, that awful night hadn’t stolen it from them. As she had lain, still and broken, in that hospital bed amidst a rhythmic beeping of machines and hushed voices in the hallway, he had sung to her. 

And she had heard him.

“It was me,” he said simply, wanting to repeat those words over and over again. Inching close, eyes trained on her, he let the echo of a smile pull at his lip. “I had trouble finishing the line.”

The whisky in her eyes burned as her chest heaved with effort. The gravity of the moment threatened to crumble her facade, and she struggled to keep her tone light, “Yes, you did.”

The confirmation sent a shock wave through him. “So, Sassenach…” he let his voice fade as he contemplated. His voice hung between them, both unsure of how to speak.

-

CLAIRE

His voice was low, his irises almost black. “How does it end then?” 

The silence throbbed between them like a heartbeat. The weight of his question lingered. Seemingly innocent on the surface, the deeper meaning reverberating between them. 

With a small smile, her fingers touched the strings. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. 

“Your face is my heart and the love of you…” she paused, wanting the words to ring true. Her hand twitched and curled to find the strings without difficulty as she finished, “My soul.” 

The chord hung between them, the vibration echoing against her skin. Without looking away, she gently set the guitar down as the note dissipated and scattered into the air. The wind whipped between them, the familiar scent of linen, sandalwood and him struck her as she watched him, waiting.

“I thought I’d lost ye,” his voice was gravely as it tumbled out of him, carrying the weight of the last several weeks. His eyes were focused on a point in the distance. When he pulled his gaze to her, she saw a pool of tears threatening to brim over. Speaking the truths he’d hidden even from himself, his voice broke as he said, “First wi’ the accident and then ye lost sae many memories of… us. I just couldna bear it- losing ye, losing us.”

“Jamie…” her chest constricted as she watched his face contort and relive that night.

-

JAMIE

“I dinna ken what I’d do wi’out ye. I was born-” He felt the desperation in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it. She had to know. Had to understand. She needed to feel the love that nearly burst out of his chest, and the agony he’d kept at bay these last long few weeks. He pushed his fingers through his curls as the words spilled out in fragments, “I  was- I c-cannae explain it I just… just….  Christ!”

All the words he needed to say came crashing down in his mind and he couldn’t form a single thought to sort them out. He stood helplessly, two digits thrumming against his leg.

Her tone was low as she peeked through furrowed brows and dark lashes, “... I was born for you?”

“Aye,” His eyes darted to her face, the air ripped from his lungs. “How did ye know?”

“Jamie…” her voice was small but warm.  “I’ve whispered those same words.. I’ve known that every day since I met you.”  

“Claire,” his voice coiled around her name, reveling in the sound. His fingers twitched again as he raised his hand to her face, cupping the smooth porcelain of her cheek.

-

CLAIRE

Feeling the dam break, she leaned into his touch. “Bha mi gad ionndrainn.”

His hand sunk into her hair, pulling her to him. Grasping his forearms, she pressed her forehead to his. “I’ve missed you, too.”

His breath was heated against her cheek, a faint scent of whisky lingered between them. Her fingers slowly lifted to trace the line of his jaw, the stubble coarse against her skin. They settled just below his jawline, feeling his pulse quicken against her fingertips. Tentatively, she lifted his face to meet hers, and it was breathtaking. Dark flecks interrupted the turbulent blue in his eyes, and they trained on hers with a weight that ignited a fire in her chest.

“I would like-” he started, his voice raspy and raw. His skin was almost vibrating with need. “-Very much to kiss you. May I?”

An ache pulled deep in her belly as she struggled to focus on the words- the anticipation filling her senses. Struggling to focus, she blinked hard and smiled, “You may.”

His fingers intertwined in her hair as he leaned in, soft yet firm. With a final sigh, she closed her eyes and tilted her chin to meet his. His lips were warm and full, quickly molding to hers. With two more movements her tongue was tracing his lip and as she felt them part, she pushed against him with arms snaking around his neck.

Tongues pulsed and kneaded against each other as her hands found his hair as his arms circled around her waist. His fingers urgently sought her skin, pressing into the flesh at the small of her back as she arched into him. The aching need of the past weeks melted away with every movement and every ragged breath between them.

-

JAMIE

Every thought scattered. There was nothing but her. She filled every sense. The lavender of her shampoo, the velvety touch of her skin against his fingertips as he pulled her closer, the sound of her exhale as she reignited their kiss. He needed her now.

 For all the time and distance and tentative silence that had grown between them, speaking was now unnecessary. 

He needed to show her the way he loved her. Struggling for composure, one hand snaked up into her hair and he pulled back his lips and held her in place. 

Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed and beautiful. Her eyes were a fiery gold and glistened with a thin film of tears. 

Sorcha.

Sassenach.

Claire.

She was his, he was hers. Shattered apart, a beautiful mosaic of both pain and triumph together. They fought for this. They earned this. 

Her breath was shaky but her voice was calm, “Will you have me?”

The gold specks in her eyes burned like embers as she held his gaze. His skin pulsed with electricity as her fingers lifted the tartan to cover his shoulders. Leaning forward and gently lowering her to the ground, he felt the soft warmth of her body beneath her and he knew he was home. She was home to him. 

“Yes,” he whispered as the heat in his chest reverberated out into his fingertips. 

He would have had her, any part of her, in any way he could- even the quiet, timid moments of the past few weeks where he had scarcely dared to touch her. But here, now, he saw that each crack and fracture she had endured had only healed stronger. Made more beautiful by the very lines of black etched into her skin, the flap of a heron’s wing flashed before his eyes before fading into the vision of her face.

He pressed against her as he lowered his face to hers.  “Yes, I’ll have you.”

Now and forever.

[ragingpancake]

Ancients bless you for writing McShep. ♥️ I would LOVE to read something about John finding out Rodney plays piano o.o ... And maybe Rodney finds out John plays guitar O.O ... And m a y b e they start playing together 🥺🥺🥺 Or really anything involving them and their respective instruments; it can go wherever you want. ♥️

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay on this! Thank you so very much for sending me this prompt! I hope you enjoy it! There are a lot of things he thinks he’d rather be doing at two am. Sleep, for one thing, because it’s been a long few days and while the bed the SGC had offered him at Cheyenne Mountain wasn’t as comfortable as the child sized bed he’d grown used to in Atlantis, it served the purpose well enough. But it’s not just the Pegasus Galaxy that hates them and so here he is, driving down the familiar streets of Fort Carson on his way back to the rundown bar he’d left most of his people at about four hours earlier. He’s annoyed, but he also understands: the memorial service for Carson had been rough, his loss felt more acutely somehow here on Earth than it had been on Atlantis and so despite the fact that the bartender had to call him to round up his group of misfits and herd them back to the base, he won’t be too hard on them. Pulling into the bar parking lot, he parks the borrowed car and climbs out, and even from here, he can hear the noise coming from inside and there are a lot of things he expects to find, but as he pulls the door open and steps inside, this is… one hundred percent not one of those things. “Sing us a song you're the piano man

Sing us a song tonight

Well we're all in the mood for a melody

And you've got us feelin' alright

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine—" Rodney spots him now and from his place at the piano, he falters, hitting the wrong keys in his haste to stand and wave, grinning broadly. “Hey! My buddy John! John! Hey! Come here!” John can tell, even from the doorway, that Rodney is completely wasted. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed, and Evan Lorne behind him isn’t in any better shape. The only one who appears to not be completely obliterated is Ronon, who’s leaning against the bar with an amused look on his face. John nods in his direction and walks over, never pulling his eyes from Rodney as he sinks back down onto the piano bench, resuming his rousingrendition of Piano Man while the left over stragglers in the bar hoot and holler, clearly enjoying the performance. “How long’s it been like this?” He asks Ronon. “Since ‘bout an hour after you left.” “Why didn’t you call me?” John asks and the look he gives the Satedan isn’t the most charitable. Ronon is not phased, merely shrugging one shoulder. “I dunno. Seems like he probably needed it. He’s had a hard time of it.” John can’t argue that. Out of everyone on Atlantis, he thinks Rodney was probably the closest to Carson. For all the ways they bickered and fought, there was a true friendship there, probably one of the most genuine friendships that Rodney’s ever had. Losing Carson was hard. He leans against the bar beside Ronon, arms crossed over his chest as he just watches, letting Rodney finish up and for the first time since the memorial, John really looks at him; he kind of wants to kick his own ass for not seeing it before, the weight of Rodney’s grief and guilt. Shit. “Yeah,” John sighs finally, making his way up to the bar stage before Rodney can be coerced into an encore performance. He supposes Rodney did need this. “Alright, buddy. C’mon. Time to go.” “But, but, but! John—” “Bar’s closing, pal. C’mon.” For a second, John thinks he’s going to have to enlist Ronon’s help in getting Rodney out, but it’s easy enough to manhandle him on his own, leaving Ronon to Lorne. --- The ride back to Cheyenne Mountain is mostly uneventful. Lorne passes out in the back seat, drooling on Ronon’s shoulder, while Rodney rambles incessantly about putting in an official request to bring a piano back to Atlantis, waxing poetic about all of the benefitsof music in regards to mental health. John placates him, promising he’ll make the request for the next Dedalus run and it seems to be good enough for Rodney who gives him a brilliant crooked smile. John hadn’t realized, until this moment, how long it’s actually seen since the last time he saw Rodney smile a real, genuine smile. Even though he knows it won’t last for much longer.

--- By the time they make it back to the mountain, it’s nearing 4am. Once again, Ronon takes Lorne, leaving John with Rodney and it’s easy enough to usher him back to John’s own quarters so he can keep an eye on him. Rodney’s gone quiet now and John imagines that the alcohol is starting to wear off, the feelings that Rodney had been trying so hard to suppress, creeping back in. “This isn’ my room,” Rodney slurs, and John shrugs. “I can take you there if you want. Just figured it’d be easier to keep an eye on you here.” “Oh,” Rodney says and not for the first time that night, John finds himself surprised by the scientist. He’d been gearing up for a fight, truthfully. Instead, Rodney trudges over to the bed and sits down, nearly pitching forward before John grips his shoulder, keeping him from toppling over. “Easy. I got ya.” And something shifts on Rodney’s face then. Here it comes, John thinks. “I should’a had Carson,” he says, voice strangely tight. “Fishing. We were supposed to go fishing. He wouldn’t have been in the city if I hadn’t—” “—Rodney,” John says, voice gentle. “You cannot go down this road, buddy. You know that. What happened to Carson is not your fault. You’re smart enough to know that.” “Maybe,” he says and he lets John guide him back down against the mattress. “But I should have gone. He was, he was a good friend, you know? So are you. Better than I deserve. So much better.” “That’s not true either,” and it’s these moments that the little cracks in Rodney are visible, the self-loathing thickening the air until it’s almost hard to breathe. “You’re a good guy, Rodney. A pain in the ass, sure, but you’re good. That’s why Carson liked you so much. He knew that. Even if you’re always trying to make sure no one actually sees you.” But they do. John does. He always has. “You gotta get some sleep, alright? We’re heading back tomorrow.” “Yeah,” Rodney agrees. “Yeah. ‘m tired. You should, you should sleep too.” “Don’t worry about me, buddy. Just get some sleep, alright? I’ll be here when you wake up.” And that’s all Rodney needs to close his eyes, the alcohol making it easier to drift into much needed sleep, leaving John to his own thoughts. There’s no point in sleeping now, he thinks. They’re due to Gate out in a few hours, so rather than even try, he reaches for the guitar he’d brought back with him, settling back into the chair across from the bed. He plucks the strings slowly, some long forgotten melody filling the quiet of the room as he watches Rodney sleep. They’ve lost a lot of people. Ford. Griffin. Abrams. Gall. Carson. Each of them have left their mark on all of them, carved into their hearts, their minds. John has spent so much time not letting himself feel, but tonight, it hits him all at once and for a moment, he can’t even breathe. They’ve lost. They keep losing and one day, he has no delusions about losing Rodney too, whether out in the field or to someone better than him, someone like Katie Brown. They have a finite amount of time, and it’s never been as clear to him before as it is now. Rodney is going to spend the rest of his life regretting not going on that damn fishing trip; John will regret not ordering Carson to stand down. It adds to the laundry list of all his other regrets, and he doesn’t think he has room for anymore. He knows what he must do. He settles back, strumming again against the strings, eyes never leaving Rodney’s face. Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow, when Rodney’s sobered up, when they’re back home on Atlantis, John will tell him. Maybe they can help each other navigate through the hurt, the loss, and for once… for once, they can deal with what they’re feeling together instead of alone. It’s at least worth a try.

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 4)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Next Chapter: Special Grade

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty. Double update this week since the story is moving along fast.

CHAPTER 4: Cherry Blossom Storm

You finally reached your classroom. It wasn’t large as there were only 4 1st year students who enrolled this year. A black board, some desks, and a huge view from outside.

“Wowww, the campus view from here is so pretty!” You quickly made your way to the open window. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. It is spring and the school year starts in April.

Noritoshi stood by your side and stared at you. “Yeah we have a pretty good view here. The view from the roof is much better if you would like me to show you?”

“Sure.” you replied absentmindedly. You reached out a hand towards the petals and flowers blowing in the wind and used your technique to pull them to you. You stared at the cherry blossom in the centre of your hand.

You turned to Noritoshi with a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Have you ever felt what it was like to be in the midst of a flower storm?” He stared affixed at the way you freely used your cursed energy.

He grew up understanding that cursed energy is limited. It has a slow recharge and should not be used meaninglessly. And here you were, using yours without a care in the world.

But then you must have a lot if you look as relaxed as you are now. Plus he can sense the huge amount of cursed energy swirling around you. It was one of the reasons why he immediately walked up to greet you when you both first met.

“I don’t, would you perhaps show me?” he asked. You grinned at him, “Please bring me to the rooftop.”

The rooftop was a marvelous view. At about 4 stories high, you could see the surrounding forest around the campus, as well as the more urbanised city from a distance. You beckoned Noritoshi to the center of the space and he stood in front of you.

Then you put both palms up, one diagonally on top of the other in kind of like a v shape before whispering, “Tornado: Soft Blossom Style”. Immediately a wind channel formed in your hands and attracted the flower petals and loose cherry blossoms that have fallen from trees. They spun around both of you faster and faster until you were both in the midst of a mini flower tornado.

“What a sight.” Noritoshi smiled up as he could smell the petals from up close. He reached up to pick a flower, but they were moving way too fast. So you caught a few full undamaged blossoms and placed it in his hands. “My mum has similar abilities with plants. She taught me how to control them like this.” You admitted.

You released your technique and the petals slowly drifted downwards like a gentle flower shower. “Clear skies with a hint of flower fall.” You said out of nowhere. Noritoshi couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that as he pocketed the flowers. “What a weather report.”

You smiled at him not noticing the figures by the door who were attracted to your mini flower storm. “Waaaa~ What’s all this for?”

You quickly turned to see two girls. One with blonde hair and one with short dark green hair that was almost black. “Nishimiya, Mai.” Noritoshi senpai called out.

Ah, so more school mates. The short blonde ran out and reached up for the petals, while the other followed from behind.

“Hello, I am an incoming first year here. Tsuchimikado Y/N, It is nice to meet you.” You greeted them with a bow.

“Ahhh, that Tsuchimikado huh?” to which you looked back up to the taller pretty woman with short hair. “The name’s Mai. Zenin Mai. Looks like we’ll be fellow classmates. Please take care of me.”

Zenin?! Whoa now there are two students here at Kyoto Jujutsu High who come from the Great 3 Jujutsu Families.

“Nishimiya Momo, 2nd year student. Just call me Momo senpai, Tsuchimikado chan. We saw the flowers from down below and just came to check what’s happening.”

“Is it okay if I address you as y/n chan?” Momo senpai asked. “Yes y/n is fine senpai, I don’t mind too much. I’ll be in both of your care!” You smiled at them.

“So what are you both doing up here Kamo-kun?” Momo turned to him. He calmly replied “I was bringing her around campus. She wanted to see the view from the rooftop.”

“Ahhh. So what Todo said about both of you being on a date wasn’t true then?”

You solemnly vowed to beat that man up the next time you see him. He knew what he was doing and he was provoking you very well. Still, it didn’t stop you and Noritoshi from both flushing hard, “It’s not a date!” You both exclaimed at the same time.

Mai was smirking. “Okay then. By the way, Y/n chan, our uniforms have arrived. I was just walking with Momo to the office to pick it up. Would you want to come along?”

You brightened up, “Of course I’ll go!” To which Noritoshi came up behind you and smiled as he leaned down to reach your height. “I have some other errands to do, you can go ahead with them.”

“Ah, th-thank you again for showing me around. I think I am more familiar with the place now.” You bowed again. He shook his head, “I’ve already got something better from you,” as he motioned to the flowers on the ground. “Now if you three would excuse me.”

After he left, you quickly blew all the flowers off the roof and towards the ground. “I made a mess without thinking.” You worriedly said. “Y/n, don’t worry about it. C’mon let’s go.” Momo pulled you along.

Mai just stared at the space where a bunch of petals were at a moment ago. ‘A natural born talent huh.’ She thought with a bit of jealousy as she turned to follow you guys.

◇◇◇

“Here you are!” The window handed you and Mai your uniforms. “Thank you so much!” You smiled at them. You looked over the custom made fits and everything seemed correct.

You had requested for pants and a short sleeved top along with a cape over it. You can also wear your favorite haori if not the cape. The top and the cape both have the Jujutsu High Buttons on them.

You had lunch with the girls and chatted with them, getting to know them a bit better. You discovered that Momo senpai was also admitted based on her family lineage. “Y/n chan, you also got in via your family?”

“Yes I did! My family is a bit small, but we are descendants of-”

“Abe no Seimei.” Mai finished for you, You turned to look at her in surprise before realizing that she was from the Zenin clan, of course they have a lot of information on the rest of the Jujutsu society.

You nodded at her. “You’re from the Zenin clan right Mai chan? Is that how you know Noritoshi senpai?”

“Yes, the big 3 Jujutsu clans have always been in touch with each other, so we know each other from a while back.” She replied.

You’re definitely not jealous that she knows Noritoshi. Definitely not.

“Noritoshi senpai? You don’t call him Kamo senpai?” Momo asked curiously.

“Ahh, he told me to call him that…?” You hesitantly asked. Momo’s eyes sparkled dangerously.

“Reaaally?? Mr. ‘I only care about studying and being the next Kamo clan head’ Noritoshi said that to you?”

What.

“Next clan head what?!” You were surprised. The whole time you were so casual with him, making him bring you around. Should you have been more formal?

“Ah, you didn’t know.” The two other girls stared at you in growing amusement, while you flapped around nervously.

“Oh my gosh and I was so casual with him?!” you panicked. “Should I be more formal with him from now on?”

Mai shrugged. “Dunno. I honestly don’t think he minds. He and Todo, they’re both a pain in the ass.”

“Have you also met Todo senpai? He asked me what my ideal type was earlier! So odd.” You said, to which Momo senpai just groaned out. “I’m classmates with both of them and they’re definitely a huge pain to deal with. Todo is just obsessed with his favorite idol Takada chan. Just ignore him, it will do you good. Trust me.” she added as an afterthought.

“If you say so.” You replied. The girls were nice, you were happy that there were some people you would get along with for sure.

◇◇◇

“Utahime sensei,” Noritoshi called out by the door to the staff room. “Coming! Just a moment!”

“Oh, it’s just you Kamo. What is it?” Utahime asked as she leaned against the door frame.

“There is this book I was reading, but I found some essential pages torn out. I borrowed it from the library.” He handed the volume over to Utahime, who checked it.

“Tsk, tsk. How could we have missed that? Must be a very old untouched volume. ‘The Tales and True Records of Soulmates’”. She looked up at him in curiosity. “What did you need it for?”

He cooly replied with the strongest poker face he had, “My father told me to be well versed in all forms and matters of Jujutsu. Some origins of special powers were known to originate from soulmate or fated pairs, and thus it piqued my interest.”

“Ah. I see,” Utahime hummed. “Well, we can’t do anything about it, but I can ask the library heads if they know of the origins of this book, so that we can locate the missing pages. But if you’d like I can help you locate more books on soulmates? If that helps? But I can’t go now. Maybe next week after class starts.”

“Yes, if you could please do so. Thank you sensei.”

Noritoshi returned to his dorm, and upon remembering the flowers that you had gifted him from the little flower show from earlier. He brought them out, smiling and touching the soft petals.

Then set to work on pressing and preserving the flowers in a thick book.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[capituloperdido1]

ACOSAS

Chapter 1

Here is the first chapter, please let me know what you guys think! Warnings: Anxiety Attack, mentions of SA

There was not a night, in which the shadowsinger did not wake up sweating after his night terrors. It had become a routine for him, to see the flames in his dreams, to see the smiles and dark eyes of his so-called brothers while they laughed at his pain. At first, he would find ways to comfort himself, he would read, pray to the Mother, and even journal (a suggestion given to him by his blonde friend). However, after the years passed, and his nightmares did not disappear, he had come to realize that the nightmare was a punishment from the cauldron. The scars, the nightmares, the fact that he did not have a mate; it was all a punishment for the horrors that he had committed. So he accepted the nightmares, he accepted the scars, the accepted the loneliness, he accepted the punishment Azriel rolled over the bed, taking off the sheets that had covered his body; and sat at the edge of the bed. He took a couple of seconds to look around his room. Five... the grey walls, the black wooden desk, the leather chair in front of the fireplace, the basket of dirty clothes, and the book that the priestess had let him borrowed. Four... the satin sheets on his bed, the trim curls on his head, the fleece black pants he wore, and the wooden decorations that surrounded his bed. Three... the chirping of birds in the morning, faint music from Velaris, and the sound of trees moving with the wind. Two... whiskey and roses. One... the taste of the chocolate pudding the house had given him the night before. He exhaled as his mind acknowledged reality. Sometimes, when the nightmares were too real; he woke up afraid to be in that cell... prison that his childhood self had called home. He stood, looking for his fighting leaders as he got ready to go to the training ring. Maybe the day ahead was not going to be bad, maybe something good might happen. Maybe, a certain auburn-haired priestess would be there. -.-.-.-.- The sun was just rising, the cold autumn wind tickled his wings as he flew up the house of wind. As if she had guessed he wanted to see her this morning; Gywn moved with gracious velocity while she tried the new obstacle arrangement that was meant for that morning. Azriel smiled to himself, one thing that he admired of the priestess was her willingness to overcome any challenge. She had become known around Prythian, the priestess, and her Valkarie friends, as the fiercest women in their territory. Some feared the group of females, others wanted to become like them. After the Valkaryes had conquered the mountain, many more priestesses had come to train with them; even some Illyrian females, not more than a dozen, had decided to learn the ways of the warriors. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn had to help him and his brother train the new recruits; so they had resolved that the hour after the normal training would be focused on the three of them. However, over the last few months, he had a few one on one training sessions with the priestess. Once her smell hit him, his shadows became restless; one mischievous shadow shooting towards Gwyn and flying around her. They always reacted to her that way, as if they were anticipating throughout days and nights when they would see her again. At first, Azriel had been mortified; he worried that being surrounded by his shadows would make her uneasy, afraid or even disgusted. But, as always, the priestess had surprised him by smiling and opening her hands every time she saw them; welcoming his shadows with eagerness, not fear. -I was wondering if you would come today- she said playing with his shadow. Stop, come back he said to the shadow; but again it ignored him and flew around her hair as if saying i'm not leaving until i want to. -I had a feeling you were going to fail the training course, i could not miss it- he said jokingly. -mhm, sure shadowsinger- she smiled, taking a sip of her water - we both know I'm faster and more agile than you ever were- He laughed and took his leather jacket off A moment passed, and he confessed,- i couldn't sleep- -me neither- she said smiling sadly. They had never talked

about it.

What kept them up at night, they didn't need to. They resorted to talking about books, trains and make snarky remarks to each other. He had to admit that her competitiveness matched his own; and in some way, it helped him forget about his nights. -well... how about you time me, and then i'll time you shadowsinger- she said. He smiled, he appreciated that she never pushed him; and in return, he never pushed her. He knew her terrors, he had been there to witness most of them. But unlike him, he prayed to whatever deity existed that she could overcome them. If there was one person in this world who did not deserve one bad dream was Gwyneth Berdara. -hmm... but let's make a bet priestess- he smirked. -you win, ill bring you the stash of chocolate brownies Nesta hides in the house. I win and you will let me look at more of your notes on mind-stilling-  The priestess had come one night with stashes of papers in her hands; she had dumped the papers in his lap and said - i have not finished it, don't judge the writing. But read it, and try some of the exercises, it has helped me with... you know- From that moment on, he read mind stilling exercises for his anxiety after a bad dream. Gwyn smiled, tying her long hair up in a ponytail. His shadows stilled for a moment, not in fear, but in admiration. -sounds like a deal shadowsinger- He dared to open his mind to his shadows, curious to hear what they were thinking; beauty, they said, autumn beauty. -.-.-.-.- Somehow, they ended up training until Nesta and Cassian came up the stairs. Neither of them had completed the course without busting their asses in the sand at least once. However, she was happy to convince him that even if there was no winner she would let him borrow another copy. Azriel knew that meant he would have to bargain with the house (who somehow held the brownies away from anyone) and exchange some smut books for at least one or two. His brother approached him smiling; after the Blood Rite and all the mess that had been the last couple of months, Cassian and Nesta were finally able to plan their mating ceremony. Azriel never pictured Cassian as the man who would talk for hours about how Magnolias and Lilies could not go together. But his brother was so happy, so excited to plan his ceremony; that he had been part of every decision made until that point. Nesta was more than happy to lay off the decisions of lighting and colors for their mountain ceremony; she was more focused on the guests. Cassian had insisted on inviting some of the high lords; to satisfy Rhys and make it somehow a place to prepare for Koschei. Nesta had refused and had threatened to poke Rhysands eyes out if someone other than Hellion, and Kallias arrived to their ceremony. -hey Az, you look like a whole building fell on your face man- said Cassian while tying a bun with a string of leather. -and you look like you need an ass-kicking, should I tell Nesta to humiliate you in the ring again?- he responded, smiling while he remembers the oldest Archeron sister kicking his brother out of the ring in their last hand to hand combat As the rest of their class arrived, Azriel took the chance to get near Gwyn. - Listen, I know I didn’t let you go back to your chambers. But... thank you, for ... you know being here - he said while scratching the back of his neck. She smiled. And his shadows danced happily looking at her dimples and red lips, beautifully matching her hair. -you know Azriel, I know I’ve never said it. But as your friend, I will be here whenever you need me. If you need to talk, fight, or read some smut... I’ll be here - Gwyn said. He nodded and attempted to show that her words had not just opened a light inside him that for five hundred years had disappeared. -thank you Gwyn-. -.-.-.-.-.- After the training, Azriel walked to his chamber when he heard the voice of his brother in his head. I need you, there is a mission that needs attending. Now. He sighed, he hated that Rhys sounded upset every time he talked to him; but after the mess during solstice, he had not been able to make

things right with him. With anyone for that matter; he had avoided Rhys and Elain, too scared to face the feelings that surged when he now thought of the seer. He flew to Rhys house, landing at the roof where his brother watched the bright morning of Velaris. - Azriel- his brother acknowledged him with a nod. After a couple of minutes, his high lord spoke. -how close are you with Gwyn, the priestess-. His eyebrows furrowed -why? Am I going to have to stay away from her too? - he said with an intentional bite in his tone. Rhys looked at him angrily -no. I need you and her for a new mission. One that requires trust, and your head on your brain, not your pants- -I would never think about her like that Rhys, not knowing what she had endured- he responded in a low voice. Rhys got close to him and put a hand on his shoulder - you’re right, I’m sorry. I know how much you respect and connect with her- -which is why I need you to take her to Helions library for a couple of weeks, I need her to do some research on the possibility of a fourth trove and how to help Vassa- It took Azriel a minute to process what his brother was asking of him... No, what he was asking of Gwyn. -no- he responded. Rhys grabbed his shoulder a little harder -what? What do you mean no?- -I mean that Gwyn will not leave the library under your orders. She is not ready for that- he said, his voice rising at the anger and protectiveness he felt in his chest. -how do you know that?- Rhys responded with the same tone. -because... because I know- Azriel answered -and you keep making decisions without regarding people’s feelings and fears, and that’s not okay Rhys- He knew that was unfair; his brother did what he did for the sake of the court, for the sake of the world. -Azriel that is not your call to make- his brother said in a softer voice. -neither is yours, especially because you don’t even acknowledge her existence. Or any of the Valkyries for that matter- he moved away from his brother. It took him a minute to look at Rhys, who had a pained look in his eyes. -you’re right, I can’t argue with that- he sighed-I’m sorry, I know I should’ve talked to her first; and now I will. However, if she says yes, I will task you to protect and help her. I can’t send Cass because he is ... mated now- Azriel laughed sarcastically. Of course, he thought, leave it to Rhys to make his cut bigger with a few words. -of course my lord- he said, and shot up to the sky without saying goodbye.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

At the library at the bottom of the house, things were usually quiet. That was one of the reasons why Gwyn had begun to train; the library offered no distraction to her mind, no way to still it if thoughts raced through her. She had been shelving books that Merril had given her for the past hour; thinking and avoiding the memory of last night's nightmare. The blood, the rough hands holding her down, the children screaming. It was all too much, it was all too real. She had gone up in the morning to the training pit. To avoid sleeping, yes, but also because she somehow knew that Azriel would be there. She hated that he had to go through what she went through, but she was grateful for his presence at the moments when she needed him the most. Steps sounded at the end of the hallway, and Gwyn stiffened. They sounded male, heavy, and loud. She knew it was not Azriel, his shadows always let her know that he was approaching. She looked up from her book nervously, ready to run away if needed.... But that was her high lord looking at her with a sweet smile on his face -hello Gwyn, Valkyrie, Carynthian warrior- he smiled. And she realized that out of the three brothers, Azriel had the best smell. She liked the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar, the others smelled too sweat and too flowery for her taste. -high lord- she courtesy nervously. -please, don’t do that, we are practically family right ?- he said while offering her a bag that she had not noticed he carried. -I’m bringing you the best chocolate croissants in the city, Feyre told me you and Nesta enjoy chocolate at the same rate. I hope you like them- he placed them in her cart, knowing she would not touch him. Another set of steps sounded at the distance, and her sister appeared walking with rapid-fire towards her. - I told you to wait Rhysand- Nesta said. -I...it’s okay Nesta, thank you High... Rhysand— Gwyn said, opening the bag and smelling it. Damn... that was dark chocolate in the croissants; her favorite. -what can I do for you guys?- she said while taking a bite of the soft, sweet bread. -we were wondering if you wanted to dine with us tonight, here in the House, only Az, Cass, Nesta, Feyre and me- The High Lord said. - we have a proposal for you, but we want to talk to you about it first-. She looked at Nesta, who was stealing some of her croissants. - su...sure... I’ll gladly accept. It would be an honor - she smiled. -.-.-.- After her shift with Merrill ended, she went to her chambers to bathe quickly. She should change, she knew they dined casually, she wanted to fit in with the group. So she bathed, braided her hair and decided to wear a flowery blue dress that showed the mid of her back; it had a tight bodice and a skirt that flowed until the top of her knees. It had been a gift from Nesta, she had told her to use it whenever she wanted to practice what she would do when she went to Velaris for the first time. As she climbed up the stairs, she imagined what life would be like if she was brave enough to leave the library. Gods she wanted to be in the city, wanted to try the food, hear the music, look at the people. But it all scared her too much. She was waiting for an opportunity, she said to herself, an opportunity to escape the library and be dragged to the real world. The smell of roasted potatoes, beef, and vegetables filled her nose; she thanked the Mother that the house cook. she approached the dining room and smiled at hearing Nesta laugh so hard, probably at something her mate had said. She was happy that her sister had found a man that grounded her, filled her (in every sense of the way) and that respected her. She was a bit jealous that she had found a mate though, she had studied the relationships of mates for months, and understood that they were rare but only rare among powerless faes. Which meant, that the possibility of finding hers was minimum... or as Merril liked to say an absolute zero. -you came!- said Nesta, smiling. Gwyn strode down the hall to sit beside Nesta; her eyes looking around the room to acknowledge everyone who was there.

-thank you for inviting me - she said, coming out as barely a whisper. Rhysand approached with a smiled that brightened the entire room, - thank you for coming, Gwyn, i know the effort it must have been but i appreciate it-.

She smiled -those chocolate croissants were really persuasive my lord-. Rhysand got even bigger -look at you, already teasing me as Cassian does-. The house placed food in front of her, adding extra vegetables. To which she frowned "i didn't know you cared for my vitamins". She ate silently, admiring how the dynamic between all of them was. She couldn't deny the jealousy that threatened to rise, she missed having a family. No, she missed being able to enjoy family without the fear of the outside world suffocating her. Minutes, hours passed and they all kept talking. Azriel had changed his seats to be in front of her, the shadowsinger looking deeply at her while she played with her water. She felt even more comforted now that he was near her. Rhysand stood and cleared his throat -well, i'm sure Gwyn has had enough of our voices; so let's get to the point-. He approached her slowly and passed her a paper she had not noticed he carried. -we want to officially invite you to be part of this court- he started. -Everyone that is here admits that there is no one more deserving and capable to be the official scholar of the Night court-. He laid the paper in front of her. A contract, offering an obscene amount of money. -you... want me to work for you?- she said -yes, if you are comfortable doing this of course- he responded. The contract asked her to inform, research,and educate the leaders of the court, on different matters she would be asked to. -Before you accept- Azriel spoke softly, looking at Rhysand, -you should hear what the first mission would ask from you-.

Rhysand nodded, -we are looking for the possibility of a fourth trove, and we can only do so in the biggest library of the country.... in the day court-.

Leaving the library, she would not only leave the library but also the night court.

Was she ready for that?

-Would i go by myself?- she asked him

-No, you would go with Azriel as your bodyguard, or assistant, whatever you need from him- Rhysand responded.

She smiled, looking at the shadowsinger. - And you accepted this?-

His mouth quirked upward -if i didn't we would have had Nesta to deal with-.

This was it, this was the push she had asked for.

-Rhysand, i would be honored to be the scholar of your court- she said, - and i thank all of you for trusting me, i will not let you down-.

She looked around the room to find every single one of the court's members looking at her with loving, proud eyes.

She would go to the Day Court, she would find a way to help her friends and her world.

Gwyneth Berdara looked at her future companion, the beautiful male with eyes of honey that she would daydream about.

Who knows? Maybe this mission would bring them closer. Maybe they would finally talk about their nightmares, their fears.

Maybe she would finally be able to show Azriel how she felt about him. And maybe this time, he would listen.