#the thought of someone seeing this on their dash because of these tags is so funny to me

[bloody-bee-tea]

Emotional Spring 2025 Day 20 - Kiss me again

This story was entirely inspired by this prompt, these tags and that one reply. It was simply too good to pass up on.

Shouta has just closed his eyes when he feels someone step up to him.

"Shouta," Nemuri cheerfully says and Shouta doesn't even open his eyes.

"No."

"Aw, come on, I have something for you," Nemuri says, poking him in the cheek and Shouta fights the urge to bite her finger off.

He briefly contemplates if he'll get away with ignoring her but if she has something for him then it might be best not to. Nemuri's so called gifts have a tendency to explode in his face; either literally or figuratively and Shouta just got this new sleeping bag.

He'd really rather not ruin it right off the bet.

"What," he groans out and blinks his eyes open, mournfully bidding goodbye to his break.

Shouta was looking forward to this free period and his sleeping bag hasn’t even warmed up yet.

When he looks over at Nemuri he sees that she's hiding something shapeless behind her back and it's big enough to set off warning bells in his mind because if that explodes in the literal sense there are going to be casualties.

"I have found something absolutely amazing for your you-know-what," she faux-whispers and Shouta is very glad that he's in the horizontal because the blood is draining from his face faster than can be healthy.

"Nemuri!" he hisses out as he untangles himself from his sleeping bag and he isn't even sure what he's going to do. The shapeless thing she's still hiding from him is too big to hide anywhere in this room and should Yamada come in then—

"Tada!" she yells out and brandishes the thing at him, almost shoving it into his face and Shouta jerks back but he's too slow.

He gets a face-full of something soft and it's surprising enough that he freezes in confusion, allowing Nemuri to lower the thing and he finally gets a good look at it.

It's one of the most cursed Present Mic plushies Shouta has ever seen, the face grotesque even behind the badly made glasses, the hair a complete mess, the costume barely recognisable as that, and Shouta is instantly in love.

"Nemuri—" he starts to say, his hands already going out to take the plushie from her, because she did say she brought it for him but before he can even make contact a piercing yell rings through the room.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The windows shake with the force of it but before Shouta can even think to activate his quirk and silence Yamada, he cut himself off in favour of dashing across the room and snatching the plushie right out of Nemuri's hands, a look of absolute horror on his face.

"What the hell!" Yamada screeches and Nemuri laughs. "Where did you even find this? They discontinued that line! I made them discontinue that line!"

"And I just happen to stumble upon one," Nemuri says smugly as anything and Shouta tries to hide himself away in his capture weapon.

He doesn't want to attract Yamada's attention just as much as he so desperately does want but given the current topic of discussion, it's almost inevitable.

"What are you doing with this?" Yamada asks, his voice accusing and his eyes fixed on Shouta, who shrugs awkwardly.

"Nothing," he gets out, though he doesn't manage to hold Yamada's gaze. "Nemuri thought—"

"It's soooo funny," she chimes in, giving Shouta a brief aggrieved look before she smiles brightly at Yamada. "Admit it, it's perfect."

"It's fucking horrendous, is what it is," Yamada seethes and takes a step back, the plushie still in his hands. "I'm going to destroy it."

Instantly all the mirth is wiped off Nemuri's face. "You will do no such thing or I'll skin you alive," she threatens him and Shouta sinks further into his capture weapon when Yamada looks at him as if he's expecting help.

"'s kind of funny," Shouta offers, thinks it's a reasonable thing to say in face of the plushie still visible to them all and Nemuri laughs.

"It really is," she agrees and then swipes the plushie out of Yamada's hands. "So give it back."

"Hey!" Yamada protests and makes grabby hands at the plushie. "That's me, so I think I should get custody."

It's a ridiculous statement and it's stupid more than anything, but Shouta snorts out a laugh anyway and then immediately regrets it because Yamada turns towards him.

"And you! What the hell were you doing with this?" he then asks, pure accusation in his voice and instantly, Shouta shrinks back.

"Nothing," he mutters, and hates how hurt he feels over this.

Yamada is right to question his involvement in this because their relationship is not at a point where Shouta can openly admit to wanting Present Mic merch in his life and even though it's Shouta's own fault, it still hurts.

"Yeah, right," Yamada bitterly mutters, and then yelps when Nemuri lifts up the plushie, gazing at it.

"This," she says and then squeezes the plushie affectionately, "will stay with me."

Her voice doesn't allow for an argument and Yamada clearly knows better than to try, too, because he huffs and puffs for a moment and then simply walks away, leaving the plushie right where it's nestled in Nemuri's arms.

Nemuri and Shouta stare after him and it's only when the door falls closed that Nemuri turns towards Shouta.

"Shut it," he grumbles before she even says something but he knows better than to think she'll do as she's asked.

"When will you—"

"Never," he cuts her off and her eyes blaze with anger.

"Will you at least tell me what happened then?" she asks, just like she has for the past two years and Shouta gets up, gathering his sleeping bag in his arms.

"I've got to go," he tells her, because he will not, under any circumstances tell her what kind of coward he is.

"Don't," she sighs out and tugs on the sleeping bag. "I'll drop it, so don't. Here." Nemuri holds out the plushie like a peace offering and it is incredibly effective because Shouta immediately takes a hold of it, letting go of his sleeping bag in the process.

"You said it'll stay with you," he says, even as he curls his arms protectively around it.

"Like hell do I want this cursed thing in my apartment. But I know you do, so I'm giving it to you."

"Mic's going to kill you when he finds out."

"If. And he can try, but maybe that will give me the opportunity to beat an answer out of him as to why you two are no longer attached at the hip," she grumbles and Shouta knows that she's just concerned, that she is just as affected by how their friendship crumbled, but he wishes she would stay out of this.

"Good night," he pointedly says instead of reacting otherwise to her words and he climbs back inside his sleeping bag, the plushie still safely in his arms.

There is no way in hell that he's going to tell her that he and Yamada shared one ill-fated kiss, half drunk off their asses, and that when it seemed as if they were going to talk about it the next day Yamada employed every distractive tactic at his disposal.

Shouta might not be the most emotive or emotionally intelligent one but he can take a hint and it was more than clear that Yamada did not want to talk about the kiss.

But it turns out, Shouta is not actually strong enough to pretend that nothing happened when he's so desperately in love with Yamada and continuing to be friends when he knows that his feelings are not reciprocated hurt more than he knew what to do with, so ever since then, he's kept Yamada at an arms length.

It's the coward's way, but in his defence, Yamada went with it incredibly quickly and barely even tried to keep their friendship going so at least it's not solely on him.

Still; Shouta can't help but to collect every Present Mic merch he comes across of and this plushie is going to go so well with his existent haul.

Despite the lingering pain in his chest, he falls asleep with a small smile, his face pressed into the Present Mic plushie's face.

~*~*~

Shouta is hit with another seizure halfway up the stairs to his apartment and if it weren't for Yamada he would have tumbled down the stairs and probably broken every bone in his body.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, buddy, come on, breathe through it," Yamada coaches him and Shouta tries, he tries, but his muscles barely want to cooperate.

"Fucking quirks," he hisses out when he's finally able to do so again and Yamada huffs out an unamused laugh.

"Yeah, you tell me," he mutters as he hefts Shouta back up to his feet. "Think you can make it?"

"Gonna have to," Shouta grumbles, because he's not going to stay in the hallway forever and so they get moving again.

Thankfully he doesn't have another seizure until they are inside his apartment but it still hurts when every muscle in his body locks up and by the time this one lets out, Shouta is panting.

"How much longer?" he wants to know because he wasn't quite present for the debrief after their joined mission but he trusts that Yamada paid attention.

"Another hour at least," he grimly gives back and Shouta lets out a harsh breath.

"Fuck."

There's no doubt that he's going to survive another hour of this but it's not going to be fun and he'd literally do anything else.

"Jep," Yamada agrees and herds Shouta towards the couch. "Lay down. I'd feel better knowing you're not going to keel over and lose all your teeth," he says and Shouta rolls his eyes at him but does as he's instructed.

"You don't have to stay," he says after a moment because it's unfamiliar to have Yamada in his space like this after all this time and Shouta wasn't prepared for how it makes him feel.

"As if I'm going to leave you alone like this," Yamada shoots back and puts a blanket over Shouta before he sits down in front of the couch on the ground. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on you."

Shouta wants to protest, wants to tell him that someone else can do that, that he doesn't have to stay if he doesn't want to but before he can open his mouth another seizure creeps up on him.

Yamada hums under his breath for as long as it takes and it's something Shouta can concentrate on until the waves of pain lessen.

"I want Panda," Shouta petulantly says once he's able to, craning his head around for his cat but he stops when Yamada empathetically shakes his head.

"Absolutely not. He's a cuddle bug and he'll jump straight into your arms where you'll promptly crush him when the next attack hits. You're not going to cuddle your cat."

Yamada is absolutely right, but still, Shouta pouts at him. Just because he's right, doesn't mean Shouta has to like it.

"You got a plushie or something? Something that won't die?" Yamada asks and Shouta stubbornly presses his lips together.

He does, but he's not about to tell Yamada that.

"Man, come on," Yamada huffs out after a minute of silence. "I damn well know you stole that plushie from Nemuri a few weeks back," he then mutters, unable to look at Shouta, who instantly goes red in the face and then is saved when another seizure hits.

"Shouta, where is it?" Yamada demands to know once the pain fades and Shouta presses his face into the couch pillow.

Yamada hasn't called him by his name in months, if not years, and it's doing things to Shouta he's not ready to handle, ever, but least of all now.

"Cupboard in the office," he mumbles, hopes that his words get swallowed whole but when Yamada gets up he knows his hope was futile.

Shouta forces himself to not think about what else Yamada will find in that cupboard, because at this point it's literally a Present Mic shrine but the need for something to hold on to outweighs the embarrassment.

When Yamada comes back, the horrendous plushie in his hands and a contemplating look on his face, Shouta doesn't hold back to make grabby hands at the plushie and when the next seizure hits, he tricks himself into believing that it's not even that bad anymore.

They ride it out like that for the next hour, Yamada mostly only talking or humming when Shouta's body locks up to distract him but soon enough the hour passes and when he isn't hit with another seizure for ten minutes, Shouta promptly drifts off.

He low-key expected to wake up alone again, but Yamada is still there, still leaning against the couch like he was when Shouta fell asleep and a quick glance at the clock tells him that it's been two hours.

"Why are you still here?" Shouta rasps out and cringes when it comes out rougher than he means it to.

"Shouta, I—" Yamada turns around to look at him and his face is suddenly right there, and Shouta is exhausted and his body hurts and his thoughts are sleep-sluggish and Yamada's eyes are big and green and he's still right there.

"Kiss me again," Shouta whispers, despite knowing that it's stupid, that it's only going to get him hurt more, that he's going to lose even what little he still has with Yamada and his thoughts are about to spiral into a panic when soft lips are pressed against his.

"So you do remember it still," Yamada whispers when they part and Shouta is so dumb-struck he can do nothing but blink at him.

"Never stopped thinking about it," he finally admits and Yamada huffs, working his jaw and Shouta fears he said the wrong thing but then again, it was Yamada who leaned in just now.

Shouta is confused.

"Why didn't you—you were close to a panic attack when I wanted to bring it up," Yamada rushes out and even though Shouta's thoughts still feel sluggish, that seems wrong.

"You kept distracting me until I took the hint," he gives right back, maybe more accusing than is warranted and Yamada's eyes go big.

"Because you were starting to panic!"

"Because you didn't want to talk about it!"

They blink at each other in silence for a moment and then Shouta buries his face in his hands, even though his every muscle protests the move.

"We were being stupid," he mutters behind his hands and Yamada hums in agreement.

"We were being stupid."

Shouta lowers his hands again and dares to look at Yamada.

"And now?"

"I think we might be past being stupid," Yamada—Hizashi—whispers and leans in for another kiss.

Shouta leans into it, relishes it in a way he isn't used to and his eyes are burning with what almost feels like tears.

"Nemuri can never know," he says when they part and Hizashi gives him a crooked grin.

"I won't tell her as long as we can talk about your Present Mic shrine," he says, absolute mischief in his voice and Shouta blanches.

"Nemuri can know, no problem," he rushes out, making Hizashi laugh and for a moment, Shouta marvels at the sound.

It's been so long since he heard Hizashi genuinely happy in his presence that he has to process the sight in front of him.

"You're staring," Hizashi mutters once he calmed down, a faint blush on his face and Shouta shrugs.

"I've missed you, every day," he admits with a wistful smile.

"I've missed you, too, Shou," Hizashi gives right back and even though it's so much time down the drain, it feels good to hear it.

There's more stuff to talk about, things they need to catch the other up on, but for now Shouta buries a hand in Hizashi's hair and pulls him close until he can rest their foreheads together, just basking in the knowledge that Hizashi is here and that it's mutual and that he's going to stay.

For right now, that is more than enough.

[loppiopio]

the chances of the people seeing this aren't super likely so this is highly inefficient but i'm too afraid to approach people personally…. yet i've been burning with the need to express my gratitude for the tags i've received individually somehow and figured, i could do it the way i do best. in the tags 😅

(sorted by most recent) (i capped the limit hard here) (some ✂️✂️ had to be done 😔) (i still like this format a lot though) (might do this again in the future idk would people like that??) (i hope it's not mortifying for anyone……..)

it's sorta the way i like it, indirect and unimposing, even if it's kinda. wieldy. but it's just on my blog so anything goes right? although in saying that, i am open to being imposed on. like if someone wants to talk about aci or something, like other fic?? i'm a big fic fiend. or anything else lol not sure what else you'd wanna chat about since so much of the stuff i've put out is just. about fic. but hey, if you're a person i don't mind being approached :>

(lol the way i've made this like a *throws out a bunch of paper slips* find your's 🎉) (might be obnoxious hm) (sorry...) (find your's if you want though 🫡)

[inkskinned]

i have a fever. let's imagine pokemon world dash discourse together. (sorry i do not have darkmode.)

🤳🏻 pokestopit reblogged team-sprocket

👻 gengaydar Follow

For the last fucking time owning a gengar is NOT graverobbing. what is actually wrong with you people

#gengar #why am i even still on this site #i don't have a gengar but like. what's even going on over there #is marowak graverobbing now too??

💅 deerlinguist reblogged givemeyourstrongestpotion

👩‍❤️‍👩 lightscreend Follow

farfetch'd is like the most edible pokemon just because he comes with his own aromatics. pop that bad boy in the oven with some oran berries.... don't mind if i do

⚧ feministforcepalm Follow

@dyketraining tags pass peer review

🚣🏼‍♂️ magicarpaltunnel reblogged haxorsus

🐦‍⬛ corvikite Follow

I love to hate things and people. And when I turn out to be RIGHT and that person is a DICK? All parasocial relationships are bad and evil unless I am right about hating someone and then parasocial relationships are good actually

🪐waterbubbil Follow

We all thought about the same person let's just be honest here....

🎀 contest-winrar Follow

For me it's always going to be people who keep Pokémon without any thought as to their enrichment and needs. You do not need a fucking Arcanine, you live in a studio apartment and don't walk more than a block a day. You think you want a Gardevoir but are you okay with having an unknowable creature reading your thoughts every waking moment of the day? Even while you do... the nasty?

It drives me crazy because people see a Champion and think they have the time, energy, money, and space necessary to raise a Dragon type. Unless you have generational wealth, let me spell it out for you: you do not have the funds for a Dragon type. And yes! Charizard is on that list, guys! You can't even afford to feed yourself!

📯 jessiejustlickme Follow

local tumblr user declares the poors only get rat pokemon. maybe a bug pokémon if we are very good. we must grovel in the streets amen

🎀 contest-winrar Follow

Laugh all you want but I'm serious. I have heard of someone who is living with a MR. MIME like it's her HUSBAND!!!! That's fucking GROSS. These are creatures that TRUST us and NEED us.

Did you know that most Ponyta prefer to be in a herd? Are you going to have the space for that? Did you know that if you don't properly care for certain fire species their flame goes out? Sure, they're cute when they're small: but unless you're a rancher or a Gym Leader... I'm sorry. You're gross to me if you think otherwise. I hate people like that.

And for the record, rat and bug Pokémon are very valuable from an ecological standpoint. They hold an extremely important niche. People like you would rather they be hunted to extinction because they're pests, not pretty. It's disgusting.

🐦‍⬛ corvikite Follow

anybody in this thread smoke weed

#NOT THE RATS FOR THE POOR PEOPLE... GIRLLLLLL #the thing is they're not like... wrong.... #like i agree with the sentiment #my friend tried to get a slyveon just by like. playing catch a few times #.... like you do need to try.... #also fyi i have a large species so i'm biased #grovyle my baby . my man. u are costing me like so much in pokepuffs per month

👁‍🗨 badsol

why are we all talking about what pokemon to eat tonight lmafo

#.... obviously jigglypuff. homegirl is 90% cotton candy

🪅 feebassguitar reblogged metrognome

🫖 sinisteacher Follow

Like okay I got into science because I love to learn but the more I find out about how we've classified Pokémon types the more insane I feel. What do you mean there's no singular true indicator? What do you mean that there are several conditions which completely alter their base type?

Literally today my lab partner and I got into a very serious discussion about Luxray. That thing is a fuckking dark type!!!!! I'm sorry!!! I don't care what Bulbapedia says!!!! anyway i threw a pokeball at him and it swallowed him whole and now i'm going to jail for unlawful imprisonment of a TA

🍙 thesandwichking Follow

there's something, like, very dystopian about the idea that if u put an ugly hat on ur favorite little creature it changes like. the DNA. like. do other pokemon look at what you've done and cower? that's their friend... similar but changed... forever having known a life that is entirely alien to them...

🐳 wailordsupreme Follow

.... Are we going to ignore that OP swallowed a human into a ball???

#yes we are. #my friend loves those hats but I think they're so ugly #and stupid #if i wanted a specific type imma get that type..... #typesetting #show james

🧗‍♀️ backpacksandcavesnacks reblogged eevee-lotion

👑 lemmegrabmyballs Follow

ROUND 5 of 6 (see blog for more)

PLEASE REBLOG FOR VISIBILITY:

✍️ dreepydrabbles reblogged ash-hole

☠️ marrowhackoff Follow

just saw someone say writing omegaverse fanfic of your pokemon is bestiality. ma'am this is the monster fucking site. you should be grateful that it's only omegaverse.

#the things i've seen would melt your eyebrows clean off your face #..... typhlosion they could never make me hate you baby #i know that's not what's in your heart

🪽 honey-tree-skies reblogged gymcrawler

🐛 youngstirjoey Follow

Okay say what you will. But shorts really are comfy and easy to wear

🛀🏽 intimidatecutsyourattack Follow

Sorry bud. But. Investing at 3 notes

🐛 youngstirjoey Follow

don't do this to me. i h avue a wife . and chi ld

[wholoveseggs]

Hey girly, my favorite fic of yours is “Madness” I absolutely adore jealous Elijah(and all my boys for that matter) I would like to request something smutty were reader is making Elijah jealous and than he demands to be shown some respect *wink* *wink*. I know you wrote a few fics like this but I L O V E that trope and I would like to see more if you have any ideas.

thankssss in advance, sending lots of hugs to you 🫶🏻

Chaos

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} A punk-themed night out with the Mikaelsons reveals a side of Elijah you’ve never seen before... and a chance to push boundaries neither of you ever expected.

♡♡ Hello darling @hiddledede-heddlededo!! I adore exploring Elijah's wild, dominant side… so why not throw him into a setting that lets him fully unleash it?? ~ ♡♡

7.8k words - Warnings: smutt, Kol being a flirt, Klaus rocking a mohawk, Rebekah is only going so she can snack on a punk rocker, Elijah taking what he wants, mosh-pits, dom!Elijah, oral sex (f!receiving), little but of butt stuff (also f!receiving), a dash of sir kink, riding, blood drinking, commanding Elijah && lots of punk / metal vibes ...

I'll be tagging ya'll in the comments from now on... because tumblr is not built for tagging lots of users... if you want off the tag list just shoot me a DM!!! (I won't be offended ~xo)

The compound was alive with chaos. Heavy guitar riffs and screaming vocals blasted through the speakers, shaking the walls as you carefully applied your eyeliner at Rebekah's vanity. The faint scent of whiskey lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of nail polish and the distinct musk of leather jackets piled in the corner.

Rebekah was rifling through her closet, tossing clothes haphazardly over her shoulder in search of something remotely punk or goth. A pair of fishnets flew through the air and landed on the bed.

"Rebekah, what are you doing?" you asked, pausing to set the eyeliner down and stand up.

"I can't find anything!" she wailed, slamming the closet doors shut with an air of theatrical defeat.

"Don't worry," you said, picking up the fishnets and smoothing them out with a small laugh. "I have a dress for you that matches the theme perfectly. But you should definitely wear these. They're sexy."

Rebekah snatched them up with a dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank you, darling. You're a lifesaver."

"Of course," you replied, flashing her a quick smile before turning back to the vanity. You picked through her cluttered makeup stash. "Do you have any dark lipstick? Deep red or black would be perfect."

Rebekah nodded, rummaging through a pile of scattered tubes as Kol came bursting through the door. He was a sight to behold. Decked out in all black, with ripped jeans, spiked bracelets glinting on his wrists, and combat boots that looked like they could survive a war. In one hand, he balanced a bottle of bourbon, while the other clutched a portable speaker blaring screeching guitar riffs.

"Are you ready?" he asked, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Almost. We're still deciding on outfits," you replied, laughing as he flung himself onto Rebekah's bed like a rockstar who'd just survived a long set.

Kol took a swig from the bourbon before offering it to you. "Liquid courage, darling?"

You hesitated for only a second before taking the bottle, pretending his playful charm wasn’t contagious. "Thanks, Kol," you said, the burn of the whiskey warming your throat.

He leaned back, plucking the eyeliner pencil you’d left on the vanity and spinning it between his fingers. "I remember when ladies used to color their eyes with coal and berries. Fashion has certainly changed," he mused, his tone light but teasing.

"Want to try it?" you asked.

"Why not?" Kol grinned mischievously.

You stepped closer, grabbing his chin gently. As you leaned in to line his eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh at the boyish excitement glinting in his dark irises. You tried to push thoughts of someone else’s dark, brooding gaze out of your mind.

As you finished lining Kol’s eyes, you smudged the edges just enough to give him a grungy, rebellious look. He turned to the mirror, tilting his head this way and that before flashing you a devilish grin.

"I must say, you’ve outdone yourself, darling," he said, striking a dramatic pose. "Do I look devastatingly handsome? Or perhaps... devastatingly misunderstood?"

"You look ridiculous," you said, laughing as you swatted his arm. "But it’s perfect for tonight."

Kol leaned back on the bed, his grin turning wicked. "Speaking of tonight, are you hoping to catch anyone’s eye? Or just hoping a certain someone finally notices how ravishing you look?"

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don’t play coy with me," Kol said, wagging a finger. "You know exactly who I mean. A certain noble brother of mine who prefers brooding in corners over having any fun."

Your cheeks burned, and you turned back to the vanity, pretending to busy yourself with your makeup. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Kol let out a bark of laughter, swinging his legs off the bed and walking over to lean against the vanity beside you. "Come now, love. I see the way you look at Elijah… Like he hung the stars themselves. It’s positively nauseating."

You shot him a glare through the mirror. "Kol, drop it."  

"Why should I?" he asked with a wicked grin. "It’s not like you’re being subtle about it. Though, I’ll admit, my dear brother could use someone to rattle that insufferable composure of his."  

Rebekah breezed into the room, holding up a slinky black silk dress. "This the one you were talking about?"

You nodded, relieved for the distraction. "Yep. That one will look killer."

"Fantastic." She smiled, grabbing the bourbon from Kol and taking a swig.

You grabbed the black fishnet top and red leather mini skirt from the bed and held them up. "Kol, if you’re going to hang around, at least turn around while I change."

He smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. "As you wish, my modest little dove," He spun on his heel, facing the wall.  

You rolled your eyes and disappeared into the walk-in closet. Once you were safely inside, you pressed your forehead against the wall, a groan escaping your lips. Of all the people to notice your attraction to Elijah, why did it have to be Kol?

You slipped off your shirt, replacing it with the fishnet top. The sheer fabric clung to your skin, and the bra underneath added just the right amount of daring to the look. As you wiggled into the red leather mini skirt, Kol’s voice broke through your focus.  

"Elijah, though," he mused aloud, clearly unable to keep quiet. "He’d probably combust at the sight of you in a skirt like that. All that decorum? Poof. Gone."  

You rolled your eyes, listening to Rebekah giggle as you tugged your skirt into place, the material hugging your hips snugly. "Kol, do you ever shut up?"  

"Not when there’s fun to be had," he quipped. "Though, if I’m being honest, I might have to lend Elijah a hand tonight. He could use the push."  

You groaned, reaching for your knee-high black boots. "Kol, whatever you’re scheming, just stop. Please."  

"Darling, I would never scheme," he said, the exaggerated indignation in his voice making it clear he was lying.  

After zipping up the boots and smoothing down your skirt, you turned toward him. "Alright, you can look now."

Kol spun around, and his eyes swept over you with a dramatic flourish. He let out a low whistle, his grin widening. "Well, well. Someone looks ravishing. Don't you think, sister?"

"Oh, yes." Rebekah laughed. "That outfit is positively sinful."

"I don't know," you said, biting back a smirk. "Do you think it's too much?"

Kol’s grin softened into something almost mischievously kind. "Darling, let me give you some advice: Elijah may act like he’s above all this chaos, but trust me, he notices. And he cares more than you think."

You frowned, checking yourself out one last time in the mirror, fiddling with a tube of lipstick. "He doesn’t even like this kind of thing. We have nothing in common, Kol. Why would he ever-"

"Please," Kol interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Elijah is the king of pretending not to care while secretly caring far too much. The trick is pulling him out of his little bubble. Tonight, my dear, you’ve got the perfect opportunity."

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but you quickly shoved it down. "Kol, you’re ridiculous."

"And you’re in denial," he shot back, winking as he plucked the lipstick from your hands and held it up. "Now, are we going with the deep red or black? Because trust me, Elijah won’t be able to take his eyes off you either way."

You snatched the lipstick back with a huff, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re smitten," Kol said, his grin widening. "Now hurry up, or we’ll be late for the party. I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

As he sauntered out of the room, the sound of his laughter trailing behind him, you let out a shaky breath. Maybe Kol was right. Maybe tonight wasn’t just about wild music and dancing. Maybe it was your chance to show Elijah a side of yourself he’d never noticed before.

The thought sent a thrill through you, and you turned back to the mirror with renewed determination.

"Deep red it is," you murmured to yourself, a small smile playing on your lips.

You and Rebekah sat on the plush couch in the living room, passing a half-empty bottle of whiskey back and forth as the pounding music from Kol’s speaker vibrated through the walls. The anticipation of the night buzzed in the air, matching the light, happy buzz from the alcohol warming your veins.

"I cannot wait for tonight," Rebekah said, leaning back against the couch, her fishnet-clad legs stretched out in front of her. "It’s been ages since we’ve gone out like this."

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I can't remember the last time I went to a real party," you admitted.

The heavy thud of boots descending the stairs announced the arrival of Kol and Klaus. They entered the room like they were walking onto a stage, heads held high and swaggering grins on their faces. Klaus had his hair gelled up into a perfect mohawk. He was dressed in ripped jeans, chains, and a leather jacket adorned with pins. "How do I look?" he asked, spreading his arms wide.

"Ridiculous," Kol replied, but the pride shining in his eyes was undeniable.

Rebekah laughed, rising to her feet and twirling in a circle. Her black dress clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination, and the fishnets underneath made her legs look a mile long. "Well, what about me?"

"These headbangers will eat you alive," Klaus said, winking as he tossed her a leather jacket.

She caught it with ease, slipping it on and grinning at her brothers. "I plan on eating them, actually," she purred.

Kol flopped onto the couch beside you, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "What’s this? Are you two already tipsy? We haven’t even left yet!"

"Don’t worry about us," Rebekah said with a smirk. "We can handle ourselves better than you."

Kol opened his mouth to retort, but the conversation was cut short by the sound of Elijah clearing his throat from the doorway. The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at him.

Elijah stood there, his usual tailored suit in place, his tie perfectly knotted. His brow furrowed slightly as his gaze swept across the group, lingering briefly on Klaus’s mohawk, Kol’s eyeliner, and finally, the whiskey bottle in your hand.

"Well," he said, folding his arms, "I see you’ve all fully embraced the theme."

Klaus shrugged, tossing a casual grin in his brother's direction. "We’ve got to blend in, don’t we? Showing up out of place wouldn’t do."

"Of course," Elijah replied, his eyes never leaving yours. Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you took a quick sip from the bottle, hoping the alcohol would calm your racing heart.

"You should come with us, Elijah," Kol said, flashing a mischievous grin.

"Absolutely not," Elijah replied without hesitation, his tone calm but firm. His gaze shifted to Klaus’s mohawk, a flicker of disapproval crossing his features. "I think it’s clear I’m not suited for... whatever this is."

Kol clapped a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Oh, come now, brother. Where’s your sense of adventure? A little music, a little chaos. It might even loosen that tie of yours."

Elijah’s expression didn’t change, and he didn't miss a beat as he responded, "No, thank you."

You felt a pang of disappointment as his eyes moved away from you. He wasn't interested. Of course he wasn't. You took another sip of whiskey, trying not to dwell on the sting.

"Fine, if that's what you really want," Kol said, shrugging as he rose from the couch. He reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet, a teasing smile on his lips. "The rest of us are off to find trouble. If you change your mind, you're welcome to join."

Klaus and Rebekah fell into step behind him as the four of you made your way toward the door. You paused briefly, looking back at Elijah. Your eyes met for a brief moment, and his expression softened slightly. He gave you a small, reassuring smile, and a spark of hope flared inside you.

Maybe Kol was right. Maybe you just needed to give him a reason. You stopped in the doorway, turning back to face him, a flurry of emotions swirling in your chest.

"It won't be the same without you," you said softly.

Elijah looked at you for a long moment, his expression shifting from conflict to quiet resolve. He sighed, stepping toward you, and his voice was soft when he spoke, "Perhaps a night out wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

"That's the spirit!" Kol cheered, his grin widening.

Elijah rolled his eyes, but you could see the small, affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He glanced down at your outfit, his gaze sweeping across you. You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you couldn't help but smile as his eyes met yours.

Elijah’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before looking away. He cleared his throat and straightened, the composed mask slipping back into place. "If I’m to join you, I should dress appropriately," he said, his tone carrying its usual calm authority.

"Meet us outside when you're ready," Kol called as Elijah disappeared up the stairs.

"Wonder what he'll come up with," Klaus said, an amused smirk curling his lips.

"An all black suit?" Rebekah mused, her lips twisting into a playful grin.

"A turtleneck and sunglasses?" Klaus added, chuckling at the image.

Minutes later, Elijah came strolling out of the compound wearing a long sleeve black shirt, dark jeans and black leather jacket. His hair was still slicked back, but there was a slight messiness to it. As if he'd ruffled his fingers through his hair, but still wanted to maintain some level of control.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning to face the group.

Klaus let out a snort of amusement. "You look almost... approachable. It’s unsettling."

You walked over to Elijah, feeling a small spark of bravery as you reached up and messed up his hair a bit more, causing it to fall into his eyes. "There. Now you're perfect," you said with a soft smile.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling. "Perfect for what?"

You shrugged. "Whatever you want," you replied.

His gaze drifted over your face, landing on your lips. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were standing. You could smell the faint scent of his cologne, see the soft stubble along his jaw, feel the warmth radiating off his body. You were tempted to reach out and touch him, but you pulled back instead.

"So, are we ready?" Kol asked, breaking the tension.

You stepped back from Elijah, your heart racing. "Definitely."

The party was held in a massive warehouse, its towering ceilings lost in shadow and its walls covered in glowing graffiti under blacklights. Purple and blue lights flickered in rhythm with the pounding music, casting the packed crowd into a surreal, shifting glow. The scent of sweat and alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with the haze of fog and cigarette smoke.

Kol was a force of nature, pushing through the throng and carving a path to the center of the floor. He turned to face you and the others, raising his voice over the roar of the crowd. "What do you say? Shall we make our presence known?"

You nodded and let him drag you forward, laughing as the music grew louder and the bodies closed around you. Soon, you were swept up in the chaos. Your heart pounded in time with the bass, the rhythm coursing through your veins.

Elijah watched you disappear into the crowd, he let out a sigh.

"Having second thoughts, brother?" Klaus asked, a teasing smirk on his lips.

"Something like that," Elijah muttered, his gaze sweeping across the room. Everyone was slamming into each other, acting animalistic as they moved to whatever chaotic, screaming vocals were currently blasting through the speakers. He didn't understand how anyone could enjoy something like this.

Rebekah looped her arm through his and tugged him toward the makeshift bar. "Come on. I'm sure we can find a drink to your liking," she said, dragging him along.

Elijah let out a huff, allowing himself to be dragged across the room.

Rebekah's smile widened as she flagged down the bartender. "Two shots, please."

Elijah looked up at the rafters above them, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. "What exactly are we drinking?"

"Tequila," Rebekah said, placing two shot glasses on the counter. She picked one up, and held it out to him. "Bottoms up."

Elijah let out a resigned sigh and reached for the glass. "Fine. Bottoms up," he said, tapping his glass against hers.

The liquor burned his throat, but it did nothing to loosen the tension in his body. He felt the weight of a dozen gazes on him, the whispers and stares following him wherever he went.

"This place is crawling with vampires," he murmured, scanning the room.

"I know," Rebekah said, tossing back the last of her whiskey. "You worried for our human friend? Because you know she's safe as long as we're around."

Elijah glanced in the direction where he'd last seen you, and found the spot empty. A twinge of worry ran through him, and he leaned forward, raising his voice. "Where is she?"

"Relax," Rebekah said, laughing. "She's with Kol, he won't let anything happen to her."

Elijah felt his jaw tense. The thought of you being alone with Kol, in this crowd, filled him with a mixture of apprehension and jealousy. He shook his head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Rebekah raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Worried about Kol? Or is there someone else on your mind?"

Elijah looked at her sharply. "No. Why would you say that?"

"Because you want her all to yourself," Klaus chimed in, ordering two drinks. One for himself and one for a heavily tattooed blonde that had been eyeing him for the past five minutes.

"I do not," Elijah insisted.

Rebekah scoffed. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Just admit it, you like her. That's why you came tonight."

"I came because Kol was relentless and I had no choice," Elijah snapped.

Klaus snorted, turning to his sister. "What Elijah really means to say is 'I can't let Kol steal the girl I'm so obviously in love with,'" he said.

"I am not in love with anyone," Elijah insisted, ignoring the fact that his eyes were still searching for you in the crowd.

"Right," Klaus said, a smug smirk curling his lips. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Why don't you just tell her how you feel? Unless, of course, you're afraid she'll reject you. I wouldn't blame her. Who would ever want a boring stick-in-the-mud like you?"

Elijah gave Klaus a look that could have frozen hell, but his brother simply laughed, winking at the tattooed blonde.

"What do you think darling? Should my brother try his luck or continue to pine from a distance?" Klaus asked the blonde.

She leaned over the bar, her gaze sweeping over him. "I say he should try his luck," she purred, her fingers playing with the edge of Klaus' leather jacket. "But he looks too uptight. A few drinks might loosen him up."

"I am not uptight," Elijah protested, his eyes narrowing.

Klaus grinned, pulling the blonde closer. "Maybe we should show him how it's done," he murmured.

"I think that's a great idea," she said, her lips inches from his.

Elijah rolled his eyes, looking away from them as they started to make out. Rebekah let out a laugh and grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the dance floor.

"Yuck, let's get out of here," she said, weaving through the crowd.

He allowed himself to be dragged across the floor, his gaze landing on a familiar figure. You were dancing with Kol, your hands in the air, hips swaying to the music. Elijah couldn't look away.

Kol leaned in and said something to you. You laughed, shaking your head. Elijah felt a rush of envy, the sensation foreign and uncomfortable. Kol's hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't resist, a small smile playing on your lips. Elijah gritted his teeth.

"Looks like Kol has stolen your girl," Rebekah said, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"She's not mine," Elijah replied, his eyes fixed on the pair.

Kol pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear. The music changed, and the tempo increased, the lights flashing faster. The press of bodies forcing you closer together and Elijah lost sight of you. He could feel his temper rising, a strange sense of possessiveness overcoming him.

Rebekah smirked, shaking her head. "Go. Show her you can be fun, too," she said, giving him a nudge.

He hesitated, torn between his own anxieties and desire.Perhaps it was time to step out of his comfort zone, time to take a risk. Elijah swallowed, steeling his nerves. He could do this. He could show you that he wasn't some stuffy, uptight, boring old vampire. That he would fit in at a place like this.

Elijah looked back at his sister, who now had her arms wrapped around the neck of a man who had more pericings than skin. She was whispering something in his ear, and a grin spread across his face. She flashed Elijah a wink before vanishing into the crowd with the pierced man. It seemed everyone was getting a taste of the party tonight. Everyone but him.

The song changed, a pulsing beat thudding through the speakers. He caught sight of you and Kol just as the crowd surged, everyone around him began to thrash and he realised he was in the midst of a mosh pit.

His senses were overwhelmed, the press of bodies, the screaming music, the flashing lights. His instinct was to fight his way free, but the urge to see you, to have you see him, was stronger. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, ignoring the elbows that collided with his ribs, the fists that struck his shoulder, the shoves and kicks from all sides. The chaos, the strobing lights, the deafening music, all of it swirled around him as he pressed on.

He saw you, a few feet away, your back pressed against Kol's chest, your arms in the air, head tilted back. A flash of heat rushed through him, and he pushed harder, shoving past the crowd. Kol saw him coming first, and he smiled, keeping his eyes on Elijah as he kissed your neck.

You let out a gasp, twisting to look at Kol. You were laughing, pushing on his chest. Elijah was close enough to hear your words. "You're an ass!"

"Oh, come on," Kol teased, his arms still tight around your waist. "Don't pretend you don't like it."

Your face was flushed, and you opened your mouth to respond, but the words died on your lips when you spotted Elijah. He stood a few feet away, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. Your gaze drifted over him, taking in his ruffled hair, his dark, smoldering eyes, the way his leather jacket hugged his muscular frame.

Kol's grin widened. "See something you like?" he purred, his voice carrying a teasing note.

Elijah ignored him, his eyes locked on yours. The tempo surged, bodies colliding in wild abandon. A rush of adrenaline flooded Elijah’s senses, and before he could second-guess himself, he reached for your hand. His grip was firm, but his touch sent an unexpected jolt through you, grounding you in the chaos.

"Elijah?" you called over the music, your voice laced with surprise.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled you into the fray, his movements uncharacteristically reckless. The crowd surged around you, a wave of bodies slamming and thrashing, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you free of it. But instead, Elijah stayed, his grip on your hand steady as he moved with you, matching the rhythm of the music.

Your laughter rang out as you realized what he was doing. Elijah Mikaelson. Always composed. Always in control….Was letting go. He moved with you, his usually precise steps turning wild as the music took over. The press of the crowd pushed you closer together, the heat of his body mingling with the fevered energy of the room.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, his hands found your waist. He steadied you as the pit surged again, his strength grounding you as you danced together, the frenzy building with each beat. His touch burned through the thin fabric of your top, and when you looked up, his eyes locked with yours.

The chaos seemed to dissolve into nothingness, the lights and music fading to a distant echo as the world narrowed to the two of you. You were breathing hard, your heart pounding, and you wondered if he could hear it, feel it.

As if sensing your thoughts, his hand moved from your waist to the base of your neck. His touch was gentle but firm as he pulled your mouth to his. The kiss was searing, a jolt of heat and desire rushing through you. He tasted of tequila and sin, his lips soft but demanding.

Your hands moved to his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your touch. You pressed closer, losing yourself in the kiss. The world blurred at the edges, but for the first time that night, you felt entirely clear.

When the kiss broke, the roar of the crowd and the chaos came rushing back. Elijah's chest was heaving, his breath hot against your cheek. Your hands slid down his arms, your fingers tangling with his. He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. You were both flushed and breathless, the weight of the moment hanging heavy between you.

The song changed, and someone behind him slammed into his back, shoving him against you. Your mouths met again, the kiss hungry and desperate, a need rising between the two of you. He pushed you backwards until you felt the cool, rough concrete against your back. His hand cradled the back of your head as his tongue traced the seam of your lips.

"Elijah," you moaned, parting your lips to let him in, your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned, the sound deep and primal, vibrating out of him and into you. You kissed him back, pouring every ounce of longing and need into it, until you were both breathless. 

When you finally broke apart, your eyes were wide, your lips swollen and red. You couldn't speak, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless.

Elijah's hands lingered on your hips, his gaze holding yours. "Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You swallowed, your heart pounding, and nodded. "Yes," you breathed, a slow, nervous smile spreading across your lips.

His hands tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. There was a flicker of hunger in his eyes, but it was tempered by something softer, more tender. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "Let's go home."

The two of you stumbled out of the warehouse, Elijah's hand gripping yours tightly. You couldn't stop smiling, the night still swirling in a haze around you. You passed Kol, who was surrounded by two women and a man, all of whom were practically drooling over him. He flashed you a wink as the four of them made their way to a dark corner.

The night air was a relief after the stifling heat of the warehouse, steam rising from your skin as you made your way down the street. You walked side-by-side, shoulders brushing, the silence between you thick with anticipation. You stole a glance at Elijah, his profile sharp in the glow of the streetlamps, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. You couldn't wait to see where the night would take you.

As the door to Elijah's room clicked shut, a sense of apprehension and nervousness fell over you. You'd never been in his room before, and the thought of being alone with him filled you with a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension.

You glanced around, taking in the neatly organized bookshelves, the leather couch and the large bed. Not a speck of dust, not a single sock or shirt lying about. You had expected nothing less from him.

You walked over to his bed, running your fingers across the smooth, soft comforter. Elijah stood a few feet away, watching you, his hands resting loosely at his sides, nervously twitching as he tried to maintain his composure.

"Are you alright?" you asked, turning to face him.

He nodded, swallowing. "I'm fine," he replied, his tone flat.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his jaw was clenched. He was nervous, you realized. Nervous about being alone with you, about crossing this invisible line between friends and... whatever this was.

You stepped toward him, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly. "Elijah," you said softly.

His eyes met yours, the uncertainty clear in their dark depths. You gave him a reassuring smile, letting your hand slide up his chest, until it rested against his neck. You could feel the muscles there tighten, the slight tremor that ran through him as you leaned in.

Your lips brushed his, a whisper of a kiss, and then his mouth was on yours, the kiss deep and intense. He guided you over to his couch, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. Your legs straddled him, and his hands ran along the smooth expanse of your thighs, gripping your hips as the kiss intensified.

A low, rumbling growl rose up in his chest, his desire for you clear in the way his lips claimed yours, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, the way his fingers dug into your soft skin. You always suspected he had it in him, a wild, rough passion that lay beneath the cool exterior. Now, as his hands roamed over your body, as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, you knew it was true.

You wanted him to know that you liked it. You wanted him to know that he could be rough, that you would never break. That you could take everything he had to give.

"Don't hold back," you whispered against his lips.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours. "Are you sure?"

"I trust you," you murmured, your hand cupping his face.

"I could hurt you," he breathed, his voice strained.

You smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "You won't."

He studied you for a moment, and then a mischievous smirk curled his lips. He reached down, hooking his arms under your legs and standing. You let out a yelp of surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you over to the bed.

He placed you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt a thrill run through you, anticipation coiling in the pit of your stomach. You watched as he stripped off his shirt, tossing it aside. You drank in the sight of his toned torso, the light sheen of sweat glistening across his chest, the flex of his muscles as he leaned down, his lips finding yours again.

"Stay here, just like this. I'll be right back," he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Where are you going?" you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Trust me, it will be worth it," he said, giving you a wink before slipping out of the room.

You settled back against the pillows, closing your eyes. Your mind was racing, replaying the events of the night, at first Kol's attempt at seduction and then Elijah's. A slow, content smile spread across your face. You could certainly get used to this.

A few moments later, you heard the door open and close. You opened your eyes, sitting up. Elijah had Kol's portable speaker in one hand and his phone in the other. You raised an eyebrow at him, confused.

"What are you doing?" you asked, watching as he set the speaker on the bedside table.

"Music," he replied, a playful grin tugging at his lips. He tapped the screen and a loud metal song began to play. "I confess, I've become a bit of a fan."

"Oh yeah?" you asked, amused.

He nodded, moving towards you. He climbed onto the bed, crawling up your body until he was hovering over you. "Mmhmm," he murmured, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. "It has a certain appeal. It's raw... primal. Much like what I'd like to do to you right now."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. Your fingers threaded into his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. The kiss was rough, his lips and tongue demanding, his hands sliding under your shirt, pushing the fabric up and over your head. He tossed the shirt aside, his mouth moving to your neck, kissing and biting, leaving a trail of marks across your collarbone.

"Are you going to be my good girl?" he purred, his breath hot against your skin.

You moaned, arching into him. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers gripping his hair.

"Yes, what?" he asked, nipping at your jaw.

"Yes, sir," you breathed, your mind reeling at the newfound authority in his tone.

"Good," he murmured, his hands moving to your thighs. He pushed your skirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist. He groaned, his gaze drinking in the sight of your panties. "Such a pretty, little, soaked, innocent thing," he murmured.

You swallowed, a flush creeping up your cheeks. He looked up at you, his gaze intense, a hint of a smirk curling his lips. He moved down your body, his mouth pressing a line of hot, wet kisses across your abdomen, his fingers tracing circles on the insides of your thighs.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he said, his voice rough with need.

You felt the heat of his breath against the fabric of your panties, and you shifted, lifting your hips, a soft whimper escaping your lips. You felt him smirk against your thigh, his hands hooking under your legs and gripping your hips, his fingertips digging into the flesh.

He pulled your panties down, tossing them aside. You heard the music change, a deep, thrumming beat filling the room, a bass-heavy song that you knew well. Elijah grinned, his tongue dragging along your slit, his gaze locking with yours. You gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth. He chuckled, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.

"Fuck," you moaned, your fingers threading into his hair.

He hummed, his tongue delving deeper, lapping at the slickness of your arousal, his fingers digging into your hips. You arched into him, panting, lost in the sensation of his mouth on you, his tongue working expertly. He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

The song changed again, and he pulled back slightly, his mouth glistening with your arousal. He smirked, his thumb pressing against your swollen, aching clit. You let out a breathy moan, writhing beneath him.

"Do you like that, sweetheart?" he purred, rubbing small, slow circles around the sensitive bud.

You bit your lip, nodding. "Y-yes," you stammered.

"Good girl," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Now, come sit on my lap," he ordered.

You blinked, taken aback. You had no idea he was into this kind of thing, and you had to admit, it was a pleasant surprise. You watched as he sat back, unbuckling his belt, his cock straining against his pants. He undid the button and zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his erection.

You swallowed, staring at his impressive length. He smirked, his gaze fixed on yours as he gestured for you to join him. You moved towards him, and he gripped your arm, his grip firm but not painful, pulling you onto his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs.

You let out a shaky breath, bracing your hands on his shoulders. He smiled, his hands coming to rest on your hips. "Where has that wild thing from the mosh pit gone, hm?" he murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice.

You swallowed, your face warm. "Right here," you replied, rolling your hips, rubbing yourself along the length of his cock.

He groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. "Show me," he growled, his dark eyes flashing with hunger.

You shifted, reaching between the two of you and grasping his length. He let out a sharp hiss as you lined him up with your entrance, sinking down, taking him inch by inch, until you were fully seated. You both groaned, your forehead resting against his, your hands gripping his shoulders.

He took in the sight of your tits spilling from the low-cut bra you wore, the music playing, the sweat glistening on your skin. Something primal rose up in him. He gripped your hips, pulling you up and then slamming you back down, using his strength to set the pace. You moaned, your walls fluttering around him, his mouth pressed against your pulse, nipping at the delicate skin of your neck.

His grip was tight, his fingers bruising, and you found yourself wondering what he would think if you asked him to hold you down. To pin you under him and have his wicked way with you. If he would think less of you. Or perhaps if that's something he enjoyed, a new revelation to discover together.

Your slick began dripping down onto his balls, making you feel wet and messy. You could barely breathe, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, and a pathetic little cry escaped you.

Elijah's hands squeezed your ass, and he pulled you closer to him, so that his chest was pressed against yours.

"Look at me." He whispered, his lips brushing over your ear.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you stared into his deep, dark eyes. He smiled, his hands sliding up your back. He unclasped your bra, tugging the straps off your arms, tossing the bra aside. His lips immediately latched onto one of your breasts, his tongue swirling around the nipple.

The song changed again, the drumbeat surging around you, your hips moving to the rhythm. You cried out, throwing your head back as an orgasm began to build low in your belly, your walls tightening around his cock.

"Fuck," you cursed, clinging to him, your hips rocking desperately. You were close, the pressure mounting, your legs trembling. He growled, his lips still at your breast, his teeth grazing your nipple.

"You're not allowed to come, sweetheart. Not yet. I decide when," he groaned, his voice low and commanding.

A whine escaped you, your nails digging into his shoulder blades, a mixture of pleasure and frustration welling up within you. He smirked, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, nipping at your bottom lip. He licked the salt from your skin, his hands grasping the globes of your ass, guiding your movement, setting a slow, deliberate pace.

One of his hands moved between your cheeks, his fingers teasing your puckered hole. You let out a soft moan, and he smiled, watching your face contort in pleasure.

"Does that feel good, darling?" he asked, his tone gentle.

You nodded, unable to speak, your whole body tingling. This dominant side of him was something you'd only imagined in your wildest dreams, but even then, it seemed to pale in comparison. He was everything you'd hoped for and more.

He hummed, pushing a finger into you, pumping it slowly. You let out a desperate gasp, burying your face against his shoulder, grinding into his finger. Your breath was coming fast and shallow, your heart racing, and you realized you were dangerously close to the edge.

"Elijah," you whimpered, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, your toes curling.

"Hmm?" he whispered, nibbling on your earlobe.

"Please, please, please, I can't- I'm gonna-" you babbled, your whole body shuddering.

He shushed you, kissing the top of your head. "It's okay, just try and hold on a little longer," he murmured.

You shook your head, unable to form a coherent thought. You were so wound up, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. All you could focus on was the feeling of his finger and cock, stretching you, filling you. You needed more.

Suddenly, he thrust into you, deeply and slowly, dragging himself out. It was maddening. You clenched around him, arching your back, moaning into his ear. He chuckled, repeating the motion, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. The music surged around you, the bass beating in time with your racing heart.

"E-Elijaah!" you cried, your walls fluttering around his length.

He chuckled at your desperation, his lips ghosting over your own, nipping at your bottom lip. "That's my girl," he murmured.

You moaned, his tongue darting into your mouth, silencing any retort you may have had. Everything snapped into place, all the tension and frustration of the night's events coming to a climax. You exploded, your body trembling, writhing, your orgasm crashing over you, drowning out everything else.

The intensity of your release shocked you. This was by far the most erotic thing you'd ever experienced. You were entirely his, wrung out, writhing on his cock, completely at his mercy. He watched you with an expression of pure satisfaction and awe, a smug grin curling his lips as he fucked into you, his rhythmic movements never stopping.

When the waves of pleasure finally receded, you collapsed against him, panting and spent. He cradled you, gently lowering you onto your back, covering your sweat-slicked body with his own. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his hips grinding into you. He kissed you, his mouth hot and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs.

The music drowned out the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding, your moans and whimpers lost in the din of the bass. Your fingers gripped his biceps, your nails digging into his flesh. He grunted, leaning in and biting at your lip, his tongue darting past your parted lips. He kissed you fiercely, devouring you until your lungs burned for air.

You broke the kiss, inhaling sharply, trying to catch your breath. His vampiric nature was peeking through, fueled by his passions. You could feel his predatory gaze roaming over your exposed flesh, his gums bloody from where his fangs had nicked his own skin in a heated moment.

You moaned, watching his hips rise and fall, feeling the slap of his skin against your own. This rough, relentless fucking was everything you'd craved and more. You tilted your head up, offering your throat, arching into him. He flashed you a wicked, fanged smirk, his breath fanning over your neck, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Such a beautiful, sweet thing," he purred, taking your earlobe between his teeth. "Are you offering yourself to me, darling?"

Your lips curled into a smile as you breathed, "Yes."

Without warning, Elijah buried his fangs into the soft skin of your throat. A yelp tore from your lips, the shock mingling with the sensations his cock and fangs induced. His hands tightened on your ass, spreading you open, his hips picking up speed. The slight pain of his bite only heightened your pleasure.

"Oh, yes, yes! Fuck, yes!" you moaned, loud and unabashed, lost to the sensation, completely at his mercy.

Elijah sucked in a deep, guttural breath, his throat working as he drained a few mouthfuls of your blood. You dug your nails into his skin, grinding your hips up and into him, desperate to feel more. He growled low in his throat, his fangs sharp and tearing, his hips pounding into you, your name a frantic whisper falling from his lips.

A white-hot wave of heat flooded you, starting at the crown of your head and rushing down your body, between your legs and spreading up through your stomach and chest. The feeling was so intense that you fell off the edge, orgasm slamming into you. You cried out, trembling beneath him, your hips jerking wildly. He let out a sharp gasp, his whole body stiffening, his cock twitching as he came inside you, filling you with his cum.

A string of curses left your lips as you fell from your peak, Elijah gently licked at the puncture wounds on your throat, his fangs receding. You closed your eyes, taking a few steadying breaths, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

There were no words that could fully encapsulate the way you were feeling, so instead, you hugged him tightly to you, hoping he would understand.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, brushing the hair from your face. You smiled, trailing your fingertips over the taut muscles of his biceps. He hummed, looking down at you with a content, satisfied expression.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, your breath still coming in shallow gasps. "I think you’ve just ruined me for anyone else."

His eyes darkened, the faintest flicker of possessiveness returning. "Good," he said simply, making you chuckle.

The sound of the music still thudded softly in the background, but the world outside the two of you felt distant, inconsequential. Elijah shifted, his hands smoothing over your sides as he cradled you against him, kissing and nipping along your neck and jaw.

"Where have you been hiding this side of you?" you teased, your voice soft but playful.

Elijah chuckled, giving you a lopsided grin. "Darling, that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Your eyes widened, a nervous heat spreading across your cheeks. "Oh?" you inquired, your mind already racing at the implications.

He nodded, a dark glint in his eyes. "Mmhmm."

"So, I should probably delete Kol's number, huh?" you asked, teasing.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. He leaned in, resting his weight on his forearm, his lips a hair's breadth away from yours.

"Most definitely," he murmured, claiming your lips in a heated, passionate kiss.

Needless to say, you had no complaints.

I'll be tagging ya'll in the comments from now on... because tumblr is not built for tagging lots of users... if you want off the tag list just shoot me a DM!!! (I won't be offended ~xo)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Part 1 here

Tag list: @catr4dora @girlyteengirl18 @pheesfanfics @theilluminatidragonqueen @ryoiii @hehegerms @notsocuriousgeorge @mxr-lvn

You and Stan were enjoying your date so far that Mabel had set you up on, it was a cute little picnic near the waterfall and you were both sat in the perfect spot to over see the entire town. It was perfect and you would have to thank Mabel when you get back before midnight, seeing as she poetically pushed you and Stan out of the shack and told you both to enjoy your date and not to be back before midnight as she shuts the door.

She was a good kid with a big heart and you loved her for that as you fiddled with the bracelet she made you once with small smile.

‘How come we didn’t think of this before? Going on dates I mean.’ You asked as you took a sip from your drink, eyes racking over Stan’s form and admiring how dashing he looked in a burgundy shirt with a couple of buttons undone to show the gold hanging from his neck, accompanied by a matching grey blazer and trousers. With the way he cleans up it was enough to make anyone swoon for him, especially when he wears the cologne you’ve always liked the smell of, the same cologne that he was wearing right now actually as you rested your head against his shoulder.

‘Maybe because we’ve been too busy lying to everyone for thirty years, while also trying to get my brother back that we forget the simpler ways to convince people we’re together.’ Stan replied as he then playfully nudges your side. ‘And here I thought you were the smarter one of us both, toots.’

You swatted his hand away as you smiled sheepishly. ‘I’m smarter in other fields than the romantic one, it’s always alluded me to be fair as I’ve never been on a date before or had anyone express interest.’ You admitted, feeling a little exposed under Stan’s gaze.

‘You’ve never been on a date?’ He asked.

‘Nope.’ You tell him. ‘I was too nerdy and geeky for the most people but too smart and intimidating for others.’

‘Not even my brother?’ Stan then asks with a slight strain in his voice and your brows furrowed.

‘No? Our relationship was strictly platonic and professional. He is a smart individual but we had little to no emotional attachments to one another outside of considering each other a friend.’ You said. ‘Though that maybe due to how isolated we were from everyone else with our research but that comes with the territory of trying to make a break through within the field of paranormal discovery.’ You then added out of a need to provide a logical explanation as to why you and Ford were close.

‘Why you ask?’ You then found yourself asking him this time and Stan scratched the back of his neck as a blush crept across his face.

‘I dunno, just find it odd how someone like you hasn’t been on a date. You’re pretty, smart, funny, albeit a little awkward but that’s what made you cute and endearing, also how you would get this look in your eye when your talking about something you’re passionate about that you have to start moving other parts of yourself because your excitement for it is that great.’ He shrugs as he then looks back at you with the softest look in his eyes as he chuckles. ‘I guess I get bragging rights about taking the most beautiful/handsome smart ass on the perfect date.’

In your eyes Stan looked beautiful in that moment as the butterflies made themselves knowing within your stomach. He knew you inside and out and loved every bit he saw and you couldn’t help but reciprocate the feeling as you found yourself laughing and smiling a lot more in his presence. Stan made you feel as though you could drop being smart for a second and allow yourself to breathe and take in life while you can, he was a smart man who had a way with words when it came to conning people, but here he looked almost as if he were an awkward teenager on his first date.

‘Don’t sell yourself so short Stanley.’ You tell him as you placed your hand atop of his own, squeezing it before intertwining your fingers as you took the moment to recognise that being with Stan just felt right, it felt as though you were meant to be by his side and found yourself waiting impatiently for him to hold you at night and smother you in affection during the day. ‘A date with you is a date I’ll take over any other I would’ve hypothetically had in an alternate reality.’ You admitted, feeling a blush creep across your face as you felt yourself about to admire to something you’ve always had an inkling about, but just didn’t believe it until recently.

‘And why’s that?’ Stan asked, mentally having of the edge of his seat as he hoped you were about to say what he thought you were about to say, for he too had made a similar discovery, which was only amplified and proven right whenever he looked at you in hopes of seeing you smile at something he did or confined yourself in him.

Even now as he looked at you he couldn’t help but smack his younger self for not realising what he felt sooner, he was jealous that his brother got to spend a lot of time with you, but he wouldn’t change anything that had lead you both to where you were now as you have done nothing but brought a sense of happiness to Stan’s life that he had been devoid of since he was kicked out by his father.

You looked at him like he was something and he looked at you like you were everything because to both of you it was the truth. You were what the other needed most and now it had finally come to light all this time later, and after constant adamant denial that you could actually come to like each other, only for you two to do just that and find yourselves liking each other in a way that made words like ‘like’ and ‘love’ not a strong enough description.

‘Because I actually like you Stanley Pines. I really do.’ You confessed and the weight on your chest that had been there for while had suddenly lifted. ‘I really like you Stanley Pines and time and time again I’ve been finding myself falling for you harder than originally thought. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone but here you are’. You finished, frightened as to what Stan would think but found your head being lifted by your chin and looking Stan directly in the eyes.

‘And here I thought I’d live life as a lonely lousy man until I found you toots.’ Stan says softly as he looked back on his life with fondness while hopefully seeing his future in the depths of your eyes. ‘You’ve made me a happier man than I have been in a long, long time and I don’t want to let that go now, so what do you say sweetheart? Be mine officially?’

You held his face in your hands as you pressed a kiss to his slightly chapped lips, humming in delight when you felt him reciprocate the kiss, feeling his hand move from your chin to the back of your head to keep you engaged in the kiss, as if you had any desire to depart from the man you once thought as a nuisance but now a loving reminder that you were allowed to love.

How and why it took you both this long to realise wasn’t of importance anymore as you both got lost in the feel and taste of the others lips, feeling happier then you have ever been in a while. You didn’t need some paper to tell people you were in love, everyone could see that already form how you’d look at one another, a love so rare between two people they can’t help but stop and stare at you and Stan as they wished they had what you had.

You and Stan were perfect for one another and that night you both slept deeper then ever before within the others arms, knowing that what you felt was mutual that you slept with goofy smiles on your faces with a giddy feeling within your chests.

[ellswritings]

Fight Me Pt. 2

Cody Rhodes x reader

TW: Mentions of insecurity (on both ends), mentions of sex, blood and injury, a little dash of Jey in there, Punk being a protective baddie 💅

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling

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The night in Y/N’s trailer went by in a whirlwind of ripped off clothing and breathy moans. Another thing she could add to the list of things she hated about Cody Rhodes. He’s fantastic in bed. She despised the fact that he seemed to navigate her body with ease. He knew exactly what to do to make her react. Every spot he knew would make her toes curl. She could sit there and complain about how insufferable he is all she wants, but when it really comes down to it, he knows what he’s doing.

What surprised her the most was afterwards, he stayed with her. He could’ve got dressed in silence and just walked out, but he stayed with her. He wrapped his arms around her as they lay next to each other. Both of them were lost in thought and completely confused by what had happened, but neither of them could find the courage to leave or separate until the event was over.

They didn’t speak, but the new uncertainty in the air did most of the conversing for them. The only thing that got Cody to leave was when his phone started to ring with a call from Paul asking where he was since it was time for his interview. Y/N knew it was only a matter of time before she got the same call, so the two of them parted ways without so much as an awkward goodbye.

Things have only gotten progressively more uncomfortable as time has gone on. Both of them have been included in joint interviews for the past couple of days for more promo work and to discuss their most recent fifth, but the tension that now resides between them is completely different than it was before.

They throw glares at one another, cut each other off, say snide things, but it’s not as biting as the world has become accustomed to. It’s turned into a real head scratcher for the higher ups and the people closest to the two superstars. Everyone is trying to figure out what suddenly snuffed out the boiling hatred between the two.

Y/N herself is asking the same question as she completes her fourth set of reverse bicep curls at the hotel gym they are staying at for the next event at SmackDown. It’s currently four in the morning as she stands there, sweating whatever hydration she had out of her body. She hasn’t been able to sleep fully since what happened with Cody. Her mind has been running at an untameable speed as she tries to wrap her head around the complicated feelings that have now infiltrated their relationship.

Things might have been able to go back to normal or at least some semblance of normal if they had talked about it afterward, but they hadn’t. In fact, they haven’t spoken to each other personally since. Of course, they’ve interacted in front of the press and in front of audiences, but not with each other. As soon as they’re away from prying eyes, Cody disappears and pretends she doesn’t exist. Which is hilarious considering that is all she has been wishing for since she met the man.

But now all she wants is for him to spare at least one glance in her direction.

Y/N’s never been the type to place her self worth in the palm of a man’s hand. Even when she was a teenager, she never needed validation from a person she liked. She was naturally confident, sure of herself. So it physically pains her when she catches her mind wandering to Cody when she’s doing pretty much anything. She wants to know what he’s thinking, if he’s dwelling on things as much as she is, or if the reason he’s ignoring her altogether is because maybe he didn’t enjoy it.

She lets out a loud grunt of frustration as she drops her barbell to the floor with a loud thud. She clenches her firsts tightly when she looks at herself in the mirror. Where she would normally see a confident, radiant woman, stands someone she’s having a hard time recognizing. The bags under her eyes are more prominent than ever, the usual spark that emanates from her smile is hidden behind the small frown that’s been more prominent in recent days.

Could she possibly have been that bad that he didn’t even want to fight with her anymore? That all the tension and feuding they worked hard to build amounted to nothing because of that one night? He couldn’t even look at her.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek harshly, trying to prevent herself from getting emotional. I am worthy. I am enough. She mentally reminds herself, but it still doesn’t soothe the small ache in her chest. She had a few more exercises to do before completing her workout, but at this point she doesn’t see a point. She can’t focus.

She goes to gather her things, her movements sluggish as she fights off her self-demeaning thoughts. However, the breath in her lungs is suddenly stolen from her when she looks back up and through the mirror she sees the exact man that has emotionally destroyed her without saying a word.

His platinum blonde hair almost glistens under the harsh light of the gym. He looks shocked for a moment, but it’s quickly covered by the impassive expression he’s been sporting since they had sex. Y/N feels her mouth go dry and all of the things she had rehearsed in her head to say to him dissolved like they never existed. She feels small under his gaze, something she’s not used to either. Most of her career has been spent trying to put herself above the American Nightmare. But the way he’s looking at her right now makes her cross her arms and her posture slouch, almost as if she’s hiding herself from him.

Her throat feels tight, like a boa constrictor is settling nicely on her windpipe. Her feet begin to move before her mind even registers what’s happening. She brushes past him quickly, a mousey “excuse me” being the only thing that leaves her lips.

She can feel the tears stinging behind her eyes, but she won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how torn up she is inside. The only person that is allowed to be privy to her is her. He doesn’t get to know how insecure he’s made her by simply ignoring her.

Just as she’s about to be free of the suddenly awkward environment, a hand wraps around her wrist. A small gasp escapes her as she spins around. His grip on her is tight, but not rough. He’s holding her gently, like he’s unsure if he should really be doing this. Y/N finally meets his blue eyes after not being able to even get him to make eye contact for days and it’s completely overwhelming. She’s sad, angry, hurt. She wants nothing more than to finish her escape and go get ready for her long day before having a match later that night.

She tries to pull herself away, “Let me go,” she demands quietly.

Cody is taken aback by the small crack in her voice. Normally when she speaks to him it’s filled with such animosity. She’s usually so loud, not afraid of voicing her thoughts. But this… this is new. The small quiver in her lip, the tears bordering at her waterline, her inability to make eye contact. This isn’t the Y/N L/N he knew.

She pulls again, but he won’t budge. “Please…” she pleads, hating how vulnerable she feels. “Let me go, Rhodes.” She spats out his name with venom, trying to cover up how hurt she’s been.

The way she says his last name is like a slap to the face, but he doesn’t remove his hand from her wrist. He hadn’t expected to see her, but when he did, it was like his brain stopped working. He watched her gather her stuff after completing her set, seemingly abandoning the rest of her workout. Which he knew was uncharacteristic of her. Y/N never gave up on completing a gym session, even after getting battered and bruised in the ring. And deep down, he knew he was the cause of her loss in motivation.

Even the way she’s been cutting promos recently. Normally, everyone has an easy time believing her cocky demeanor. She’s a phenomenal actress if anything, but lately it doesn’t seem like she even believes what she’s saying.

He finally exhales, “Y/N–”

“I said let go of me,” she reiterates, sounding more angry by the second. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

A lie.

Cody’s grip doesn’t loosen, but it’s not rough. It’s firm, steady—like he’s making sure she doesn’t just disappear before he can figure out what the hell is happening. He knows she wants to talk to him. The same way he’s been wanting to talk to her. Y/N swallows hard, her jaw clenched so tight it might crack. She refuses to look at him, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“Y/N,” Cody tries again, his voice lower now, more hesitant.

“Don’t,” she snaps, yanking at her wrist again. But he doesn’t let go. “Just let me leave.”

“Why?” He tilts his head, studying her, and it pisses her off how calm he sounds. Like she’s the one being irrational.

She scoffs, finally jerking her head up to glare at him. “Are you serious?”

Cody doesn’t answer right away, his gaze scanning her face like he’s trying to put together a puzzle he didn’t even know existed. She can feel the heat creeping up her neck, her emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

“You’ve been ignoring me for days, and now what?” she challenges, her voice shaking despite her best efforts. “You suddenly remember I exist?”

His brows knit together. “I haven’t been ignoring you.”

Y/N laughs, short and humorless. “Oh, really? So the whole ‘pretending I’m invisible unless we’re on camera’ thing was just my imagination?”

Cody sighs through his nose, shaking his head. “I wasn’t—look, I just figured it was easier that way.”

“Easier?” She repeats, her voice rising slightly.

“Yeah.” He exhales, finally letting go of her wrist, but not stepping back. “I thought that’s what you wanted. What we’ve always wanted—keeping our distance.”

Y/N’s stomach twists at that. He’s not wrong. She’s spent years pushing him away, making it clear how much she loathes him. But this is different. This isn’t her usual hatred. This isn’t some petty rivalry anymore. This is something she doesn’t know how to deal with, something that’s been gnawing at her since that night in her trailer.

And he just… walked away from it like it meant nothing.

Her lips press into a thin line. “Right. And that’s why you suddenly feel the need to talk to me at four in the damn morning?”

Cody shrugs, arms crossing over his chest. “Saw you in here. Figured we should talk.”

“Well, we shouldn’t,” she snaps. “We’re done here.”

She turns to leave again, but he steps in front of her, blocking her path. “Y/N, c’mon.”

Her patience is wearing thin, the exhaustion and frustration building inside her like a volcano ready to erupt. “Move.”

“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

She lets out a sharp breath, hands trembling at her sides. “There is nothing going on with me.”

Cody gives her a look, that infuriating mix of skepticism and mild amusement that makes her want to slap it right off his face. “Bullshit.”

She stiffens. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His arms drop back to his sides, and his voice loses that careful edge. “You’ve been acting weird. Everyone’s noticed. The promos, the interviews—you’re not yourself.”

“Oh, so you do pay attention?” she fires back, the anger bubbling higher now. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Cody runs a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Jesus, Y/N, what do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you!” she snaps, her voice cracking slightly. “That’s the whole point!”

He scoffs. “Right. That’s why you’re acting like I personally offended you by breathing.”

She clenches her jaw, willing herself to stay composed. But it’s useless. The emotions, the exhaustion, the hurt—it’s all too much. And before she can stop it, she feels the sting in her eyes, the burn at the back of her throat.

Cody’s eyes flicker slightly, the shift in her expression not lost on him. “Y/N—”

“No,” she mutters, shaking her head. “I’m not doing this. I– I can’t do this.”

She turns away quickly, but this time he doesn’t stop her. She barely makes it to the door before the first tear rolls down her cheek, and she curses under her breath, swiping at it angrily.

She won’t let him see.

She won’t let him know how much he got to her.

Thankfully, she didn’t see Cody again after that until SmackDown. Even then, she hadn’t actually seen him. She’d successfully managed to stay out of the American Nightmare’s presence which she couldn’t be more grateful for.

Y/N stands by the monitor, arms crossed, trying to focus on the match playing out in the ring. The energy of the arena is buzzing around her, but it all feels distant—like she’s underwater, barely processing anything beyond the static in her own head. Her shoulders are tense, jaw clenched tight. She needs to pull herself together before her match.

“You good?”

The voice snaps her out of her daze, and she turns to see CM Punk standing next to her, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp, observant.

“I’m fine,” she answers automatically, too quickly.

Punk doesn’t buy it for a second. “Yeah, see, that was about as convincing as a fake apology on Twitter.”

She exhales through her nose, shaking her head. “I’m just tired.”

Punk hums, unconvinced. “Right. ‘Cause you’re always this quiet before a match.”

“I’m fine,” she repeats, firmer this time.

Punk studies her, and she knows he’s not letting this go. He’s too good at reading people—especially the ones he cares about. She can feel his eyes scanning her face, searching for whatever she’s trying so hard to bury.

Then, like some cruel twist of fate, Cody walks by.

It’s brief. A second, maybe two. But that’s all it takes. Y/N’s eyes flicker to him, and for just a moment, something flashes across her face—something raw, something unresolved. And then, just as quickly, her expression hardens. She looks away, her posture stiffening like she’s forcing herself not to care.

But Punk sees it.

And suddenly, it all clicks.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

Instead, he lets out a breath and steps closer, lowering his voice. “Listen. I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m not gonna push you. But whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

She hesitates, and for a second, it looks like she might actually say something. But then she just nods, barely meeting his gaze.

Punk doesn’t push. He just pulls her into a quick hug, squeezing her shoulders before letting go. “Go kill it out there.”

Y/N forces a smirk. “Like you had to tell me.”

As soon as she walks away, Punk’s expression darkens. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his knuckles, and turns on his heel.

He’s got something to handle.

Cody is mid-stride down the hallway when Punk steps right into his path, cutting him off with the kind of confidence that says he doesn’t give a damn who Cody Rhodes is. Arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes are sharp, burning with something dangerously close to anger.

Cody exhales sharply through his nose, already irritated. “Something you need?”

Punk doesn’t waste a second. “Yeah. You to get your head out of your ass and fix whatever the hell you did to Y/N.”

Cody freezes for half a second—just half a second—but Punk sees it. The slight shift in his expression, the flicker of something in his eyes before his guard slams back into place.

Cody scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Punk’s jaw tightens. “Don’t bullshit me. I saw the way she looked at you.” He tilts his head, voice dropping lower. “Or rather, the way she wouldn’t look at you.”

Cody forces a smirk, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “She and I don’t exactly have a friendly history, in case you forgot.”

“Oh, trust me, I didn’t forget.” Punk steps closer, voice sharp like a blade. “But that’s not what this is. This isn’t just bad blood. This is something else. And I don’t care what it is—I don’t wanna know. What I do know is that she’s not herself, and the only thing that changed is you.”

Cody clenches his jaw, looking past Punk like he’s trying to find a way out of this conversation. Because he can’t do this. He won’t do this.

Not with Punk. Not with anyone.

Because if he acknowledges what’s really happening—what’s always been happening—then he’ll have to admit that staying away from Y/N isn’t about hatred anymore.

It’s about survival.

Because if he doesn’t stay away, he knows damn well he won’t be able to stop himself from falling.

And that? That would be a mistake.

Punk’s voice drags him back. “You got something to say, Rhodes? Or are you just gonna stand there looking guilty as hell?”

Cody’s stomach twists, and before he can stop himself, his defenses snap up. “You act like it’s your business.”

That’s the wrong thing to say.

Punk laughs, but it’s humorless, sharp, like a warning before a storm. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Because she is my business.” He leans in, his voice ice-cold now. “You don’t have to like me. Hell, you don’t even have to like her. But you will respect her. And you will fix whatever you broke.”

Cody exhales slowly through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. “You really think threatening me is gonna change anything?”

Punk smirks, but there’s no real amusement behind it. “Oh, I don’t think—I know.” He taps a finger against Cody’s chest, just enough to be antagonizing. “See, I’ve been around long enough to know when a guy’s hiding something, and you? You’ve got ‘guilty conscience’ written all over your dumb, overly dramatic face.”

Cody’s fingers twitch at his sides, but he keeps his voice even. “And if I do?”

Punk raises an eyebrow. “If you do, then you’re even more of an idiot than I thought.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You ever actually look at her, Rhodes? I mean, really look? She’s one of the best things to ever happen to this business, and here you are, playing your little brooding cowboy act, acting like you’re doing her some kind of favor by keeping her at arm’s length.”

Cody bristles, instinct screaming at him to push back, but Punk steamrolls right over him.

“Look, I don’t give a damn about your tragic backstory, your family legacy, or whatever self-sabotaging nonsense you’ve got rattling around in your head,” Punk continues, voice razor-sharp. “What I do care about is the fact that Y/N was fine until you showed up. And now? She’s walking around like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.” He steps even closer, voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “And I do not like seeing her like that.”

Cody clenches his jaw so hard it aches. “She’s stronger than you think.”

Punk nods. “Yeah, she is. Stronger than both of us, probably. But that doesn’t mean she should have to be.” He lets the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, “And if you actually gave a shit, you’d already know that.”

Cody’s throat tightens. He hates how easily Punk is getting under his skin, hates that every single word is cutting deeper than he’d like to admit. But the worst part?

The worst part is that Punk is right.

He should fix this. He should say something, do something.

But if he does—if he actually lets himself get close—he knows there’s no coming back from it.

And that terrifies him.

Punk watches him carefully, waiting for a reaction. When Cody doesn’t speak, he scoffs and takes a step back. “You know what? I don’t even care what your deal is anymore. Just find a way to make it right.” His voice turns sharp again, laced with unspoken warning. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

Cody barely has time to process that before Punk turns on his heel and walks away, leaving him standing there with nothing but his own thoughts—and a gnawing feeling in his gut that he might’ve just lost the one thing that actually mattered.

Watching Y/N fight from backstage was almost torturous for Cody. She plastered on a good smile as she cut her promo, but as soon as the mic was out of her hand, her shoulders dropped. The usual confidence she oozes is gone. Thankfully, that didn’t affect how she did in the ring.

She took down Naomi in a rather grueling match. Some of the hits seemed to do a lot more damage than originally planned. Y/N stumbles backstage, hand covering her temple that’s currently still dripping blood. She may have won, but she definitely got a couple of bumps and bruises to accompany it.

Cody stands further down the hallway as he watches the medics swarm her. She swats most of them away half heartedly, insisting that she’s fine. The first person to rush up to her, to the surprise of no one, was Punk. Cody’s jaw ticked as he watched the older man lift Y/N’s chin with his finger so he could check her wound himself. He knew he was just Y/N’s mentor, the person she relied on more than anything, but seeing how protective he is of her would make anyone suspicious of the true nature of their relationship.

Not long after, Jey and Jimmy are rushing towards her, Roman walking behind them. Solo is out now fighting his match, but if he wasn’t, Cody’s sure he’d be right behind his family in going over to the injured woman. It makes him chuckle when he thinks about the fact that Jimmy’s here with Y/N instead of checking in on his wife who took the brunt of the beat down.

“You doin’ alright Uce?” Jey asks, crouching down in front of her as the paramedics bandage her head. “You got hit pretty hard.”

“I’m fine,” she mumbles, blinking rather slowly. Her eyes look distant as she stares down at her hands. They’re shaking. “Just tired…” Her eyes begin to droop which immediately puts them all on edge.

“Nuh uh,” Jimmy lifts her head up. “Keep those eyes on us ma,” he stops her.

Roman glances at the medics, starting to get slightly worried, “I thought she only had a couple cuts. This seems a lot more serious.”

“It’s possible she could have a concussion,” one of them answers, pulling a light out to check her pupils. “We didn’t bother to check because she insisted it wasn’t a problem, and she walked back here without any assistance.”

His partner nods, “And we unfortunately can’t administer treatment when a patient refuses.”

“She doesn’t refuse,” Roman cuts in indefinitely, shooting Y/N a stern look as she goes to protest. “Do what you need to do.”

Y/N groaned as the paramedics continued checking her over, their hands prodding at the wound on her temple. She was still swaying slightly, her limbs feeling heavier than they should, but she was stubborn as ever. “I told you, I’m fine.”

Punk scoffed, his hand still on her arm to keep her upright. “Yeah? That’s real convincing coming from someone who's about to fall asleep sitting up.”

“I was blinking,” she argued, but even her voice sounded weak.

One of the medics waved a small light in front of her eyes, nodding to himself before looking at the others. “She’s got a mild concussion.”

A ripple of concern went through the group.

“Shit,” Jey muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Punk didn’t look surprised—just more irritated. “Alright, that’s it. She’s done for the night. Someone get her back to her trailer.”

Y/N frowned, blinking at him. “I don’t need to—”

“Oh, you absolutely do,” Jimmy cut in, already grabbing one of her arms. “C’mon, ma, don’t make us carry you.”

She huffed but barely put up a fight. As soon as she tried to stand on her own, her legs wobbled, and she stumbled straight into Punk’s chest. His hands immediately steadied her, and he shot her a knowing look.

“Yeah. Totally fine,” he deadpanned.

She pouted but didn’t argue as they helped her out of the hallway. Cody stood in the background, arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched. His gaze flickered between Punk’s arm around her shoulder and Jey hovering closer than necessary. It shouldn't bother him, but the longer he watched, the more irritated he felt.

He didn’t even realize his feet were moving until he found himself following after them, staying far enough back that no one really noticed.

Inside the trailer, they settled her onto the couch. She blinked slowly, still a little dazed, as Punk draped a blanket over her legs.

“You’re gonna rest,” he ordered. “No arguments.”

Y/N groaned. “Bossy.”

He smirked. “Damn right.”

After a few more warnings, Roman and Jimmy left. Punk was the last to exit, pointing a finger at Jey before walking out.

“She rests,” he ordered. “No dumb shit.”

Jey smirked, holding his hands up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Cody stood outside, still lingering, though he told himself it wasn’t eavesdropping—just listening.

Inside, Jey crouched beside Y/N, voice softer now. “Damn, sweetheart, you really scared us out there.”

Y/N let out a breathy chuckle, her head lolling slightly against the couch. “Didn’t mean to.”

Jey shook his head, smirking. “Yeah, yeah. Always gotta be the toughest one in the room, huh?” He reached out and lightly flicked her forehead, right where the bandage sat.

She scrunched her nose. “Ow.”

“Good,” he grinned. “That’s for making me worry.” Then, to Cody’s absolute horror, he leaned in and pressed a quick, lingering kiss to her forehead. “Get some rest, Uce.”

Y/N barely reacted, too tired to process it. But Cody? His blood boiled.

Jey stood, checking to make sure she was comfortable before slipping out quietly. He didn’t even notice Cody standing in the shadows as he walked away.

Cody wasn’t sure what exactly made him do it, but the second Jey was gone, he stepped forward and pushed open the trailer door without knocking.

Y/N, still half out of it, blinked at him in confusion. “Uh—?”

He shut the door behind him, arms crossed. “So, you and Jey, huh?”

She frowned. “What?”

Cody scoffed. “Didn’t take you long.”

Y/N sat up slightly, still processing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He gestured vaguely. “You and him. All close and sweet back there. Then him kissing you on the damn forehead?” He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s real cute.”

She blinked, still struggling to follow his train of thought. “Are you—?” She cut herself off, tilting her head. “Wait. Are you jealous?”

His scoff came too quickly. “I’m not jealous.”

Y/N studied him, her exhaustion making her blunt. “You totally are.”

Cody’s jaw ticked. “I just think it’s interesting how you walked out on me at the gym, but now you’re all cozy with him.”

Her lips parted slightly, realization hitting her. “Oh my God.” She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re overthinking so hard right now.”

His scowl deepened. “I am not—”

“It’s not fun, is it?” she interrupted, tilting her head. “Feeling insecure?”

Cody’s glare intensified, but he had no comeback. Because the truth was, she was right. He was feeling this gnawing pressure on his chest anytime he saw someone else with her. He originally thought it was because of her, but he slowly realized he wanted to be the one to be checking in on her, to be helping her, not watching from the sidelines as someone else did.

Cody hesitated for a moment before letting out a sharp breath and stepping further into the trailer. He rubbed the back of his neck before finally lowering himself onto the couch beside her, though he kept a slight distance between them. His knee bounced as he rested his forearms on his thighs, fingers laced together tightly.

Y/N watched him carefully, still trying to wrap her head around what was happening. “So… did you just barge in here to accuse me of being with Jey, or…?”

Cody huffed, running a hand down his face. “I’m not accusing you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No? Because it sure as hell felt like you were.”

Cody clenched his jaw. “I just—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I see things, Y/N. And I’m not blind. Jey’s always looking out for you, always right there when you need him. You’re comfortable around him, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to mind it.”

Y/N blinked before letting out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “And you’re really trying to tell me you’re not jealous.”

His head snapped toward her, glaring. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she countered, smirking slightly. “It’s written all over you.”

Cody scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned back against the couch, arms crossing over his chest. “You don’t get it.”

Y/N tilted her head, still watching him closely. “Then help me. Make me get it.”

Cody let out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor behind it. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before shifting his gaze back to her. “I saw you with him, and I just…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It made me think about us. About what happened between us and how you just left after. And then I see you all close with him, and it—” He cut himself off, shaking his head again.

Y/N studied him, the realization settling in deeper. He was just as insecure about this as she had been.

She let out a breath, glancing down at her hands before speaking. “You know… when you ignored me after that night, I thought maybe I did something wrong.”

Cody’s brow furrowed.

“I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough for you to stick around,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “Like maybe I was just some mistake you regretted.”

Cody’s stomach twisted at her words. “That’s not—” He stopped, exhaling sharply before shifting closer to her. His hand hesitated for a moment before gently covering hers. “That’s not why, Y/N.”

She glanced up at him, eyes searching his.

He sighed, shaking his head. “It wasn’t you,” he repeated. “It was me. I freaked out. I realized how deep a hole I had dig myself, and I panicked. I realized I may have blurred the line between hatred and my actual feelings for you,” he rubs his knuckles, staring at the floor. “Thought if I distanced myself, maybe I could stop the progression of it.” His lips pressed into a tight line. “But that was the dumbest thing I could’ve done.”

Y/N let his words sink in, her expression softening.

She didn’t respond right away—just leaned forward and rested her head against his chest.

Cody stiffened slightly, caught off guard, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he slowly wrapped his arms around her, holding her tighter than he probably should have.

“Don’t be stupid like that again,” she murmured.

His grip tightened around her waist, a small smile forming on his lips. “I won’t.”

[nmn-yty]

— ๋࣭ ⭑࿐ first time ｡o♡⋆˚｡⋆.

read part 1: here!!!

pairing: lee know x reader

summary: caring for a bunny seemed harder than you thought

tags: 「SFW! fluff! (ik the title is misleading but i promise this is all fluff!) | hybrid!lee know | referring to lee know as minho | soft!lee know (he's even cuter in this one) | hyper lee know>< | bunny bath time! | the neediest bunny ever | another sweet little kiss! | reader has no gender」

word count: 1.7k

a/n: back at it again! ik ive said it so many times throughout my blog but im truly thankful for all the likes and reblogs(◞‸◟)♡ this will not be the last of my bunny lee know endeavor but stay tuned for more hybrid, skz, and kpop stories in the meantime! also keep in mind that ive never owned any pets so the animal behavior is based on memory of things ive seen online, dont come for me pls>< anyways, i hope this one lives up to the hype of the first part, enjoy!!! (also i apologize for not posting sooner><)

+ stylized lowercase, missing punctuation (not done on purpose), and minimal revisions

a few days in and the days seemed to get harder and harder for you. not because minho was causing you any trouble, but because the fluttery feeling in your stomach kept growing the more you spent time with him. it was scary how perfect he was in every way.

you were sitting on your couch enjoying a nice hot drink, when the familiar sound of thumping on the wood floor caught your attention. you looked down to find a playful bunny minho. he was scurrying around your feet, even moving his paws to your legs.

"what's wrong?" you set your drink down on the table in front of you.

minho kept on pawing at your legs. you reached down to pick him up, placing him in your lap.

"i can't understand you when you're in the form, you know?"

he looked up at you with a nonchalant expression, you expected nothing out of him. before you knew it, you had a hybrid minho sitting in your lap bridal style, hands wrapped around your neck. the weight and size change startled you, but he loved to tease you and transform whenever he pleased.

"can i please go outside for a bit?" he was really bouncy and sounded out of breath. you had to remind yourself that he was a wild animal. although you took him in to stay in your house, his animal instincts couldn't be suppressed.

"okay, but only for a little-" he cut your sentence off by changing back into a bunny, still knocking you off guard.

he scurried off your lap and towards the back hallway, scratching at the door for you to open it. he looked back at you with those big dark eyes. they always sparkled perfectly in the right lighting. seeing him being all hyper as an animal was truly so endearing. you've always wanted someone like him in your life. the universe definitely planned out your lives to be intertwined.

you rolled your eyes from his fast movements and got up. the second you opened the door wide enough for him to fit, he dashed out onto the grass. it has still been snowy for the past couple of days, but today the grass held a light layer of snow from earlier that day.

he was hopping around the entire yard, sniffing around bushes, chewing on some of the obtainable food he could get his mouth on. you could see the footprints and tracks beginning to circle around the snow. the whole surface of your yard was being fully inspected by him.

you couldn't help but sit down by the steps of your back porch. hugging your knees in admiration, you followed minho's path all throughout the whole time you were out there. you couldn't help but get flustered about the racing thoughts in your mind. something as simple as watching him be comfortable in his environment made you feel at ease.

what you didn't know was minho found himself wanting to be human more for the both of you. it was exhausting for him at times, but he couldn't help but laugh with you, smile with you, feel with you. he never got to experience these moments with anyone before. he wanted each adventure with you to last for hours.

he looked up to find you staring at him, which made his heart race faster than it normally should. draining energy fast, he flopped on his back, waving his paws and feet in the air. getting a chuckle out of you from the distance, he felt satisfied. the sudden urge to dig overwhelmed his thoughts, getting back to his feet and digging straight down from where he was standing.

luckily, you had your mind to distract you from his actions. he started to go feral, getting the dirt and snow all over his face.

drifting away from your daydream, you found your white fluffy bunny turning brown from the dirt and snow.

"minho, no!" you quickly ran over to him, making him realize he was likely in big trouble. thinking two steps ahead, he dove out of your attempt to grab him. shocked and stunned, you still chased after him. he was running steadily back towards the house. the universe was on your side though, as the back door was closed and all minho could do was try to reach up and grab the handle. however, being in his small form, he failed miserably.

"cmon silly," you bent down to grab the squirming animal in your arms, the warmth from your body making him docile and shut down.

once you got to the bathroom upstairs, you gently set minho on the floor. his eyes were slowly closing and he tried his best to keep them open again. before he could fall asleep, he jolted himself awake, which unfortunately turned him into his hybrid form.

"do you want me to take my clothes off so you can bathe me?"

his question made you whip your head around in shock, stuttering nonsense to try and distract yourself from the image of himself being naked in front of you.

"dont be difficult... turn into a bunny so i can wash you quickly."

he let out a small whine, almost like it was his plan all along to get dirty and have this scenario go his way.

you crossed your arms and gave him a dissatisfied look. you weren't really mad at him, you just wanted the day to end quicker so you two could snuggle in bed together.

one big movement turned him small again, he hopped onto your legs, as you had knelt down to get comfortable. you turned on the water in your bathtub and ran some warm water about two or three inches from the bottom. placing him inside the tub, you grabbed a cup to scoop up the water onto his body. the first rinse was quick, he even shook some water off himself like a dog which made you smile.

the scrubbing process also went by fast, working your fingers gently through his coat, the dirt coming off completely. you picked up the cup again, filling it with water. washing the soap away, he shook his body again, trying to dry up as fast as he could.

"calm down minho! ill dry you off in a second."

the water beginning to flow down the drain, you picked up a sopping wet minho from the tub and placed him on the rug next to you. the towel to dry him was hanging on the side of the tub. you laid it flat against your lap, picking him up again and placing him on top of the towel.

you wrapped him up in the towel, trying your best not to cover up his face. you patted and rubbed the cloth into his body, making sure to cover all the spots. his ears, his tail, and his paws all becoming dry and fluffy again.

he hopped off of your lap, turning to his hybrid form. this time you expected something from that big of a leap. you were starting to learn and master his behaviors. he was sat on the floor facing you. for some reason, his hair and ears were still wet in this form. he held one of his ears out, squeezing it to wring out the remaining water off himself. you got to your knees and threw the towel over his head. going a little harder this time, you scrubbed his hair dry to the best of your ability. you noticed him closing his eyes in comfort, especially when you got to his ears.

he looked up at you through his messy hair. he hummed softly, he was so happy you were taking such good care of him. not noticing at all, when you removed the towel his bunny ears went away. he was noticeably more dry and your job was done. you turned around slightly to drape the towel on the tub again.

he let out a cute yawn, so ready to flop into bed and get some sleep. when you turned back around you couldn't help but notice some brown specks on his face. did he have freckles this whole time and you were just too star struck to notice? you reached out to rub his face, making him freeze and have his full semi-conscious attention to your actions. the specks turned to brown streaks against his skin.

"youve been digging so much in the dirt, come here."

he scooted over to you, patiently waiting for anything to happen next. you realized now his nose and cheeks were lightly covered in dirt. you reached over for a new towel and quickly turned the faucet on to run some water on it. swiping the warm cloth on his cheeks, his face became very pink. you didn't know if it was because of the pressure you applied to his face, or if he was actually having some emotional reaction to this.

his gaze was so sensual, almost like his mind had gone to mush and he could only display emotions of pure submission. his thoughts became chaotic, trying to resist the urge to tackle you and have you all to himself.

after a while you could feel your face burning up, scared about any of his next moves or words.

"why are you looking at me like that?" the dirt was almost gone. you moved closer to his face, only inches away in order to get the last bits off.

minho didn't answer you, instead he stared more intensely at you, patiently waiting for you to finish. putting the towel down, you gently rubbed the wetness off his face. even more skin to skin contact was making him lose control. the hue of pink showing from his face becoming almost cartoon like.

"mm tired," his eyes began to droop again. he wanted his last conscious thought to be that he was secure next to you. as dramatic as ever, he laid out his body in your lap, slowly beginning to drift off and finally recharge.

this feeling was starting to become a natural occurrence in your daily lives. whether he was a small bunny, a cute hybrid, or a human who could actually sweep you off your feet, you had him. he felt safe around you and wanted to be near you. using one hand to meet his hand, rubbing it gently to soothe him, you used your other hand to play with his hair. even as a human, he was still soft and cuddly. you bent down to place a small kiss on his head, making him nuzzle himself deeper into you.

part 3 is up! click here!!!

♥︎taglist: @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lunathewonyoungstan @syedazarintasnim @yourlocalstayyxi @mmarusa @yukichan67 @qwonyoung23 @cupidcures @verynormalsstuff @leezanetheofficial

© nmn-yty ★ 6.07.2024

[aerynwrites]

Familiarity

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Reader has reached their breaking point and Simon just happens to be in the right place at the right time. Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: **PLEASE READ ALL TAGS!!!** Descriptions of Suicidal thoughts, ideation, and attempted Suicide!!! Thwarted suicide attempt, hurt/comfort, this really is just a coping piece, no romance, tiny bit of fluff at the end kinda. A/N: if you are struggling with thoughts like these please reach out to somone (988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline). The anniversary of a friends passing occurred recently and I was having a harder time with it than usual. this popped into my head and wouldn't leave. I wish someone had been there for them in that moment. If you are struggling with thoughts like these please reach out to someone. there is ALWAYS someone who cares and will miss you. You are loved. You matter. And someones life won't be the same without you.

It’s cold. Colder than you were expecting it to be tonight, but maybe that would make it easier. you heard somewhere once that the cold water would shock the body and make you breathe in and then…

You shiver despite the winter jacket you wear, the only thing grounding you in this moment the paint flecking off beneath your fingers of the decrepit metal bridge, the cold seeping into your bones. The rubber soles of your boots squeak softly on the railing beneath them, the water rushing quietly a few hundred feet below. It had just rained for almost a week straight, the river is higher than normal, the current tumultuous. It would be quick.

You hope.

It’s also more lonely than you expected - as odd as that may sound. In reality you did pick this spot for a reason, not only because you drove by it often, but because it seemed desolated. Less likely for someone to roll up on you in this precarious moment. But you thought there might be birds singing or crickets chirping or…something except your own screaming thoughts and the breath catching in your throat.

Your eyes drift upwards, away from the watery tomb that lies in your future, out to your shitty car parked in the tiny gravel lot by the start of the bridge. You can see the faint white outline of the envelope you left behind sitting on the dash. You didn’t want anyone wasting resources on searching for you, so you left a note behind - and to maybe give closure to anyone who might care.

The cold air sears your lungs as you take a deep breath, knees quaking beauty you as you let it out again, lifting one foot from the railing to lean ever so slightly forward…

——

He couldn’t sleep. Again.

He’s used to that, used to the nightmares and the evil thoughts that taunt him in the early waking hours. But ever since Johnny…they’ve been worse - they never stop and they’re louder. This time he woke up in a cold sweat, Johnny’s voice echoing in his head, a scream he never really let out before he…

Simon clenches the steering wheel tighter, the leather of his gloves creaking with the strength of it.

He’s never taken this route before, but he needs to get away, needs the distraction of discovering and then trying to find his way back. Left, right, straight, left again, go through the stop sign and then…

A bridge.

One he’s never seen before, and on any other night, one he would’ve driven right past if it weren’t for the silhouette his headlights illuminate on the bridge as he turns on the road to pass it. He notices the car next, and tiny little alarm bells go off in his head. And, shamefully, a louder voice just tells him to move on this isn’t his business and he just needs to leave-

He parks his truck beside the car. Gravel crunching under his boots as he exits. His training kicks in without his approval, the part of him that has been taught to observe and gather information. It’s what makes him glance at the interior of the older model sedan, and at first there’s nothing unusual. Trash in the floorboard, mostly fast-food wrappers and…empty pharmacy bags. Articles of clothing tossed in the back seat, multiple old air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror. What strikes him as odd, however, is the handbag abandoned in the passenger seat, cellphone lying next to it, and the white envelope sitting on the dashboard addressed to ‘whom it may concern’ written in shaky script.

His feet carry him towards the bridge before he can think better of it, and the moment he sees the person standing on the railing of the bridge, he feels an almost impercebtible tug in his chest.

Familiarity.

It calls to him, an old friend. The grief, the pain, the anguish, the shame - all of it so consuming and all of it so familiar he can’t stop himself from approaching you. And as he watches your chest heave with a deep breath and your foot lift off the railing as you lean forward, that stupid tug is what makes him call out to you.

“A little cold out for a swim ain’t it?”

———

The voice shocks you, startles you so severely you can’t stop the yelp that slips from your throat as your foot slams back down on the railing, hand scrabbling for purchase against the rusty support beam. You jerk your head to the right to look at the intruder, eyes widening when they fall upon an absolute hulk of a man standing just mere feet from you. His hands are tucked casually into the pockets of his hoodie, stance easy - as if he didn’t just interrupt the most tragic moment of your life-

“What the fuck are you doing?” You practically hiss, indignation bubbling up inside you.

You can’t even manage to kill yourself without something going wrong.

The man shrugs, “Could ask you the same thing.”

He takes a step forward and you bristle, leaning away from him and further towards the water below.

“D-don’t come any closer!” You call, voice shaking despite your best efforts. “I’ll jump. You can’t…you can’t stop me.”

The man just shrugs again, pulling a small carton from the pocket of his hoodie, followed shortly by a lighter. He pulls a cigarette from the box placing it between his lips before lighting it, taking a deep drag before looking up at you again.

“Never said I was tryin’ to stop you,” he says simply, stepping closer to the railing when you don’t protest.

Confusion swims in your belly, heart thundering from the surprise but starting to calm down as the stranger finally comes close enough to lean against the railing you stand on, casting his gaze out over the inky black river.

You finally work up the courage to speak again.

“Then…why are you here?”

The man huffs out a laugh, a bitter dark sounding thing before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Couldn’t sleep, needed to clear ‘m head.”

You give a snort of your own, disbelief clogging your mind.

“And you just so happened to come across the person trying to dig her own grave,” you laugh this time, a real one. “What are the fucking odds.”

“Well,” he replies slowly. “You wouldn’t really be diggin’…swimming maybe-”

You scoff again, looking over at him in complete surprise. “You…was that supposed to be a joke?”

You swear you see his lips twitch up in a smile.

“Somethin’ like that.”

Your irritation comes back slightly as your lips tilt downwards. You want to snap at him, tell him to fuck off, to go away and just let you do this in peace - but something stops you. Fear maybe. Curiosity. you’re not sure what it is exactly but it implores you to ask -

“Nightmares?”

More paint chips away beneath your nails, falling down into the waters below, your eyes following its descent. You see the man nod in your peripheral.

“Get ‘em every night…but tonight was worse.”

It falls silent again as his words hang in the air, and neither of you say anything for a long while. You stand there still contemplating your demise and the stranger finishes his cigarette before flicking the butt of it away over the railing.

“I get it you know,” he says finally, voice softer than it has been so far, gentler.

You look at him, brows pinched in confusion, and he gestures to you then the water.

“I get it,” he reiterates, lips pinched in a thin line.

His words earn another scoff from you, and that bitter pit in your chest grows blacker. Darker.

Here we go, you think. Another good samaritan trying to tell you that you have so much to live for. Don’t do it. It will get better. Just look on the bright side.

You shake your head, looking back out over the water.

“I highly doubt it,” you say bitterly, eyes starting to burn with unshed tears that threaten to betray you.

The man shrugs and leans heavier on the railing. “Can’t doubt what you don’t know,” he trails off for a moment. “You wanna talk ‘bout it?”

You shake your head, eyes clenching shut when you feel the tears fall.

Goddammit, not now…

But before you can stop it, words come spilling from your lips, like a waterfall that never ends. All of your woes, your anger, your grief, your sadness, the demons that haunt you both awake and asleep. The perceived failures that never end, the never-ending hopelessness and seems to stretch out before you like a yawning cavern.

All of it.

And he listens.

You don’t even know how long you go on for, voice shaking, tears dripping from your chin, knees quaking beneath you as you dump all of this on some stranger who just happened upon you, until you finally stop, taking a deep shuddering breath and facing the water again.

“I just want it all to be over,” you finally whisper. “I’m so tired.”

The man nods, standing a little straighter now.

“My best friend was shot right in front of me,” he says softly, his own eyes now distant when you look at him.

“We’re military - comes with the territory. But he…” he takes a shaky breath of his own, “Johnny was different.”

A beat of silence.

“I went through all the same shit. Ended up in the same place you are,” he gestures to you, “but instead of a bridge I wanted a bullet. Got plastered, was just about to go through with it when I some how managed to get on the phone with my Captain…” he lets out a sigh that sounds so world weary you feel it in your very bones.

“He talked me down. Helped me get things back on track - as on track as they could be without Johnny.”

He looks to you then, and for the first time since he approached you tonight’s you’re able to see the color of his eyes. They’re brown - a deep dark brown that’s more expressive than you were anticipating.

You study him for a moment longer.

“Is that what you’re here to do? Talk me down?”

The man shakes his head, the movement allowing the light to illuminate the scar that runs from his eyebrow down to his upper lip. Yet another thing you missed.

“No. Don’t need to,” he says casually. “You were never going to jump.”

Indignation flares its ugly head again, but it’s quickly tempered by the confusion bubbling in your belly.

“What…how could you possibly know that? I was going to do it.”

The man shakes his head again, this time turning to face you fully.

“If you were going to do it, you would’ve done it the minute I walked up to you. Now-”

He reaches out a scarred hand, and you see the barest hint of black ink peaking out from beneath his sleeve.

“Let’s get you down from there.”

You hesitate, eyes trailing back to the water rushing beneath you before trailing back to this strange man on the bridge. You could jump, you could do it right now and he wouldn’t get to you in time.

So you turn.

And his hand is surprisingly warm, soft even. Despite the scars and calloused palms. His hand cradles yours so delicately as he helps you down from the railing, his other hand reaching out to grip your waist to ease your descent.

“That’s it.”

Shame washes over you the moment your feet touch solid ground, and the man must senses it, because a firm hand settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry-”

“None of that,” he chastises lightly, shaking his head. “Y’got nothing to be sorry for.”

You can only nod, eyes trailing slowly up from the ground to finally look at him face to face. To some people he might seem scary or intimidating - what with his tall stature and the scars on his face or even his demeanor. But to you, right now, all you can sense is solidarity - a warmth. An understanding you haven’t felt in a long time.

So, before you can really think about what you’re doing you’re leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

He seems surprised by the act, his entire body going stiff beneath your own. But just when you move to pull away, a pair of arms wraps around you in kind. The hug is longer than usual, but it would appear that both of you needed it. And when you do pull away, neither of you step much further apart.

“What’s your name?” You ask, breaking the silence that had fallen over both of you.

He thinks for a moment, as if hesitant to reveal more of himself to you than he already has.

So you extend an olive branch in the form of your own name and watch as his shoulder sag ever so slightly before he answers your question.

“Simon.”

You can only nod, and soon a silence falls over you both once again. This one a bit more tense than the others.

What do you do now? There’s no rulebook for this - not step by step; what to do when someone stops you from jumping off a bridge. There’s so much you want to say, but your thoughts are a jumbled confused mess and now you feel foolish and-

“There’s a spot up the road a ways that opens early,” Simon says, interrupting your thoughts. “I could use a bite. You in?”

The invitation startles you. It’s so casual, so…normal, in the face of what just transpired that you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips at the absurdity of it all. But then you fumble for your phone before remembering you left it in the car.

“Early? What time is it?”

Simon turns a muscled forearm over, tugging at his hoodie sleeve to peak at his watch.

“A little past four a.m.”

You suck in a breath, shock coloring your features. You got to the bridge at midnight. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed…

A gentle pat on your shoulder pulls you back to the moment as Simon turns to start walking back to the small gravel lot.

“Come on,” he says, leaving no room for refusal, “They have good pancakes. Johnny-” you watch as his steps falter slightly before he continues.

“Johnny always raved about them,” he turns back to look at you then. “My treat.”

You manage to send him another small smile, nodding.

“Can’t exactly turn down a free meal, now can I?”

Simon lets out a chuckle, so soft you might have missed it if it wasn’t so quiet out.

“You’d be the first.”

Neither of you say much on the short journey back to your parked cars. Only when you get there, Simon gives you the name of the restaurant to plug into your GPS before turning to walk to his truck.

Your car door squeaks loudly when you open it, and you slide into the drivers seat. Moving to close the door, you pause - the small white envelope catching your eye.

Reaching for it, you take it in hand and eye the shaky writing on the front. Instinctively you want to shove it in your purse, that tiny voice in the back of your head telling you that you’d need it again one day. But another voice, a new one - rough and gravelly with a Manchester accent is just a little bit louder and before you can think twice your out of the car and walking back toward the bridge.

You hear slightly hurried footsteps behind you, and you can picture Simon slightly panicked thinking your rushing back to finish the job. But you stop at the railing, white envelope crushed between your fingers as you look back out over the dark water.

The footsteps behind you stop, assessing, waiting for your next move.

So, with one last glance at the paper in your hands, you take a deep breath and rip in half. Then rip it in half again and again and again - until nothing but tiny scraps remain. The flat between your fingers like sand, falling down, down to the waters below in a manmade snowfall, the wind picking up and carrying pieces away until you can no longer see any evidence of the object at all.

You turn, and Simon is smiling - a real smile.

“Come on,” you say, walking towards him and your parked cars once again. “I want some pancakes.”

And as you both walk together, his shoulder brushing your own…You can’t help but feel just a little bit lighter.

A little less alone.

[vocabulary-altering-posts]

Pinned

gimmick blog for cataloging posts (videos, images, texts, whatever) that have altered your vocabulary in some way. adding a word or phrase, obliterating the tumblr linguistic biosphere, etc. you can nominate posts by tagging or asking if you want to. (if u dont send a link in an ask, i'm probably not going to go looking for the post, but i might keep an eye out.)

whether or not i reblog a tagged post is up to my discretion. if it's one i haven't seen before but that i can easily picture Changing Something, it gets added. specific fandom references probably won't make the cut unless they're truly groundbreaking (such as miku binder thomas jefferson).

#outside nomination - someone else sent this in

#personal nomination - this one came across my dash, or i sought it out, or it was on my hit list and someone sent it to me

more info below the cut

other tags include #phrases, #words, and #characters. phrases and words are probably self-explanatory but for characters it's for when a person or other entity is made up and tumblr latches onto them/it for fun, such as cousin throckmorton or goncharov.

#bonus hit is for posts that permanently changed the way people talk on this side or stuff that is still being referenced years later. #combo hit is for if the entire post (multiple words/phrases/whatever) is insane enough to be referenced or thought about for years. if the entire post is one sentence or sentences that are unrelated to each other it doesn't get the combo hit tag because that is, by definition, not a combo.

main blog is nickel-alloy so youll occasionally see me reblogging posts from there if the source of the linguistic injection cannot be reblogged from for one reason or another. if i reblog from you it's likely that yours was the most recent clean reblog i could find without doing too much scrubbing.

yes i have autism. pronouns are he/they or something

cinnamon roll too good for this world, too pure (biosphere alteration)

HIT LISTS OF POSTS THAT ARE GOING ON THIS BLOG (as soon as i find them again):

the friendful visitor (arguable biosphere alteration)

okay <3 yay <3 (arguable biosphere alteration)

death is coming. Death is coming. pass me a hot dog (i personally think about it from time to time)

the grink (funny and true)

[hotchscoffeecup]

pillow talk

pairing: javier peña x DEA!reader

word count: 3.2k

tags: thunderstorms, there was only one bed, fluff no smut, near car accident, no y/n

summary: when a severe storm causes you and javier to have to stop off at a motel for the night, a game of two truths and lie as you both struggle to fall asleep reveals some hidden feelings for one another.

incredibly huge shoutout to @bau-muffin for always beta-ing my fics and encouraging me. i hope you all enjoy! this fic is open ended, so if you’d like to see a part 2, let me know in the comments!

You jolt awake gasping, reaching out a hand to steady yourself. It takes all of five seconds to grasp your surroundings and remember you’re still in this fucking car.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, princess,” Javier grumbles from beside you in the driver’s seat. His knuckles are clenched around the steering wheel and his back is rigid, muscles stiff as he focuses on the road as rain slams down against the windshield.

You swipe your hair back with one hand and rub your temples as you lean forward and peer out the window. “Jesus Christ, it’s really coming down.”

“Yeah, no shit. Thought I was going to have to check your pulse here in minute sleeping through the end of the fucking world like that.”

“Someone needs a cigarette,” you mumble under your breath.

“You’re telling me,” he says, eyes not once leaving the uneven pavement.

Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating everything for a split second and you don’t miss the way the trees bend under the force of the wind.

“How long do you think this will last?”

Javier shakes his head. “Fuck if I know. It hasn’t let up in the last hour, so I doubt anytime soon.”

Thunder explodes like cannon fire and another streak of lighting crackles in violently jagged patterns. There’s a crack, like a whip, and you barely scream out Javi’s name in time for him to jerk the wheel to the left and avoid the massive tree as it falls into the road.

The wheels screech as Javi veers off the road and slams on the breaks. You lurch forward and feel your heart hammer so hard against your chest you’re certain that it will shatter your ribcage.

Blood pounds in your ears and you look down to find an arm stretched across your chest. In slow motion, you process the arm as Javi’s and turn to look at him and his eyes, shining in the dim light and full of concern.

“Are you alright?” he asks, clearly shaken as well.

It takes you a second to find your voice, but you clear your throat and nod. Javi nods curtly and glances down at his arm across your chest. He quickly pulls his arm away and drops into his lap. “Sorry, reflexes.”

Rain continues to slam down diagonally in torrential sheets.You strain your eyes to try and see through the downpour, but even with the windshield wipers continuing to swipe at their highest speed it’s difficult to see anything.

“How about we pull off at the next town and grab a room at whatever hostel or motel they’ve got?”

Javier reaches up and jabs the overhead light. He yanks the crinkled map down from the dash and glances between it and the clock. “We’re only three hours from Bogotá. The ambassador wanted us back for the briefing at 9am.”

You glance at the clock on the dash and in the dim light, make out the time: 3:19AM.

“Javi, the only reason we’re driving from Medellín to Bogotá in the first place is because all flights were grounded on account of this incoming storm. What the ambassador should’ve done is just push everything until we were in the clear.”

Javier chuckles wryly and tosses the map back onto the dashboard. “Something tells me the President of Colombia wouldn’t appreciate being told to wait on account of two DEA agents because there’s a storm in Medellín.”

You heave a sigh and lean back into your seat with your arms folded across your chest. “He would if we had any new intel actually worth sharing.”

“Yeah, well we don’t, so—”

“So, then we should just stop for the night! The briefing will happen with or without us. We don’t have anything new to share anyway. The ambassador doesn’t give a shit that we have to drive for ten hours. He’ll bitch at us for following what ended up being a bogus lead. Basically, we get our wrist slapped in front of the president or we get our wrist slapped without an audience. Frankly, I like the latter.”

Javier drops his head back against the headrest and holds up a hand to silence you. “Okay, okay! Stop the lecture, please! We’ll stop.”

Your lips quirk into a smug smirk and you have to admit that you feel quite satisfied with yourself. “Damn, Javi, you fold easier than expected. I thought I was going to have to beg.”

Javier huffs and inclines his head as he shifts the car into drive and pulls back on to the road. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

•

“Goddamn, could you open that door any slower?” You stretch your jacket up over your head as the short awning extending over the perimeter of the motel does little to keep you dry in the face of the rain pelting sideways across the building.

With a grunt of effort, Javier turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open. You stumble in after him, nearly tripping over his heels in your rush to escape the rain.

A shiver rushes down your spine as the chill from your damp clothes settles into your bones. You shrug out of your rain jacket and rub your hands up and down your arms as Javier dropped your two duffel bags by the door with a heavy thud.

He slaps at the wall for the switch and a single bedside lamp flickers to life, illuminating only half of the room in a dull yellow glow.

“Hey, Jav.?”

He doesn’t turn as he kicks out of his boots by the door to avoid tracking any mud into the room. “Hmm?”

“There’s only one bed.”

Javier turns, looks at the bed, then looks at you, and shrugs. “Astute observation there, agent. There is indeed one bed, that’s correct.”

You aim a dagger sharp look at him and he smirks. He swipes a thumb across his lips and scratches at the few days of stubble on his jaw. “You’re not going to find many double bed lodgings this far out from the capital. It was this or nothing.” He shrugs out of his rain-slicked leather jacket and tosses it over the small table that was meant to serve as a dining area. “Listen, if you’re really that uncomfortable I can sleep on the chair,” he says nodding towards the worn lounger in the corner.

You stare at him for a little while longer and roll your eyes, relenting as you release the tension in your shoulders. He’d been driving for hours without complaint. It would be unfair of you to ask him to sacrifice even more tonight. “No, we can share the damn bad.” You point at him with steely determination, “Just remember I have a gun.”

He chuckles low in his throat as you dip past him and scoop your bag off the floor. “We have the same gun.” As you duck into the bathroom to wash your face and change clothes, you hear him laugh again softly to himself.

When you emerge from the bathroom in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top you don’t miss the way Javier’s eyes glance over your figure. He’s already in bed, shirt off, and lower body hidden under the faded floral quilt.

“Peña I swear to God, you better have pants on under there.”

He lifts an eyebrow and then pulls the covers back, revealing a pair of loose gray sweatpants. He inclines his head towards you as he pulls the blanket back over himself. “I was torn between Hello Kitty and Mickey Mouse for the sort of pajamas you’d have.”

You ignore his comment and climb into bed beside him, realizing just how small a queen sized bed can actually feel.

“Come on,” he says, voice laced with amusement. “I’ve got some pajamas with Tweety Bird on them back home. Flannel just doesn’t do a whole lot down here in Colombia.”

You stifle a laugh picturing hard edged Javier Peña in Tweety Bird patterned anything.

“Come on, what do you usually wear to bed back in D.C.?”

You roll over abruptly, catching Javier off guard. You look him in the eyes, offer a coy smile, and say, “Nothing.”

His stunned silence is so loud as you turn around and settle into the pillows with your arm tucked under your head. You smile to yourself as Javier clicks off the bedside lamp and for a while all you hear is the rain slamming against the tin roof.

You close your eyes and just as you feel like you’re about to drift off, Javier says your name, breaking the quiet stillness that had settled over the two of you.

“Go to sleep, Peña,” you mumble against the crook of your elbow.

The mattress shifts as he rolls onto his side. “Can’t.”

“Try.”

“I did.”

“Try harder.”

“Think I’m still coming down off the adrenaline rush of nearly getting crushed by a falling tree.”

You groan and turn over to face him. A lazy smile hangs on his lips and you feel an extremely strong urge to punch him, but also, with the way the dim light streaming in through the slit in the curtains illuminates the shine in his eyes, you can’t help but soften a touch.

“Jav, you’ve been in a firefight with how many sicarios? We’ve come back from a bust and I’ve seen you fall asleep at your desk without even realizing it.”

He blows out a breath and falls back onto the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. He breathes out a short laugh. “Yeah, I have done that, haven’t I?”

You prop yourself up on your elbow and rest your head in your hand. “Is something on your mind?”

He makes a disapproving sound and waves a hand in the air before letting it drop back to the mattress. “There’s always something on my mind, but I don’t want to keep you up. We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover before the ambassador hands our asses to us for missing the briefing.”

“Well, then, we’ve got time to sleep in. Tell me.”

He clicks his tongue, again, trying to avoid whatever it is that’s eating at him. “Same shit, different day. Every lead turns out to be a wall. More people end up dead. Escobar remains out of reach.”

You press your lips together, nodding in understanding. You reach out with your other hand and place it over his, folding your fingers around his palm and offering it a comforting squeeze. “At least we’ve got each other through the bullshit.”

Javier tilts his back into the pillow, shifting his eyes to look up at you. “Careful, there, someone might actually think you like me.”

His words strike an uncomfortably awkward chord in you and you feel your face flush. Your brow pinches. “Of course I like you, dumbass. You’re my partner.”

He strokes his thumb across the space between your thumb and forefinger and you tense before withdrawing your hand and falling back onto your pillow so that you’re also looking up at the ceiling.

Javi is the first to break the silence. “Hey, I’m sorry—”

“And Steve!” you blurt.

“What?” Javi questions, brow pinched.

“Steve is also our partner.” Oh my God, would you just shut the fuck up and stop rambling? Why are you short circuiting over a fucking thumb stroke? You were just being nice, friendly.

With your coworker.

Who was shirtless.

In bed with you.

Right next to you.

Your skin tingles where his thumb brushed against the top of your hand.

“Right,” Javier says, drawing out the T.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan internally. Before your internal dialogue can take over and embarrass yourself further, Javier speaks up.

“Do you want to play a game?”

The question is so unexpected, it abruptly halts the runaway train inside your brain.

You tilt your head to look at him. “What?”

He nods as if that’s exactly the right thing to ask at 4:30 in the morning. “Two truths and a lie, you ever played it?”

You scoff, but smile all the same. “Not since high school.”

He smiles. “Good, so you remember the rules then. I’ll go first.” He clasps his fingers together in front him, steepling his thumb and forefingers as he takes a moment to think. After a moment, he perks up. “Got it, okay, so, I broke my collarbone falling off a roof, I played football in high school, and in the same year asked a girl out in front of the whole cafeteria with a dozen roses and everything, the whole nine yards, and she rejected me.”

You can’t help the hiss of air that flows through your teeth. “The last one has to be true,” you say. “Seems like a pivotal event in the life and times of heartbreaker, Javier Peña. I’m going to say that it's definitely true.” You pause, thinking. “Men love talking about their glory days, so I think I’d have heard you mention being a football player at some point or another. I think you’re foolish enough to be me up on some roof you shouldn’t be, so falling off and breaking your collarbone sounds plausible.” You pop your lips as you make your decision. “Football. You never played it.”

Javier grins beside you. “Running back.”

“No shit.”

He nods, “I was a scrappy kid who could run fast and run hard.”

“No wonder you love a foot pursuit, then. Alright,” you start, turning over and propping your head up in your hand. “What was the lie?”

“I only had one rose.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Of course you did.”

He sits up, propping the pillow up behind him and leaning against the headboard. “Maybe if I’d had the whole dozen, she’d have said yes.” He taps your forearm with the backs of his knuckles. “Your turn, go ahead.”

It doesn’t take you long to come up with your responses. “Okay, I have seen the Red Hot Chili Peppers in concert three times, I was a competitive dancer, my favorite flowers are roses.”

Javier’s eyes brighten. “Roses. That’s the lie.”

You baulk at his quickness. “How do you know?”

“I’ve seen your CD collection at your apartment. You have every Chili Peppers album.” He pauses and looks you up and down, though most of your body is concealed by the quilt. “Have you seen your legs? Of course you were a dancer.”

You blush and hope he doesn’t notice in the dim light.

“Plus, I know for a fact your favorite flowers are carnations.”

You turn sharp eyes on him. “How do you know that?”

He shrugs, “Overheard you talking to Steve when he was thinking about what sort of flowers to get Connie after that big fight they had. You got all doe-eyed and said something about how sweet carnations are.”

“I do not get doe-eyed,” you insist and playfully slap Javi on the arm.

He nods, chuckling. “Oh, you do.”

You wave him off. “Alright, fine. You got me. I love carnations. Your turn, go on.”

Javier swipes his thumb across his lip. “Got it.”

You give him the floor. “Lay it on me.”

“My partner has feelings for me.”

Your heart stills in your chest.

“I might have feelings for my partner.”

Incredible heat rushes to your cheeks.

“I can breathe underwater.”

Your eyes drop to his chest, flickering across the skin of his neck and shoulders as if there’ll be some sort of answer spelled out there amid the smattering of freckles and moles dotting his skin.

Javier looks at you from beneath his lashes, drawing your attention back to his soft, brown eyes. “If you’re looking for gills, you won’t find any.”

“I—” you start and stop. “We should really go to bed.”

You move to turn away from him, but his fingers find your shoulder and the way your name sounds on his tongue is nothing but genuine. A few beats of silence pass between you before he says your name again and you close your eyes.

“Javier,” you breathe out on a sigh.

“No, don’t say my name like that. Like you don’t feel it too.”

You open your eyes and find his are still focused on yours. His pupils dart back and forth across your face, irises flickering in the cool darkness of the room.

“Jav, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just caught up in—” you gesture between the closeness of your bodies and the room. “All of this, what’s happened tonight. It's an infatuation you’re feeling, nothing more.”

“You think I’d fight with the colonel to ground Steve and let me go on this wild goose chase of an operation if I was only infatuated with you?”

You blink hard, thoughts clearing. “What?”

“It was supposed to be Murphy on this with you, not me. They wanted me to follow a tip we got on La Quica.

Your eyes widen, “But you’ve been on his trail for months!”

Javier presses his lips together and nods as he waits for the realization to dawn on you.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Javier echoes.

The space between you narrows and for a while, the only sound is the rain against the tin roof and rumbling of thunder in the distance.

You finally break the silence and speak up, smiling sheepishly. “You, uh, sure you’re not hiding any gills from me, Javi?”

He cracks a half-smile and inclines his head towards himself. “You're welcome to take a look for yourself.”

You laugh, a little uncomfortably and a little unsure of what to do now. You drop your chin to your chest and before you can say anything else, Javier clasps your face in one of his hands, thumb caressing your jawline, and draws you in to press his lips against yours.

You freeze, but only for one stunned moment before you return the gesture. He tastes like mint and menthols and his mustache tickles the skin above your lips as he deepens the kiss.

A moan escapes your lips into his open mouth and you break away, breathing hard. You rest your forehead against his and don’t even remember when you’d looped your arm around his neck. You brush your fingers against the skin of his throat where your hand curls around the back of his neck and swallow hard. “Javi, we ca—”

He kisses you, stifling the words as they form. “Don’t,” he whispers, a quiet plea. He swipes his thumb across your cheek. “Don’t say anything, not now at least.”

He does something then that surprises you. He kisses your forehead, the space right above your brow. “It’s all out in the open now. Think about it. Just don’t,” He pauses, and you’re stunned by how shy he suddenly looks. “Just think about it, okay?”

Unable to think of anything else to say, you can only nod. “I will.”

Javier smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good, let’s try to sleep some, huh? The road to Bogotá isn’t going to get any shorter.”

You stare at his back as he turns over and settles down onto the pillow, concentrating on a mole on his shoulder. After a couple seconds longer, you turn so that your back is to his. And though you’ve never been closer to him, you can’t help but feel like some incredibly wide chasm has opened up in the space between you.

You just have to figure out if you’re brave enough to take the leap.

[whateveriwant]

Dressing the 141 up in a couples Halloween costume

Price

Is initially pretty lukewarm to the idea because he thinks he's too old to dress up for Halloween :(((

But with just the right amount of convincing + puppy dog eyes from you, he'll eventually go along with it

However, he's adamant that he's not going to shave. So you either have to give him a bearded character or resign yourself to seeing a mustachioed fairy

In the end, you think he makes quite a dashing Captain Hook (move over Jason Isaacs, there's a new captain in town)

If it's a party you're dressing up for, he'll go and have a great time (i.e. get absolutely sloshed and terrorize people with the fake hook)

Gaz

Is suuuuuuper into Halloween because it's his favorite holiday

He goes all out every year. Like, all out. Like, we're talking planning 6+ months in advance levels of obsession

In fact, you're not even the one who brings up the idea of doing a couples costume. He does, and he already has a theme in mind: Star Wars

He has a hyper-detailed Han Solo costume ready to go, complete with the blaster and boots and everything (yes, he made it himself, and yes, he's very proud of it)

You'll end up being 45 minutes late to the party because he won't stop taking pictures of you two posing in your outfits

Soap

Isn't opposed to the idea of dressing up, but there's a slight problem… He's already promised someone else that he'll match with them

You're like ??? when he tells you that, but end up chuckling once you learn who said person is: his four year old niece

He's the gallant knight to her glittery princess, and he's planning on taking his role very seriously

But he'll feel bad for leaving you hanging, so he'll run to the store and buy a pair of wings and a tail so you can tag along as a dragon or smth

You'll end up skipping the party so you can go trick-or-treating with them, and have much more fun that way anyway

Ghost

Is by far the least on board with the idea

He vehemently wants nothing to do with it – the party, the dressing up, nada

It'll take so much begging and bartering on your part to get him to finally cave in (the specifics of what you offer him, I'll leave up to your imagination ;))

No matter what costume you choose for him, he's gonna be snarky about it

"How the hell 'm I supposed to see with this bloody triangle on my head?" "It's a pyramid, Si." "Tha's what I said."

He'll stay at the party until he thinks you're satisfied with his attendance, and then he's Irish goodbye-ing it out of there without a second thought

Bonus - Full squad costume

If you're somehow able to convince the whole squad to dress up together, there's only one theme I see them doing: the Hundred Acre Woods

Price would be Kanga because there's no one else that accurately emits that fatherly motherly aura

Gaz would joke that he's going as Roo to accompany Price, but will change it last second and show up as Piglet

Soap would bounce on Tigger before anyone else could claim him (he's sooo Tigger-coded, I can't explain, he just is)

And lastly, for Ghost, I can think of no better fit than the king of brooding himself: Eeyore <3

[punkitt-is-here]

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Heyo! I get a TON of asks each day, so I'm making this post so that folks know what's already been asked so my followers don't have to see the same stuff over and over, haha.

Hi! I'm Punkitt! I'm a game developer, artist, editor, director, and a bunch of other stuff! I'm working on an RPG called Astral Guard, a platformer called Susan Taxpayer, and I have a couple more fun projects in my pocket like Happup and Super Mario Death Row.

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YES jesus fucking christ i get told this every day. if u send me a message in my inbox saying i look like weird al im killing you with like wizard spells and shit.

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ye i like hats. :) free tumblr badges for one pea i like one piece and took as many as i could. free.

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Great question! Everything I make that's my own and not a reblog is under "my posts", every bit of art I do is under "my art", any game development I do is under "gamedev", you can find all my MLP art under "mlp, my art" or "horsecomix" for the best stuff. I also have an "animations" tag and a "shitposts" tab. I also properly tag all my asks to be asks and write out the asker's name, so if you don't wanna see those just mute the ask tag.

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I do have a ko-fi here! I also JUST launched a Patreon, which you can find here :)

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I use FireAlpaca and Paint.net for misc. effects!

What are you using to make your games?

I use FireAlpaca do make my assets! Astral Guard, Happup, and any other top-down RPG games I make are all made in RPGMaker 2003. Susan Taxpayer is made in SMBX2 Beta 4, a Mario fangame engine with lua support!

Why are you using a 2-decade-plus engine to make games?

It's fun!

Do you have a sideblog or something for your art?

Not right now! What you see is what you get. I do have a sideblog for Astral Guard though, if you want to follow that game specifically! @astral-guard

Can I make an OC based on your work?

ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!! THATS THE COOLEST THING EVER!!!! LET ME KNOW IF YOU DO!!!! I WANNA SEE!!!!

Can I do dubs/redraws of your comics?

As long as you credit me! I get a ton of notifs each day, so if you wanna show me (and PLEASE i so do wanna see fun dubs and redraws!!!) tag me or DM me!

Are you the one who trapped her coworkers in a room and made them listen to TF2 lore?

Can I use your art as a PFP?

Sure! Just credit me somewhere. :D

Yep! Everyone had a blast actually. :]

Did you make that comic where Fluttershy eats the weed brownie/Rainbow Dash has a male living space/someone has a cutie mark that says they'll kill Ronald Reagan?

Yep! That's me.

Where are you in MLP right now?

Currently just finished Season 7! Haven't watched the movie yet.

Have you watched Equestria Girls?

Yep! Thought it was super cute. I watched up to Rainbow Rocks and plan on watching more.

What's your opinion on MLP so far?

I love it! I think it's cute. I really don't agree that there was some sort of huge quality drop after season 2 or whatever.

What do you think of G5?

Not my style! I don't really like either animation types and it just seems like I'm not in the audience anymore. That's totally chill, but it just doesn't grab me!

Have you watched any other MLP stuff from previous generations?

Nope! But I did see a compilation called Minty Being Autistic for Six Minutes Straight that I loved. she's perfect.

Favorite pony?

Don't got one, I love all the Mane Six a LOT, but I'm particularly fond of Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rarity!

Favorite episode/season?

I'm so bad at picking favorites! But any season past Season 1 I have a blast with because I feel like it's just more my style. I don't have a favorite episode, but the most recent one I can remember LOVING is the one where Starlight bottles up her emotions because it was REALLY funny.

Do you like Pony.mov?

Nope! And stop saying my stuff reminds you of it, it's a lil annoying!

Have you watched the Mentally Advanced Series/Friendship is Witchcraft/Other fandom vids?

Probably not! My interaction with the MLP fandom prior to last year was pretty minimal, so I'm making my way through the show first!

What do you think of Fallout: Equestria?

I think it's super weird but really fun because of that. I've never properly read any of it but it's very fascinating to me.

Are you transgender?

Yep! I go by she/her, I'm a trans woman. Have been for many years, but I only recently came out online!

Are you a lesbian?

Nah, I'm bisexual!

Can I commission you?

Yeah! I only have my commissions available on my Ko-Fi at certain times though, so keep an eye out! I usually announce slots being open at least 12 hours beforehand. Slots are usually first come first serve, but we'll see.

Can I use your art as a Discord emote?

Yeah man i'm not scouring every discord on the planet to find stickers of my work. i think it owns if people take my stuff and make it stupid injoke emotes between friends that makes me very happy.

Can I send you an ask inquiring about gender dysphoria?

I feel like this is beyond my capabilities of advice! I'm actually very comfortable with my body and I have been for many years, so I don't know if I can give any good or helpful advice on that front. Apologies, but there are many resources out there where you can ask about those things if you look for them, like Discord channels!

Favorite Color?

I'm a sucker for blue!

Favorite coffee?

Can't drink coffee, my stomach is cringe.

Favorite tea?

I'm lame and can't drink most tea but I love this one orange-flavored tea a lot. I also LOVE ice tea.

Can I say you're horsegender/punkittgender/a little gender goblin void thing?

Well, I can't stop you, but I'm kind of beyond that phase now! I really am a boring ol' plain she/her girl, and I like it that way. It's not much, but it's honest gender.

What's your favorite game series?

Mother, Kingdom Hearts, Mario, and I USED to say Fallout, but I found out I'm really only a big Fallout New Vegas fan.

Favorite game from those?

Mother 3 is one of my fave games of all time! I love KHII, and I'm tied for SMB3 and SMW. Also Fallout New Vegas fucks hard.

Any other favs?

Bug Fables, SLARPG, and TF2!

Favorite Movie?

Everything Everywhere All At Once, no question.

Oh, are you going to college?

Yep! I'm a film/theater major.

Do you have a YouTube channel?

Yeah! Click right here for it, I stream there and upload footage of my games/animations/my film projects + other stuff.

What is that little orange creature I see?

That's bweenop, my little persona that I use when I'm feeling a little scrunkly.

Do you have a ponysona?

Yep! Her name is Star Magnolia, you can search her on the blog to see art of her.

When will Susan Taxpayer/Astral Guard/etc. be out?

No clue! I take things slow, that's just how I am.

How do you work on so many things at once?

I make small, satisfying amounts of progress! I never try to complete one giant thing all at once, I just like doing small bursts of fun stuff. I got ADHD, so I learn to work with it.

Did you know you look like Weird Al?

Im going to run you over with a clown car watch out

WHY do you work on so many things at once?

Fun! I like learning, I like making cool stuff, and I like showing it to people :)

Do you need any help with your projects?

Potentially! I'll probably put out a post asking for help if I need it.

If you could be a horse, would you?

You kidding me? Several ton beasts with the frailty of a sickly Victorian boy; my clumsy ass would never survive.

Are you some sort of...furry?

yeag

Why do you reblog so much?

Brother I LOVE posting. that's just how it is.

Fav music artists?

It changes literally ALL the time but I will recommend ANYTHING by Vylet Pony, its music is incredible and probably the reason I'm a weird niche microcelebrity now.

Why are you like this?

theater kid + having a lot of fun on the internet makes you a bit silly hehe hoo

SUSAN TAXPAYER QUESTIONS

Is it out?

Not yet! But hopefully sometime in the next year. I dunno! I take things at my own pace and keep stuff fun. :)

What are you using to make it?

SMBX2! It's a free fangame engine for Mario episodes, but it's incredibly versatile and has a wonderful community, so I decided to make Susan Taxpayer in it.

Is there a demo?

You betcha! You can find it right here. I'll also probably put it up on my itch.io.

How do I install it?

I made a post here about how to run the SAGE '23 demo!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Get Lost

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get caught in the corn maze after dark but you don’t think those footsteps belong to someone trying to help you find your way out.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: this is the fifth and final of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Jaden points across the dash, receiving a swat from Alexandria as she tries not to veer. 

“Hey,” she cries out, “don’t do that. I can’t see over your ugly sweater.” 

“Oh, whatever, Lex,” he snips, “I was just trying to show you that.” He points again, this time without blocking her view, “you see that sign ahead?” 

“Sure, I see it,” she leans over the wheel as your nail taps across your phone screen. You huff. You wish they’d stop arguing for one moment. “A maze?” 

“A corn maze. Doesn’t that sound fun? I haven’t been to one since I was a kid.” 

“Of course, you haven’t,” you scoff and let your phone hang carelessly in your hand. “We’ve all seen that movie with the evil kids. Who wants to go running through a field?” 

“I do,” Ashton says, “better than driving around looking for those shoes that don’t exist.” 

His girlfriend, Samira, laughs and leans into him. You blow a raspberry. 

“It’s all the way out in the middle of nowhere,” you sneer. 

“Well, Mrs. Xanny, you never want to do anything so your vote counts for nothing,” Jaden retorts. 

“Excuse me,” you roll your eyes. 

“I’m up for it,” Ashton raises his hand. 

“Me too,” Samira mimics him. 

“Me three,” Jaden declares. “So looks like you two are outvoted.” 

“Whatever,” you mutter and Alexandria sighs. 

“Fine, but nobody better leave me behind. I’m not getting lost because of you idiots,” she growls. 

“Don’t worry, Lexi, I’ll hold your wittle hand,” Jaden teases. 

The others laugh and you go back to your phone. You’re more interested in the new heels at your favourite boutique than some dirty and scarecrows. Alexandria steers on as she continues to snap at Jaden to stop distracting her. Her driving is a lot scarier than anything that might be hiding in the maze. 

You swipe and tap and tune out the world around you, especially the two lovebirds exchanging not so subtle touches beside you. Jaden had to insist on sitting in the front. Finally, the car rolls, the axle jostled by the lumpy ground, and you look up at the gray sky. You hate daylight savings. 

When the wheels are still, you’re reluctant to get out. You could offer to watch the car until they get back. It’s cold and you don’t feel like slogging through soil and seed. 

“Hey, Lex,” you begin. 

“If I’m going, you’re going,” she snips as she undoes her seatbelt. 

You curl your lip and make a face at her back. The others are already out of the car. Jaden’s bouncing eagerly, Ashton’s staring at the gate to the maze, and Samira is draped off her boyfriend’s arm. They probably just want to find a dark corner so they can makeout. They are so high school. 

“Fifteen bucks?” You read the sign above the table, “blech. I could put that towards my hair appointment tomorrow.” 

“Oh, boo hoo,” Jaden snorts. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have the money,” Samira jeers. 

You call these people ‘friends’ lightly. You all just kind of stick together out of familiarity. Most people you’ve met aren’t much better so why risk downgrading. 

You take a step and feel your tall heel sink into the mud. Ew. 

“Oh, my boots,” you whine as you lift your sole, the muck dripping off of it. 

“Wash em after,” Ashton says. 

“These are Louis’,” you snarl. 

“And you have at least three identical pairs at home. Lighten up,” he barks back. 

You cross your arms and seal your lips with a wry smile. You’re not arguing with him. He’s been a jerk ever since you turned him down at his sister’s twenty-fifth. You suppose it was his birthday two, them being twins and all. Not that he looks very much like Alexandria. 

You trod after the four others, trying not to step too deep in the mud. You growl at the ground. You know what’s not dirty, a salon or a store. 

“Nice boots,” a deep voice rolls over you as you join the queue for tickets.  

You lift your head and look over at the man nearby. He steps up next to you as you eye his bristly upper lip. It’s a look, not a good one. 

“Brave girl going in alone,” he comments. 

You frown, “I’m not,” you step closer to your friends and they chatter. 

“Oh, coulda fooled me,” he remarks as he reaches into his jacket. “So, those Louis boots... those are last year’s...” 

“How would you know?” 

He shows the lining of his jacket. Also Louis. He pokes his fingers into the interior pocket and slides out a pack of gum. He pushes out a piece and pops it in his mouth. He tucks the pack back into his pocket and drops his hands to his hip. 

“So,” he chews the gum loudly. “You’re not really dressed for a maze.” 

“And you are?” You scowl, looking him up and down. He copies your posture and does the same to you. 

“I’m not here for the maze, baby girl,” he winks and snaps the gum. “But you have fun.” 

He turns and struts away before you can respond. Your lips open in confusion. What could he mean? You blink and shut your mouth, stepping up between Alexandria and Ashton. 

“So, how long are we going to have to stand around?” You ask. 

🌾

You hold your phone up in irritation. Your bars are totally gone. Great. This maze thing is so fucking boring. What are you supposed to do now? 

You sniff and shake your head. You sigh and put your phone in your jacket pocket, keeping your hand in the fleecy insert as the chill creeps up your leggings. You guess you’ll have to help or whatever. 

“Alex--” you look ahead then back, and side to side. Your heart leaps and you rush forward as fast as you can on your six-inch heels, “Alexandria? Ashton?” You look around the next corner and the opposite way along the other pathway. “Samira?” 

You spin again, your ankles tangling together. You blink as the tall corner adds to the dimness setting over the horizon. You gulp as your heart pounds in your throat. You slip your phone free once more and turn on the flashlight. 

You aim it ahead and listen for voices. You don’t hear much past the dense wall of stalks. As you brush a bit too close, you cry out and back away from the hanging husk. You shake of the crawling sensation and turn back and forth again. You lost your sense of direction. 

You look up at the sky. The clouds are thick, you can see neither moon or sun. You stop and pull your phone closer. You bring up your maps but it’s just a blank screen. Still no signal. 

Fuck it. Just walk, you’ll find the way. 

You shine the light ahead of you, your heels sinking into the mulch of footsteps, husks, and stones. You walk unevenly over the soft ground. You mumble obscenities as your arches start to bemoan the height. If you had known about this special excursion, you could’ve worn your Uggs. 

There’s a scuff, a strange echo of your own steps. You stop but it keeps going. You squint and twirl around, the light glinting off the corner and slicing through shadows. “Hello?” You call out. 

The footsteps continue but no one answers. You can’t tell if they’re ahead of you or behind you. Or to the left. Or right. You sway back and forth. This is getting weird. 

You take a breath and set your feet. You nearly trip as your heels dig in once more. You grunt and pull them out. You’re about to just scream for help. 

A sudden rumble makes you squeal. What the hell was that? You twist around and it happens again. It’s laughter? Someone’s laughing at you? 

You look at the tall stalks of corn, searching between the tight rows. 

“Alright, not very funny. Ashton....” you holler. 

The laughter gets louder. 

“Jaden,” you hiss. 

The laughter stops. 

“I really am not amused, okay? I want out. I never even wanted to do this stupid thing--” 

“Those boys are long gone, sweet peach,” the voice drawls around you like the wind, “I’m all man.” 

“Where are you? Who are you?” You ask. 

“I’m right behind you, baby, and I’m your knight in shining armour,” he purrs. 

You gasp and turn around. You beam the flashlight of the phone in the man’s face. You only get a glimpse of that short brown mustache before the cell is knocked from your grasp. 

“What are you tryna do? Blind me?” He snarls as your phone disappears between the corn. 

“What-- What do you want?” You step back, dragging your heels from the mud. 

“I wanna help, baby,” he slithers. “You seem lost.” 

You blink at him. He’s a dark silhouette against the greyness trapped in the maze. You bristle and look over at the corn. 

“Sure, I’ll just grab my phone, thanks--” 

“Ah, ah,” he comes up to meet you, blocking you with his arm. “I don’t work for free, honey pot.” 

“Fine, then go away,” you spit. 

“Woah, ho, you haven’t even asked what I want in return, sweetie,” he brings his other hand up to touch your cheek and you flinch away. 

“You’re not getting it, dude,” you back up. 

“Just a little suck. Hell, you give the little guy a nice kiss and I won’t even make you finish the job--” 

“Ew, no way,” you smack his hand down as he reaches for you again. “Fuck off--” 

He’s quick. He grabs you by your jaw and snarls as he looms over you, “for such a pretty mouth it sure is fucking filthy. Won’t matter what I put in it--” 

“Hey,” you grunt and writhe in his grasp, twisting your hands around his thick forearms, “get off--” 

“I’m trying, trust me--” 

You ram your knee up and feel the crunch in his pants. He wheezes and lets you go. You shove him and stagger backwards. You look at the corn one last time. Your phone is somewhere in there. 

As he cradles his crotch and snarls, the urgency of the moment slaps you across the face. Fuck your phone. You need to get away from this creep. 

Thank god you got insurance on your cell plan. You turn and lift your knees. You land on your toes, keeping your heels off the ground as much as you can. You’re not going very fast and you know you look ridiculous but you don’t care. You want to go home. 

You pump your arms as you breath hitches. You hear groans and another set of steps, just like before. You get to a corner and turn before you crash through the corn. You heave as you race away, ankles threatening to bend. At what point do you just ditch the Louis’ and mourn them with your phone. 

You cough and slow down. Shit. You’re in terrible shape. You look over your shoulder, your breath foggy in the plummeting temperature. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him either. Good. 

You turn-- 

“Boo!” The man startles you so you shriek. 

You stagger back as he cackles and you hurl yourself forward. Your feet catch as your heels stab the ground and you stumble with your arms flailing away from him. Your shallow breaths thunder around you as you charge through the maze only to find yourself trapped at a dead end. 

You stop and waver, lungs filled with fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You stomp with each internal proclamation. 

“Look, sugar tits, you can keep running and I’ll keep chasing,” the man struts up behind you as you spin to face him. “But it all ends the same way.” He sets his feet wide and cracks his knuckles. “And since you bruised my left nut,” he snarls, “you can kiss that better first.” 

“Uh, like why are you doing this?” You ask. 

He chortles, “like because I can.”  

You snarl and cross your arms, “you’re a loser. And you’re old. Like, can’t you find someone your own age to creep on?” 

He laughs louder but there’s not much humour in it. He stalks closer and your defiance glimmers, just a little. You don’t know where he gets off. Does he really think he can just tell you what to do? 

“So, I knew you were gonna be a handful,” he grabs you by the neck and you wince. You slap his wrist and he tuts, bringing his other hand up to grope your chest, “in more ways than one.” 

“Hey, fuck--” you grit out. “Hey!” 

“Look, sweetie, it’s a simple transaction. I pull my pants down, you keep those teeth to yourself, and be real nice to me,” he glares down at you. “The way you crushed my balls, you’re lucky I don’t make you lick my boots.” 

“What is wrong with you?” You growl. 

“Oh, a lot,” he smirks. “Now, those boots must kill your feet so...” he jerks you roughly, “on your knees.” 

Your eyes tinge just a little but you won’t cry. Not because of him. You gnash your teeth and grimace at him as he peels his hand away. 

“You got one thing going for you, baby, and that’s that pretty face. I can change that, trust me,” he warns. You swallow avert your eyes. He chuckles again, “god, I love that pout.” 

You bat your lash and fight to keep the litany of insults inside. You caterpillar faced fuck. You viagra powered moron. You overgrown frat boy. 

“The next time you open your mouth, it better be to gobble my cock,” he sneers, “so don’t even say it.” 

You look at him again. You set your eyes and your jaw. You step closer and he lifts his chin just slightly as he stares you down. 

You grab his belt and he twitches. You unbuckle it and whip the ends aside. You pop the button open and yank the zipper apart. He watches you, his eyebrow tweaking. You push his fly wide and roll your eyes as you feel his naked pelvis beneath your fingertips. Of course, this weirdo is hanging loose. 

You reach under his pants and angle his hard dick through the teeth of the zipper. You stroke him up and down with a dry, tight grip. He hisses and shifts his weight. 

“Careful, like sandpaper,” he rasps. 

You tut and look down. You huff. You move one foot back and bend your leg. You put one knee to the ground then the other. You make a face as you come level to his tip. Ugh. 

“Don’t look so fucking enticed,” he barks. You roll your eyes again and he swats your head. “Keep doing that and your eyes are getting stuck.” 

Old. Man. 

You pump him again and slowly, inch by inch, lean in. 

“Ah, I said kiss the left one first, then you can get to the main dish,” he puts his hand on his hip. 

You swallow and push down a tide of disgust. You lift him and lean your head to the side. You crane around and pucker, pressing your lips to his left ball. He twitches and groan. 

“Damn, those lips are soft. Do the other one.” 

With bile brewing in your stomach, you obey. You pull back and put his tip to your lips. You narrow your gaze at his pelvis and spread your mouth around him. You wet his swollen head then work your way down his length. He might be a desperate loser but he’s not small. 

You bob up and down as you take more and more of him. He curls his fingers into his hip as his other hand goes to the back of your head. He urges you on and you bat his hand with yours. You push back against him and flick your eyes up. 

“You are a stubborn one,” he rebukes. 

Your lips meet your hand and you pump him emphatically with both, popping off his tip so he whimpers. He clutches a wad of your hair as his eyes gleam desperately. 

“I kissed it better,” you wipe your mouth, “you show me the way out, and you might just finish, old man.” 

He stares down at you. Agitation and amusement battle across his expression. He takes a breath and lets it out. 

“One last kiss and I’ll get you out,” he says, “And then you’ll get me off.” 

The cold air swirls around you and the darkness floods through the corn. You squeeze him slightly and put a sloppy kiss on his tip with a loud muah. You let go and tickle along his length. You grab onto his arm and pull yourself to your feet. 

“I want out. Now.” 

“Alright, princess,” he snickers. “Don’t you worry, I got a throne you can sit on when we’re home free.” 

[batsbirdsandspeedstersohmy]

I honestly think it purely.

Thomas wants attention and wants to be sexy.

And

Thomas knows sander sides gets people to look and talk about it.

If you took the Logan part out it won't get as much attention. And the whole all press is good press I think is what he going with.

He wants attention and dress sexy. And he knows sander sides is what a lot of his followers want. And as always he milking them for everything they have. Sander sides keeps him relevant and not completely disappearing into just someone who use to do vine and was popular then.

He could have been more in character. And be like Roman picked the outfit and tried to do a photoshoot. And this is the only one that he got that was good. All the others Logan is complaining, or he looks so awkward. It took Roman several hours to get one good one.

Then took and posted a picture or two of an awkward Logan in a skirt trying to have his tie over the outfit. Or looking at the camera so upset and done and over it all.

BAM sexy Logan picture and some what believable in the canon you made.

And you could actually get some fanfics or artwork out of it. With Roman trying to set everything up. Maybe Virgil did the make-up. Patton telling Logan it be fun and it's for Thomas to post.

He just wants attention and to milk as much out of the sander sides he and Joan build but he can't seem to continue. And that's made this post. I think it's unfortunate very simple and he doesn't care what the canon stuff was anymore.

is it?? is it really?

like. i don’t know but i think i missed the part when it became “part of logan’s personality” to be a sexy seductive librarian. “they’d help you find what you’re looking for 💋” what??? what’s that supposed to mean? i mean i know what it’s supposed to mean i just. disagree.

but i guess that’s the canon truth now!! guess im the fool!! guess im stupid for thinking he was supposed to be an awkward nerdy geeky guy who would invite someone on a date by saying to them “we’re humans, and as humans, we’re meant to procreate.” and a teacher character who would get excited in a dorky way when asked for information, instead of blowing you a flirtatious kiss. guess i just got it all wrong then.

i don’t mind thomas having fun playing dress up and modeling and staging these photoshoots and so on but to make them the “official” looks for the characters because they are according to him the most “fitting to their personality” i think it’s. unnecessary.

people do find logan attractive and he has been voted as the sexiest side in a few polls but his attractiveness is in a more, like, effortless way. it’s mostly because of his quiet confidence and the authoritative teacher part of him.

i don’t know. maybe it’s just that i personally don’t find these pictures attractive or maybe it’s just that im ace and i dislike my favorite character from the show who i liked to think of as ace being portrayed in such a way. or maybe it’s that im agender and ace and i’d like to see the rep of ways to wear a skirt that aren’t sexy and ultra feminine. maybe it’s just me and i have no business complaining, since everyone else seems to love it so much... i just :/ idk :P

[doberbutts]

Post in question:

A: post doesn't mention pedophiles or zoophiles at all, but does mention furries and kinksters. Are we really equating furries to zoophiles and kinksters to pedophiles in the year of 2023?

B: even bad humans deserve human rights because otherwise it's really easy to falsely claim someone is a bad human to take away their rights. That is fascism 101.

C: not that it matters but my blog name hilariously has nothing to do with doberman butts and everything to do with a nickname convention a friend of mine had in the years before I started in the breed. They called me Jazbutt because my username at the time was Jazi. I told them I was getting a doberman and wanted to make a blog but couldn't think of a good URL. They said they would call my doberman a doberbutt. I thought it was funny and decided to use it as a blog name. I know that the people engaging in this behavior don't know The Deep Lore of this blog but like. It's actually not that hard to find this explination as it's one I've had asked of me for years.

D: this is a dog blog. It's all dog aesthetics because it's about dogs. Specifically mostly about my dogs. Specifically mostly about my doberman Creed who died in 2021 and it was too painful for me to continue trying to exclusively be a dog blog while I grieved him so I started just posting about whatever was on my mind. Then I got a doberman again in 2022 and another a few months ago and started posting more just about my dogs unless I spot something interesting on my dash or in my tracked tags. There's nothing nefarious here because I'm all about my dogs because competition dog sports are a long-held special interest of mine and I used to be a professional dog trainer. Dogs were my job until early 2022. I got paid to think about nothing except dogs for close to a decade. I decided to blog about it and stopped when my reason for blogging about dogs died and I switched professions.

E: this type of ask being spread around is exactly why I'm quiet about what I do like sexually because I don't think it belongs on a dog blog but also because too many people are interested in completely ruining lives off of one bad faith take. No thank you. It was bad when the straights were doing it to us and it's still bad now when it's happening as an intra-community conflict. The only people who get to know what I like are people I fuck. If I'm talking about it on a public blog, safe to say it's not a sexual interest of mine. You can continue to make assumptions if you'd like but you're way off base.

[breadbrobin]

Hi idk if you’re taking reqs but I’ve been reading your posts about Luke Castellan a lot and I think I’m getting obsessed- So could you make a fic/shot about a Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo reader where they’ve known each other since childhood and they’re kind of like frenemies (friends and/or enemies) and one day he ends up getting badly injured after a quest so she has to take care of him in the infirmary for a week, but ever since that happened he’s been trying to get injured just to go and see reader at the infirmary again?

Sorry if that wasn’t clear, and this is kinda inspired from another fic you made about Luke and daughter of Apollo:)

But if you ever make something like this I would really appreciate it if you tagged me!

two hearts

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: (as above)

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, kissing, flirting, a couple of swear words, blood, idiots to lovers a lil bit too (can you tell it’s my favourite thing)

word count: 3.5k

(hiiii hello hi!! sorry this took me so long to get out, but here it is!! thank you so much for the request i had a lot of fun with this one (3.5k words of fun apparently). hope you enjoy it!)

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if someone had told you luke castellan was going to be gone on a quest when you arrived at camp for the summer, you wouldn’t have spent the whole drive to camp preparing to deal with his annoying ass.

you hiked up half-blood hill and over the boundary, noticing the distinct tension in the atmosphere. something was off.

when luke hadn’t come to see you as you dropped your bags off in the apollo cabin, or when you stopped into the infirmary, or even when you walked past the hermes cabin, you were clued in that something was up.

“where’s luke?” you asked chiron curiously.

“he is on a quest, child. sent by his father,” he smiled down at you warmly. “do not worry about him.”

“i’m not worried,” you bit your lip. “just curious. that’s all.”

and that was that.

it was weirdly boring being at camp without luke’s constant snarky comments. ever since you’d both gotten to camp when you were younger, he’d been a persistent thorn in your side. maybe it was because you both were new around the same time, or because you didn’t like it when he hovered around the infirmary, poking his quick fingers into buckets of bandages and medications. whatever it was, he seemed to enjoy irritating you. and you apparently enjoyed it more than you thought.

monotonous days: breakfast, archery, infirmary, training, activities, dinner, bed.

sleepless nights: nightmares of quests and dragons and a bright white scar.

you sighed one night, waking up from yet another dream of flashes and brief images. your siblings were sleeping around you, a couple of them snoring, and you sat up.

the air on the porch was cooler that night, especially for summer time. you wrapped your sweatshirt a little tighter around yourself and leaned on the porch railing, peering out into the darkness. you just needed a minute, really. you sat down on a chair and relaxed.

you woke up abruptly.

at first, you were confused as to why.

then you saw the figure on the hill.

it was a camper. the hint of orange in the full-moon light told you that much. they were stumbling down—no, they were rolling now.

you stood up and dashed back into your cabin, grabbing your to-go first aid kit. you then turned and ran towards the obviously injured figure. there were only three people it could be. and where were the other two?

you reached them quickly, dropping to your knees beside them and rolling them over.

luke.

it was luke.

the air rushed from your lungs. he was here. he was back. he was alive. you’d never felt such an overwhelming emotion before. it drew slight stinging tears to your eyes.

his eyes were barely open but he gripped your arm with a strength you didn’t think his weak body could still possess. “y/n?”

“just hold on, luke,” you whispered. there were injuries all over his body. you hardly knew where to start. “just hold on.”

“they’re gone,” he said absently.

you looked at him, but didn’t stop trying to help. “who’s gone?”

“everyone,” he stared up at the moon.

you bit your cheek and looked over your shoulder. one of your brothers had gone on that quest with him. “wake up!” you shouted. “someone come help!” you turned back to luke. “okay, luke. you’re gonna be okay.”

his cheeks were hollow. it was then that you noticed the way his eye was swollen closed and a dark red angry cut traced its way down the side of his face. you gasped and turned his head gently to see it better.

“not looking good, huh?” he murmured bitterly. “guess i won’t be getting any modelling contracts soon.”

“we’ll see about that,” you muttered. “stay awake, yeah?”

“you’re not the boss of me,” he grumbled, but kept his eyes open as help finally arrived to get him to the infirmary.

he’d had more injuries than you’d originally thought. it was like he’d been attacked by half of the monsters in greek mythology, honestly, based on the peppered burn holes in his shirt, the cuts and scrapes on his arms and knees and the gashes littering his abdomen. oh, and not to mention the gaping spear wound in his right shoulder.

after working all night with some of your siblings and chiron in the infirmary, he was finally stable. finally, he’d be okay.

you volunteered to stay with him to keep an eye on him for the first few hours, though your eyelids were drooping with sleep.

you held his hand. it felt like the right thing to do.

he didn’t stir.

it was strange, being around him without him talking. since you were fourteen, he’d rarely managed to shut up around you. incessant talking and waving his hands around, explaining some new thing he learned in sword fighting or some joke one of his brothers made. it was both infuriating and entertaining. you loved and hated it, just like you loved and hated him.

sitting in silence with luke castellan felt like the world was turning on its head.

a couple of hours passed. you didn’t let go of his hand. not even as you slipped into a dream—a memory, really.

you were fifteen, and it was raining. it had only been a few months since you got to camp. things were still fresh and somewhat unknown. what you did know, though, was you could never get a moments peace anymore.

“y/n?”

you rolled your eyes. of course it was luke. “what?”

“where are you?”

you supposed you were hidden pretty well. sitting among the reeds at the bottom of the lake was one of your favourite places to be. it was cooler there, but even in winter it wasn’t cold. your feet could sit in the water if you wanted them to and the reeds blocked you from the wind and outside attention.

when you didn’t respond, you could hear him coming closer anyway.

“that’s fine, don’t tell me. i’ll find you anyway.”

and he did. he always did.

there was some theory about that, you realised as he sat beside you, the tiny space between the reeds barely big enough to hold both of you. some theory about a string of fate tying people together. some greek myth about people originally having four arms, four legs and two hearts, and when zeus split them down the middle, those people spent the rest of their lives searching for their other halves. drawn together by fate and reconnected always. you arm was pressed against his arm and your leg against his leg, and maybe it felt so right because you were cold and he was warm. not because of some silly soulmate theory that didn’t even make sense. because there was also the idea that maybe he’d put a tracker on you, but you had no idea where he would have gotten that. or maybe you were just bad at hiding.

“i’ve been looking for you,” he said.

you tilted your head in confusion. “what? why?”

“well,” were you mistaken, or were his cheeks kind of red? “i kinda hurt myself at training today. and the people in the infirmary told me to grow up and get over it. but honestly, it really hurts and i just wanted to know if you could heal it.”

you rolled your eyes. “always needing something, huh, castellan? is it so much to ask for you to just want to see me?” you hold your hand out and he extends his sword arm, revealing the cross-muscle cut on his forearm.

“i do want to see you,” he protested. “honestly. it’s not my fault that i’m also coincidentally injured whenever i want to see you.”

you couldn’t stay mad at that smile. “coincidentally, huh?” you handed him a small section of ambrosia from your pocket as your fingers ran over the cut, whispering a prayer to your father. you watched as the skin knit itself closed again, leaving not even a scar on his arm. you pulled back with a smile. “there. done. good as new.”

“thanks, doctor. don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“die a horrible death and be left permanently disfigured? to the point where we’d do a closed casket funeral just so we don’t have to look at your ugly face?” you tilted your head with a teasing smile.

he elbowed you. “shut up, loser. you know you love my face.”

and as you woke up, feeling his hand tighten around yours, you realised you kind of did. there was gauze over the cut on his eye and cheek, covering half of his face. and yet, he was still annoyingly beautiful.

“something on my face?” he mumbled as he saw looking, finally awake. “except for this thing, of course.” he gestured to the gauze.

you smiled wanly. “i’m glad you’re awake.”

“missed me?” he half-grinned.

you snort and drop his hand, patting the back of it and standing up to check his bandages. “you wish.”

he was silent as you checked his bandages and reapplied the few that were loosening. then, as you left to go and get the next person to keep an eye on him, he spoke up. “i missed you.”

you paused in the doorway, a small smile growing on your face. you looked back at him. his eyes were earnest and soft. he looked younger like this. “i’ll be back a few hours. we’ll have dinner together.”

you did have dinner together. in fact, you had almost every meal together for the first few days.

it was quiet, mostly. you didn’t ask him what happened and he didn’t tell you. you knew he’d already been interrogated by everyone else. he didn’t need that from you.

annabeth came and joined you a couple of times, chatting about some new architectural design she’d learned about or a new move she’d learned in training.

you realised how alike they were. family in every way that mattered, regardless of blood.

it didn’t take long for luke to start getting annoying again though.

once he’d been in the infirmary for four days, he regained most of his usual personality. and that meant bad jokes, incessant talking and poorly-timed, half-hearted flirting.

“the sun makes your eyes glow,” he said one day. he’d never had much of a filter, so it wasn’t too out of the blue, but it still caught you a little of guard.

you fumbled the supplies in your hand. “sorry, what?”

he was sitting up on his bed now. his wounds were almost healed. two more days and he’d be out of the infirmary. you didn’t know if you were one hundred per cent happy about that.

“your eyes. they glow in the sun.” he repeated.

you paused, glancing over at him. “thank you…?”

he nodded and leaned back, his eyes staying on you.

that was only the beginning.

within five hours he’d complimented your eyes, your skills, your smile and your kindness. multiple times. it got the point where the other two patients in the infirmary had stopped taking you seriously, just complimenting you instead. that’s where you drew the line.

“okay, luke, you need to stop. this is too much,” you said. you were checking his remaining wounds and nodding happily at them.

“what, am i flustering you? are you blushing?” he teased.

you were not blushing at all, you decided. whether it was strictly true or not was between your brain and your cheeks, not your honesty. “you’re annoying me,” you grumbled. “like, a lot.”

“you know you’ll miss me when i go back to my cabin,” he leaned back on his pillows, a smirk on his lips. it warped the scar on his cheek more than you expected, and it made your heart clench every time.

“if i miss you, you have permission to annoy me for the rest of my life,” you grumbled. you definitely wouldn’t miss this.

finally, he was out of the infirmary.

finally, you could work in peace.

finally, you could— oh, what the hell?

“good morning!” luke said as he waltzed into the infirmary. “i’ve injured myself.”

you looked him up and down as you walked closer. “you look fine to me. what did you do?”

“i fell of the rock climbing wall and hit my head.” he turned his head to show you the small trickle of blood above his ear.

you sighed and led him to a bed. you handed him ambrosia as you used a wet cloth to clean his head. “you were meant to take things easy for the first few days.”

“i did!” he protested. “i was only like, twelve feet up!”

you pursed your lips and shook your head. your hand was under his chin now, stopping him from turning his head to look at you. “taking it easy means no rock climbing at all, dumbass. you’ve been out of here for half a day and you’re already back!”

“maybe i like it in here.” he shrugged, pouting slightly, looking up at you.

“maybe i find you really annoying and ban you from coming in here,” you countered.

“you can’t do that,” he gasped.

“watch me, castellan.” you prodded his cheek mockingly. “don’t mess with me.”

his smile wasn’t exactly the response you were looking for, but you found that you didn’t mind it all too much.

luke came into the infirmary almost every two days for the next two weeks.

there was always some new injury that he couldn’t ignore, that he needed to have you heal. he only came in when you were there though, like he knew your schedule off by heart.

he probably did.

his sheepish smile was becoming a fixture of your days and you couldn’t help but smile a little brighter when you saw it. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating a little faster either, and it was annoying.

in the years that you’d been at camp, luke castellan had driven you up the wall. did you hate him? did you love him? how did you love him? how a friend loves a friend? how a doctor loves a patient? how a lover loves a lover? how did you hate him? why? why anything? why nothing? the questions only got worse.

“another minor injury?” you sighed, hearing his footsteps entering the infirmary. you didn’t know when you memorised the sound of his footsteps, or the rise and fall of his breathing while he slept, but you did.

“uh, not exactly…” the weakness in his voice made your stomach drop.

you turned around to see him clutching a bright red wound on his inner arm. he looked pale. that wasn’t a good sign. the blood was still seeping past his fingers. also not a good sign.

you gasped and pulled him to a bed immediately, pushing him to lie down and placing hard pressure on the wound. you could feel him reaching into your pocket and fishing around for ambrosia. once he found some, he ate it quickly and sighed in relief.

“what the hell happened?” you exclaimed.

he shrugged with one shoulder. “sword training.”

“were you training against the fucking terminator?” you took in the other minor cuts and bruises. your voice was unfairly shaky. you didn’t want to get close to losing him again. even just the thought made you feel sick.

his eyes were soft when they looked up at you. you almost dropped all of your anger right there. “i got sloppy,” he said nonchalantly. “i’ll be fine once i get back to normal.”

“this is an artery,” you said. “you could die.”

he didn’t look all that upset or shocked. “i won’t die, baby. i won’t.”

your stomach gave a pitiful lurch at the nickname. “save your energy.”

“is that your doctorly way of telling me to shut up?” he teased.

“yes, it is,” you nodded. “now, shut up while i help you.”

he looked at you like you were hanging the stars in the sky, not tending to him with hands red from his blood.

no one had stopped talking about luke since he got back. the first failed quest in years, with two of the three members dying and the third one permanently scarred by a dragon. not a good ratio.

you often saw luke sitting alone now, and when he was nowhere to be found, you knew where he was.

maybe there was something to the strings of fate theory, you thought as you found him and sat down beside him among the reeds. they were taller now and more dense, but the two of you had carved out a little spot for yourselves over time. your limbs were still pressed against each other though. that was one thing that would never change.

he was turning something over in his hands. a repetitive motion.

you tried to make sense of what it was, but couldn’t.

“it’s a dragon claw,” he spoke up. “the one that did this.” he pointed at the still-red scar on his face. that was why you couldn’t get rid of that one. magic scars never really went away.

you stayed quiet.

“peter distracted the dragon just in time for me to get my sword back. i got the cut, but when i turned back he was getting thrown against the mountainside.” he shook his head bitterly. “he didn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at a dragonfly on a reed in front of you. “knowing my brother, he just would have been happy to be there. and happy that you’re alive.”

he smiled, but it looked forced and bitter. “yeah. he spent the whole time talking about how lucky we were for this opportunity, and how he was so excited to explore beyond camp… and gianna was the same. they were just…” he was fiddling with his camp beads now.

you watched his movements slowly. it was like he’d never been gone, but also like everything had changed. there was a new tension in the air around him. you weren’t sure if it was you or him.

“don’t be resentful,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“what?” his eyes turned to you. “what do you mean?”

“don’t resent yourself and the gods for this,” you said, leaning a little closer to him and looking away. the dragonfly hadn’t moved—like it was listening. watching. “peter and gianna made their choices. they’re in elysium now. that’s about as good as it gets.”

he pressed his lips together and nodded. “i know.”

maybe there was something to the two hearts theory too, because you could tell he didn’t. he didn’t agree. he didn’t want to. you slipped your hand into his. “you know i’m always here for you, right, luke? i mean, you annoy me—a lot—but you’re still, well, you. and you’re important to me. i’ll always be there for you. if you want to hold hate in your heart, then be my guest. i’ll just have to hold more love in mine to balance you out.”

he was watching your connected fingers as you spoke. his hands were calloused and hard, but yours were softer. less time spent training and more time spent healing. “love for who?”

you, you thought. you didn’t speak.

he turned to look at you. you were already looking at him. “love for me?”

you swallowed tightly. “luke…”

he leaned in closer, until his lips were moments away from touching yours. one wrong move and you’d touch. or was that the right move? was the wrong move pulling away? leaving him alone—again? that didn’t feel fair. but nor did your pounding heart and your flushing cheeks, and maybe you were blushing now, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

then you gave in. that string that connected your souls was pulling you too tight. your lips brushed against his softly at first, and before you could think to move any further, his hand was gripping the back of your neck and pulling you closer, and his lips were pressing against yours with the passion of years of built up tension. you’d never hated him at all, you realised. you loved him the whole time. sure, he was irritating. he was chatty. he was pushy and annoying and never stopped bothering you. but you’d missed his bothering, and you’d missed his smile, and when he pulled away to take a breath, you missed his lips with a fiery need that bubbled up from deep down inside you.

“guess i’ll be annoying you for the rest of our lives then, huh?” he said softly, chest rising and falling against yours.

your eyes were still closed, reeling from the kiss. “wasn’t that a given anyway? i wouldn’t want it any other way, personally.”

when he kissed you again, you decided that the theory about two hearts was, in fact, correct. you met as two, seperate halves in a fucked up world that had you grow up far too fast. you grew as two, finding your places at camp, finding your people, but always finding each other first. you met now as one. four arms, four legs, two hearts, meeting in a tumultuous display of love and desire. and that’s how you wanted to stay. your limbs locked with his, your hearts pounding in sync, your every feeling, every emotion, every sensation making your very soul hum with joy. you’d found him, finally, after years of your hearts waiting for this moment. finally, your two hearts were one again.