#the answer my friend is blowing in the wind tattoo

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor

Azriel x reader

Summary: you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother.

Author’s Note: this is part 1 baby!! Likely 5-6 parts, that is currently what I have planned for this. This part is shorter to set things up for later okay love you 😘

(Part 2)

“Mor I don’t know about living with your long term hook up.”

She rolls her eyes, her blonde hair blowing in the wind over facetime. “He’s great - he’s super sweet, super funny, and he’s really hot. Besides, you’ve already signed the lease. It’s too late to back out now.”

You sit in the u-haul you rented, filled to the brim with your belongings, waiting for the leasing office to open so you can grab your keys. You had just pulled up, deciding to call Mor while you wait the ten minutes for them to arrive.

“I don’t know, Mor. What if this was a mistake?”

You chew your lip while thinking about all the ways this could go poorly. She smiles, her face taking up the screen of your phone. “Sweetie, it’s going to be fine. I’ve known him for a long time. He’s friends with my cousin. Worst case scenario you move out at the end of the year into a new apartment.”

She was right, of course. At worst it would be a year. You’ve met Cassian a few times, Mor bringing him to a couple parties and casual get togethers. You were always awed by his warm presence and ease around anybody, qualities that are great when you’re moving in with someone you hardly know.

You nod your head agreeing, but spot someone walking towards the leasing office. “Hey I gotta go Mor - leasing office person is here. I’ll call you tonight?”

She shakes her head, “I can’t tonight - stupid dinner with stupid family. I’ll have pizzas sent to your place, how’s that?”

You smile, her absence one out of familial obligation. She hated her parents, but they also funded her degree so you couldn’t be upset at the one-off events she had to attend to appease them. You also know she tried to get out of the event tonight, but ultimately you’re glad that there’s a now zero chance your new roommate and your best friend will have sex while you’re moving in.

You pick up the keys, sign last minute paperwork, and hop into the elevator to ride up to the fourth floor. You keep reciting the apartment number to yourself, having double checked with the office and with Mor. You find it, situated at the end of the hall with one other apartment next to it.

You run through how this could go in your head - you could unlock the door and have Cassian be pissed off because he wasn’t sure when you’d be arriving. You could wait for him to come out and act like you were just walking up at the same time. Or you could knock on the door, which you find yourself doing.

The door swings in a moment after your knock and you find Cassian looking at you, a confused expression on his face. Despite the early hour, Cassian doesn’t look like he just woke up. In fact, his hair is tied up in a half bun, he’s dressed in a shirt with the sleeves ripped off (allowing his tattooed biceps to be on full display) and some sweatpants, and you can smell bacon and eggs wafting through the door.

“Why’d you knock - did they forget to give you a key?”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, this whole situation leaving you uncertain of what to do at each turn. You look up at him as he stands in the doorframe waiting for your answer. Cassian’s a big guy, easily clearing a foot and several hundred pounds of muscles on you.

“Uh- no they did, I just didn’t want to disturb you.”

He looks at you and you’re certain he can feel the nerves radiating off of you. He chuckles and tells you, “not much disturbs me.”

He opens the door more, allowing you to come in. You hadn’t toured the place before signing a lease, your desperation leading you here without many other options. Living in a college town had it’s benefits, however finding a new place to live in July was not one of them. Not a single complex had a room for you. It was either stay with Cassian or crash on Feyre’s couch in her studio apartment.

The place is decently nice - to your left you see the living room with two couches that face quite possibly one of the largest televisions you’ve ever seen. You peer to your right, the kitchen a little bare but clean. You spy the pan and plate that Cassian had clearly just used to eat his breakfast.

“I can give you a tour,” he tells you, “it’s not much but it’s home.”

You take note of the in-unit washer dryer in a closet off the kitchen facing the front door. “Just don’t leave things in the washing machine,” Cassian told you, “pet peeve of mine is wet laundry sitting. Smells awful.”

He shows you where to find all three remotes for the tv and what each remote does, information your brain likely will never remember. He pulls up to one door, opening it slightly. “This is my room,” he says softly due to you being right behind him. He walks to another door, opening it to show a small bathroom. “This is the extra bathroom - this is usually where guests go.”

You two reach the final door, and as he’s opening it he tells you, “and this will be your room.”

You step in and look around the bare room, feeling so small in such a vast and empty space. The room’s not large by any means, but it’s yours. It’s your first step into independence and that feels vast. There’s no furniture, just a router on the floor that makes you chuckle. The blinds are drawn, the soft light peaking through illuminating the cream colored walls.

It feels like freedom. It feels like this place could be a home.

Cassian, the saint of a man that he is, offers to help bring up your boxes. The two of you make quick work of bringing up all of your worldly possessions, frequent occupants of the building’s sole elevator.

He even helps you bring up the bed frame and mattress you had to buy, just barely fitting into the elevator with both.

The two of you passed the time idly, occasional words spoken between you. Sometimes he’d laugh about the organization of your boxes - one box reading both “tampons” and “fall semester textbooks”.

Eventually everything is up in your room, the space cluttered with your boxes and various things. Cassian offered to help you with the bed frame, and when you asked him if he was doing anything else today, he told you, “I cleared my schedule. Wanted to help my new roommate settle.” He winked at you and you smiled back. You suddenly recall Mor describing Cassian as a “generous lover” once and you can totally see it. The man’s love language was clearly acts of service if today was anything to go by.

The two of you set up the bed frame, bickering over the instructions. No one, not even sweet, gentle giant Cassian is immune to the frustrations of lackluster instructions.

As you’re picking up the mattress and placing it in the frame, Cassian starts speaking. “I should probably mention that my brothers live next door. They’ll probably be over now and again.”

That piques your interest. Setting down the mattress with a huff you ask, “why don’t you live with them?”

Cassian shrugs, looking away from you, “I was initially offered a scholarship at another school, but I got injured, lost my scholarship, so came to my back up school. By then my brothers already had their own place, but they were able to set me up in the same building. That was three years ago and moving is a bitch so we’ve just kept this arrangement. Sometimes whenever Az and Rhys are butting heads I let one of them stay here in my room and I take theirs, but otherwise it’s worked out pretty well.”

You look at him, and you know there’s a bit more to the story by how sad his eyes look at the memory. He offered a piece of himself, so you offer a piece of yourself in return.

“My parents kicked me out,” you tell him, scratching the back of your neck. “They uh don’t really approve of me or my plans, so I got the boot.”

You rub your arms, making yourself as small as they make you feel. “They um weren’t very good parents and I finally stood up for myself and they didn’t like that. They have since disowned me and don’t really want anything to do with me.”

You bounced up and down on your toes during your admission and Cassian’s eyes soften as he looks at you, practically a stranger. You two had met a handful of times, his fling with Mor lasting a few months. He walks out of the room, and you’re worried you’ve offered too much, until you hear the fridge door open and close and he returns with two beer bottles. He opens both with his teeth, causing you to inhale sharply, thinking about a chipped tooth. He hands one to you, holding his out to toast. He speaks after your two glasses make a soft clink.

“Mor knew I had a spare room. The leasing office only charges me for my room, so it’s no big deal. Haven’t done much with it, except use the shower when my drain was clogged.”

He takes a sip and looks around your new room before continuing. “She begged me to let you come here. Told me you were one of the kindest, hardest working people she knew.”

You smile, looking up at your new roommate, “she said that?”

“She also said you had a great ass and an incredible rack.”

You throw your head back laughing. “That sounds like Mor.”

The two of you drink in silence, the weariness of the past few weeks creeping into your bones. Maybe Cassian won’t be so bad to live with after all.

Several hours later you and Cassian were setting up one of your bookshelves when someone walked through the door, a delicious smell permeating the apartment.

“Cass, I’m here with pizzas. When’s the “great rack” supposed to get here?”

You and Cassian are on the floor of your room and before he can respond, you yell back, “the great rack got here about five hours ago.”

You hear muttered cursing when a beautiful male walks in, his short cropped black hair pushed back. Rhysand - Mor’s cousin. You recognized his almost violet eyes and sharp features from her family photos littering her desk, as well as her determination to convince your friend Feyre to go on a date with him. He was taller in person, but not as tall as Cassian.

“My apologies, you know how Mor can get with her physical descriptions of people.”

You laugh, screwing in a shelf. “All is forgiven. There are much worse things to be known as or called. Mor has quite the mouth on her - you should hear her talk about Cassian.” You say, pointing your head in his direction.

His head raises from the instruction booklet he’s reading to ask, “what does she say about me?”

“I believe the words “tree trunk” have been used to describe certain body parts on multiple occasions.”

Your new guest barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I brought pizzas should either of you desire them.”

“That’s really sweet but I couldn’t impose-“

Cassian cuts you off, holding a hand up to stop your sentence. “Too late. You’ve imposed. Guess you have to eat the pizza. Besides I hear the best way to keep a great rack is to keep it fed.”

You smile, thinking that maybe this won’t be so hard. It was a rash decision, living with Cassian. You couldn’t stay at home, your parents had made that abundantly clear. Your plans had been to live with them until you graduated in the spring, wanting to save money on housing.

After all the shelves and furniture were set up in your room, you found yourself sitting on the couch with Cassian and Rhysand, pizza boxes on the coffee table in front of you. Rhys, he had told you to call him, had started a movie that was the third in a series. He spent twenty minutes explaining to you the plot of the first two movies. They sounded like generic action movies to you, but you let him go on about the intricacies of the plot and how cool the main character was.

Halfway through the movie the front door opens and closes softly, and all three of you turn to look at the tall man who entered. He was fit, not as muscular as Cassian was, but still toned, even through his shirt. Onyx curls adorned the top of his head, coming close to blocking his hazel eyes. You’re not sure if you’re even breathing looking at him as he looks around the room.

“Azzy, meet my roommate.”

Azzy, as Cassian called him, looked to Cassian to scold him for the nickname before his eyes met yours.

“Azriel’s fine.”

“Oh, okay,” you laugh, telling him your name with a little wave of your hand. His eyes are still on yours, as if he’s trying to commit to memory the name to the face.

“Mor’s friend, right?”

“Yeah, great ass, incredible rack,” Cassian responds, mining out an hourglass figure with his hands. You kick his foot, telling him “is this how you’re going to introduce me from now on.”

He winces as your foot makes contact with his shin, rubbing the afflicted area. “I mean it tells you everything you need to know about someone. You guys can just start calling me ‘big peen’.”

Rhys chuckles, then starts taking a sip of his drink as you tell Cassian, “I think they’d just call you big head, mysterious third nipple.”

Cassian gasps, eyes widening as Rhys spits out his drink, “I can’t BELIEVE Mor told you that about me!”

Rhys gets up, walking to the linen closet to grab a towel to dry off his shirt. Azriel walks to the fridge, grabbing a beer before heading to sit next to Cassian on the other couch as the two of you continue to bicker. As he walks past, you swear you feel every bit of contact as his legs brush past yours.

And if Azriel’s eyes lingered on you as he sat down - you might just have made that up too.

[ao3usermelancholyhues]

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞

steve harrington/eddie munson for @steddiemicrofic's january prompt: hole, 404 words. ft. flirting, sexual innuendo | T rating read on ao3

“That’s just perfect.” 

Steve stares at his rapidly flattening tire, and the culprit just behind the car. He loosens his tie, irritated. 

It’s not that Steve can’t change a tire—he doesn’t have a spare. 

Robin’s house is a couple of streets over. Sighing, he begins the walk there to call his mechanic.

“No answer,” Steve announces dejectedly as he walks back into Robin’s livingroom and flops down in her armchair, huffing.

The dramatics are a little much, but Robin bites her tongue. No need to kick the man while he’s down (not a rule she always conforms to). 

“I know a guy who could help,” she says instead. “My cousin’s friend.”

Steve perks up. “Is he good?”

Robin bites her tongue again, this time fighting a grin. “Oh, he’s somethin’.” 

Thirty minutes later, there’s a mechanic named Eddie in her livingroom. Steve supposes he looks exactly as expected—grey coveralls, arm tattoos, hands stained but washed (Steve knows, he shook one, with the hand that wasn’t clutching a cup of tea). 

However, Eddie also has long hair tied in a loose bun, and the warmest smile. It lights up his eyes and Steve barely knows where to look. 

Robin’s in the kitchen doorway, both hands on her own tea mug. 

“So. Popped a tire?” asks Eddie. “How’d that happen?”

“Hole.” 

Steve flushes when he hears Robin snort. 

Eddie’s grinning from ear-to-ear. “Hole?”

“P-pothole,” Steve clarifies quickly. “I went over a… a big pothole.” 

Eddie contemplates that, tongue between his teeth and looking Steve up and down, before he says, “Yeah, it’s amazing what a hole can do to you.” 

Steve splutters into his tea. It goes up his nose a little, kind of fucking hurts. Robin barely keeps a lid on her laughter, knowing Steve won’t thank her for it. 

“Eddie, you’re gonna kill him. Quit flirting.” 

“Sorry! Right. Where’s the car?”

He keeps his comments to himself throughout the tire change, even though he really wants to wind up the cute guy in the nice suit with the nice car.

Steve pays him there and then, cash plus tip, but Eddie rejects the tip. 

“Keep that. Since I almost killed you back at the house.” 

Steve blushes. “You caught me off-guard.” 

Eddie can’t resist. “I tell it like it is! Gotta know your way around a hole or you might blow, big boy.” 

There’s no tea this time, but Steve still manages to choke. 

[kindnessisweakness2]

9

Since Jax convinced her to come back to the party, Emily had to admit she was having a good time. Her and Jax sat at the bar surrounded by his brothers all telling stories in their drunken stupour. Jax's hand never left her as she sat on the stool next to him, moving between her thigh, hip or around her shoulders. She had to admit that it was nice. His warmth radiating through her. "Hey Jax." Emily watched as the young blonde barely clothed woman draped herself over him. She kicked herself mentally when she felt it. The stomach punch. She barely knew him. And as much as she would've liked to pull the ditzy blonde by her bottle bleached hair and smash her face into the bar top for touching him, she had no right to. Turning back to the rest of the boys she tried to ignore them both. Making eye contact with Opie, she was greatful for the smile he threw her way. "So you've obviously got some amazing ink lass! What about your piercings?" Chibs asked and Emily was grateful for the distraction. "Oh well I have a few! I have all the ones you can see on my ears." Turning her head from side to side Emily pointed to the colourful additions. "I have the hoop in my nose, did have a septum but I don't wear it anymore. I did also have snakebites in my lips but took them out." Poking out her tounge she showed them the pink pill tounge bar she had in. "Best thing about this tongue bar? It vibrates!" She grinned and threw a wink at happy. "Other than that I just have my belly and my nipples." Halfsack leaned on the bar, staring at Emily. "I think I'm in love." Opie shoved him, rolling his eyes. "Ignore the perv." Emily laughed, they really were amazing people. If you were accepted into the fold they made sure you felt welcome. "So are you some weird chick that likes the pain?" Happy questioned her and Emily couldn't help but laugh. "Nah I'm a little bitch when it comes to needles. Tattoos I'm fine with but piercings? I have to build myself up to get them." Feeling an arm being thrown around her shoulder and smelling the familiar perfume, Emily knew Cara was back. "Yeah! You should've seen her for her nipples! First one took it like a champ. 2nd one? She screamed blue bloody murder. Shouting about her soul leaving her body and that she was scared her titty was gonna fall off!" Emily could feel her cheeks tinge pink at Cara's words. Turning to face her friend who's lips were obviously swollen and the messy sex hair gave clear answer as to what she'd been up to, Emily grinned as she heard the men around her laugh. "Okay! It hurt like a motherfucker! And it was damn cold in that room topless. Asshole didn't even put the heating on!" Cara rolled her eyes at Emily, leaning forward to grab a drink. "Their sexy as fuck tho. The difference after - mind blowing." Cara widened her eyes nodded her head to emphasise her point. Emily rolled her eyes gently shoving Cara. "Juice level Mind blowing?" Cara shook her head grinning wide as she leaned over the bar top. "I have so many details to give you later Em! You wouldn't believe." Emily laughed at her sex drunk friend. She had a feeling juice would be making a regular appearance while Cara was here.

Glancing to her side, Emily watched a frustrated Jax still arguing with the blonde girl. He hadnt moved from his seat next to her and somehow that managed to wind the blonde up even more. Emily tried to give them privacy talking with the other guys and Cara but the girl was growing louder and louder. "You haven't saw me in weeks. It's like your not interested in me at all since that new bitch came around." The girl flung her arm in Emily's direction, fully starting to have a tantrum. Emily prayed silently to a god she didn't believe in that this wouldn't be another fight. Jax was none of her business. Turning her head to look around the busy party, Emily tried to tune out the argument. Cara and the guys were now deep in convosation. Crow eaters lined the walls chatting to one another, others hung over men as they sat and drank their beers. They definately had a weird family dynamic but for the most part it was nice. Everyone was taken care of, all one big dysfucntional family. It wasn't long before Emily made eye contact with Gemma as she leaned against one of the walls, Clay sat on a chair infront of her. Gemmas arms draped over his shoulders lovingly staking her claim. There was something in Gemmas eyes that didn't sit well with Emily but she couldn't quite pin point exactly why.

The sound of a loud smack made Emily's head turn fast. Her eyes widened in shock as they landed on a pissed Jax, now with a clear red hand mark on his face. Anger filled her chest and was probably clear to see on her face. Emily stood up stepping between Jax and the angry woman, as she saw her hand pull back to go for a second hit. " Okay. You had your one hit your not getting another." Emily stared down the woman infront of her. "Oh so your new bitch protecting you now?" The blonde spat over Emily's shoulder towards Jax. "Enough. You've said your piece, you've had your smack. Leave." The girl scoffed in Emily's face, making anger boil in her stomach. "You think I'm taking orders from his new whore?" Emily could feel the redness creep up her neck for the second time that night. "Look, you and half of charming know what kind of man he is. You fooled yourself thinking you could be the one to change him. Don't worry sweetie, we've all done it. Falling in love with the bad boy, convinced he'll love you and change his ways. But he hasn't. And he won't. Like I said, you've had your tantrum, you've had your 1 slap. Take the L and walk out gracefully." Emily stepped forward so she was toe to toe with the girl. "Because if you don't I'm going to drag you out of here by your cheap ass extensions. You see, I'm not the kind of girl to sit by and ignore when someone's clearly being harassed. No means no. Regardless of gender. And I heard him say no and ask you to leave multiple times." Emily grinned wide, her anger still high. " So what you choosing sweetie? You walking yourself out or am i gonna have to give you a hand?" The girl was clearly thinking over her options as she rolled her eyes and stayed silent. Emily didn't move a muscle, maintaining eye contact to show this bitch she wasn't backing down. "whatever. He ain't all that any way." The girl scoffed again, looking Emily up and down. "Yeah you keep telling yourself that, sweetie. Just remember it wasn't him stood openly begging you for a scrap of attention. Take yourself home, get some self respect and learn that when someone says no it means fucking no!" Emily shouted back at the scorned blonde as she stomped her way out of the clubhouse. Silence fell in across the room, everyone eyeing her, but Emily didn't give a shit.

Turning around to a shocked and silent Jax, Emily placed her hand on his red cheek, checking for any damage. "Her nails caught you abit but there's not much blood. You'll be fine Teller." Smiling at him, she slipped back into her seat as the music and chatter of the clubhouse started back up again. Emily felt better once everyone's eyes were off her, her stomach not twisting in anger anymore. Part of her really enjoyed how easy she slipped back into convosation with the guys, finding comfort in the laughs and banter. Jax's hand finding it's place on her thigh again causing the already familiar sparks to shoot up her spine.

What Emily didn't see though was the look Gemma and Clay shared as they watched the interaction unfold, and how easily Jax melted into her after. Something about that moment made Gemma realise Emily was going to become a permanent fixture around their family, even if Jax and Emily didn't yet.

[hauntedjpegcollection]

explore

wc: 2786 au: vampire au ch: benny, maran

“I was sixteen.” Benny flicks cigarette ash out the window as he leans against his desk, hunched close as the wind blows his curtains around. They’re the thick black out kind, because he sleeps during the day more often than not thanks to work.

“I mean.” He tilts his head back and forth, taking another drag on the cigarette while his other hand messes with his already disheveled pale hair. He holds that inhale in his chest for a moment and then finally blows smoke out the window. It’s not night time for once—this is rare. The sunlight is still low and soft, the world outside a dull and thin gray color. It’s early morning instead of night, about to be a full day in just a few hours. The sunlight is a pensive sort of yellow, watered down to nothing. It still hurts his sensitive eyes, but it was nice to see daylight. Remember he was human.

Benny grinds his cigarette butt into the windowsill and tosses it out. Then he slides it almost shut. He likes the little bit of breeze that the wind brings in, a cool spring sort of smell. Wet grass to mingle with the dark permanently smoky smell of his room.

“I th-think I must of known before I was sixteen, bu-but my first kiss that counted w-was with my best friend, Isaac.”

“Aw, Ben,” Maran’s voice is tinted with laughter, from where he lays on the bed. He’s on his stomach, pretending to read the messy hand drawn schematics that Benny had been working on before this impromptu morning visit. “That’s sweet, yeah? I love that.”

Maran had shown up, red around the eyes with a sniffling pink nose. He’d shown up with wet lashes, shown up with that smile he always had but so obviously forced—so blatantly fucking put on that Benny hadn’t known what to do for a moment. There had been a dislodging inside his chest, like something crumbling without structure to hold it up. He’d done the only thing he could think to do. Let him in and bring him to his room, where he’d happily let Maran distract himself.

Distract didn’t feel like the right word either, because he didn’t think Maran was using him that way. Sometimes, when someone as beautiful as Maran, it was impossible not to be anxious about that. People like Maran didn’t like people like Benny. He was unapproachable. He was weird and he was mean and he was unsightly, with vampire scars he’d gotten almost covered with enough tattoos. Benny wasn’t sure how someone like Maran could ever look his way and smile—so if he got his heart broken, that was a problem for future him to deal with.

Benny, right then and there, in his sweatpants and shitty tank top, was not turning Maran away.

He goes to the bed and pulls his notes from the younger man. Pretty brown eyes follow, up and up until they reach Benny, who folds and stuffs the schematics behind him on the desk. This is not the first time they’ve been here, in this room, in this exact position. Maran on the bed and Benny standing at the edge, waiting for some invisible hint of permission to join him. He thinks of Maran’s question, volleyed randomly during conversation. How did you know?

He wants to ask, too. But he knows that’s selfish, because he knows the answer. It’s not right, but—

“Was it me?” Benny cups a hand underneath Maran’s chin, tilting him up further and further. He can feel the other man swallow. He watches the bob in his throat. There’s a slight tension to his tendons, making his neck look pretty. Exposed and stretched—Benny can almost understand a vampire, presented with that. He wants to put his mouth there, to feel Maran’s pulse. He’s in some oversized shirt that slips low around the collar. In similarly too big jeans that have rips in the knees, waist band loose and lifted at his lower back to reveal a hint of his briefs.

A window of smooth, bronze skin sits there, as if waiting for a hand to stroke across his lower back.

“Not my first kiss,” Maran replies, laughing. His eyes are shiny with humor, either oblivious to Benny’s unrepentant consistent devouring gaze, or enjoying it. The feel of Maran’s warm breath, tickling across his fingers has Benny’s throat narrowing. “Sorry. Sara Dahlgren in primary got there first.”

“Bitch,” Benny jokes with a sideways sneer. “Didn’t mean your fir-first kiss ever—that’s not what you asked.” Maran’s cheeks flood. His eyes have cooled since whatever made him cry before (Benny hadn’t asked, because he knew Maran would talk if he really needed to) but now his face is red once more. His eyes are shiny again, with a different sort of gleam.

“Isaac was the f-first guy I kissed.” Benny slowly slides his cupped hand from under Maran’s chin to his cheek. His thumb draws a gentle circle over a defined cheekbone, then his whole hand moves to Maran’s hair. It’s grown out a bit more—he’ll need it cut soon. The texture is thicker and coarse, compared to Benny’s thin blond. He can picture it growing in tiny, coiled rings.

He moves onto the bed. His knees first and then slowly makes his way up onto it, pushing Maran back by the sheer intrusion of his body alone.

There’s a bit more shifting on the bed and then they’re both laying. Benny on his back, one hand comfortably folded behind his head. Maran, on his side, with an owlish gaze in the dim morning light. He has one of his freckly hands tucked under his cheek, creating a somewhat adorable curve that makes him look even more boyish. He is undeniably one of the most handsome people has ever met, but he also manages to capture an essence of innocence in moments like this. It makes Benny feel less aroused and more…protective. Hungry, not to kiss and bite and fuck and have and own, but something else. Something worrisome, like tenderness.

“Yeah, you were the first,” Maran finally says. His words come out slightly muffled because of his squished cheek. He’s smiling though, which is also slightly warped because of that. It is crooked and beautiful. Benny reaches out and touches fingertips to his lower lip, enjoying the sudden dilation in Maran’s pupils.

“That’s shit,” Benny laughs. “I’m a bastard, you d-deserve better.”

“Hey!” Maran propels himself forward, hands curling around Benny’s shoulders, body shifting over top of him. They erupt into a laughing argument about that, jostling together. Maran’s knee’s pin between his thighs, widening his legs until they sort of sit around the other’s hips. Benny has a suspicion he has no idea how good that feels, so he clamps his teeth together to stop a noise. Benny flops his hands above his head, defeated, surrendered and breathing heavier.

“Just adm-m-mit you have bad taste, Mar.”

“I think you taste pretty good.”

Clearly, his witty tongue gets the better of him there. Maran sits back slightly, his hands resting on Benny’s thighs. His cheeks turn an even darker shade of crimson, a wicked color that descends down his lovely throat. But he still smiles, because of course he does. Cheeky little fucking brat—shy sometimes and awkward occasionally. Unsure of himself sometimes, but always with that hint of cockiness, a smile that makes Benny feel like a caged animal straining on a leash right against the bars.

“I taste like cigarettes,” he argues.

“Sort of,” Maran admits, and his smile is bashful once more. “But it’s very—like, guy. Tasting. Manly?” He fumbles his hands together like he’s trying to talk himself through the description. One of Benny’s legs hooks a bit higher around Maran’s waist. His hands are still above his head, resting there. Maran’s eyes quickly go anywhere but him, scanning the messy room as if he can find something to help him. All he would find are wooden stakes and dirty clothes. “Girls taste like chapstick most of the time.”

“Well, I’m no fucking girl.”

“I can tell—you don’t use chapstick.” The quick, clever tease makes Benny snort and laugh, lick his lips on reflex. Maran’s eyes follow the movement. Ben does nothing more than shift a bit to get more comfortable, one knee still half bent, the other leg pulling Maran in closer. He fumbles a bit, hands sliding down sweatpants clad highs. He blinks his pretty brown eyes a few times and Benny realizes that all the times they’ve been together, these positions have always been reversed.

Benny likes topping. He likes being the dominant partner, even. He likes leading—guiding. Teaching. Corrupting. Telling someone what to do, and if he was being rougher about it, demanding. Sometimes, with a mean hand behind a neck and filthy whispers into their ear. But Benny also likes this. He likes being spread out slightly beneath another man, he likes the feeling of being looked at and he likes that Maran so obviously likes looking at him. It pets his ego, but it also makes him feel desired in a way that isn’t…nasty. Benny fingers curl and uncurl, above his head.

“Do you wanna touch me, Mar?”

The offer puts a visible hitch in Maran’s breathing. Benny slowly reaches to take the edge of his tank top and move it up over his stomach. He adjusts to get the fabric higher, until its sitting above his collarbone and then Benny returns his hand above his head. Maran’s eyes dart everywhere for a moment and then they quickly slide away. Then they stutter back and then away again. He laughs, nervously but doesn’t move or say anything else. It seems to get stuck in his chest, whatever he might be trying to articulate.

It reminds Benny of when Maran is right there, about to cum and quickly stuffs knuckles into his mouth to quiet himself. What he wouldn’t give to show Maran it’s okay to be noisy; that Benny wants to hear everything he’s going to moan or whimper, or just say. Anything at all.

“Y-You’re not gonna do anything wrong,” Benny laughs. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the pillow, lets himself relax. “I like being touched.”

A beat passes. Benny feels his heart speed up. Another beat and then—hands slowly slide around his waist. Benny sighs and relaxes into the warm sensation of dry palms on his skin. He doesn’t open his eyes yet, because he has a feeling it’s giving Maran confidence to explore. And he does explore; his hands notch a bit higher on Benny’s torso, cupping ribs in an intimate manner. A shiver passes up Ben’s spine at the sensation of thumbs drawing across his skin—tracing the edges of moth wings, he realizes, inked underneath his sternum.

As Maran sits forward, their hips slide together more and Benny takes advantage. He hooks his legs harder and forces their bodies closer.

“You’re so warm,” Maran mumbles quietly. A hand brushes downward once more. A finger taps underneath his belly button—a painful bruise heats inside him there and he cannot stop himself from blinking down. Maran is staring directly at the spider tattooed there. His eyes are lidded, heavy and hungry in a way Benny has not seen before. That naked desire has an effect on his entire body that is like grasping an electric fence.

Maran’s hands travel once more. Up again. One passes over Benny’s chest and he cannot help but let his head fall loose on the pillow and moan. It’s entirely unintentional, but that doesn’t mean he tries to quiet it. The blankets rustle as Maran presses in closer (that brings their lower halves closer once more, tangling them up in a way that could also make him moan). The hand on his chest cups his pectoral and with either confidence or intuition, Maran squeezes and makes inhale hard.

His eyes pop open, flit about the ceiling before landing on Maran. He seems half pleased and half fucking battered. The expression is so sweetly, adorably his boy that it makes Benny tilt and laugh. A hand lifts to wrap around Maran’s forearm, slide appreciatively up the curving swell of a darker bicep. He squeezes his own appreciation.

“Y-You’re surprised?”

“I wasn’t expecting that!”

“It feels good!” Benny’s laugh peters out softly. His hand doesn’t leave Maran’s arm. “F-Fuck off, you ha-have nice hands, Mar.”

“I do?” He lifts it off Benny’s chest, to glance down at his palm. With his free hand, Benny snatches it and returns it directly to his chest. To curve around his tattooed flesh, to hold and press against a now alert nipple. The brush against it makes Benny shiver and sigh pleasantly. Maran’s cheeks are bright again.

“It’s different,” he says. His hand curves harder, just enough to put tension on that sensitive nub. Benny closes his eyes once more, gives into the relaxing feeling of being teased and toyed and enjoyed. “Like, yeah? Obviously, yeah. Knew it’d be different—touching you, verses…touching—right? But. It’s not so different in other ways.”

“Guess you’re just a na-natural.” Benny’s voice sharpens on the last word when his nipple rolls between Maran’s index finger and thumb. “Or humans have sensitive nerve endings regardless of gender.”

“Alright, professor?”

“Oh, are you into that, baby? Want me to teach lessons—” Benny’s sentence cuts out with quick, excited gasp when he feels Maran’s mouth close around his pec. A warm tongue lavishes, pointed, making his hand scramble. He touches defined shoulders, a muscular back. Maran’s strength hides underneath his baggy clothing, but Benny’s fingers dig hard enough to bruise. That seems to make the mouth against him hungrier, kisses moving to his sternum and then up.

Maran kisses him then—and Benny can see why girls probably liked Maran so much. He kisses with an intensity that makes melting feel humanly possible. Like he’d pass straight through the mattress, seep through floorboards. His hands yank at Maran’s shirt, pushing it up and up until their kiss breaks apart long enough for the fabric to be thrown aside. Then they kiss again and Maran kisses him hard. Hand curled behind Benny’s neck, the other doing appreciative gropes down his chest. Benny has to pull away because he’s fucking dizzy, because Maran’s kissed him fucking lightheaded.

And Maran only presses kisses to his jaw then, to his neck. The blooming warmth is beautifully overwhelming.

“Jesus,” Benny pants, snatching Maran’s cheeks and yanking them to look at each other. “You’re killing me here, man.”

“Hm?” Maran hums instead of dignifying a reply, his lips crooked.

“Insatiable little fuck.” Benny punctuates each word with a shake of Maran’s head. The grin only goes wider and more crooked with each gesture. “Last time I give you the upper hand.” It’s a lie. Benny likes being on top…but sometimes he likes this too. He likes being consumed like this. Their chests slide together as Maran lays over top of him, between his legs. The position is so familiar that it’s hard for Benny to think. The momentary vision of Maran, wedged between his thighs, holding up his knees to keep them parted is enough to make Benny slap a hand over his on eyes.

“We could keep going.” The suggestion is sing song, right against his skin.

Instead of replying, Benny reaches out blindly to slap until he finds a wire. It’s a charger, connected to a mostly broken phone. He pulls the thin white wire until the phone dangles enough for him to read the time, even upside down. He shares a glance with Maran, who attempts innocence once more at the sight of how late (or early) it is. Wide eyed, hands on Benny’s chest, eyebrows raised. He plinks his lashes.

“Take off yo-your jeans,” Benny says. Maran’s eyes widen and he sits up quickly. When he shuffles off the bed and starts yanking at them, Benny rolls over and smacks at the light switch on the wall. The room goes only moderately dark, since morning has fully crept upon them and buttery light spills in from the window. Maran crosses to it, quickly snapping the black out curtains close.

When he slides back into the bed, Benny traps him with the blankets, cocooning him into a squirming mess. He presses a snarling kiss to Maran’s cheek, more laugh than anything else. The laughter quiets because of the kissing, but Benny doesn’t let it go much further than kissing and Maran ends up falling asleep swiftly.

[fuyuswifey]

Hailey’s Selfships ✨

Hailsuno. Hailey + Chifuyu. Friends to lovers. Protective boyfriend. Motorcycle rides. Surprise dates.

"I hope you're hungry," Chifuyu said over his engine roaring and the wind blowing past us. "I made reservations for us to have lunch at that restaurant you enjoy". He was always doing things like this. Planning surprise dates when they're least expected. It was his way of showing how much he cared.

I smiled as I peeked over his shoulders, to look at him. "Chifuyu, I thought we were just going for a ride. I wasn't expecting lunch too". It should of been expected that he was planning something when he picked me up from work on his motorcycle instead of walking like usually did. I wouldn't deny though the idea of lunch with him sounded amazing. "You always find a way to surprise me Fuyu".

"It's my job baby"

Michley. Hailey + Takemichi. He fell first, but I fell harder. Golden retriever boyfriend. Picnic dates. Nightly cuddles.

"Where are you going?" Takemichi asked, his arms pulling me back towards the bed. If there was anything he insisted on, it was not being separated while cuddling. It could be as simple as trying to leave for five minutes and he was already begging for me to come back.

I chuckled as I tried to slip out of bed once more. "Michi, I'm just going to get a refill of water. I won't even be gone that long". As I pried his arms from around my waist I was finally able to successfully get up. However, looking back at him, the sight of his lips in a pout and his eyes giving a silent plead was enough for me to get back into bed with him, falling into his arms.

"Fine. Five more minutes".

Senley. Hailey + Senju. Strangers to friends to lovers. Shy girlfriend + teasing girlfriend. Weekend self-care dates. Matching tattoos.

"Are you nervous babe?"

Senju's question made my heartbeat quicken. Was I nervous? Not really, and yet my heart was racing. We both had agreed to get matching tattoos, which wasn't a big deal for me. Not completely at least. Getting a tattoo was nothing new, but getting my partner's name inked on me. That was different.

"I'm only a little nervous" I answered as we sat in the waiting area of the parlor, waiting for our tattooist to finish up with her previous client. "I'm more excited though". She took ahold of my hand softly, kissing my knuckles. "Good, you should be excited" she responded. "We're going to look amazing". Once again my heartbeat was racing, but not because of the tattoos. Instead, it was Senju's sweet gestures. I couldn't help but shy away, my eyes looking anywhere but hers, which didn't go unnoticed by her. She chuckled as she pinched my cheeks jokingly. "Is someone getting all shy on me?" She asked with a teasing grin on her face.

"Don't tease me Sen"

Divider by: @benkeibear

[aajjks]

TPOL!JK

yerin immediately bites her tongue upon hearing jungkook mention the fling she had. she was just drunk and she knows it's not a real excuse but it's the truth but her surprised face is soon replaced with fear when jungkook threatens to hurt her and yugyeom. just then, both you and namjoon walk out of the bedroom and neither of you looks happy. 'you okay?' yerin mouths to you but you just shrug your shoulders because namjoon isn't too happy with the information you shared with him. especially this late into the relationship.

"hey, kook care to smoke with me?" namjoon asks and jungkook goes with him, not even paying you or yerin any mind.

while they're outside, namjoon doesn't hesitate to bring you up to jungkook he knew this was coming but it makes his plan to make you crumble all too easily.

"why didn't you tell me you were y/n's ex, jungkook? that was low" says namjoon while lighting his cigarette. "you know she told me about an ex from her past that treated her like shit and i have every reason to believe that the ex she was talking about is you" he takes a deep breath and exhales, a puff of smoke leaving his lips and jungkook follows with his lit cigarette.

"you're a real piece of shit, you know? i have every reason to punch you in your face but i love you too much to lay a hand on you, so i'll just say this nicely...leave y/n alone, jungkook. thought you would've learned your lesson when she got shot but you don't care, huh? still the same selfish kookie i've known since you were 15 years old"

namjoon takes another puff of the cancer stick and resumes talking to jungkook who doesn't feel threatened by him but he isn't threatened by jungkook's presence either. he's familiar with jungkook's father and his toxic habits and had he known that jungkook was your ex, he wouldn't have invited him over. probably wouldn't have even mentioned you at all.

"y/n is a sweet girl. tastes sweet too and if you don't want your mother involved, i suggest you back off because i'm not afraid to play dirty either, jungkook. lay a finger on y/n and i promise ji-ae will go right back into that institution. you’re my little brother and all but she’s my girlfriend. MINE. so you either back off or, well, you know”

He is listening to his friend, with patience. Jungkook honestly finds this all really amusing. This has become more fun for him now.

He’s got to thank you for telling him about your history with jungkook, and now he won’t have to play so nice anymore.

He takes another puff from his cigarette and blows out the smoke, his slender fingers holding the cigarette so tightly, after namjoons done with his threats, Jungkook turns his face to look at Namjoon.

“I wanted her to tell you about us.” he answers his first question, looking at him directly in the eye. “Secondly. I made some mistakes during the relationship and I know I fucked up…” he admits, taking another puff. “But… hyung. Don’t threaten me alright?” He smiles, removing the cigarette from his lips. “do you honestly think I’m scared of you?” He laughs, a cruel hint in his laughter.

“I’ve dealt with my father, trying to tear us apart. What makes you think that you are any competition?” Jungkook reminds his friend of his cruel father.

And that is true, he is no threat to him. He is dealt with his father, namjoon is like passing wind. “ I can die for you..” he says with sincerity, looking at him.

Jungkook then thinks for a moment, Awful silence between them.

“but I can kill to have her- and maybe I have.”

Jungkook spits, his cigarette between his two fingers. “do you see the tattoo on my collarbone?” Jungkook smirks while he shows him the tattoo of your name. He sees the way Namjoon clenches his jaw.

“she was always mine. She never belonged or will belong to you.” Jungkook shrugs. “ and don’t you dare blackmail me with my mother- go ahead do what you can. I am also not afraid to play dirty.”

“And let’s not talk about yns taste, trust me I know it better than anyone, and it still lingers on my tongue.” He laughs.

[templeofalice]

hello :)

can i ask 9 and 99 if it’s okay? yay thanks!!

Hello, there!! I'm happy to answer!

9. Tattoos I want: I'm planning on three song lyrics.

"I am not your blowing wind, I am the lightning" from I Am the Highway by Audioslave

"A head full of lies is a weight tied to my waist" from River of Deceit by Mad Season

"On your toes or on your heels, there's a line drawn on the floor" from All I Am by Alice in Chains

99. Have you ever met someone who didn't seem real?

Yes! Over the past year, I've met Jerry Cantrell four times. I was so overwhelmed because he's a very big deal to me. He definitely didn't seem real at all. I was also surprised to realize he's just an ordinary guy. Surprisingly grounded and genuinely nice to chat with. He blew all my previous assumptions out of the water!

Thanks for the questions, friend! All my best! 🤗

[beatrixutoniumx]

✫⌒ NEXTGEN FACTSHEET : UNA-JULIE 

featuring : UNA-JULIE DIMALANTA (22... >.>), mysterious assistant of beatrix utonium

inspo : janet ( the good place ), m’gann m’orzz ( young justice ), starfire ( teen titans ), vision ( mcu ), bunny ( the powerpuff girls), the little prince ( the little prince ), mxmtoon’s rising album

song : haze, by mxmtoon

'Cause I'm lookin' for a feelin' And I look until I feel it With my hands in the air and clouds With my feet livin' on the ground

first impression : her eyes are wide because she wants to see as much as possible, she looks at you like she’s about to ask a billion questions and you hold all the answers, but most of all it feels like she’s empty until she interacts with someone. as if she’s always waiting to be noticed, or waiting for an invitation to exist.

summary :

una-julie was created by bria utonium as the result of an experiment to create someone/something that could finish off all of bria’s unwanted work. una-julie was … unexpected, to say the least. to cover their tracks, bria enlisted the help of their aunt beatrix. beatrix then organised for una-julie to have some papers and identification ( shout-out to nick wilde ), and they now live together as flatmates. una-julie also works with her in beatrix’s private investigation business. she does not accompany beatrix to do super-hero work. but she is always on standby just in case.

this is una-julie’s first time in elias (for purposes of connections, maybe she’s also been here a couple weeks before the nextgen event starts in november, to allow for any first meetings hehe).

no one else but bria, bryson, and beatrix know that una-julie was born from an experiment. as far as anyone knows, beatrix is just being beatrix for sharing rent with a 22 year old she hired (more on this in the full bio). she’s beatrix’s smiley, curious assistant who seems to have lived under a rock her whole life but also has wind powers and a crazy memory.

una-julie is technically a year old, but was born 21 years old. she has the powers of aerokinesis, as an echo of bria’s more powerful abilities, and is able to fly. she has a photographic memory and is also able to retain large amounts of information.

she loves musicals. she loves helping. she’s trying to figure out why it is she’s here now. she has a million questions and not enough answers. why does it the wind hurt when it blows against her? why are shoes so hard to put on? where else can she go if not earth?

GENERAL

full name. una-julie dimalanta preferred nickname. UJ, una-jule date of birth. 21/6 age. 22 gender. non-binary pronouns. she/they (Uj is realising she likes ‘she’ more but also feels comfortable with ‘they’) abilities. flight, aerokinesis, photographic memory.

sexuality. ??? place of birth. ??? current residence.  townsville. occupation. assistant to beatrix utonium ( private investigation business )

APPEARANCE

height. 5 feet 4 inches (1.63 m) hair colour. long hair tied back in stylish ways, or wearing a headband. style. comfortable but pretty (in UJ’s eyes!!). she likes wearing soft colours and layering clothes. eye colour. brown. piercings. N/A       tattoos. N/A notable markings. N/A glasses/contacts? N/A     faceclaim. kate valdez

PERSONALITY

interests/likes. musicals, photography, meeting new people :3 dislikes. harsh weather, unexpected weather changes, pain (either witnessing or experiencing)

RELATIONSHIPS

biological parents. n/a (created by bria utonium, shhh…) legal guardian. beatrix utonium. siblings. N/A significant others. N/A

friends.

?? :((

TESTS

hogwarts house. hufflepuff

SKILLS & STATS

languages spoken. english, spanish, tagalog, mandarin, cantonese, italian, french, german, portuguese … always learning more drive? no. jump start a car? yes. change a flat tire?  yes. ride a bicycle? no. swim? no. play an instrument? no. play chess? yes. braid hair? yes (badly)     tie a tie? yes. pick a lock? no, that’s bad :( sew? yes.

[ WANTED CONNECTIONS ]

Friends!! Pls </3

[officiallittletattoos]

By Frank Holm, done in Oslo. http://ttoo.co/p/284998

[flashyfucker]

baby, when you talk like that | tyler seguin ✷

MY MASTERLIST / talk to me here :) summary: seggy rails you in the driveway of his childhood home. tyler seguin x fem reader. word count: 2.6k ish. warnings: smut. little degrading. and in public. unprotected (dumb). imagine if i wrote some normal shit one time like missionary between a happy couple in a bed at 9pm on a weekday damn that’d be crazy btw I literally barely liked seguin before the jack harlow discourse somehow led to this. I can’t believe i wrote smut about a guy with a lion tattoo, but the vibes aligned here in a way I couldn’t ignore. throwing this out to the universe carelessly, like raw steak to starving crows. hope u like it, you slutty corvids.

He does this, at least once a year but sometimes, if something goes wrong or something goes really right, he’ll do it a handful of times: blow back through your shared hometown, a place he’s too big for, now, and he’ll pretend he isn’t.

At the dinner table, with him and his parents and yours, you think, maybe he isn’t.

Something about him in a branded Stars hoodie to dinner table feels grandiose and humble all at once. The TV in the other room drones through under the cheerful racket of voices, rushed catching up, because none of you know exactly how long it’ll be before Tyler leaves again, least of all him. Maybe that’s part of the appeal.

Your parents have been friends as long as you’ve been alive. He’s been on the fringes of your life, always in the background, both of you comfortable with his place there.

And, sure, a crush on him has always shimmered somewhere shallow to the surface of your mind. Half the town felt it, really, the crush. Have you heard Tyler’s back? would light up your group chats and your parents’ landlines whenever he’d make the long drive up.

For you, the crush had been snuffed out easily through middle school fights, then high school, college hookup rumours, with every article out of Boston reminding you who he was whenever he wasn’t who you knew him to be, it was snuffed out. But then he’d do this again, come home, and ask how your siblings are (I know we don’t call each other enough,), and pour you another drink without needing to ask, and that shimmery little crush, it’s snuffed out remnants, would surge right back.

It was hard to deny, the cliché of it all, how he was closer with your siblings than he was with you, your friendship stunted by age and social circles, but he picked you up from cheer or band or the mall, sometimes, before you could drive and when your parents worked late, and he was the local high school’s flashiest hockey player with the talent to match, so despite the distance between the two of you, riding shotgun in his car always felt like winning.

That’s probably why when he offers to drive you home, now, years later, you still don’t miss a beat.

Riding with your parents to this dinner had been for convenience, to begin with, but now they’re joining the Seguins on the couch, a few bottles of red deep between the quartet with no sign of letting up. Tyler looks at you when the ancient VHS player comes out and the laughter grows, both your parents winding through old home videos. His mouth and brows crimp in an almost-smile, somehow embarrassed as the parents coo. 

He clears his throat.

“Before the bath time ‘94 videos come up: do you need a ride?”

“Yes please.” Maybe you answer a little too soon, but Tyler is scooping up his keys and wallet and telling your parents he’ll see them tomorrow in the laying out of some plans you must’ve missed while you played 20 questions with his parents about your own career. He’s charming as ever, the way he has your mother wrapped around his finger even still, makes your father smirk, and something about it makes your heart race.

Outside, the night air is fresh and crisp and the driveway is bathed phosphorescent gold by streetlights, glinting in the black of his car’s windows. Tyler trails you, both checking your notifications while walking down the drive.

“Does it turn you on how much your family likes me?” 

At his jab you lock your phone and scrunch your brows, feeling your chest throb once, twice.

He does this, sometimes, too. Says something just inflammatory enough to see you, or anyone else poor and unsuspecting and in the same room as him, squirm. You hate how it still gets you, but you’ve been on the wrong side of it enough times that the pit in your stomach heals over quickly.

“Oh, yeah. You’re totally husband material.” Turning back against his Audi’s fender to look at him, Tyler doesn’t miss a beat, not that you’d expect him to.

“Thanks. I’d definitely marry you on a night out in Vegas.”

You scoff a laugh and raise your brows, crossing your arms across your chest with feigned offence.

“Really? Vegas?”

He smiles like he’s admitted a truth he’d been privy to forever, something weightless. He rocks back on his heels, moving his arms to match yours. Eager for his elaboration, you watch his smile steel in place, his shoulders held back. 

“Yeah. Think I’d marry you in Brampton, or Dallas, too, if I thought you’d say yes.”

The feeling of working with him to construct a long-winded joke is nearly lost. You feel it fading, pushed out by the almost-seriousness of what he’s said, the way he’s said it, the gentleness of his timbre. He continues when you don’t respond. 

“I think you want me. I kind of think you always have. Maybe not as a husband, though.”

Snapped back to yourself, you almost choke on the nothing in your throat, body rigid in an instant. Despite this, you scoff and bite quickly, “That’s an assumption and a half.”

He laughs at you, full-out and meaningfully, lifting his hands in surrender. 

“Please, let me know if I’m wrong.”

“You know I would.” A grin threatens at the edges of your mouth sincerely, whether it’s joy or embarrassment, though, you’re unsure.

Tyler smiles, reminded why he never really minded driving you ‘round town years ago, laughing with you in the front seat, listening to the wins and losses of your high school days. He smiles like this conversation is easy (and maybe it is, for him), like your heart rate isn’t spiking.

“But I’m not. So you can’t.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Despite what might’ve been admitted between him and you, you attempt to keep the strong sarcasm aflame in your throat, but you feel like you’re burning alive along all your nerves. 

“Don’t look so reserved, now. You can have me, I’m right here.” 

He sticks a hand out to you, like you’re meant to shake it, or hold it, maybe, but you don’t. The car is cold against your backside when you lean back into it and your arms fall to your sides. You don’t register your jaw’s slack until the chill breeze lights up your wet lips, and you’re asking him “Come here?” Before you even know why.

He paces the few feet forward and takes your face in his hands and kisses you, finally, a little shy and chaste and unexpected, and your chests bump as he exhales heavily and you kiss him again, heavier this time, years weighing on it.

One hand falls to your hip while his other shifts to grip under your jaw, pushing and pulling your head as your movements flow together, tongues toying between teeth and teasing little smiles. Everything smells like the fresh-clipped lawn and his fabric softener and it’s cold for August but he’s on you, hands everywhere, and the heat radiates.

There’s nothing gradual about how the ache between your thighs grows for him, how you tug him closer by his waist and how fast he realises what you’re looking for: pins you hard to his car with his hips. He draws his hand from your hip to your knee and hikes your leg up, your dress bunching up around your hips to let his denim-clad cock press to your core. He pecks at your lips once, innocent to spite the thick air surrounding you, heavy on your tongue.

The street is dead quiet and you’re glad for it when his hips rock and hit a sweet spot and you whimper into his mouth, and he takes it as instruction, repeating the motion once more with a cocky little grin, teeth knocking into yours. 

With a gasp, your head falls back and you prop a hand on the car’s hood behind you, the only thing keeping you upright with the weight of Tyler against you, his mouth on your neck, now, relentless, your own hips chasing back after his as the rhythmic rub against your clit pulls pleasure up through your core.

“Gonna ruin my jeans,” He grunts but he ruts again and again and your cheeks glow because he’s right, you can feel the slick in your panties and, over his swollen cock, the zipper on his jeans pressed into your slit, and you can’t hide how you kinda love it, how he doesn’t care, working you hard. 

“This is so slutty.” His fried voice chokes around what could be a laugh, but it loses its humour when you whine a little too wantonly, his words sending a jolt right to your cunt.

His movements are swift to halt and he brings his fingers up under your chin softly to meet his eyes, shadowed in the low light but you can see well enough that they’re narrowed, pupils blown and lusty in their own right, and he smirks when he speaks: “Did you like that? You like being called a slut?”

“Tyler,” You whisper with a feeble tilt of your head, bent knee pressing into the outside of his hip, trying to leverage your core against his once more, but he leans out of it, bringing a hand to circle the curve of your jaw.

You think you’re gonna die when his free hand slips down between your bodies, pushes underneath your ruined panties and dips into your folds, pulling away before your body could fully process his touch had even occurred. Your throat feels tight, wordless. 

“You can’t act shy, slut.” He starts, cocky smile lilting like he’s playing, toying with you, but you think it might be the most serious, hell-bent he’s ever sounded. Your cunt pulses around nothing as his fingers, slick with your juices, dip into his mouth, “Not after how you’ve been moving,” 

The vestiges of shame glower in your belly and throb between your thighs as your mouth opens and closes, looking for words that stay hidden. With both hands on your waist, Tyler promptly turns you, presses a hand into your back to fold you against the polished black hood of the Audi, flips your dress up so your ass is out for him, his hands wandering, your skin burning. 

With your clothed chest against the chill metal, you could almost laugh at how insane and filthy this all feels, the porch light his parents leave on bouncing off the sheen of the vehicle below you, and that hot little burn of shame comes back and grows within you, only turns you on more, your body thrumming with it.

“You want me to fuck you?” Tyler questions simply. He’s not touching you save for the hand anchored on your lower back, but you feel him behind you, stood still, the heat of his body encompassing.

“Yes.” Panted from your mouth frenetically is all it takes for him to pull his cock out and push your panties aside and sink the throbbing head past your puffy lips, and the pressure so, so deep within you feels enormous, the tight burn delightful.

“Huh-fuck,” He chokes, swallowing thickly as he’s static in you, both your breaths bated, getting used to one another, and as a reminder, more to himself, he rasps, “Gotta be quiet. Everything out here echos through that front window.”

You’d have killed him for telling you that right now, had he not begun rutting into you, his body pressing you hard to the car where the smooth metal bites the tops of your thighs. Strings of obscenities roll off his tongue lowly: arching your back deeper tilts your pelvis just so, and you swear the press of him inside you has you seeing white, keening for him from the centre of your throat.

You really can’t help it, the clench of your cunt nor the heady cries you’re trying to muffle with the back of your hand when Tyler’s fingers slink to where you stretch around his cock, gliding up with a fresh lick of your juices to meet your clit.

Something akin to a chuckle comes from him at your attempts, and his free hand crawls up over your shoulder to cup over your mouth, hoisting you back almost-upright into him, letting you prop yourself up on your arms, the change in angle meaning his brutal pace hits a little deeper.

“I’m not gonna last long like this, babe, I’ll be honest.” He mouths at your temple, breath fanning over your heated skin. Your fingers strain against the ungiving vehicle’s hood, your body threatening to unravel as his pace steadies once more, all too much alongside his bullying of your clit with the soft movement of his fingertips. “But you’re close, too, huh?” 

You nod frantically, his hand in place over your mouth making the movement tough, but it’s all you can give. Well practised, he keeps his movements steady, chuckles through his own desperate panting.

“Yeah? You’re gonna get off on being fucked outside, are you?”

“Ah. A-huh.” Your face scrunches into his palm, all your attempts at words muted by his hands and his cock and the trees and neighbours houses in your blurred periphery as you nod helplessly, pleasure mounting and teetering. 

“Fucked in my driveway against my car like a slut. My pretty little slut.”

That’s all it takes to tip you over, that little possessiveness. You hear the smile on his mouth as your body shudders and arches, hips circling back into his, still chasing while you crest your high, the feeling in your abdomen spiralling, searing, his fingers still rubbing at your heat while you clench down on his cock. 

“Fuck. God, Tyler.” Your voice is broken and whiny and comes between short puffs of breath against Tyler’s lazy hand on your chin, now, as he continues to drive into you, little currents of overstimulation firing up, making your pelvis jerk. 

It’s like he takes your orgasm as permission for his own: before you’ve stopped writhing back into him with the convulsions of your cunt fluttering around him, still, his entire body weight is pressing you hard to the car. 

His chest is crushed into your back, and he’s filling you, hot and sticky with a lewd groan, his hand falling from your mouth to your chest, pushing below your neckline fervently, kissing at your neck and squeezing at your tits. You moan softly at the feelings, all of them, the slight twitches of his cock buried deep, the involuntary bucking and the clenching of his abs against your ass while you swipe your hair from your eyes, your arms shaky where they hold you upright. 

Your head is levitating and you only feel brought back down when a breeze swallows you and cools your dewy skin. You laugh something short and disbelieving while Tyler pulls out slowly and tugs your panties back across your swollen mound to dam the obscene flow of his cum from your body. He taps your ass gratuitously and smiles while you turn and fix the skirt of your dress, watching breathlessly as he grabs the passenger side door for you.

“Leather seats, baby. Wipe ‘em clean.” He motions for the seat like your chariot awaits, but you’re stuck at his words, a little jab to the gut, the way he does, sometimes. 

You pause and gape at him for half a second, his shit-eating grin, face twisting in mock-repulsion as you scoff “You’re disgusting.” and stave off a smile of your own. As you climb in, you try your best to ignore the faint, hot slide of him between your thighs. The leftover feeling warms you, a shudder prickling up your back. Tyler dips his head to finish you off with words that shift excitement in your belly:

“But I’ll bet you’ll let me fuck you again when we get back to yours, so, so are you.”

[rons-wheezely]

224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him. 

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.” 

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is. 

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once. 

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…” 

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.” 

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile. 

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love. 

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films. 

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you. 

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?” 

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you. 

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

[ingeniousmindoftune]

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝒢𝒪𝒪𝒟 ℒ𝒪𝒪𝒦ℐ𝒩𝒢 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝒲𝒜𝒯ℰℛ • Dark Romance • “The Cabin.”

This story was written separately from this platform; with proof I’ve written. Do not plagiarize or steal my work. I do have a lawyer on standby and will gladly take your ass to court! DO NOT THINK ABOUT IT.

WARNINGS: dark fic, dark humor, smuts, explicit scenes involving characters, gore and brutality! Do not read if you aren’t into dark romance or lifetime type shit cause baby, this isn’t the book for you.

Prologue!|

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Jason Momoa stars as the main character in one of my original fics. It’s been a while since I’ve written on tumblr and wanted to come back with a bang. Jason Momoa is Cyrus Eastwood, a handsome tour guide and naturist. But he’s not just that, he’s also.. a serial killer. And his newest mark is Luna Blair <feel free to change it to your name but this is an original character.> whom was in desperate need of a get away, who escaped the craziness of her home life and booked a nice little cottage off to itself in the woods, I know right? Black woman by her lonesome in the woods? Rare shit!

NEVER TRUST GOOD LOOKING MEN ON THE WATER

“The Cabin.”

Luna exhaled sharply pulling her luggage as she approached the guide center. There was no way she was getting to her doctor’s cabin on foot. Everywhere here was surrounded by water, which scared her. She could easily be killed and thrown off in the creek somewhere and no one ever know .

The creaky screen door slammed shut, a man came out in a white sleeveless shirt with an axe, making his way to the lodge that was in the front of the shack, scattered around the lodge was wood. She closed the door to the Taxi, alarming her present to the man.

Cyrus' head rose. His eyes came face to face with the smooth, clear, dark complexion of Luna Blair’s. You could hear the crows cawing and trees blowing from the wind. His golden brown eyes were met with her dark brown ones. “Can I help you?” His voice was quite sexy, everything about him was sexy to Luna. He was appealing. He wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead, slamming the axe into the wood. Moving closer, to get a better look at his possible new victim.

Cyrus wasn’t just any killer. He romanticizes his women, he wants them to feel wanted, passion and the whole nine, and then he just snaps whenever she does something he doesn’t like, but he does it all consciously.

“I-” Luna felt a knot in her throat, as he got closer, he formed a sinister smile. Luna was left speechless.

Cyrus chuckled. “Sweetheart. Are you going to speak or are you just going to stand there?” She nods her head. His hair was pulled back in a bun, but even Luna found it to be another big part of his attraction. She loved a man with a pulled back messy bun. His eyes met with her lips as they parted slightly. “Yeah, sorry, I’m in need of your assistance to get to the Brown cottage or cabin? I’m not entirely sure which it is.” She couldn’t help but admire his tattoos, at least the ones she could see, including the one on his neck. Luna was always a sucker for men with tattoos. Always.

“Ah, the Brown cottage? Yes. I can take you. That cottage has been around for years, you a friend of the browns?” He questioned waving her over to the back of the shack where his boat resided

She stumbled over a few branches. He caught her. “Should’ve warned you to watch your step.” He smiled down at her, she looked up at him as he helped her back on her feet, up straight. “Yeah, a little warning could’ve gone a long way.” She chuckled. He nods. “My fault. Right this way.” She smiled following him down the dock, he pulled off his shirt. “So, you never answered me.” He kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pants, getting in the water so he could push the boat in and further into the water. “Yeah, you could say that.” She finally answers.

“Yeah, I knew Mr and Mrs.Brown. Nice ol’ couple. May they Rest In Peace.”

Luna smiled a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah. May they.” Cyrus could tell she was different from the other victims, she held hurt behind her brown eyes. She craved peace, part of him wondered if she could be more than just another mark. Cyrus was once in love. Because of his heartbreak, it turned him into who he was. Love drove him insane. Drove him to murder. “You should step in. I got you.” He held her hand, helping her into the boat with one hand as he held the boat with the other. “I hate boats.” She admits. He chuckled. “You’re not the first nor the last person to tell me that. Got your luggage?” She nodded, he untied the boat from the dock, getting in the water pushing the boat with him to the deeper end, before crawling inside.

“Are you here alone? Or someone else is joining you?”

Luna didn’t think much into his line of questioning. She just figured he was attempting to make small talk. “Uh, yeah. And my grandmother.” She pointed to the ashes that resided in the urn. Like he thought, she was unlike any of his victims. For one, she was of different ethnicity. All the women he’s murdered were white. But then again, he hated all women because of one. “Ah, I’m sorry for your lost.”

“Thank you.” Luna thanked.

He nods his head slowly as he rowed his paddles in the water, looking out at the cabins along the way. “It’s so beautiful here.” She smiled at the sight, the beautiful lake houses were by far the best sight she’s every seen. The water was as clear and blue as the ocean. The mountains were blue, white and of a green color and just gorgeous. She might just like it here. “It is. I love it here. I grew up around here.”

“You did?”

Cyrus nods his head. “Yes. Four generations. I once lived here with my father but he passed on a couple years back leaving me the shack and the family business, I know pretty much everything there is to know about everyone here, including their dirty little secrets.” He chuckled, she laughed softly dropping her head as she held the urn close and firm. “For instance, that lakehouse over there belongs to the North’s. Jacob and Elaine North, they’ve been married for thirty years. But, I have been in an open marriage for quite some time. Elaine is having relations with Mr.Erwin that lives in the lake house across from your cabin.”

“Ew, the oldies getting down like that?”

Cyrus laughed. No one woman had made him laugh. She laughs too. “I mean, my father always told me those the one should be having sex. Always said us young folk shouldn’t be having the time of our lives.” She smiled. “My granny told me the same.” He chuckled, nodding his head, “Wise woman I see.” Luna smiled, Cyrus returns the gesture. He was deliberately taking his time to her cabin. He wanted to find out all he could. “Are you the only one here?” Luna asks him.

“No. There’s others. We do a bonfire every Saturday night, you should join. You’d love the people here.”

Luna smiled. “I don’t know.. I’m not big on crowds.” She chuckled nervously, rubbing her arm. “Suit yourself but, if you ever change your mind. My house is just through the back of yours.” She raised an eyebrow. “It is?” Cyrus nods. “It is. I am barely there though. I’m always at the shack during the week or doing some work around the lake. This is a small community, you’ll soon learn that and I needed a place that was close to everyone for maintenance purposes.”

“Oh.” Luna nodded. “Well, good to know that I won’t be in the woods alone.”

Cyrus chuckled. “You’re safe here. We haven’t had any problems with safety around these parts. I will make sure of that. I’m big on protecting my people.” Luna didn’t know why Cyrus made her feel warmth but he did, and Cyrus didn’t know why she was making him second-guess killing her but she was. He chose to drop his victims miles away, to keep suspicions off of him and his community. She stared at his tribal tattoos. “Your tattoos..”

“Samoan.” He answered. “My father was Samoan and Native Hawaiian.”

Luna nods. “They're beautiful.” He glanced down at his chest that was full of art. He thanked her before they rowed to her cabin, he got out and pulled the boat on land. She looked over at the beautiful cottage that she saw from the smaller trees covering it and the long pathway. “Wow. This place is beautiful.” He smiled. “Thank you. I did the renovations myself. It still needs some work but it should be finished soon. If you don’t mind me continuing the preparations while you’re here?” He held out his hand for her. “I don’t mind. Long as it’s not too early or too late.” Cyrus led her down the pathway and to the front door, opening the creeking door that slightly stuck. Flipping on the lights. “I’ll be fixing that door and it’s handle before I leave.”

“Okay. Does it lock? I noticed it was hard for you to open.”

Cyrus nods. “Nothing I can’t fix. Welcome to your new place.” Luna dropped her grandmother’s urn on the fireplace gently, taking in the view of the beautiful yet chilly cabin. “It’s chilly in here.” She rubbed her hand up and down her arms as she shivered, Cyrus looks at her placing her other luggage by the door. “I’ll chop up some wood. It gets pretty chilly here during the night. I’ll make sure you have enough chopped for the night. There’s no central heat in this cabin yet. I’m still working on getting something of the sort for this place. But the fireplace gets this place warmed pretty well. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Yes, is there a grocery store near? I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve gotten something.”

Cyrus smiled. “It’s alright. I’m going into town later. I can pick you up a few things. Uh, let me gather some paper and a pen from my place and you can write down everything you’d need or want?” Luna thanked him. “You’re incredibly nice. Not like the people from where I come from.” Cyrus was nice but he was also dark. Luna would soon come into knowledge of that. He placed the keys on the island in the kitchen area. She yawned. She was tired. The flight took a huge toll on her. “Why don’t you shower, get settled? I’ll go chop up some wood for now and warm up the place, and you can rest? I’m sure your flight was draining.”

“It was. Thank you, kindly.”

Cyrus nods, he walked out her cabin and gathered some wood, he picked up the axe from the side of the house, placing it on the lodge. He began chopping up the wood, not realizing that Luna was watching through the bathroom window. She bit down on her lip watching him chop wood, it was temptation. She shook herself, letting the shower start, she dipped out of her clothes. Cyrus stopped. His attention turned to the bathroom window, seeing her strip from her clothing. He smirked to himself. “I’ll be having fun with you.”

Tags:

@hinatasfleshlight @bbygirlchristina @skyesthebomb @lovesanimals0000 @briana-mishell24 @piccasoe @wandasbitxh @littlebvbie @90sisthenew80s @tribalqueen20 @panicsinvirgo @wh0reforbucknasty @star017 @zenxn20 @rosegoldcoco @xsweetdellzx @rainedabrat16 @laylasbunbunny

[commander-krios]

Call of the Force

Ok, I’m not entirely sure about this, but I gave it a try because I absolutely adore @starknstarwars​‘ Powin and wanted to make a fun little ‘first meeting’ of him and my Consular (who I neglect, I’m sorry Ves baby). I hope he’s in character, I feel like he’d be annoyed but also amused that the Force keeps putting Jedi in his way.

The Force called to her.

There were times when she could easily ignore the call until she was in a better state to investigate. But this was not that day. It hummed at the edge of her awareness, prodding her incessantly until she answered. With eyes closed, Jedi Master Veskasa Niobe purged her mind of emotion, crossing her legs as she settled onto the ground. Resting her hands on her knees, she found her calm center, reaching out gently through the Force for whatever it was that had disturbed it. 

She sat in the silence of the Tatooine desert, feeling the hot winds blowing sand against her skin. The sting would’ve been distracting, but Veskasa found it simple to tune out, her mind focused on the things that were truly important. Such as the sun beating down upon her face. And the sounds of Jawas chattering as they trekked through the desert. Nature was very much alive around her. It made her briefly miss Tython and the beautiful hills and rivers that she loved.

Refocusing her effects, Veskasa pushed her mind further and she ran into a wall, impenetrable and shrouded in darkness. A Sith? The Force disturbance was strong, almost as if the person was suffering great pain. 

She released her hold and took a deep breath, calming the rapid beating of her heart. The Sith’s pain lingered briefly. A burning pain in the lower extremities. She would be able to heal it, but she would have to find the Sith first. That would be the hardest part. Tatooine was a large planet, mostly covered by sand. 

In a fluidly quick movement, Veskasa was on her feet, stretching out her muscles. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of the Sith on her own, but she knew the surroundings. A cliff behind, open desert at the front. Perhaps a cave not far from where the Sith waited, mouth dark despite the bright sun. Now she just needed a guide to find the place before it was too late.

~~~~

Sheev had been correct about the location. It was exactly as it had appeared in her mind. A cliff of red rock jutted up out of the desert, touching the blue cloudless skies overhead. The sight of a cave about a half mile away cast the ground in front of it in dark shadows. Veskasa couldn’t see them, but she could feel the life energy of the Sand People, most likely hiding in the cave or below the sand preparing for an ambush.

Her gaze found the source of the Force disturbance quite easily. Green skin marked with black tattoos was like a beacon against the brown-red of the rockface. The Sith was resting against the rocks, a twisted expression on his face as he glanced up at her. 

Holding her hands out in front of her body, she took a cautious step forward and then another. “I felt your pain and have come to offer aid.”

The Sith closed his eyes briefly, pain crossing his face as his wounds reminded him of their existence. Hissing through his bared teeth, he leaned forward, clutching his leg. A stray curl escaped his perfectly coiffed hair, laying against his forehead.

Veskasa hadn’t seen many Mirialans in the service of the Empire. But then again, one of her closest friends had brought a Pureblood Sith to the Light so anything was possible.

The distance between them grew small until she finally paused, her feet sinking into the warm sand as she waited for him to speak.

“Why would a Jedi help a Sith?” He hissed, his agony reaching out to her through the Force once more.

He refused to look at her when she knelt beside him. She noticed in that brief moment that he was shaking. She politely glanced away from his face and to the wound that pained him. He had sustained three large gashes to his thigh, the black slacks he wore beneath his robes torn open. A pool of blood stained the sand beside him. Whatever animal had attacked him had not been kind.

“I help everyone, regardless of which side of the Force they choose. Light or dark doesn’t matter when someone is hurt.” She raised her hands up in a non-threatening manner. “May I touch you?”

He winced, but his voice was strong when he responded. “I may be injured but I still have my lightsaber, Jedi.”

Her brown eyes met the Sith’s gold. A weighted silence fell between them with nothing but the slowly cooling winds of Tatooine and the Sith’s heavy breaths breaking the quiet. 

“Are you going to kill me?” It came out as a whisper, but no fear laced the words. After all of the things the galaxy had thrown at her, Veskasa had learned how to master her fear. But she wasn’t afraid of the Sith and it wasn’t because of his nasty wound. 

It had everything to do with the look in his eyes. 

After a moment, he let out an irritated ‘tut’, slanting his eyes away from her to glance in the distance. The first of Tatooine’s suns was sinking below the distant horizon. Darkness would descend upon them soon and without the light, she wouldn’t properly be able to heal him.

Another heartbeat passed before he sighed deeply. “Do it quickly, Jedi.”

Veskasa pulled the fabric of his slacks away from the wound, exposing the ravaged skin. The bleeding had slowed, enough that she could work without getting completely covered in it. Reaching into the pouch on her belt, she retrieved a few Kolta patches, an injector, and clean bandages.

“I can force heal enough of the damage so that you can walk again. You will need to be examined by a doctor once you return to Mos Ila.” Grabbing her canteen, she tipped it so a gentle stream of water cleaned the wound of sand. The Sith hissed, trying to pull away from her the moment the cool liquid touched him. Veskasa easily kept him in place with help from both the force and her healer training. “It’s going to get infected if I don’t clean it.”

Sweat beaded along the mirialan’s forehead. His eyes were closed, his mouth a thin line as he waited for the sudden pain to pass.

“Here.” She whispered gently, pushing a painkiller into his hand. “Take this. It should help ease some of your pain.”

When he opened his eyes, he glanced at the small injector in his hand. Veskasa had turned back to her work, but she could still feel his gaze on her. He only hesitated a moment before he pushed the injector into his arm, the hiss of the medicine releasing the only sound between them. With the wounds clean, she next placed her hands over his leg, close enough to direct the force energy to heal, but not close enough to touch him.

Warmth filled her body as the Force answered her call. Closing her eyes to all distractions, Veskasa did as she promised. She healed him as much as she could. With each passing second, his skin began to close, muscle repairing itself. It was a brief period, but she could already feel herself lose her grip on the force.

Harsh breaths pushed from her chest, her hands shaking as she finished applying kolto and bandages to the puckered scars on his legs. It took longer than usual, her hands unable to still as she felt the last vestiges of her energy slip away. Finally finished, she slumped to the ground, hands dropping to her lap.  

A chill went through her body, the healing warmth of the Force gone as quickly as it’d appeared. The first sun had set, leaving the last rays of Tatoo II fading as it came toward the horizon.

The Sith stood suddenly, towering over her as she continued to kneel. When she glanced up, his golden eyes bore down on her, something simmering beneath the surface. His hand was on his lightsaber hilt. 

Maybe Master Kaedan was correct when he said her compassion would be her death.

“I require your speeder, Jedi.”

She bowed her head, burying her hands beneath the cooling sand. If she was to die, at least she would be connected to the planet below her. “Do what you must.”

There was no response. No sound of boots in the sand or the engine of a speeder sputtering to life. When she surveyed her surroundings, she found he was still standing a few feet away, a curious tilt to his head as he watched her.

“If you stay in the Tatooine desert, you will die.” The Sith warned, his voice softening slightly but still with an edge to it. 

“I can defend myself.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded weak.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not the wildlife that will kill you.” 

Ah, yes. He was talking about the bitter cold nights. And without the light of the suns, she wouldn’t be able to find her path back either. 

Not to mention when he finally decided to steal the speeder, she would be truly alone.

“The Force will protect me.”

An irritated look crossed his face. His nose had even scrunched up. “I am offering my services to guide you back to your ridiculous order.”

A soft smile appeared. “Why would a Sith help a Jedi?”

The twist on his earlier words hit like a slap. A blank expression met her question. “I-”

Veskasa could feel his confusion, his turmoil, twisting the force between them. He was fighting with himself. He didn’t want to help her, but his pride was making it difficult to just leave her there. “You owe me nothing. I aided you because it was the right thing to do.”

Her words were not what he was expecting. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips that he desperately tried to hide. “I don’t know why the Force finds it amusing to throw Jedi in my path.”

Veskasa stood, wobbling on her knees slightly. She almost lost her balance but he reached out instinctively to steady her. He pulled his hand away once he realized what he’d done. 

A tense moment passed before he let out a sigh. “What do you say, Master…?”

“Veskasa Niobe.”

“Master Niobe? Will you allow Lord Powin Pasan to aid you?”

Veskasa laughed, a light and freeing sound. “And then you’ll steal my speeder, Lord Pasan?”

He grinned, clearly unable to stop himself. “I am a Sith, after all.”

That might be true, but then again, he wasn’t like any Sith that Veskasa had ever met.

[riddlecrux]

Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

[waitimcomingtoo]

Lovestruck and Lipstick Stained

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

synopsis: you and Tom don’t feel entirely out of characters after playing lovers in the MCU

thank you to @snowrosestonight​ for the idea!

Masterlist

“Well hey there Spiderman.”

You walked up to Tom at one of the many photoshoots of the press tour with a cheeky smile. He was dressed in his suit, a sight you had grown to love very dearly. Your time as Gwen Stacy in the MCU had been incredibly memorable, all thanks to Tom.

“Hey yourself.” Tom folded his arms and clocked your outfit, a white t shirt with Spider-Man’s mask in the shape of a heart and skin tight jeans. “Nice jeans. I think I can see the spare change in your pocket.”

You looked down at your jeans and pointed your foot, flexing the cherry red heels they’d put you in and laughed.

“I’m sure they’re no tighter than the suit. And at least I can go to the bathroom without a team to help me.” You teased him as you poked out your tongue.

“Don’t disrespect the suit.” Tom pretended to be insulted. “I recall saving your life a few times in it.”

“I mean no disrespect. Honestly, I never get tired of seeing you in that suit. It’s like a rush of endorphins every time.” You chuckled as you ran your fingertips down his arm. Tom couldn’t feel it through his many layers of material, but the act alone sent shivers down his spine.

“That’s how I felt when I saw that T-Shirt. Seriously, did they mold that to your body?” He teased as he eyed your ridiculously tight shirt. It was a classic look MJ had worn in the comics, and the wardrobe department wanted to pay homage to it. You had felt a little self conscious with the form fitting the ensemble was, but Toms comments had taken the edge off.

“A lady never reveals her secrets.” You shrugged playfully.

“Well you look amazing, darling. You should wear this more often.” Tom complimented as his eyes took their time going down your body. You stepped closer to him and fixed some stray hairs of his that had fallen out of place.

“You know, I just might.” You smiled as you touched up his hair. A content smile rested on Toms lips as comfortable silence settled between you.

“Are you two ready to go?” A set assistant came up to you, taking your attention away from each other.

“I think we are.” You answered for Tom and yourself.

“Let’s get started.”

You were lead onto set and given a mark to stand on. The flash of the camera wasn’t something you were used to yet, but having Tom directly at your side calmed your nerves.

You popped one of your legs up and gave the camera a sultry smile as you clung to Tom. There was a wind machine blowing your hair back as you posed, only adding to the magic. You switched up your face and position but never took your hands off Tom, and he did the same.

“Tom, can you put your hand in Y/n’s back pocket?” One of the photographers asked between shots.

“Is that okay with you?” Tom asked quietly, so only you could hear as he looked at you for permission.

“I prefer it.” You told him as you gave his face a once over. Tom smirked and held your gaze as he slid his hand into your back pocket, letting the cameras capture it. You winked at him before turning your attention back to the photographer, posing for a few more minutes before you took a break.

“Everyone take five. Great work guys.” The photographer smiled at the two of you before walking off set. You slowly untangled yourself from Tom, chuckling shyly as he slid his hand out of your pocket.

“That wasn’t too hard.” You joked as you walked towards your chairs on the set. Four women immediately came over to touch up your hair and makeup as you and Tom spoke.

“Hard? Looking pretty is my day job.” Tom scoffed and pretended to flip hair over his shoulder.

“And looking like I’m in love with you is mine.” You tweaked an eyebrows as someone fixed your hair.

“You do it so well.” Tom boasted. “Best I’ve ever seen, really.”

“Well, you know. I get lots of practice.” You shrugged casually. “And when looking at such a pretty face, it’s not that hard to look in love.” You teased him as you squished his cheeks. Tom laughed and pushed you off, smiling in gratitude at the hair and makeup people as they left.

“I, uh, I got pretty familiar with your back pocket today.” Tom said, keeping his yes down as he took a step towards you.

“Yeah.” You looked away as you felt your cheeks flush. “Not many get to say they’ve had that experience.”

“I better thank my lucky stars then, huh?” Tom folded his arms, giving you a cocky smile. You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes at him, not wanting him to get the upper hand.

“Yeah.” You spike softly, your breath fanning his face. “You better.”

With his chest touching yours now, Tom opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the set assistant.

“Are you guys ready to continue?” He asked, not realizing what he was interrupting. You and Tom shared own last look, heavy with disappointment, as you stepped away from each other and nodded.

“You got the lipstick, right?” He asked you. You looked at Tom in confusion, only to find him a blushing mess.

“Lipstick?” You asked.

“You’re gonna cover Tom’s face in lipstick stains for the second half of the photo shoot.” The assistant informed you, and you immediately understood the blush. Your cheeks flames up in a crimson of their own as you realized you’d have to kiss your best friend again after so many months without it.

“I got it.” Tom bashfully held up tube of red lipstick, avoiding eye contact with you. You stared at the tube, your mind drifting back to the long days on set where you and Tom, or Peter and Gwen, would kiss for hours until you got the perfect take.

“Awesome. Do you need any help Y/n?” The assistant asked you, snapping you out of your daze. You blinked a few times as you came back to reality and shook your head.

“I think I can manage.” You squeaked.

“Great. See you guys in a few.”

The assistant left you alone to get ready, a nervous flutter going through you as he left.

“Did you know about this?” You eyed Tom skeptically as you took the tube of lipstick from him.

“Oh, darling.” Tom snorted. “It was my idea.”

Your jaw dropped as he shrugged smugly and gave him a playful shove.

“You don’t quit, do you?” You clicked your tongue as you opened the lipstick, begging to apply it in the mirror as you held eye contact with him.

“No I do not.” He said proudly as he took a seat in his chair. “You said my face was pretty, right? Come make it even prettier.”

Tom beckoned you over with his fingers, making you gulp as you finished putting on your lipstick.

“Okay.” You waltzed over you him, dragging your finger along the side of your mouth to clean up the line. You put a knee between Toms legs and propped yourself up, leaning over him as you leaned your hands on each of his armrests.

“I think I’ll put one here.” You spoke softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Here.” Corner of the mouth.

“Both cheeks.” You narrated in a hushed tone as you pressed a kiss to either sides of his face. You could feel how hot his skin was under your lips, and it made you smile.

“This is already my favorite photo shoot.” Tom chuckled as you reapplied your lipstick and placed kisses along his hairline.

“Me too.” You mumbled before covering his neck and jawline in the red lipstick stains. After his neck was decently covered, you leaned back to admire your work. Tom looked at you with heavy eyelids, swimming in bliss as he drummed his fingers on your hips.

“One more.” You decided. “To top it off.”

You leaned in and placed a searing kiss to his lips, leaving a bright red mark in your wake.

“Good call.” Tom gave you a dopey smile one you pulled away.

“Come on.” You got up and took his hand. “Let’s go get our picture taken.”

~

“Wait, look.” You stopped walking to your hotel on your way back from the photoshoot when a certain building caught your eye. Tom stopped with you, as your arm had been linked through his.

“What are we looking at? A tattoo shop?” He looked at you curiously.

“Yeah. I was thinking of getting one to commemorate my time as Gwen Stacy.” You admitted as you shyly scratched behind your ear.

“What did you want to get?”

“Nothing crazy or anything.” You shrugged. “I just want something small to represent my role.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Tom asked as you walked inside the shop.

“About a million.” You chuckled. “That’s my problem. I can’t decide.”

“Well what’s your favorite scene?” He asked you as he browsed the artwork on the walls of the shop.

“I like when Peter sets up a picnic on the giant web. It’s my favorite scene visually and I, uh, I liked shooting it.” You looked at him timidly through your lashes. It was a great day on set, getting to cuddle into Toms side for eight hours straight. It held fond memories for the both of you.

“So there you go.” Tom half smiled. “Get a web.”

“You think I should?” You wanted his approval before you went through with anything.

“Yeah. You know how I know it’s the right move?” He raises his eyebrows.

“How?”

“That’s my favorite scene too.” He winked at you and pulled you towards the reception desk.

“Then I’ll do it.” You decided. “Under one condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to do it.” You told him.

“Darling, I don’t know the first thing about tattoos.” He warned you.

“I don’t care.” You shook your head. “You were my partner in this and if it’s gonna be on my body forever, I want you to do it. It has to be you.”

“I would be honored, love.” Tom smiled softly. “Just remember how much you love me as your partner when it turns out horrible.”

“That will just add to the charm.” You shrugged it off, feeling confident in your decision.

“Are you sure they’ll let me do it on you?” He wondered as the receptionist came to the desk.

“We’re celebrities. They’ll let us do anything.” You laughed before explaining what you wanted done. Within thirty minutes, you were in a chair with Tom at your side. He was armed with a tattoo gun, bouncing his leg nervously as someone else loaded it with ink.

“I need both hands to do this, so you’ll have to squeeze my knee instead if it hurts.” Tom said sympathetically, wishing he could hold your hand to ease your pain.

“Okay. Try to be gentle.” You braced yourself, already squeezing his knee out of fear.

“Right. I’ll just use the gentle setting on the gun.” Tom replied sarcastically, your laughter replacing your fear.

“Just shut up and do me.” You covered your eyes with your hands and turned away.

“Oh? Someones feeling romantic.” Tom poked fun at your accidental innuendo.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You whined.

“Sure you didn’t, darling. Are you okay to start?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just do it.” You gulped and squeezes your eyes shut as Tom began to freehand a web. There was an actual tattoo artist beside him, instructing him on what to do as he worked. The pain wasn’t as bad as you thought it was, but it didn’t feel great either. You squeezed his knee for an hour straight until you heard the relieving words.

“All done.” Tom said proudly as the buzzing from the gun stopped.

“Is my arm still there?” You asked, still facing away.

“It’s still there, love.” Tom chuckled as he wiped it down. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Yeah.” You beamed as Tom helped you sit up. You excitedly held out your arm. You looked at your tattoo and felt the air get knocked out of your lungs.

“Tom.” You mumbled as you stared at the tattoo.

“Do you like it?” He asked hopefully, staring at your face to read your reaction.

“It’s horrible.” You stared as you gaped at the misshapen web Tom had permanently put on your body. Toms heart stopped when he discovered that you didn’t like it.

“Darling, I’m sorry.” He apologized sincerely. “I told you I wasn’t-“

“I love you.” You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “And I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Really?” He gasped.

“Thank you so much. It’s perfect.” You threw your other arm around him and hugged him tightly as tears of joy streamed down your face.

“I’m glad I could help.” He smiled as he rubbed your back. “I’m definitely going to need a picture of my work.”

“Go ahead. The world deserves to see this masterpiece.” You beamed as Tom took out his phone. He went live on Instagram and held his phone up to his face.

“Guys, Y/n made a really bad decision and let me tattoo her. Wait, how do I flip the camera?” He looked at you for help as you laughed.

“Like this, sweetness.” You tapped his screen twice and held out your arm.

“Okay. Look at this. This is pretty good for my first time.” Tom praised himself as he took your arm and gently twisted it to show off the whole thing.

“I’m in love with it. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You smiled gratefully as Tom panned the camera up to your face.

“The smile on your face right now is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Look at this girl. How cute is she?” Tom gushed as he squished your cheeks with his free hand.

“I’m just so happy. Look at my tattoo!” You happily held your arm out, absolutely in love with what he had done.

“It’s pretty shit.” Tom laughed at his crooked lines.

“Stop it!” You scolded him. “This is my favorite thing in the entire world right now. And forever.”

“I’m glad you like it. Just like how you guys are gonna like our movie.” He managed to turn the camera around to wink.

“You’re gonna love it. I love it and I’ve never seen it.” You came into view as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You heard the girl. Go see our movie.” Tom commanded as he wrapped his free arm around your waist to hold you close.

“Out next week!” You chirped before he shut the camera off. You let a professional wrap the tattoo before you paid and left the shop. Tom held your hand as you walked down the street, his way of making up for not being able to hold it while you got the tattoo.

“Hey, speaking of the movie, we have the premier in a week and I haven’t picked an outfit.” Tom realized as you neared your hotel.

“Really? I picked my dress the day I was cast.” You joked, tugging Tom into the lobby.

“I fully believe you.” He laughed. “What are you wearing?”

“I have a picture. Here.” You handed him your phone as you got into an elevator. Tom looked at the picture of you in a floor length, off the shoulder, royal blue ball gown that you had taken in a fitting room. His jaw immediately dropped at the sight of you as his heart picked up speed.

“You look incredible. Can you send this to me?” He asked sweetly as he looked up from the phone.

“Sure, but it’s not even the whole look.” You laughed shyly as he gawked at you. “I’m gonna have hair, makeup, and heels on the day of the premier. Plus jewelry.”

“You’re forgetting the most important part.” He clicked his tongue.

“What’s that?”

“Me as your arm candy.” Tom winked at you and handed your phone back.

“How could I forget you? My partner.” You took his hand and squeezed it ostentatiously.

“You keep calling me that, and I kind of love it. I think of you as my partner too.” He said shyly as he played with your fingers.

“Then we should match at the premier. We can show everyone our partnership.” You said as the idea came to you.

“You’re wearing blue…”

“So you wear red.” You finished his sentence. “You’ve always looked good in red.”

“Done.” Tom decoded. “I’ll tell my stylist tomorrow.”

“Awesome.” You smiled as you got to your floor.

“Hey, darling?” Tom asked as you stepped off the elevator.

“Yes?” You stopped in the hallway so you could give him your full attention.

“Would you be my date to the premier?” He asked as his lips curved into a smile. You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded before you could form words.

“I would love too.” You told him. His face lit up like a Christmas tree as he rushed at you, picking you up and spinning you around as he hugged you tightly.

“Yes!” He cheered. “Everyones gonna be jealous of me.”

“Alright, alright.” You laughed as he set you down. “Save that energy for the premier.”

“Trust me darling, I will.” Tom grinned as he stood outside his hotel room, directly across from yours.

“Goodnight, idiot.” You rolled your eyes at him as you stood in your doorway.

“Goodnight Princess.” He blew you a kiss, making you groan. You went inside and shut your door, but Tom stayed out for a moment, looking at your door wistfully before going on himself.

~

“Are you all done?” You asked as you walked into Toms room while putting in your earring. It was the day of the premier and you had gotten ready in separate rooms like a bride and groom.

“Yeah I’m all…oh my God.” His sentence quickly changed course when he saw you. His jaw was slack as he gawkers at you, taking his time in taking you in.

“Do you like it?” A pink tint covered your face when you saw how star struck he was, making you look down shyly.

“What! What?!” Tom was still in awe as he looked you over, unable to believe how good you looked.

“Stop it. You look incredible.” You complimented him, and he did.

“You look so good!” He exclaimed. “Darling, you take my breath away.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself. Red is definitely your color.” You praised as he twirled you under his arm. His deep red suit perfectly complimented his skin tone and made him look extravagant, especially with the glasses he had opted for. Tom rested his hands on your shoulders and looked at you dress with a proud smile.

“I can’t get over you.” He shook his head in disbelief. “The color blue was made just for you. You look ravishing, love. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled as you pulled him into a hug. Neither of you wanted to admit it, but you both knew this was the last time you’d be together in this way. After tonight, the movie would be out and you’d no longer be on the press tour together. Because of this unspoken feat, the hug lingered a little longer than usually.

“You ready?” Tom asked as he rested his chin on your head.

“Ready.”

~

You walked out onto the red carpet together, hand in hand as the crowd roared. Tom kept one hand on your back as you stopped to pose for the cameras.

“We look like a couple.” He leaned down to say into your ear.

“A couple of besties.” You said without looking at him as you parted his chest. He tightened his grip on your waist as he continued smiling at the cameras.

“I hate you so much for saying that.” He laughed as he held you closer.

“Aw. But I love you.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The press cheered for you as you made your way down the carpet.

“Let’s do something different poses.” Tom suggested as you fixed your dress.

“Okay. Prom pose has to be first.” You said eagerly as you turned around. Tom wrapped his arms around you from behind and posed like you were going to prom.

“That was so stupid.” He shook his head with laughter as he let go of you.

“Here. Gaze lovingly into my eyes.” You instructed as you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Why?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion, but he complied.

“So the fans can say “look at the way they look at each other” and swoon.” You laughed as you tugged on the lapel of his jacket. Tom rolled his eyes before placing his other hand on the small of your back and gazing, as you put it, lovingly into your eyes. You put your hand on his cheek to keep his face in place and let the paparazzi have a field day.

You walked a few places down the red carpet before getting into a new pose, this time wrapping your arms around his neck as he kept his arms around your waist.

“We look like the Twilight poster.” You whispered in his ear before smoldering at the press.

“Which one?” Tom chuckled as he looked at you with all the adoration in the world

“All of them.” You told him as you kept your perfectly manicured hand over her heart.

“I want to do the Will Smith pose.” Tom decided, taking a step away from you and opening his arms like he was presenting you. You covered you mouth as you laughed loudly, feeling a warm sense of joy as Tom held his arms out to behold you. You looked at him fondly and blew him a kiss.

“I feel like artwork.” You shouted over the roar of the press.

“You look like it too.” Tom shouted back, holding his hand out for you to take. You happily accepted his hand, letting him twirl you before you spun into his chest. Both laughing happily and only seeing each other, the roar of the crowd disappeared. All you could hear was Tom’s laughter, coming deep from his tummy.

“Stop it.” You shyly hid your face in his neck as he held you tightly. Tom took your chin between his fingers and beamed at you, grinning like a child before resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re my best friend.” He said between his laughter, keeping his eyes shut to block out the rest of the world.

“And you’re mine.” You reached up and gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, looking longingly at him even with his eyes shut.

“Let’s go.” He slipped his hand into yours and pulled you along. “We have more red carpet to dazzle.”

~

“It’s over.” Tom let out a breath as he plopped on his bed after the premier. “I can’t believe it over.”

You plopped down next to him and both of you stared at the ceiling in silence. You were exhausted from all the screaming fans, interviews and hours on your feet, but you had never been happier. You reached out and took Toms hand which was lying beside yours and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Honestly Tom, this has been a dream with you. You made my experience better than I ever could’ve imagined. I can’t thank you enough.” You told him as you looked to your side to see him. He turned his head to look at you and gave your hand a squeeze.

“You can thank me by keeping me around.” He mumbled. “Getting to know you has been my favorite part of this whole thing, honest to God. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

“I’m sad it’s all coming to an end. I’m gonna miss being with you every day. Eating all our meals together and all that. I loved that.” You spoke softly as you looked down at your hands, trying to hold in tears that came out of nowhere.

“It doesn’t have to end. We can still see each other.” Tom assured you as he propped himself up on his elbow.

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same. You’ll go off and film your next movie and hang out with your newest costar and forget all about me.” You looked up at him sadly. “And yeah, we’ll see each other but it will only be every once in a while. We literally lived together during filming and now I’ll see you every few months. If I’m lucky.”

“Then let’s keep living together.” Tom said as if the idea had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while.

“What?” You lifted your neck a little to get a better look at him.

“I’m serious. Let’s move in together. Who says this ever has to end?” His eyes were hopeful skies with anxious clouds as he waited for your answer. You stared at him a moment as you pondered it, but deep down you knew the answer straight away.

“I don’t want it to.” You mumbled. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You never will.” Tom smiled softly as he brushed a stray hair off of your nose.

“Good.” You stated firmly. “Then let’s move in together to make sure of it.”

“Alright.” He left out a happy sigh and fell on his back. “We can start looking for a flat tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You covered your grin and turned away, not wanting him to see how happy it made you that he felt the same connection you did.

“All the fans are saying we look like a couple.” Tom said suddenly, handing you his phone that was open to twitter. The ship name your fans had coined for you and Tom was number one on trending, Tom was number two, and you were number three. Taking his phone in your hands, you scrolled through a few of the many rows of tweets saying you and Tom made, would make, or were a perfect couple. You couldn’t help but smiling seeing that millions of people wanted you to date your best friend.

“Oh my goodness.” You chuckled as you handed his phone back. “That’s another weird thing. I’m so used to kissing you and acting like I’m your girlfriend from filming. I have to stop myself from being all over you when I see you. I guess I’m still not fully out of character.”

“I have a pretty simple solution for that.” Tom quipped, clicking his phone off and turned on his side to look at you.

“Tell me.” You smirked as you rolled on your side as well.

“You wouldn’t have to stop yourself from being all over me if you…” Tom trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut like he lost his nerve.

“If I what?” You wondered, putting your hand over his to reassure him.

“If you were my girlfriend.” He spoke timidly. “Who says our love has to be limited to the screen?”

“Are you asking me out, Holland?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry if I misread the moment.” His face fell when he thought you didn’t feel the same. “ I thought we-“

You didn’t let him finish, leaning forward and kissing him instead. A hesitant hand molded against your hip as he kissed you back, smiling against your lips until you pulled away.

“You thought right.” You laughed breathlessly. “Whether we’re in front of a camera or not, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Tag List 🏷

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[doyumacy]

ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - 1

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ɢɪʀʟꜱ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.

ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴛɪʀ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɴꜱᴏʀ’ᴀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴘɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛꜱ,

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5,3ᴋ

next

three years ago

you slide out from under the car you've been working on when you hear an unfamiliar engine approaching the garage. it must be a customer, you think as you go to the front desk to help them.

the man who enters the office surprises you. he has light brown hair and is wearing black jeans with a white shirt with black flowers. his dark brown eyes sparkle with curiosity as he sees you. a black maserati is parked behind him.

"can i help you?" you ask, freely.

"i have a faulty spark plug and my garage is on the other side of the planet. they told me this was the best place in town."

"and it is. go ahead and go into the store."

"don't mechanics normally keep people waiting in the office?" he asked amused.

"only when the person doesn't know anything about cars. obviously you do, so you have to keep me company while i fix it," you smirk.

"what's your name, suh? -he asks, using the last name on your work shirt.

"y/n. yours?"

"yuta. nakamoto yuta."

"nice to meet you. let's get that car fixed, shall we?"

a few minutes later, the black car is with the hood open in the garage. yuta, on the other hand, is helping you by handing you the necessary tools. you let his fingers brush a little more than strictly necessary when yuta hands you a wrench.

yuta smiles and leans back against the car once you're done. "how much do i owe you?" he asks quietly.

it takes you a second to really register how close you are to each other. you look him in the eye. "how about you take me out to dinner and the debt is settled?" you ask in a sudden flare of audacity.

fortunately, he smiles.

"my thoughts exactly. what time will you be out here?

“six.”

he looks down at that ridiculously nice black gold watch.

"it's only an hour from now. how about i keep you company until then?"

"i'd like that."

"so what were you working on before I showed up?"

"my charger over there. there are some bastards who want to compete with me saying their luxury imports can beat it. tonight they're in for an ugly surprise."

you assume yuta has heard about your garage, knows about your regular clientele. they consider themselves the best store around to the fellow street racers. but to everyone else, it's just a small garage.

"that sounds like something i'd like to see. mind if i stay and watch you kick their asses?"

"it'd be my pleasure," you smile.

as expected, you end up following yuta back to his apartment after winning the race by a solid car length. the endorphins from winning the race flood your senses, and yuta is amazed that he had managed to stumble upon such an amazing girl. someone like him.

sl walking, you find yourself wrapped in warm arms and leaning against a hard chest. you caress the dragon-shaped tattoo on his right shoulder and plant a kiss on it.

a quiet moan tells you she is waking up. his arm tightens around her. he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning to you too," you say.

yuta rolls you onto his back and rests his torso on top of yours. "good morning."

"You look happy.

"i woke up with a beautiful, bad-ass, street-racing woman in my arms. how could i complain?"

you laugh. "well, i could say the same thing. it's not often i get to wake up next to a hot guy and  that brother would probably beat up if he knew where i spent the night."

he barks out a laugh. "you're most likely right..." he bites his lip. "there's something you need to know."

your smile disappears. "you're not married, are you?"

"no! god, no," he replies instantly. "i just want to know if you want it to be more than a brief fling."

you are silent for a moment as he thought.

"yes, i think so. i mean, we could get to know each other better but yes," you explain.

"then we're on the same page," you nod absently. "do you want to have breakfast before we go on with our talk?"

you can't help but get a little nervous. what does he have to say?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

"uh..." you sit up, holding the black sheet against your chest to cover yourself. "whatever. i'm not particularly picky."

yuta nods and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. he leaves his room and you lie back down on the bed. your cell phone rings somewhere in yuta's room and you grunt getting up to look for it. you find it inside your jeans.

"y/n! where the hell are you?" johnny asks as soon as you answer the phone. “you didn’t come home last night, and jaehyun said there was a guy watching you the entire race.”

“don’t worry about it, brother. that guy was my date last night. i’m at this place right now,” you grin.

“hold on, you had a date?! who? why didn’t you tell me?” johnny bombards you with questions.

you sigh. you saw this coming.

“everything all right?” yuta asks, entering his bedroom.

“my brother,” you say with your mouth. “johnny! easy with the questions. i’ll tell you later, bye!”

“be responsible!” it can be heard from the phone and you hang up.

you exhale dramatically and fall back on the bed.

“trouble, dear?” yuta inquiries.

you raise your head to look at him. “big brothers are tedious,” you announce after a minute.

“i wouldn’t know; i’m the older brother.”

“oh?”

yuta smiles warmly. “i have a younger brother. the idiot used to fight older bullies in the yard, and i was the one who had to finish them off.”

you smirk. “you protected him. my brother’s the same way.”

“let’s eat, okay? i still need to talk about something important,” yuta declares.

you nod and he tosses you slightly one of his shirts. you put it on and grab your panties putting them on.

yuta made sunny side up eggs and french toasts. between bites, yuta begins to speak. “i work for the korean mafia.”

“huh?” you stop eating and stare at him. “you what?”

yuta laughs lightly. “i work for the korean mafia.” he repeats. “i bet you’re wondering what a japanese guy is doing working for the korean mafia.”

“not exactly my first thought but yes,” you shrug. “what do you do?”

“let’s say i’m a middleman between the korean mafia and the yakuza,” he confesses.

you frown. “so you buy goods from them and sell them?”

yuta raises an eyebrow at you. “what are you? a businesswoman?”

you laugh and have a bite of your toast. “i went to business school, but i dropped out this semester.”

“hot,” he plants a kiss on your lips. “so yes, that’s my job. aren’t you scared?”

“of what? you? your job?” you snort. “i’ve seen way worse in the underground. i gotta say i’m surprised because i thought you were a good boy.”

yuta chuckles. “i am good at other things,” he winks at you.

you push the plate aside and sit on his lap. “i can’t recall, do you mind refreshing my memory?”

yuta grins and places his hand on your ass cheeks. “aren’t you too sore?”

“pain is my best friend,” you nip at his lip and he groans.

yuta kisses you and his hand goes to your throat tilting your head to the side and biting your neck harshly. you whimper at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. yuta shushes you and darts his eyes to you. “i thought you enjoyed the pain, baby girl.”

one year ago

you’re standing in front of his gravestone and place the flower bouquet next to it. the only sound is the wind, rustling through a nearby copse of trees. it has been five days since yuta died and the hole in your chest only gets deeper.

it hurts.

you’re broken.

your life without him means nothing. the city without him means nothing. nothing makes sense without him.

“you shouldn’t have died,” you say. “we could have been better.” you mumble, sitting in front of the grave. “it’s weird, today i woke up and i thought i heard your voice. am i going crazy?” you scoff.

you stare at the gravestone and then lower your heard. “i came to say goodbye. i can’t stay here anymore. everywhere i go i see your face. everyone reminds me of you.”

you feel tears streaming down your face. “i’ll never forget you, yuta. i love you so much.” you burst out crying.

after you left town, you were pretty much everywhere: singapore, thailand, indonesia, philippines, malaysia and even japan for a few weeks. racing and making a fame known as the ‘nameless girl’ who would beat everyone.

you left a note to johnny saying you’d be okay and you would return when you feel ready to.

you didn’t stay long in every country and you didn’t make any relations so things didn’t attach to you there. you were lonely but you got used to it. and you didn’t dislike it.

one night, you decided it was time to come back home. yuta would never come back and you felt you moved on.

the train arrives at its last stop and you grab your small suitcase exiting it. you walk and take a taxi to your house, or johnny’s house just to find a party. people and their racing cars everywhere.

of course. it’s friday.

you get into your house and see people everywhere. people dancing, no, grinding on each other’s bodies and blowing some smoke. perhaps weed. you walk through the crowded living room and spot johnny sipping a beer. you don’t know how he's going to react since you didn’t tell anyone you’re back.

you walk to johnny but he’s interrupted by a red haired and kissed him. you roll your eyes, johnny and his bitches.

you change your direction walking to the kitchen and see jaehyun talking to some people. he turns to you and doesn’t seem to notice you, it’s when he turns again and his face brightens up with a smile. “y/n!” he walks to you and tugs you for a hug, lifting you from the ground.

“hi,” you giggle, placing a kiss on his cheek.

jaehyun puts you back on the ground and smiles, "i almost didn't recognize you, you've changed so much."

“i just dyed my hair: i got babylights,” you grin.

“i like them, you look great,” jaehyun nods. “but where have you been?!”

“huh everywhere?” you shrug.

“and you couldn’t call?” he stares at you.

“i know, i’m sorry,” you rest a hand on his shoulder. “we’ll talk later, okay? where’s everyone?”

“johnny is lena, jungwoo is having a blunt with jinsoul in the yard and of course jisung is in his room, he’s not allowed to come downstairs,” jaehyun comments.

you nod and rest your hands on your waist. “i don’t know half of these people. who are they?”

“johnny became kind of a sponsor?” jaehyun frowns and you laugh. “no, it’s true! half of these people are rich kids betting on johnny's people, he met two guys that are literally gods of racing.”

“i’d like to see that,” you add. “what are their names?”

“mark lee and lee donghyuck,” jaehyun hands you a beer. “they’re dickheads but we’ve been getting so much money because of them.”

you scoff. “they’re just lucky. i am back.”

jaehyun whistles, smiling. “that’s the attitude, baby. i can’t wait to see you race again.”

you smirk. “i bet you wanna.”

“ah, johnny’s coming,” jaehyun murmurs.

you turn and see a blond haired johnny walking towards you. you tuck your hands into your jeans pocket and smile nicely. “hi brother.”

“when people started saying my sister was here i didn’t believe it because maybe she left this fucking town a year ago leaving just a note!” johnny exclaims. “and thought ‘why would she return just like that?’”

you sigh. “i’m sorry, johnny. but i’m back and i’m okay. that’s the only thing that should matters.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “are you dumb?”

you frown. “just because you’re my brother i d-

“half-brother,” johnny remarks.

“fuck you, johnny,” you hiss and leave the kitchen

when johnny gets upset he tends to be the classical dickhead and uses the ‘half-brother’ excuse just to hurt you. you think you might deserve it, but why is it so hard for him to understand why you left? why you need to leave?

maybe it’s because he has never loved someone the way you loved yuta. or maybe he’s too selfish to understand it.

of course you also think you didn’t do the right thing by simply disappearing out of the blue, but again, you don’t owe anything to no one.

you go to the bathroom that is next to the stairs and groan when you realise it’s locked. you lean against the wall and sigh. next to you, there are three girls whispering and laughing. you don’t care, until you hear your name.

“did you see y/n? she’s back,” one of them says.

“yeah. i thought she was in jail,” the other mocks.

“in jail? for what?” she laughs.

“apparently she was the one that killed yuta,” she comments. “and ran away, but my boyfriend told me the police caught her.”

the blonde one laughs. “poor thing.”

“and i’d go back to jail for ripping your ugly faces off,” you murmur, still leaning against the wall.

the girls stare at you and they decide to leave. you groan, rolling your eyes. “assholes.”

someone walking down the hallway whistles and smiles at you. “should i be concerned about my well being right now?.”

you look at them and you see a black haired guy, wearing a green jacket with black ripped jeans and black shirt. you scoff. “fuck off, dude.”

“but please don’t rip my face off.,” the guy rests his hand on his chest.

you stare at him and clench your jaw. “bugger off, dude. really, i’m not in the mood to take someone’s shit.”

“sorry,” he nods. “i’m mark by the way,” he passes the bottle of the beer he’s drinking to his free hand and extends his hand.

you look at his hand, hesitant. you shake your head and take it. “y/n.”

he grins, gripping at your hand. “you’re the famous y/n.”

you chuckle. “and you’re not the famous mark lee.”

mark smiles sideways. “so you’ve heard about me.”

“very little,” you shrug. “nothing impressive.”

“ah, they weren’t wrong when they said you’re a bitch,” mark frees your hand.

“did i hurt your feelings?” you pout mockingly.

“you’re gonna need more than that to hurt my feelings, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

you nod. “noted, boy. well, it was nice talking to you.”

“you leaving already?” mark asks.

“yeah. i’m tired and i need a place to sleep,” you say. “i guess i’ll see you around.”

mark nods. “have a good night, y/n.”

(...)

“when did she get back? how come i didn't see her?” donghyuck slides off the plastic armrest of the outdoor sofa he was sitting on.

jeno walks away to get a drink. “who 's back?” he asks.

“y/n suh,” mark replies.

“johnny’s sister?” jeno looks at him.

donghyuck and mark nod.

“what was she in jail for, like, a year?” jeno’s voice drops to a whisper.

“she was in jail?” donghyuck stares at mark.

“no. she just disappeared last fall,” mark explains.

“it was probably jail,” donghyuck adds, “that or she had a baby. i mean, the timing kind of fits for that, don’t you think?”

“and where’s the baby, smartass?” mark glances at him.

“gave it away for adoption,” donghyuck shrugs.

“what are you fuckers talking about,” johnny questions, going outside the house.

“your sibling,” jeno admits, earning an elbow to his side by mark.

johnny laughs and turns to look out over his yard. “which one?”

“y/n.”

“watch it, dude,” jaehyun warns him, joining them outside.. “johnny’s not too forgiving when it comes to his siblings.”

“noted.” jeno nods.

“anyways, i’m here to talk business,” johnny sits in front of them.

“back to the things i like,” mark comments.

johnny grins. “there’s a race next weekend, 15 grand for the winner.”

donghyuck whistles. “i like what i’m hearing already.”

“it’s a bit complicated since it won’t be in an enclosed area as usual. it will be in downtown LA,” johnny adds.

“count me in,” mark says.

“dude, do you know how risky it is?” jeno stares at him.

“i’ve done riskier things and here i am,” mark rolls his eyes. “i’ll be there, johnny.”

“you’re my favourite,” johnny smiles and looks at jeno and donghyuck. “you two are disappointing me.”

“i can live with that but not in jail,” donghyuck smirks.

“pussy,” jaehyun hums.

“sorry mr. in-n-out-from-jail,” donghyuck rolls his eyes.

mark chuckles. “that race it’s already mine. and the cops can suck my dick, they wish they were as fast as me.”

“my canadian boy right here is the shit,” johnny smiles.

(...)

the bright neon lights. the skimpy clothing worn by chasers. the many cars lined up.

it's another night in los angeles, and another night means another race.

mark breathes it in as he leans on his orange acura nsx. not a single scratch in sight on the top of the car. although he's working with a sponsor, he has his own gang known as death angels, because they’re risk takers, or most of them are.. he can hear the countless bickering of his gang, who are also his closest friends. donghyuck, jeno, and earphone yves, lucas, bickering about god knows what now. jeno and lucas are conversing about seeing some new people joining the race.

there's no doubt he probably owns the most showy and expensive car in the entire parking lot. until a brown haired girl, who he knows, motioned him to come over.

you.

"seems like you got a challenger," donghyuck murmurs.

"tsk, anyone can beat her. what's so special about her anyway?" mark says, annoyed.

yves clicks her tongue. "i wouldn't be so sure about it, babe."

you get off from your car, hair tied up, perfectly showing your features. your toned eyes are slightly covered with black eyeliner. wearing tight jeans, black t-shirt and a red leather jacket.

you look like you are meant to be there. not a chaser wanting attention, not a flag girl wanting to show herself off, but. tracer. the crowd don't bother you. you begin to slightly look around, and that's when you see mark. you and mark lock eyes, and with a strut, you walk with a confident walk over mark.

crossing your arms, showing off your figure, you take a breath, and open your mouth. "no shit you're here as well."

mark scoffs. "i'm a car racer, where else was i supposed to be?"

"junior leagues," you shrug and you hear one of his friends laugh.

mark stares at you and grins. "i challenge you to a race. simply, nobody else. that is if you are up for it."

the offer is rather simple.

an easy 10-second style race, just the two of you, nobody else.

you let out a breathy chuckle, nodding your head. "alright then, it's settled." you reply, standing up to his level, and leaning over his ear. "but don't be crying when you loose, sweetheart"

mark scoffs at that. "you're underestimating my ability right now, gorgeous." he says, poking his lips out in a seductive manner.

you laugh and he smiles.

you turn around for just a few seconds, yelling over to him words that are barely audible. “te veré al inicio de la línea,” (i'll see you at the starting lineyou say.

mark’s orange acura nsx is a perfect fit considering the late at night arrival they have been in. it’s his prized possession, obviously. he checks the side of his car, smirking to himself seeing the NOS lined up on the passenger seat. however, your white nissan gtr is a good contrast. no dent is seen on it, and the engines flare when you start it, earning an erupt from the spectators. fifteen thousand dollars are on the game, and you need that money.

you notice the flag-girl as one of the members of death angels. she wears a simple purple and black outfit: purple harem pants and a black bomber jacket, carefully showing her slightest laced bra. she looks good, there’s no denying it. and with that, she points at mark, starting his engines and giving a show for his car. then she points to you, and you’re wearing a smile on your face. your engines starting.

and time seems to stop when you hear words emit from her mouth. “go!”

mark and you immediately go and hit the accelerator at about the same time, so you two are neck and neck. you know your strategy, and mark knows his.

8 seconds left.

knowing this, mark uses his NOS, eating a prideful laugh and his back hitting the seat. but you have different plans. you wear a smug look, and let out a giggle. “the NOS he’s using will take a shorter time than it relatively should.” you think you yourself, and activate yours.

6 seconds left.

you fly back to your seat, seeing the crowd erupt in cheers. mark sees your white nissan catch up to him, and before he knows, you’re way ahead of him.

“shit!” he yells.

2 seconds.

and before he knows, you are at the finish line, turning your car around and creating a donut with it, earning praise from the crowd. marks ends up second, or last in this case. he gets out of the car with a scowl, and you make your way to him, with a smile on your face, and your hair is out of the ponytail you have been wearing.

“the NOS you used, doesn't take up as much time as normal NOS used. it was a bit too early,” you say, giving your hand out to him. he clicks his tongue, now slightly irritated to know the fact you're indeed right. marks gives you the money. “pass by the shop any time you want.”

“why would you want to help me anyways? we’re rivals now,” he cocks an eyebrow.

you sigh, when you are interrupted by the shouts of numerous spectators and blaring sirens.

“cops! cops!”

everything happens so fast. next thing you know, you are in the back of your car, hitting your foot on the accelerator and immediately rushing out of the area, keeping an eye out for cops in your view mirror. luckily, you don’t seem to spot many. but where you don’t look?

right in front of you.

bullets ricochet throughout the alley way, earning a slight flinch from you. you are scared. only a few times bullets have been in front of you. you quickly take out your silver handgun from out of your shirt, shooting at the cop, not enough to kill him, but it’s enough to get him to surrender.

“bullet proof vests don’t cover the legs, idiot,” you mumble, smirking ever so slightly. you turn a sharp left, going back to the place where you call home. a right. then left. another right. straight forward 2 miles, and there you are.

“ＳＵＨ　ＭＥＣＨＡＮＩＣＳ　ＡＮＤ　ＭＡＮＵＦＡＣＴＵＲＩＮＧ” is written in bold letters. you love this place, you and your brother practically grow up there. you make your way inside, after swiftly parking your car into your garage. the shop is somewhat connected to the house from behind, so you make your way out of the garage, locking the door swiftly, and arriving with 2 familiar faces.

“you had no business ruining mark’s race!” johnny stands in front of you. he’s angry.

“forget about that!” jaehyun stares at johnny and then at you. “you just returned like two hours ago and the cops are after you already? can you be more careful?”

“ah, br- sorry, half-brother, jaehyun. i appreciate the concern and all, but i got this covered, you know?” you reply and look at your brother. “and please, if you really cared about mark you would have recommended him a new NOS. his sucks.”

jaehyun presses his lips together. “it’s true. i’ve been telling you about that for weeks.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “it’s not my fault. the kid won’t change them.”

“well, then you should find a new guy because you won’t make much money with him.” you say and you take out your money. “and me? i am back, baby.”

jaehyun smirks. “then i guess beers are on you.”

“you guess right.”

(...)

mark rushes off in his car, having donghyuck joining him. he locks his gun, having his fingers on the trigger for any given moment. mark sighs out a stuttered breath, immediately hitting the accelerator and rushing out of the way. he has another tank full of NOS, that donghyuck simply swaps out, for mark to use at any moment.

“jeno and yves have made it back alright,” donghyuck tells him, while mark drives at an inhumane pace.

mark nods and takes the exit 12, driving to glendale. and after almost 25 minutes, they arrive at their warehouse. he parks his car next to jeno’s and they make their way inside.

“dude! that was fucking awesome!” jeno approaches him. “now i understand why the streets wouldn't shut up about her.”

yves rolls his eyes. “it was just lucky. she’s not that good.”

“then you wouldn't mind racing against her,” donghyuck hums.

“please, she’s nothing to me,” yves smirks.

“she got you mad,” mark walks to the kitchen. “she is something to you.”

“anyway,” jeno locks the door. “who sent those policemen? it’s weird, we have been using the same location for months,” jeno asks.

“someone was there. someone who’s purpose wasn’t to spectate or race, but to infliritrate,” mark sighs, adjusting his belt from his jeans.

“i’m wondering if suh is single,” donghyuck sits, ignoring the talk his friends are having.

“johnny or y/n?” mark mocks him.

“she doesn’t date,” yves sits next to him. “or that’s what i’ve heard.”

“since when you’re a fan of gossip?” jeno frowns.

“you don’t need to gossip, everyone talks about her and her tragic love life,” yves shrugs.

“so she wasn’t in jail?” donghyuck inquiries.

“i already told you she wasn’t in jail, smartass,” mark tosses him a beer.

“then where was she?” jeno sits in front of donghyuck.

yves slides a little on the couch. “you ever heard about nakamoto yuta?”

the three men shake their heads. yves rolls her eyes. “he used to work for the korean mafia and the yakuza doing what? i don’t know, but he was well known before we arrived here.”

“and what happened to him?” jeno asks.

“he messed with the wrong people, and he paid for his mistakes,” yves says. “they got him and killed him.”

“and how is he related to y/n?” mark rubs his chin with his index finger.

“they were together,” yves pulls out a box of cigarettes. “and days after his murder, she went away.”

jeno grimaces. “i would’ve done the same. it’s sad.”

“well, he’s dead and we can’t do shit to help her,” donghyuck stretches out his arms. “she’s hot.”

“dude,” jeno chuckles. “we were just talking about his dead boyfriend and you’re saying she’s hot?”

“donghyuck only uses his lower head,” yves mocks. “why are you even surprised?”

mark laughs and donghyuck rolls his eyes. “i’m gonna race against her again.”

“dude, you want to lose again?” jeno stares at him.

mark frowns. “a little bit of support?”

(...)

a few days later, you are working at your peace in call, the mechanic shop. you work with jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny. jaehyun is an incredibly talented racer, that’s for sure, he was the one who taught you everything you know. johnny and jaehyun are practically always together.

they have been friends since high school, and he’s close with you as well, despite you going to a different school.

so, there you are currently stocking up the shelves and displays with certain kinds of replacements and NOS, to whoever needs them. you wear leather pants, along with a white turtleneck shirt. your hair is down.

“do you have everything locked? storage room too, jungwoo?” you ask the blond.

“yep! johnny is currently working on the new car by the way. he said the client wanted something old school, and because of this, he got inspiration from somewhere,” he informs.

you raise an eyebrow, handing jungwoo the remaining products form the shelves, and making your way inside the shop. you see a black haired man glancing at the shelves with NOS.

you approach him. “hi, welcome. can i help you?”

the man turns and he smiles at you.

mark lee.

you stop the urge of rolling your eyes. “and we see each other.”

“you told me i could pass by whenever i wanted to,” he shrugs. “

“that was me being nice because i beat you,” you smirk.

mark grins. “then i suppose i should go to the Fascinare’s shop? i heard they’re nicer.”

if you and johnny didn’t hate the Facinare you probably would’ve told him to go, but since they are your competition you couldn't afford losing a customer.

you sigh. “of course we can help you.” you fake a smile.

“that’s what i thought,” mark says. “how many days will it take?”

you take a look at his car. “up to 1 to 3 days.”

he nods. “fantastic. i’ll be looking forward to racing against you again then.”

you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest. “i can give your car all the NOS in this world and yet, you won’t beat me.”

“you were just lucky the other night, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

“maybe if you focus on racing instead of flirting you might beat me,” you grin.

mark chuckles and nods. “right. i’ll leave you my phone so you can give me a call when my baby is ready.”

“my god,” you hum. “be right back.”

you go behind the counter and grab a small notebook and a pen. you hand it to mark and write his number down. “i’ll be looking forward for that call.”

“hopefully it won't be me making it,” you smile falsely.

“alright. see you then,” marks says, exiting the shop. “don’t miss me much, gorgeous.”

you roll your eyes again, and smile lowering your head. 

you then frown and shake your head.