#this drabble didn’t roll enough emotional damage for me

[the-travelling-witch]

the real question is, is it angsty enough?

[blorboazula]

Mask

Prompt #068 from 100 Days of Azutara Drabbles Challenge | masterlist | post-canon, relationship status open for interpretation, cw: burns and past child abuse

Azula was eccentric, to not say outright weird. Weird could be a good word to describe her, but it was an insensitive one to use to refer to a fellow literal child soldier. She had scary skills and a rigid routine, old habits die hard, people said. Azula was trained to be a ruthless killer when she needed to be a ruthless killer, and even the princess struggled to kill those habits that made her life a little more miserable.

Trauma made Katara quite the emotional one, even if she was pretty good at controlling those emotions. From what she has seen, trauma made Azula the queen of expressing her emotions. It was interesting, if you asked her, to think how one of the most powerful Firebenders in the world – if not the most powerful Firebender alive, – didn’t seem to use emotions when they seemed to be meant to be a Firebender’s fuel. 

Even a couple of years into whatever this relationship really was ,Katara still only saw her cry once. It didn’t mean she couldn’t tell when Azula was having a bad day, but still, she would have expected to have seen more of it.

However, her reaction to physical pain? That was unnerving.

Katara was healing quite the nasty burn that spread over her shoulder, partly over her chest and went midway down her left arm. It was quite the luck shot from the opponent, and it would have thrown down most Firebenders. If anny Firebender at all, she saw how powerful the burst was and the way Azula staggered on her feet for half a second. It could cause permanent damage without immediate medical attention, so good thing Katara was right there and ready to mak sure Azula wouldn’t lose any function of her arm.

Here she was, glowing water over her… friend’s shoulder. Years of experience as a healer didn’t guarantee that she got used to fresh nasty burns. But she thought that the queasiness of her stomach came from the way Azula showed no sign of being in pain, no sign at all, always something that made shivers run down her spine.

At this point, maybe she should be a little bit more used with the way Azula repressed her reactions, the way she seemed to always wear a well-carved mask. A mask Katara would like to not think about how it was forged in a house where a parent wanted her to be a firebending weapon and the other neglected her in favor of the firstborn. Azula could have turned out much worse, being honest.

“‘Zula?” Katara said gently, aware that the princess seemed to respond well to the nickname. Actually, she tended to even perk up when Katara used it.

“Yes?” She even sounded a little happier under the positive attention.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“That’s already a question,” Azula and her adorable little pleased grin, Katara rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “Ask away, love.”

It was hard to keep convincing herself that she was not in love with the princess when she could sct smooth like this: “You never seem to feel pain, why’s that?”

“Oh,” Azula looked between Katara and the skin knitting itself back together under the water. “I just, uh, don’t really feel anything most of the time, when I get hurt. You know when a part of your body falls asleep, so it’s there but you don’t feel it?” Katara nodded. “It’s something like that.”

“Were you born like that?”

“No,” the princess looked so adorable when she stopped to think of an answer like that. “You’ve people being hit by lightning, there’s this shaking after it.”

“Yes, not a pleasant thing to look at.”

“So, that’s when the charge is strong enough to cause damage. Hits enough and I think pain receptors are fried. Not pleasant, but made me quite the efficient warrior, don’t you think.”

“Yeah, it seems.”

The more she knew, the more she wants to take a trip to Ozai’s cell.

[taechaos]

Web of Lies

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying.

warnings: angst, panic attack, dry humping, the TINIEST bit of fluff

word count: 4.3k

Obstacles are inevitable in relationships; there’s always something that must go wrong. They can come in the form of arguments, disagreements, actions, or people like Taehyung. One physical obstacle that always knows when Jungkook is with you.

A few days after the fight between the two close friends, Taehyung’s nose somewhat healed and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from you as frequently. What’s the point when the people he tried to hide you from found out about his relationship with you anyway? The only reason he doesn’t approach you every time he sees you is because: 1. He doesn’t enjoy being clingy; that would mean he likes being around you all the time which he refuses to admit. 2. You would probably get tired of him and stop loving him. 3. He kissed your friend who always sits next to you outside.

Now that he’s taking most of his opportunities to talk to you, and maybe kiss you, Taehyung is growing restless. Every time Jungkook is with you, so is Taehyung. Some. Fucking. How.

To name one of the busts: when Jungkook was kissing you in the university’s hallway two days ago, Taehyung popped in out of nowhere and shouted, “Get a room, you sluts!” It made for a good laugh between the students, especially when Jungkook ran after him out of the building. 

Another time is when Jungkook was watching you work in the yard and Taehyung joined you two to ask about that “one hot friend of yours”. You ended up telling him about Soyeon and Minnie while Jungkook glared at Taehyung that conveyed a clear message: Don’t. So, he didn’t. It didn’t have anything to do with getting elbowed when you weren’t looking.

It was because that would ruin the fun, and he has a sense of purpose while roaming the entire campus to make his fourth bust of the week. He’s searched the hot and empty spots, but he just can’t find the passionate couple anywhere. If he can’t keep disrupting their displays of affection, how will Jungkook get annoyed enough to spill the truth to you? You deserve that much, and if you still accept him, then Taehyung’s out of the picture.

Why can’t Jungkook see that?

For starters, one of the reasons is Jungkook is distracted and growing very irritated by the heavy stare he feels digging into his skin. Who the fuck is watching him? He thought it would be nice to keep you company in the main campus library by controlling your hand under the table over his clothed erection while you skim through your textbook for a light revision, but a pair of eyes behind a bookshelf won’t stop glaring into his soul through thick frames that he can’t see. 

He blows out a breath and screws his eyes shut. His jaw clenches and you immediately catch on, worriedly asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s fucking watching me and I can’t get off,” he grits. Your cheeks heat and grow crimson when you glance down at your occupied hand, palmed by his bigger one in a tight grip. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “we can go to my dorm, if you’d like? Whatever you want.” In an act of comfort, you stupidly start caressing his length until he stands up. 

“Gotta confront the fucker.” 

Right when he raises his foot to take a step in the direction that his senses lead him to, Taehyung joins in on the mission. “Who are we confronting?” he asks casually with an arm over Soyeon’s shoulder, who is trying to suppress a grimace at the intervention. Jungkook glances at him and then your friend before sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes.

You grin brightly at the greeting and explain, “Someone's watching him. He’s going to find the stalker.”

“Might’ve been me, oops,” Taehyung raises his brows guiltily before slumping on a wooden chair adjacent to you, looking around the spacious area that makes him feel too loud. When he notices Soyeon still standing, he tells her, “come, sit,” and pats the seat next to him. She does so timidly. “Isn’t it so wonderful—”

“Why are you here?” Jungkook interrupts, but Taehyung continues, “—that we’re forming a friend group of our own? We’re all so familiar with each other.”

“Oh, Soyeon hasn’t met Jungkook yet.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you with a scrunch of his nose. “Sure about that?” Jungkook strides behind his chair and starts massaging his shoulders; a very harsh massage that has him holding back a wince. “Oh, Kook, that’s a bit rough. Tell me, is he like this in bed too?”

You gape at him in surprise, bashful because your lover doesn’t kiss and tell, and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.

“Tae…” Jungkook snarls.

“Well, is he, Soyeon?”

The library’s silence graces your table as everyone falls quiet, if you don’t count Taehyung’s groans at Jungkook’s bruising hold that is. Soyeon’s jaw drops and her eyes widen at the sudden switch in your gaze, searching for answers from her. “That’s not funny, Taehyung,” she breaks the silence with her blunt statement.

“Don’t mind him, baby, he has brain damage,” Jungkook spits and brings a hand up to Taehyung’s hair to yank it back. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispers in his ear.

Your features begin to soften from its hard expression until Taehyung smiles wickedly at you. “Oh yeah, it wasn’t sex, was it? It was a tongue battle-” His voice cuts off the moment Jungkook starts choking him with his elbow, and his gags fall on deaf ears. Soyeon tries to push him off, but you’re just blank because Jungkook isn’t denying it; it was as if he was expecting it, trying to stop him all along. 

The sudden interest in your friend, the constant interruptions, the hits…

“Soyeon?” you call quietly with welling up tears. “Did you kiss him?”

Your best friend doesn’t lie, and apparently neither does Taehyung. Does Jungkook lie? You’re conflicted between living in bliss, ignoring the dying man in front of you because your boyfriend might have kissed Soyeon, and facing reality by asking the hard questions.

Her hands are still tugging on his shirt to save Taehyung, but her persistence weakens when she looks at you: guilty and… exposed? “I didn’t know it was him,” she confesses. It is indirect, and doesn’t reveal much except that she kissed the one man she wasn’t supposed to. 

“When?”

“The party,” Taehyung wheezes as he struggles against Jungkook’s arm, his nails drawing blood on his skin. His face is red from the lack of oxygen but he isn’t worried about dying.

“Oh, he put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jungkook speaks through clenched teeth to Soyeon. “They’re setting me up, and who the fuck is watching me?!” 

You stand up slowly and close your textbook with a soft thud, packing your materials so graciously. Your hands are shaking, but the tears blurring your vision don’t matter to you. Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge to the exit, counting your steps to calm down. You ignore Jungkook asking you where you’re going, Taehyung gasping for breath, and Soyeon telling him to leave you alone. It’s all muffled and you’re too sad to care.

It’s a case of he said she said, but your heart is siding with your friends with how painfully it pounds against your chest. Your trust in Jungkook couldn’t have been that fragile, could it? Why did it break with one sentence? 

Heavy footfalls follow you beyond the exit, but you’re too distracted by trying to move your legs steadily to notice. It isn’t important enough to distract you from someone calling your name though, or the light weight of a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hm?” you say without looking up, frozen in your steps.

“A-Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks.

“I’m a bit sad,” your voice cracks and wavers from holding back a meltdown, “hurt.” You want to recognize the blurred image of the man standing next to you, so you blink and a tear sheds from each eye. “I told you to never talk to me again, Jimin.” You feel overwhelmed, and yet the memory of the blackmail has little impact on your mess of emotions, but it doesn't help you feel better either.

“Sorry,” he breathes, “I still don’t understand why, but you can do the talking for me. Wh-what happened?”

“Why do you ask? So you can use that against me too?” you scoff through the lump in your throat. Confusion washes his soft features, so you add, “maybe another handjob for it?” You shrug off his hand and continue your walk of shame. 

“I-I’ve never used anything against you, what are you talking about?” He’s chasing after you and it’s a bit of help in swaying your thoughts in a different direction, and your emotions towards anger and disbelief instead.

“Does a video ring a bell? The one you threatened to leak if I didn’t touch your…” You groan to yourself and quicken your pace towards your dorm. Maybe you could mope comfortably in there without the annoying presence of an arch enemy, who is feeding you more lies than you’re capable of consuming in one day. 

“What? I never— Listen, I deleted that video the second I received it. Whoever told you that was lying, please!”

It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying. His love was a lie too, apparently. Maybe the Jungkook you know is just one big fat lie who can’t seem to tell you the truth in any moment you’ve been with him. How many times do you need to hear from others and yourself that Jungkook is lying?

“I know,” you whimper and run off.

Once Taehyung catches his breath after coughing for a minute straight with a fresh bruise blossoming on his neck, he interrupts the hushed argument between Jungkook and Soyeon by asking, “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going straight to hell once I fucking kill you for good,” Jungkook fumes with flushed cheeks. 

“If you die by murder, you go straight to Heaven. How do you not know this?” His voice is low from the assault and his throat aches, but he still attempts to lighten the mood. 

“I swear to fucking God, Taehyung—” Jungkook stops his threat when he sees Soyeon sneakily walking away. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Air,” Soyeon vaguely answers.

“Bullshit.” Jungkook tries to go after her, wanting to be the first to find your dorm so she doesn't say more about that night, but Taehyung holds onto his wrist to stop him. 

“She needs time—”

“Fuck off.”

When Jungkook begins to walk off after yanking off his hand, Taehyung immediately searches around the room and takes out a pen from a cup on the reception desk before jumping Jungkook from behind just as he was about to leave. They struggle against each other and start rolling around, but Taehyung is driven by adrenaline as he grounds himself on top of him. He holds him down with his legs and uncaps the pen to start writing on his forehead.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Everyone in the library peeks at the commotion due to Jungkook’s loud yell, but neither of them pay mind as he tries to move away from the pen.

“See if she takes you seriously with dick written on your forehead,” Taehyung chuckles before sprinting off with him hot on his tail. Jungkook is stronger, but Taehyung is much faster as he loses him pretty quickly by hiding in an occupied lecture hall. The professor looks at him questioningly but he thinks fast and breathlessly asks the students, “Is Jeon Jungkook here? The headmaster is looking for him.” Some people search for him, but when no one makes a peep, he escapes the room and Jungkook’s wrath.

Now to go to your dorm before Jungkook scrubs off the ink…

“I didn’t know his name,” Soyeon murmurs while fidgeting with her fingers. When she came in the room, you were muffling your sobs with your pillow and all she saw was your jerking shoulders. She tried to comfort you, to hug you, but you weren’t exactly being friendly, and the setting is pretty much the same except she’s sitting on your bed while you still cry. “I asked people what he looked like, but it was just a description of every guy in the room. He wasn’t around for them to point at, and so I thought maybe he didn’t come. Then this guy kisses me on this couch, feels guilty about it, and tells me his name. I-I didn’t know it was Jungkook. He left for you anyway…”

Her attempt at consolation is fruitless because it only makes you cry harder. She rubs your back soothingly before standing up. “I’ll check up on you later. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod against your stained pillow. 

The moment she opens the door, Taehyung’s fist misses her head by an inch. “Oops,” he says before gently pushing her aside by her shoulder and entering. His eyes fall on your fetal position first thing and he pouts at you. “Aw, baby—”

“She doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“I’m good company,” he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist, “you can go.”

She rolls her eyes before shutting the door, and it’s only you and him now. Your hiccups fill the room as he sadly watches you, a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. “I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to get him to tell you.”

“Y-You said,” you snivel against the sheet, “th-that he was whipped for me.”

I said that to get you to open up. Even in his head it sounds cruel, so he rethinks his response with a grimace. “Jungkook told me he liked you.” Maybe shifting the blame wasn’t exactly much better, especially since he told him that after the claim, but you have enough on your plate.

“H-He told me he loved me,” you hiccup, releasing your death grip on the poor pillow. It’s a mask rather than a silencer now. Taehyung widens his eyes to himself and purses his lips. He takes Soyeon’s former seat and turns you on your back. His heart sinks a little when he sees your face: red nose, heavy lids, bloodshot eyes and quivering lips with messy hair. You look really pretty to him right now. “He lies so much. H-He even made me give Jimin a handjob.”

“Made you?” he repeats with his thumb drawing circular patterns on your collarbone. 

You nod. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. It was horrible.”

His brows furrow at your tone. “That’s so fucked up... Man, you need to avoid him.”

“Jimin?”

“Jungkook. That’s too twisted, even for him. You’re an angel…” his palm reaches for your cheek and his thumb continues its soothing motions. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you mouth and fresh tears brim as you try to swallow. It feels like you’re sick all over again, except there’s no misunderstanding to clear this time. He wipes a stray teardrop and smiles down at you; it’s a relaxing gesture. You close your eyes and hold onto his wrist, snuggling into his warm hand.

“I sound really cheesy, don’t I?” he chuckles. “Can’t lie, wish I had someone call me an angel after I caught my ex cheating on me.”

An involuntary giggle erupts from your mouth at his joke. “You’re an angel, Taehyung. An angel in disguise.” You peek at him before fluttering your eyes shut again. A pursed smile graces his lips, and he’s convinced he isn’t interested in you romantically, that it was just an invisible force drawing him closer to you, that he wasn’t the one aiming for your lips until a pound on the door resounds in the room.

You flinch away from his hand and he pulls back instantly; both of your heads shoot to the source of the noise. 

“Open up!” Jungkook yells and continues fisting the door. “Open the fucking door!” Taehyung holds a finger against his lips, signalling you to stay silent until he leaves. “I want to talk. Open the door… please.” Neither of you say anything.

“Fine,” he agrees, “don’t talk. I’ll talk, but at least give me a sign that you’re here.” Before Taehyung can stop you, you rush to the door and knock once. You hear him slide down the door, presumably leaning his back against it and sitting on the floor. “Okay. I’m sor— They were lying—” you slam your fist against the door in denial. “Okay! But they weren’t telling the whole truth back there. I was um… on drugs. I was really fucking high, okay?”

“Yet your high-self still managed to yell at me! Clearly you weren’t high out of your mind,” you snap menacingly. He flinches at your sudden shut-down; he’s never heard you yell at him before, nor has he ever been the victim of your anger. It makes his heart drop.

“That was like, three hours after I got high! I was practically sober, plus, you weren’t talking to me that day!”

“I had lost my voice! I didn’t want you to get sick—"

“I DIDN’T FUCKING KNOW THAT!” 

He gulps at your silence and inhales a deep breath to calm down. He hears you sniffle on the other side. “I-I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know why. I thought you stopped loving me and… that really upset me.” He sighs to himself because he’s never opened up so honestly and it’s difficult, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. It just feels so embarrassing.

Taehyung opens the window of your dorm and climbs out. You don’t see or hear it happen, too invested in your argument to even remember his existence. “Do you remember what I told you the night we did it for the first time?”

His face scrunches as he tries to replay the events beside the sex. The corner of his lip tugs upwards when he recalls you calling him a slut, but he’s still clueless as to why you’re bringing it up. You don’t leave him in the dark for long. “I told you I wouldn’t forgive you a second time.” He gnaws on his lip as his palms feel clammy with nervous sweat. 

“W-We weren’t dating then,” he tries to justify. “I didn’t need forgiveness then. You’re so unfair!” He stands up and knocks with his fist again. “Let’s talk it out face to face, I’ll explain everything. You’re putting me at a disadvantage! Don’t you want clarity? Don’t you want this to work out?!” He starts chanting your name when you don’t answer. “I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it,” he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does when threatening; he sounds more like he’s a second away from breaking down himself. “No, no… please. I-I’ll kiss another girl if you break up with me! You don’t want that, right? So just open the door.” 

His tough façade crumbles the longer you ignore him, and he can’t believe the heavy weight he feels all over his body wants to leave in the form of tears. It stings in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall. “You’re so fucking cruel!” He twists the door handle violently; desperately. A dry sob escapes him as he kicks the door one last time. “Oh God, oh God…” he tries to breathe but it doesn’t enter his lungs. It’s like being choked with a noose as he gasps and a tear runs down his cheek. His wheezes become so loud that you start hearing them and grow concerned.

You consider the possibility that it’s one of his tactics, trying to manipulate you, but you open the door anyway. It’s a slight crack and you barely get a look at him before he pushes it open completely and forces his way in. He sits on your bed and his shoulders hunch, breaths still shallow. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t like her, never did, I only— I was mad, and I couldn’t go through with it, and I’ve never shown you affection b-because I’ve only ever received it from you—” you hush his rambling with a hug, but he continues with his head against your stomach anyway, “I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m a fucking mess and I understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, but please don’t leave me. I’ll do my homework, I’ll stop being mean, I won’t even talk if you don’t want me to, but please don’t stop talking to me.”

“Jungkook…” you trail in shock. “I’m here. Take a deep breath.” When he tries, it’s so shaky that it makes you tear up for the umpteenth time. You’re a mess with him. “In and out, love, in and out.” You would do it with him like an instructor, but it’s not possible when he’s squeezing your waist so tightly. It takes a few minutes for him to relax his grip and he looks up at you pitifully. “It’s okay,” you assure and pet his hair, “you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most,” he exhales. “I mean… I realized that night, that I only want to be with…”

“I get it,” you whisper to comfort him, knowing he has struggles with expressing himself, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to get it off his chest, and he quietly tells you, “I kissed another girl when I wanted to make you jealous, and then another to forget. I don’t want to do that, I mean I only want to kiss… you.”

You initiate it first by leaning down to peck his lips, and you don’t pull away too far. You peck him again, and then start kissing him. He’s never been this slow with you before, but the panic attack must have drained him. It’s the way that he doesn’t immediately turn it heated with the intent of taking it to the third base that warms your heart. He’s hesitant and taking his time, mindful of your reactions because you’re in control for once. You’re aware of how vulnerable he is being with you, and he conveys that with the gentle press of his lips. 

He whimpers into the kiss, and it’s so quiet and mournful that you lean back but he chases after you. He doesn’t want to stop like you’d assumed, so you place your knees on either side of him and hover over his thighs. Even his hands are hesitant as he lightly sits you down on his lap by pulling your waist. You smile against him and with his submission, you swipe your tongue across his lip. He opens for you. You roll your tongue around his, and he eventually begins to suck on yours. There’s a pit in your stomach that confuses you; is it arousal? Flattery? You feel so special because you know he hasn’t been like this with anyone else; so powerless and passive.

It’s passionate. You inch your body a little closer to him and he grunts when you brush against his crotch before settling down. This isn’t about sexual needs, and you don’t treat it as such but your body has a mind of its own with its constant shuffling that turns him on. He doesn’t want to feel that way, but his hips have a subtle way of thrusting beneath you. His hums rumble and you kiss him harder, losing all your senses except for the warmth of his skin. You don’t notice him controlling the movement of your hips because he’s taking it slow, and you don’t need to know why he’s quietly moaning into you.

At least no one’s watching him now. 

You pull back in surprise when he groans loudly, and you know he’s back to himself as his actions grow rough. You’re practically jumping when he grinds on you with his spit all over your mouth because of his explorative tongue. From past experience, you’ve figured out that Jungkook is more honest when he’s in the heat of the moment, so you inquire against his lips, “Why did you lie to me about Jimin?”

“That fucking freak,” he growls, “I needed a reason to get you to hate him. He didn’t stop you when it happened, did he?” 

Still manipulative. “Will you do the same with Taehyung?”

“No, I,” his thrusts slow down, “I’m gonna, err…” He looks at you for help.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and talk things out with him, right?”

“Right,” he breathes, “talk.” He slams his lips against yours again, and it’s not long before he sighs at his climax with your cooperation. There’s a small patch growing on his pants through his underwear, and he cusses when he notices it. He pecks you one last time before hugging you and laying on the bed, cuddling you like a blanket. “Do you forgive me?” 

You rest your head on his chest and feel his pulse to contemplate. He brings a hand up to your hair and starts running his fingers through it, unbothered by your lack of answer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you maybe want to have dinner with me?”

“Like a date?” you tease with a grin.

“Yes.”

“There’s my answer,” you lift your head to wink up at him. “But if you test me again, I’ll break your heart just as you did mine. Don’t worry though,” you whisper, “I’ll never leave you.”

[gohyuck]

1/7 of my milestone drabbles!

pairing: streetracer!mark lee x reader

genre: fluff/angst/smut

word count: 2.1k

plot request: @hansolstea​ said: streetracer au + “if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel”

warnings: not chronological so pay attention to timestamps, ambiguous relationship between the main characters, mild car accident, explicit sex, choking, ...cumming inside, mild overstimulation, slightly shitty aftercare due to the setting

SATURDAY 1:27 A.M.

“fucking take it.” he growls in your ear from above you, burying your face further into the pillow and readjusting your position so your hips are higher in the air. you let a gasping moan out without meaning to, and mark, almost without thinking, lands a hand against your ass in response, drawing forth a keening wail. “you think you’re all that, huh? think you’re invincible? hm? answer me.” 

“n-no, fuck, mark, i-” he speeds up his hips, pistoning into you at a breakneck pace, almost smothering you into the motel bed’s surprisingly soft pillow. it’s obvious that he doesn’t care about what you say as long as it isn’t the safe word. you already know he’ll leave you bruised and battered, aching from how hard he’s fucking you, but you also know not to expect anything else. 

mark lee is not your friend. mark lee certainly isn’t your lover. mark lee is a cocky, inflammatory bastard who has never hesitated to push your buttons in public. he brings out the worst in you, and you bring out the worst in him. 

unfortunately for everyone involved, mark’s the best fuck you’ve ever had, and you know that he’s never had as good a time sticking his dick in anyone else. 

as he pulls out, causing you to whine at the loss of contact, only to flip you over and immediately plow into you again, hard arms caging you in against the bed, you can’t help but think back to the series of events that led you here. not four hours earlier, you’d been on the ‘track’, jeno’s ford mustang right beside mark’s chevy corvette c6. everything that had happened there had led to what’s happening now. 

“fucking take it,” mark growls again, almost unaware of what he himself is saying at this point. you’d laugh at him if you weren’t drunk off of him. his words bring you back to the present, your back arching until your chest meets his. “someone has to put you in your place.”

FRIDAY 9:55 P.M.

“come to get your ass beat?” 

mark whirls around to see you leaning against your brother’s bright red mustang, a smirk adorning your features. he’s always been reactionary when it comes to you, and tonight is no different: his relaxed gaze hardens immediately as it falls on you, and his otherwise gentle smile morphs into a sneer. still, he attempts to maintain his composure, never wanting the first of you two to break. 

“you’re not even driving tonight, princess. that’s big talk for someone too scared to race against me.”

“not my fault my brother wanted a piece of you first. be grateful - you couldn’t handle going against me.” you respond with ease, pushing yourself off of the car in favor of walking towards the man you can’t stand. his shoulders tense up for a moment, only to ease up again as he rolls them back, shoving both of his hands into his black bomber jacket’s pockets.  you take a split second to appraise him, though you pray he doesn’t realize that you’re checking him out: black bomber, plain white tee, a thin checkered red flannel, ripped black skinny jeans, a dark brown belt, and a black beanie. even you can’t deny how attractive he is, no matter how badly you wish you could.

your eyes have trailed to his chest, and when you snap your head up to look at him, he’s smirking. that bastard. 

“if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel,” he shrugs his shoulders, very obviously presenting you with a challenge. “should be inside the car, not outside it… unless you’re afraid, princess. i’d let you off the hook if you were, of course. it would be understandable: nobody wants to lose.”

“call me princess one more fucking time-” you retort, so close to him that you can smell his cologne. 

“princess.” he draws the word out, and that’s the only mark lee you’ve ever known. the pain in your ass. he’s a good friend of jeno’s - hell, your brother even looks up to the man smirking at you right now - and gets along well with everyone you know. you’re the only exception, and you don’t know how to feel about that.

anger. arousal, maybe- no, just anger. it’s just anger, you tell yourself. before you can even sort out your own thoughts, you find yourself turning, yelling out your brother’s name. 

“i’m driving tonight,” you call out, leaving no room for argument. “me versus mark.”

jeno looks at you, then at his friend, and then back at you, mouth falling open as if to argue. as his eyes meet yours, though, he knows: bickering with you is futile. your brother tosses you the keys to his precious car, and when you meet mark’s eyes again, you’re the one smirking this time. 

“good luck,” you sneer, leaning close until you’re as in his face as you possibly could be. “princess.”

FRIDAY 11:39 P.M.

you’ve never seen him look quite this downright pissed. mark is genuinely one of the more easygoing, mild-mannered men you’ve met, only even acting ‘riled up’ whenever someone - typically hyuck or yuta - makes an inflammatory or downright jokingly flirtatious comment at him. it takes a lot for him to feel rage, and even you don’t think you evoke emotions that strong from him. he’s been insanely annoyed with you, yes, but it usually isn’t anything too far past that.

now, though? now mark fuckin’ lee has a steel grip on your left wrist as he tugs you out of the car. it isn’t too bad - the bumper is crooked, now, and one of the sideview mirrors is dangling and both taken together will cost a very unsexy couple of grands to fix without accounting for the paint - but you can hear your brother’s bemoaned wails at what you’ve done to his precious car. you’re surprised at yourself, too: you’ve never crashed before. 

you’d looked over at mark for a split second too long while going just a hair too fast, and then, suddenly, the side of your - jeno’s - car was scraping some corporate compound’s metal fence. you’d panicked to a stop upon hearing the metallic crunching noises, and had only later heard mark’s c6 screeching to a halt up ahead. he’d yelled your name, you’d thought, but you were still dazed.

that, and jeno, who’d been just ahead at the finish line, had already started screaming by then. not for you. for his car. 

“what the hell were you thinking?” mark yells, pulling you just a little too hard, causing you to stumble into his chest. “why didn’t you slow the fuck down?”

“i- shit, i didn’t realize until it was too late.” you can’t even throw the same tone of voice back in his face, too preoccupied with the realization that, had your steering been just a little off, you might be mangled in the mustang right now. 

the race had gotten cut short then, with you apologizing profusely to your brother for as long as possible afterwards. mark had stepped back, watched on as the two of you assessed the damage to jeno’s car. it was only everyone else had left and jeno’d realized that he’d have to drive home with his car in the mess that it was that mark had stepped in between you and your sibling, offering to let you stay with him for the night rather than risk you and your brother killing each other over the mustang (‘nana’, so affectionately named by jeno after his best friend).

“thank fuck,” jeno’d said, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head in exasperation. 

“fuck this,” you’d muttered under your breath, though a part of you truly is thankful for the intervention and the distraction both. mark had heard you. jeno hadn’t. 

you expect to pull up to the apartment mark shares with his friends yuta and jungwoo, but, instead, he pulls into the parking lot of a motel you know well. of course you do - you’ve rendezvoused here with him on multiple accounts before. it’s only then, as mark fixes a hard, dark gaze on you, that you realize what you’re in for. his mouth meets your skin, your hands meet his hair.

“someone,“ he murmurs into the flesh that joins your jaw and neck. “needs to teach you how to slow down. that someone, though,” a fresh hickey blooms against your skin. he pushes open his car door with the hand that isn’t gripping your shirt’s hem. “sure as hell won’t be me.”

SATURDAY 1:29 A.M.

“someone has to put you in your place.”

mark reaches up your body then, curls a hand gingerly - almost too gingerly - around your throat. he presses lightly against the sides, only enough to make you feel slightly lightheaded. he’s looking down at you directly, gaze hard, daring you to look back. you’re close but it isn’t enough - you’re on an edge, but there’s nothing else behind you, no catalyst to push you into bliss. 

his hand tightens, the other comes down to your pelvis, thumb swiping experimentally against your clit. you can’t help yourself - you tighten immediately around him, back arching slightly as both of you let out choked moans simultaneously. he swipes against your clit one more time before settling his hand against your hip, starting to rub circles into your bundle of nerves if only to feel your vice grip around his cock. you practically keen, gasping at the sheer amount of sensations your body feels. 

you’re on the edge. you’re about to fall. mark’s hips stutter against your own, and he plays with your clit even more vigorously as he cums, not bothering to pull out. he never does, anyways. the hand around your neck tightens just a bit before he lets go of your airways entirely, and the sensation of finally being able to breathe properly again does you in, your chest fully arching almost against mark’s own as you reach your own orgasm. 

it feels like an eternity until the stars are all out of your eyes, but you find yourself falling back to earth as mark finally pulls out. you’re panting, catching your breath, eyes glassy as you try and fix your gaze on him. he notices this, chuckling softly. 

mark heads to the room’s bathroom, and you hear running water for a second before he emerges with wadded up toilet paper and a wet towel. you wince, knowing he’ll use the one-ply toilet paper on you first, but also knowing that neither of you are shitty enough to leave a cum-covered hotel towel behind for the staff to find. he wipes up the mixture of yours and his cum up from between your sensitive thighs, quieting shushing you and apologizing as the scratchy toilet paper meets your still-sensitive pussy. once he’s sure it’s all cleaned up, he wipes you down with the wet towel, doing his best to soothe your skin. 

once he’s discarded the toilet paper and put the towel up, mark pulls on his boxers before gently pushing you over to get into the bed beside you. everything smells like sex, but you can’t bring yourself to be as disgusted by it as you think you should be. you move onto your side, wrapping an arm around him and throwing a leg over him, ignoring the fact that he’s like a space heater and you already feel sticky as it is. he allows his arm to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. 

“i’m serious, you know,” he mutters after a while, sighing as he speaks. “you need to learn how to slow down. that could’ve ended very, very badly tonight… and as much as we… have our ‘differences’ or whatever, i don’t know what i’d do without you. okay? so pay more attention when you’re driving. you’re too valuable.”

there’s no response. mark shifts so he can see you, and he realizes that you’re fast asleep, bare chest rising and falling in tandem with mark’s heartbeat. you haven’t heard a word of what he’s said. a small smile graces mark’s features. 

he lets his head fall back onto the too-flat motel pillow, finding that he, too, is suddenly very tired. his eyes slip shut, sleep pulling him in as the night goes on. he pulls you closer on reflex. you allow yourself to get pulled closer in the same way. in the morning, you’ll ask him what he means by ‘you’re too valuable’. you’ve got at least six hours ‘til then. you fall asleep with a smile on your face, mirroring mark’s own.

[lurking--shadows]

A/N: I keep seeing people like my old Jacob Frye x Reader post and now I'm low key simping for him again so I figured a lengthy drabble would suffice to get me back into this game. If you have any suggestions, even if for random characters don't hesitate to ask! I do apologize for not putting much interaction with the battle scenes. It's not my best area and rather go straight to their interactions outside of it.

Word Count: 1,374

Characters: 7,424

Prompt: "I think I'm in love with you."

"Not the best idea you ever had, but I'll happily take it."

Why did you have to join along with Jacob and his shenanigans? Why must you torture yourself? If it weren't for his dashingly good looks (don't ever tell him that, he already had a substantial ego as it is, no need to further enlarge it), you wouldn't be in this situation at all. 

He had pleaded for your assistance in taking out a Blighters hideout in the heart of Westminster. He explained that conquering the hideout would benefit in conquering all of Westminster. If it had been a random hideout you would've declined. However given how much of a hindrance they've been as of late, on top of Jacob giving puppy eyes (an adorable sight, you may add), it was impossible denying such a request; though you had claimed you were only doing it as part of your duty as an assassin. 

You had known the twins for quite a long time during your time in the British Brotherhood of Assassin's. You had trained alongside them up until the twins' father had passed. During that time you developed a long-term crush on the younger twin, which Evie had noticed. For years she would tease you about it. Well, she did, until you began teasing her about Henry once he came around. All of a sudden she would hush you with a red face. Anytime he needed help, you were right by his side. You didn't know if it was due to that crush of yours or if it was because you knew how reckless he was. 

Probably both.

It was no easy battle either, much to your displeasure. Jacob had decided going in with a bang would be the best bet. Note: it was not; a bad decision really, but it's from Jacob, what did you expect? It was harder for you to stealth your way in since they were alarmed and already heading your way. A lengthy battle filled with scattered dead bodies and a bountiful of curses towards Jacob, which he laughed at when able to. You did get the occasional hit, however, the worst damage you had gotten was a deep gash on your arm. You had focused entirely on the blight in front of you, giving the blight on your side to slash his knife on your raised arm. You had hissed in pain, the burning sensation worsening after handling the blight in front of you. Jacob noticed your hiss and took out the blight before he could do more damage. Luckily that had been the last blight needing to be taken down. A successful mission, excluding that hefty gash on you. 

While awaiting for rooks to come and establish themselves, Jacob began tending to your wound. Well, tried to at least. It was entertaining seeing him struggling to find clothes and water in the hideout. You weren't sure if it was due to fatigue or worry. Regardless, it somewhat resembled a headless chicken running about. While he was busy searching, you took a blight's shirt and tore a strip to wrap around your arm in order to stop the bleeding. You ended up searching for an aide kit as well since you figured you would have better luck finding it than Jacob, who was spewing curses. If you weren't so lightheaded you would have laughed. Minutes had passed and your search was uneventful, causing you to slightly panic. 

In the midst of your panic, Jacob came behind you and grabbed your shoulder. You jumped before turning around and grabbed his arm with your injured one, pain shooting up your arm. With a hiss, you released his arm to cradle your injured arm to your chest. 

"Now what was the point of doing that, knowing it was going to hurt?" Jacob scolded, his eyebrows furrowing while he squinted. 

"What's the point of grabbing me, knowing it was a bad idea?" You retorted, sarcasm oozing in your voice. A scowl formed on your face as you glared at him. Jacob could only roll his eyes, "Just sit down so I can tend to your wounds unless you wish to let it get infected." He warned. You glared at him once more before letting out a sigh and sitting on a nearby crate. There was no point in arguing with him, with him being as stubborn as a mule it was futile. It didn't help you get more light-headed by the minute either. So, you caved in and let him tend to your wounds with no remarks. 

It was silent as Jacob tended to your wounds while you alternated between looking at him and looking at your wound. For as reckless and thoughtless as he is, you were impressed by his skill in cleaning out your wound and bandaging it. You couldn't help but watch his skilled hands tending to you and let your thoughts wander.

"You're staring," Jacob mumbled, his eyes not once leaving your arm. Your eyes widened and looked away as you ignored the burning sensation on your face. 

"So? How else am I supposed to make sure you don't do more damage to me?" You raised an eyebrow, though a smile toyed with your lips.

"I'm wounded that you believe I'm incapable of catering to injuries. How do you think I can fight after every mission?" A frown took over his face, his eyes glancing up at you before dabbing your wound with antibiotics. You hissed in pain, getting a small apology from Jacob in the process. 

"I figured it was either Evie or a rook cleaning your wounds if it were dire enough."

“Continuing to wound me, I see? The least you could do is tell me what you’re thinking.” He let out a small chuckle, dropping the antibiotic rag and unwrapping the bandages.

You had grown silent, chewing on your lip. You were debating telling him, though you feared losing the relationship you have with Jacob. It wasn’t just your crush that lured you to him. No, it was his personality. With him, you felt so carefree and able to joke around (even going as far as pranking each other). He was really the only one you felt you could let your walls down besides Evie.

“Dove?”

“I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, looking up at him and watching his reaction. His eyes weren’t on you and instead focused on finishing up bandaging your arm. Though he had no real emotion on his face, he was quiet. Nerves began to eat at you. What if it wasn’t mutual? Did you ruin it? 

"Not the best idea you ever had, but I'll happily take it." He looked up at you with an eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “And joining you in this foolery was better than being in love with you?”

“A poor mistake, really.”

You let out a snort. You mulled over his words, butterflies flowing through you. ‘I’ll happily take it’. You paused, “Wait, so you’re fine with this?” Confusion was written all over your face. It wasn’t exactly a rejection, nor was it really an acceptance. What..?

Jacob stood up, and before you could react, he placed his hands on the side of your legs, effectively trapping you. Your breath hitched as he leaned closer to you. “As if my response weren’t any clearer, let me give you a more concrete answer.” He leaned closer until your lips connected. Your hand instinctively went to cupping his face as you reciprocated the kiss. Your lips felt as if they were perfect for his own. If you were able to, you would kiss him all day if he permitted. He pulled back, much to your displeasure. Slightly panting, you look down at his lips before staring into his ocean blue eyes that was staring into your own.

“Did that answer your question?” That cocky smirk was still on his face, causing you to scowl.

“Just shut up and keep kissing me.” You gripped his shirt and crashed your lips onto his. He let out a small laugh against your lips. He listened to your demand and deepened the kiss. After all, who was he to deny such a request from someone he’s been enchanted by?

[stilemawillow]

Hi can I request a dadlevi x momreader where they have a teenage daughter and the 104th cadet boys gave a crush on her and Levi gets really protective and the reader has to reassure him that she's not a baby anymore pleaseeee thank you😁

welp, i’m usually slow as a sloth with requests but if you don’t mind it being a short drabble i can sure as hell crack up sth soo sorry if it’s a bit too short but here goes, hope you like it anonie (also i kind of said trabble and it turned out 1500 words, sorry) ________________________________________________

“This is getting out of hand, Levi.” Your words were low around the table at the mess hall as your raven-haired husband fixed the cadets across from you with a murderous glare. You put a hand to his tense shoulder and could distinctly hear Mike and Hanji snort from next to you at Levi’s click of the tongue - still, his abuse didn’t stop.

Your daughter glanced at her father once, smiling happily from her place in between the cheerful males of the 104th squad and proceeding to be rather oblivious when it came to his foul mood. Admittedly, he hadn’t spoken about it to anybody but, as the mother of his rather grown-up child and the woman who’d spent well over two decades with him already, you didn’t need a verbal explanation to gather why he was being so pissy.

Since your daughter had been enlisted in the Corps (something her and Levi and you and her had had two separate rather long arguments about), she was in the spotlight, or, well, something of the sort. She was kind enough to communicate with her peers and funny enough to make them laugh, and the looks she’d mostly inherited from you did its part when it came to charming the rookies you’d later checked were named Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun, Connie Springer, Armin Arlert and partly, the very special Eren Jaeger.

They were her comrades and she regarded them as such - close people she would protect and work with in the future, and they regarded her the same with just a little bit of an ulterior motive. Naturally, parents were good at noticing those stuff and the usually emotion-incompetent Levi Ackerman was no exception when it came to Jean’s heart eyes mirroring his own aimed at you in the past.

As a good father who couldn’t, however, reveal his identity straight-up, he made sure to mentor the kids as harshly as he could, strict in his teachings and rather sadistic out of them. The poor boys had handled stable and kitchen duty more than any previous rookies enlisted and two or three of them had gotten lucky enough to clean up a whole storage of 3DM gear and run laps till they fainted. You were nurturing when it came to those undeserved mishaps and ended up playing the good cop who gave the poor boys water and let them sleep for the rest of the day.

Levi didn’t know it but the harder his punishments got, the more reason his daughter had to pity the boys and question her father’s behaviour. We arrive at a moment where he could no longer think of a suitable punishment to pull through with enough reason and, of course, your endless nagging on the topic. Your daughter didn’t need to know about this secret little bickering, as the cadets didn’t know she was your child and nobody but the superiors were aware of your relationship with Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

“I’m just monitoring.” The raven’s excuse was laughable as you were leaving the mess hall and he literally stalked his daughter and her tall charmers to the training fields, where you decided to pull him along into the building and have a little talk.

“This is ridiculous, do you realise what you’re doing?” Your question struck nothing in him as he made his way to the second floor of the building only so he could observe from above the training the 104th cadets would undertake with Hanji. His hawk eyes pierced the window and the boys surrounding his precious little baby, and in that moment you felt a little soft when it came to reprimanding him.

“I’m watching my fucking child.” He argued with a grumble and crossed arms, making you sigh as you leaned against the window and observed his features. You could guess only by the pissed off twitch of his brow your daughter had been paired to combat with some of the boys he so disliked.

“But she’s not in danger.” You objected with a snort to which he rolled his eyes. “Also our child.” The addition made his frown more sarcastic, then you pushed at his shoulder and glanced outside. The sun was shining and your husband was silent - and you had to be a good wife and mother at the same time. “Now, I need you to hear me out. Our daughter is fifteen years old and she’s part of the worst group possible. Maybe we can concern ourselves more with her safety and happiness, not so much with the boys she has as friends.”

“It’s unacceptable for them to slack off this much, not to mention you’re defending her. You pointed it out, she’s just fifteen.” The emphasis was a cold slap in your face, then you were eyeing him pointedly.

“Levi,” his grey hues left the window for a second to lock with your gaze, “I was fifteen when I met you.” Your words made him suck in a breath but his obstinance had no limits when it came to his overprotective nature.

“All the more fucking reason for me to protect her.”

“No, all the more reason for us to watch from afar and let her live her life. She’s a teenager once and the fact she’s bonding with her comrades isn’t going to kill her.” The brow he quirked at you made you glare, then you beat him to speaking. “She’s not a baby anymore, we take care of her, yes, but we have to give her some freedom too. Otherwise, we’ll get a rebellious period and I can’t handle managing both your explosive asses once that happens.” His spiteful snort was provocative but his figure turned away from the window to glare at you - good, so he was buckling.

“My ass is explosive only when I drink too much coffee.” His childish retort made you chuckle - you took it as him admitting defeat by not addressing the issue any further.

“And when Hanji cooks.” Your joke called forth an eye-roll from him, then his lips pursed and you smiled at his pale countenance. “It’s fine being worried, she’s been sheltered her whole life and suddenly you’re forced to watch her form connections with people who’re not us. I would say, however,” your smile slowly curled into a smirk as you glanced at the training fields through the window, “she can beat up the boys if they annoy her without your help.”

His brows furrowed and his attention followed your gaze, and you watched your fifteen-year-old daughter flip the blond Reiner Braun over her shoulder with a move Levi had taught her when she was ten. He fell to the ground and, from experience, you knew how much it hurt when all the air was pushed out of your lungs in that moment. Next thing he knew, a foot had stepped on his dominant hand’s wrist and a small hand held a wooden knife to his throat.

In your peripheral vision, you saw the satisfied flicker in Levi’s orbs and decided he wouldn’t be arguing with you on the topic of this anymore. Also, he might as well spare the boys their duties. If his daughter could handle the biggest one this easily, she could land a kick to the testicles effortlessly if any of them proved problematic. You shook your head at the sight and how proud Levi seemed due to it, then you realised he was back to watching you.

“On the topic of us meeting when you were still a brat, are you insinuating anything?” You began waving your hands around in a “no” when he glared at the field, then at you. You’d just denied when he tactfully cut in with: “Far as I remember, you jumped me and you had eighteen.” You let out an awkward laugh and his glare got all the more deadly.

“Haha, about that. I actually lied so you’d let me.” The slow admittance slipped past your dry lips and you watched your husband doubt everything you’d told him in your shared life. You could see him recall everything and make sure he was in the right - except you’d been stupid as a teenager and twice as scheming.

“But your birthday had passed.” He argued coldly, unsuspecting of the truth and ever so sweet because he put so much trust in you.

“And about that, my birthday’s kind of a month after the date I told you.” You watched his eyes widen and began ranting, as per tradition when he came close to blowing a fuse and you wanted to avoid being collateral damage. “I know what you’re thinking, I’m so lucky that my wife is even younger than I thought she was, she’s so attractive and youthful---”

“I’m thinking how I’m about to beat your ass in our next combat session for lying to me for twenty fucking years, that’s what I’m thinking.”

[ramzawrites]

Prince!Eret x Assassin!Reader - One Dance

GN

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: mention of death, talk of murder, very small mention of alchohol at the beginning

Series: No, a small fast drabble

Summary: You were sent to the local ball in order to get close to the heir Eret only that once you see the perfect chance for you to strike your emotions and feelings think this would be the best time to flare up.

Word count: 2119

Authors Note: I wrote this in the 2nd person which I’m not sure I like but I tried doing it anyway. I have been super busy with college but I wanted to write something for Eret since I love them a lot! Also this is really just a small drabble for fun so don’t expect too much lol

You sighed, taking another sip from you champagne glass. It was more so you fit in with every other snobby looking rich person in this ball room who where either dancing or chatting the world away than to enjoy an alcoholic drink.

Everyone was wearing these garish gowns with even more horrible looking masks. Thinking it would hide their identity and making a fun game out of this. Of course if you knew someone it wasn’t hard to recognize who was standing in front of you but if you didn’t it was apparently a charming game of who is who.

Though you weren’t here to play games. No, you had a job to do.

The good thing about this kind of ball is that it was actually not that hard to stand out. Everyone was wearing glittery, garish dresses and suits that the easiest way to stand out was by wearing something more toned down. All you had to wear was something that showed off the good parts of your body with simple garments.

That’s what you did. The only real choice you made when looking for what to wear was the color. At the end you settled for a simple wine red color. The mask you wore was covering both your eyes while also covering half your face.

There was no way anybody knew you there but it wasn’t about being recognized. The point of this mask was that you remained unknown. The Syndicate who you worked for made sure you were dressed properly for the event and wanted to give you at first a ceramic mask that would cover your whole face but you made the point then that this would probably pull a bit too much attention to yourself. The whole allure of this mask business was that you could see a hint of the real person.

This wasn’t your first job technically but this was your first job doing it alone and while being face to face with your victim. Honestly when it came to assassinations this was a classic and therefore should be treated as such, meaning people were expecting this.

Your goal? Prince Eret. The old king died a few weeks ago and he was about to be crowned the next ruler of the country but there were a lot of people who would love to see otherwise. Surprising? Not really. Especially seeing how the last king was a horrible ruler making sure to make the rich richer and bleeding the common folk dry. As far as people knew Eret wanted to do his best to undo this damage.

You sympathized with him, really, but a job is a job. To that you weren’t a big fan of any kind of government as well. You grew up with the Syndicate and got raised by them. You saw it all from the normal folk starving, getting beaten by the guards for not paying their protection fees all while the rich where eating cake and drinking the most expensive wines. So no, you held no love for this ruling system.

Everything was set. You had poison hidden in your clothes in case you get a chance to put it in his drink, got knives hidden and if worse came to worse you could use your hands. Now, of course to use all these things the damn prince had to appear but as it stood he was nowhere to be seen.

Angry you remembered how you told your mentor that honestly the best way would be for you to sneak in and kill him in his sleep but no this assassination had to be dramatic. To be fair this was the easiest way to get close to him if he would appear that is.

Repressing another angry sigh you decided to get some fresh air at the balcony. Give it five minutes and then return, if he is still not there you had to go back home. Your mentor forbid you to do anything else as it could jeopardize the whole assassination. Better to not attempt a failed murder and just regroup to find the next best opportunity.

It was already dark. The stars were up in the sky next to a full moon. A beautiful night for a sneak mission. Yeah, you were still not over that.

You took a good look over the view from the balcony. Right beneath it was a beautiful garden with all kinds of different flowers and hedges. Placed in such a way that it almost looked like a maze. In the middle was a beautiful fountain placed. Silently splashing in the night. It was then when you noticed someone sitting at the fountain, hunched over. Their back turned to you.

“That damned Prince.” You muttered. Of course you haven’t seen him in the ball room he has been hiding out there. This was perfect! He was alone!

Not trying to show your hurry you walked painfully slow back into the ball room, then out the room and snuck your way out into the garden. Before visiting the palace you had to learn the basic layout of the castle which honestly hammer back in how unnecessary this building was. So many rooms with no real use.

Outside, once you got close enough to the prince, you slowly pulled a dagger out that was hidden on your body. All you had to do was stab him. Either in the throat or heart. Easy enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Though as you stepped closer Eret tensed up. Did he hear you? You made sure to be as quiet as possible, there was no way.

“So, I’ve been found.” He spoke and turned around.

As he did you put both your arms behind your back, hiding the dagger in your hands. Trying to put a soft smile on your face to look more friendly “I am sorry, your highness. I saw you from up in the balcony and excuse my manner of speech but you seemed a bit miserable. Who would I be if I didn’t check up on the future ruler.”

Horrible.

Wait, did he roll his eyes?

“Oh, sure. I’m good. You can go back to the ball and enjoy it.”

This really wasn’t what you expected. You thought he would speak in this posh manner as all the others up in the ball room but he seemed almost normal. In fact everything seemed suspiciously normal. He wasn’t sitting up straight, his shoulders slouched, mask askew, clothing splotched by water. This prince was far removed from being what you considered princely.

To your horror you let out a chuckle. Where was your control all of the sudden? The prince eyed you with a curious gaze.

Embarrassed you tried to salvage this situation somehow “Oh, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be so-“

But Eret interrupted you “So undisciplined? Rude, even?” There was some bite to his words. Someone must have really laid in on him because of his behavior if that is how he reacted.

You shook your head “I would describe you as normal. Not snobbish like the others.”

For some reason he relaxed at that. A smile appeared on his face “Sorry if this offends you but you seem rather normal compared to the others as well if you see me like that.”

“Thank god for that.” You sighed.

The prince chuckled “Well, I’m glad to have met a somewhat kindred spirit then. I’m curious though. Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N” you answered. Why did you say that? A blush spread on your face. Oh god, you are so screwed, oh no. Any name would have been fine but why did you blurt your real name out?

Eret took off his mask. Now you could see his genuine smile even more clearly “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Ye- Yeah.” You stammered as you tried to mirror his smile. You needed to get out of there, now.

This went downhill way too fast.

Your heart hammered against your chest, you felt rigid while also shaking out of nervousness, your cheeks were red and warm. Honestly you would love to just push your face into the fountain to get out of this shocked state.

The prince looked so genuine under the moonlight. You mentally slapped yourself as you noticed that he was looking pretty handsome under this light.

“Want to sit here with me a bit? From what you described you didn’t seem to be the biggest fan of the ball as well.”

You nodded as you inched towards him and sat down. He returned to look back up at the stars. There were no words exchanged, yet it felt somewhat intimate. At least to you.

Gripping the dagger, still hidden behind your back, you waged your options. Just a stab. Right now. It would be easy. Just stab him!

But your body refused to move. What was all that grueling training for if you couldn’t kill your target? Hell, you have killed people before so why were you now having your troubles? Was it because this time your mentor wasn’t with you? Were you really so incompetent alone?

Then the music changed. You could still hear the music from the garden. It was quiet but still audible. The change of music pulled you back out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath you finally made your decision.

You slowly opened your hand, letting the dagger fall slowly with almost no sound into the water behind you. Something in you stopped you from doing the job, no sense in jeopardizing the whole operation by making a mistake. All you had to do was get out and deal with the consequences then.

Just as you wanted to get up Eret turned to you. A blush on his face as well “I’m not good with this but would you care for a dance?”

He was cute you thought in horror.

“A dance? Out here?”

Eret let out a nervous laugh that send the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy “I mean, would you prefer dancing between the others? Of course if you don’t want to dance I understand. It’s not really something a lot of people like.”

Biting your lip you stood up “One dance. Then I have to go. It is getting late and my family is waiting for me.” Somewhat of a lie. You considered the Syndicate as your family but you weren’t blood related.

Eret’s nervous expression turned into a happy smile. He stood up and took your hand in his. Giving you a little wink as he led you away from the fountain so you both had more room to move in. Your heart couldn’t handle this.

Together the two moved in tandem to the music. Giggling every time both of you made mistakes. Stepping on each other’s toes, almost crashing into one of the hedges or just making up your own dance moves that didn’t fit to the music that was softly playing in the background.

“Would it be rude of me to wish this dance never ended?” Eret asked. His voice soft with an emotion you didn’t dare to accept to be there.

You laughed “No, I too wish this would never end.” It was the truth.

“So tell me your full name or a way to get into contact with you if that is alright with you. I would love to stay in contact.”

That blush would never leave your face, huh.

It took a moment before you answered “I will get into contact with you, that is a promise alright?”

You then moved towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and as he sucked in a breath you let go of him. Moving away back inside, leaving the place in a relative hurry, all while Eret was still scrambling and trying to understand what just happened.

He tried to follow but you gave him a warning glare, stopping him in his tracks.

As you moved away from him he softly touched his check, returning back to the fountain. He couldn’t help giggling to himself. Whatever just happened it was the first time in a long while that he truly felt happy. His heart beating rapidly as he put his hands on the side of the fountain. Staring down into the water, as his rush of emotions slowly calmed down again.

It was then as he saw something glinting in the water. Curious what it was he moved closer. Surprised he pushed his hand inside the water to get a dagger out. A small dagger, sharp as can be with a few intricate designs at the hilt.

[mymostimaginaryfriend]

one inch from the edge of this bed

♛ 5x01: James dreams about Teresa. (1.6k words; rating Mature: language, violence, sexual situations) tags: james can have some magical realism as a treat, morphine is a helluva drug

 ➢ read on ao3 or below the cut:  

(note: I originally wrote this as part of a longer story about James’ journey to reunite with Teresa, so for the purpose of this drabble, morphine is making him forget he’s already seen her...cool? cool. thanks for reading!)

♛

James rarely sleeps deeply enough to dream. What starts as a coping mechanism in his childhood only gets cemented further by the military. Now no matter how tired he becomes, he can never quite turn off that last light in the back of his head. It’s for the best, probably. The things he’s seen—the shit he’s done. Who knows what nightmare would crawl out of the well of his subconscious if given half the chance.

The rare times he does dream, he’s usually able to wake himself up within a matter of seconds. It’s automatic now, like he’s rewired a shortcut in his brain. By the time he opens his eyes the dream is nothing more than a faint memory skipping across the surface of his mind without ever dropping an anchor.

The big, bad assassin and his built-in night light. He’d laugh if he didn’t count it as yet another valuable weapon in his arsenal.  It’s not like he doesn’t know this concession by his personal demons is only a layaway plan. Whatever he doesn’t pay for now will come due at least ten times over later.

Still, when he opens his eyes to see morning light filtered through breeze-stirred curtains, he doesn’t catch on right away. It’s not the sunshine that tips him off or the softness of the bed. It’s not the light breeze wafting through the open window, or even the dip of the mattress behind him.

It’s a sense of peace he hasn’t known in nearly a year. It’s the sound of her hushed voice, whispering his name.

“Don’t hide from me,” she says. “I know you’re awake.”

His heart leaps then plummets at the smile he hears in her words, sweet joy chased by sick panic. It’s not just the nightmares he’s been avoiding in his sleep. 

Dreaming of Teresa is an indulgence he can no longer afford.

When he left with Devon, he knew he’d need more than just physical distance between her and his new life, from what he’d have to do there and who he might have to become to do it. He couldn’t risk it warping his feelings for her.  He couldn’t let it twist his memories or cloud his purpose.

So in the last moments of his freedom, as Devon drove him away into the night, he allowed himself to hold close all that she meant to him: her innate goodness, her fierce bravery, how her eyes warmed whenever she smiled.

And then he built a room around those memories—built the wall brick by brick in his mind until they were shut away. He didn’t need a key. He didn’t even build a door. It was the only way of protecting both those memories and himself.

Leaving her meant leaving her behind.

One look at her now will undo all of his careful compartmentalization. One look at her, no matter if she’s real or imagined, will destroy those walls to dust.  He can’t get off mission, he has to stay on task, he has to—he can’t remember what exactly.  But it feels important, deathly so.

He closes his eyes and waits for the awareness of the dream to catapult him to consciousness but something is wrong. His mind refuses to obey the command.

Error: shortcut not found.

And with every passing second it’s harder to remember why it’s so important for him to resist, his urgency to awaken quickly replaced by an urgency of a different kind.  He can’t stop the hum in the back of his throat at the touch of her fingers brushing across his abdomen or how his body automatically angles itself toward the warmth of hers, inexorable like the tide.

She laughs and the sound of her joy hooks beneath his ribcage, turning him toward her.  They never had enough time.  Little things like lying in bed together, easing into the day with lazy touches and hushed sighs turned into something valuable, something to hold on to, something that’s supposed to be in a lockbox behind a fucking brick wall.

“Hmm, it’s like that is it?” she asks, voice like warm honey sending an anticipatory flare of heat up his spine. “Let’s see if I can’t wake you up.”

The drag of her hair across his chest is all the warning he needs before her lips find his and what’s left of his resistance falls away like tumblers in a lock.  There are no more walls left between them now. No air. Just heat, hands and skin so soft he can barely manage not to bruise it in his desperate need to get her even closer.

An alarm bell rings in some distant corner of his mind, but one hand has already buried itself in her hair, angling her head for better access to her mouth.  The other has slipped beneath her sleep worn shirt, fingers brushing up her ribs to the soft, warm weight of her breast.

This isn’t real.

He doesn’t fucking care.

The past year has been a brutally cold one, filled with blood-soaked ops and people he couldn’t trust.  He’s spent the last twelve months always on guard, either enacting violence, experiencing it or expecting it. To have Teresa here, tangibly safe in his arms, and so, so warm is almost more than he can take, let alone resist.

Her breath stutters against his lips and it feels like a hit of pure oxygen, like she’s reviving him from the dead.

He opens his eyes, pushing her hair back up and out of her face to take her in. She always smiled more freely in their quiet moments together, something that made him feel more powerful than any firearm ever had. Her lips curve now, soft and sweet, her eyes half lidded by pleasure and the knife that’s lodged in his heart tears a downward path, spilling all of his carefully contained emotions from the wound. His grip on her waist tightens too much to go unnoticed.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes flicker quickly over his face, the ever present worry never too far from the surface of their lives.

He wants to reassure her, to hold onto the playfulness between them, but the ache of it makes him honest. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” she replies, voice barely a whisper, perhaps sensing the deadly seriousness of his words. He’s never missed anything half as much as her.  It used to scare him to think of what he’d be willing to do to have this once again. What lines he’d cross to get back to her, to this.

He no longer wonders anymore.  He knows.  The knowledge that he’d do it all over again if it kept her safe didn’t absolve his crimes.  It sure as hell didn’t silence the echo of screams in his head.

“Are you?” His voice is rough but he gentles his hand, smoothing it down her hip to lightly grip her thigh, relishing the strength he can feel beneath his fingertips. He forces a smirk, an attempt to salvage the lightheartedness, and though the slight narrowing of her eyes suggests she sees right through his façade, she concedes to his wishes with a soft smile, tossing her hair over one shoulder to lean down and nip his jawline.

“What do you miss?” she teases, biting gently at the tendon of his neck, sucking lightly at first then sharper.  “This?”

His breath catches in his throat and she hums her approval into his skin.  “Or maybe this?” she murmurs, shifting to run a flat palm down his belly, lower and lower until she’s cupping him through his boxer briefs.

He groans as she strokes him, and she smiles in delight as his hips reflexively rock up into her hand. Her eyes lock onto his, like she knows exactly what power she has over him, like she wants to see the exact moment he surrenders.  It won’t take long. It feels so fucking good that it’s only his pride that keeps him from panting.

Her eyes dance wickedly.  “Or maybe this?”

As quick as lightning, she releases him to grab at his waist, tickling in just the right spot to make him nearly levitate off the bed.

“Fuck,” he laughs, grabbing for her wrists to roll her underneath him, pinning her arms above her head. She’s breathless and beaming and so goddamned pleased with herself that he can’t take his eyes off of her.  She’s beautiful.

“This,” he murmurs, slotting himself between her legs, rolling his hips hard and slow, repeating the movement when her face goes slack with pleasure.

“This,” he breathes, as her heels dig into the back of his thighs, pressing him closer as he leans down to catch her moan with his mouth.

This, he thinks, losing himself in the hazy heat of her. This, this, this.

He senses it a split-second before it happens, like a sudden change in air pressure.  The distant urgency of his mission slamming into focus with the echo of a high powered rifle shot and the shattering glass of the window.

Fiery pain rips through his abdomen, but it's the soft cry beneath him that has him in agony.

He remembers now what was so important.  He remembers now what he was supposed to do.

“Teresa,” he chokes, slumping to the side to get himself fully between her and the window.  He's losing strength fast, barely able to prop himself up enough to assess the damage.  At first he thinks the blood covering her chest is his own, but then he sees it: the entry wound where the bullet passed through him into her.

Her eyes stare up at him in disbelief, words gurgling around the blood pooling in her throat. “James?”

He has to —

“James,” she repeats, blood trickling out the corner of her mouth, her voice growing faint.  

He has to —

“Save me.”

♛

ao3

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Drabble #7 ⊰

Pairing: Jack Traven x Reader

Prompts:

24 - “I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority.”

Words: 1.5k

Warning: Angst

Requested by @ladyreapermc​ ♡

Swirling a glass of red in your hand, the meal set on the table had long grown cold; the half-eaten food on your plate remaining untouched in the last two, lonesome hours. The clock ticked quietly on the dining room wall, filling in the spacious silence as time quickly approached midnight. Reaching your third hour alone, you morosely concluded that Jack had forgotten about this evening’s anniversary dinner. As hurt weighed heavily in your chest, you decided to call it a night, seeing no point in hoping and waiting anymore, especially since this wasn’t the first occurrence.

And it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Once the food was stored away and the table was cleared of dishes, you headed to the bathroom where you stripped off the lovely dress you had purchased for this special occasion. The salty tears in the corner of your eyes didn’t fall until you stepped into the shower, your stifled cries masked by the steamy water cascading down your body. You took several breaths as the heat soaked into your skin, eventually calming your tense self and letting your mind briefly fade into dullness.

The sad truth was that you were used to this ache, the pain which gripped your heart like a vice. Though you loved Jack profoundly, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were second to his career. It became more apparent in the past three months, resulting in a string of hurtful arguments that never seemed to end. As of late, you barely saw each other despite living under the same roof. Jack often left the house early in the morning and would come home in the dead of night, too exhausted to offer more than a mere “hello” to you in passing.

It was difficult and unbearable. For a while, you wanted the relationship to survive, but you were nearing the end of the rope. After tonight, you were beginning to doubt that things would change. Perhaps Jack wasn’t ready to commit himself to a forever with you, not when his job was this demanding and dangerous. The thought of it was disappointing, but you didn’t want this kind of life. You didn’t want to force him to make an unfair decision; to choose between you, his fiancée, or the career he had worked so hard for.

Fresh from the shower and now dressed for bed, you were sitting on your side of the mattress, holding in your fingers the diamond ring Jack proposed to you with over a year ago. It symbolized his love, dedication, and commitment to you, a meaning that was starting to lose itself through the bitter words and the stinging tears. You could no longer look at it and be reminded of the future you would share with Jack. Instead, all you could see were years of longing and regret, a sad ending to what once began as a happy story.

“Hey,” a gruff, weary voice sounded by the door, and you swiftly glanced up to see Jack standing there, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and his face showing remorse. “I’d apologize to you, but I already know that won’t be enough.”

Fist closing over the sparkling ring, you then exhaled a shallow breath as Jack crossed the room, slowly dragging his feet towards the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight when he came to sit down beside you, a deep sigh escaping his lips. You could tell that he was tired from a grueling day at work, and the last thing he wanted was to pick a fight; to upset you more than you already were.

“What do you have there?” Jack probed lowly, your eyes still refusing to meet his.

You opened your hand carefully, the glint of the shining diamond capturing Jack’s attention almost immediately, his expression becoming worrisome. Shakily, you extended your arm towards him, the precious ring in full view as it laid in the center of your palm. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Your confession hung heavily in the quiet air as Jack tried to make sense of your words. Upon realizing what it all meant, he tilted his gaze upwards as you did the same, his dark, pleading orbs locking with yours for the first time that evening. You could clearly see the utter fear washing over Jack’s features, his eyes glazing with a thin glassy layer of tears as he held onto the last shred of control. But when you slipped the ring into his empty palm, his whole world now crumbling around him, Jack was unable to contain his emotions any longer.

“Y/N,” he spoke with an unsteady voice, your breath stuttering out at the sound of your name trembling from his lips. “Please, I know things haven’t been okay, but I don’t want to lose you, baby. I-I’m sorry for everything. Just tell me what I can do to fix it; to fix us.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to fix us,” you responded, hopeless. “You’re never home. Even when you’re here, it feels like I’m living in this house by myself. All we do is fight about the same damn thing over and over again. I’m not a priority to you, your job is, and I understand that now. As much as I love you, I can’t stay and hope for change. So, this is it. I’m done, Jack. I’m walking away.”

It hurt. It hurt to say those words, and it hurt even more watching a tear roll down Jack’s face. It was often rare for you to see him cry, and as he silently sat there, firmly clutching your ring in his hand, you swore that both of your hearts were breaking at the exact moment in time. Pushing yourself off the bed, you had barely moved when Jack caught you by the wrist, holding you back.

Turning your head around, you found Jack standing tall behind you, urging your body towards him. When you didn’t move, he stepped forward, his arms wrapping your fragile frame in a comforting embrace. Surrounded by his warmth, you sobbed into his broad chest as Jack held you close, shedding several tears of his own. You felt him press his lips to your forehead before he pulled back, bringing his thumb up to lightly stroke your cheek, willing you to open your eyes.

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance,” Jack implored, tone soft as a delicate whisper. “I love you more than anything, even more than this job. If you stay, I promise that I’ll make it up to you. I’ll tell them to cut my hours so that we can have time just for ourselves. Please, just stay. Don’t leave, don’t quit on us now.”

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you blinked your reddened eyes to stop the tears which only burned. You couldn’t think straight, your thoughts surging like a ferocious storm as your head and heart long sought an answer.

Meanwhile, Jack’s unwavering gaze continued to beg for redemption, to bring back the happiness and adoration both of you once shared; the times filled with great laughter and love. He was hopeful that he could reverse the damage, desperate for you to give him a second chance and make things right again. 

And despite the bleak months of pain, you still wanted try. You still wanted him. 

“Okay,” you murmured after much contemplation, offering Jack a small smile. “Let’s work this out.”

“We will,” he assured softly, his right hand reaching down to grasp your left. Slowly, Jack raised your fingers up to his mouth, planting gentle kisses across your knuckles, which had you sighing. You watched as he lifted his other hand, holding your engagement ring between two digits. Smoothly, he pushed the diamond rock down your third finger, and for a second, you took in its beauty, unaware that Jack was admiring you the same way.

Glancing back up, Jack leaned forward until his tender lips touched yours. Completely chaste at first, the sensuous kiss grew deeper as time ticked away in the background, the two of you lost in each other’s taste and touch. Suddenly, Jack pulled away breathlessly, his chest rising and falling in tandem with yours.

“I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority,” Jack avowed to you, eyes shining with pure fondness. “So, I was thinking of taking a week off from work, maybe even two if they’ll let me.”

“And do what?” You questioned with a raised brow.

“To celebrate our anniversary, of course. We could also start planning the wedding which we still need a date for. And if you want, we could even take a trip somewhere; get out of LA for a bit and relax.”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, you encircled your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. “That all sounds lovely.”

“Good,” Jack agreed with a smile as he softly swayed with you. “Where do you want to go? Name any place you want, and I’ll take you there.”

“It doesn’t matter where,” you replied, realizing that this was everything you ever wanted in life; happy and content, being loved by Jack wholly and adoringly. “I’ll go anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @keandrews​ @feminine-machinegun​ @fanficsrusz​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @rdjloverxxx​ @flaminasteroid​ @lussdew​ @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​

[bellylivesthepoguelife]

Overwhelmed. John B x Sarah

Request: Hi! How about a college related drabble? Sarah is super overwhelmed with exams coming up and calls John B starting to panic. He comes to see her and plans a whole night to distract her and comfort her 🥰

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: I know that I didn’t QUITE follow the whole request on this, but it was getting a bit long, so I hope that makes up for it! I wrote this after I wrote the 500 words of pure angst for these two, so I apologize if it’s a little too angsty. Also, I’m still trying to get comfortable writing the comedic/banter parts of a lot of the pogues relationships. (I’m just not naturally witty so I really have to try!) Anyways, I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think!

Heroes and Villains of the Middle Ages was not a class that Sarah Cameron would have ever taken for fun. But when it satisfied one of her General Education requirements, it's not like she really had much of a choice in the matter. The fact that the professor was about as fascinating as the girls from high school that messaged her saying she'd be a "perfect fit" for joining their pyramid marketing business didn't help. So having to write an essay on 4 chapters of her "textbook" (each chapter ranging anywhere between 30-50+ pages long) was grating her brain, as she legitimately has zero desire to complete it.

An hour into her attempt to read the assigned chapters had her overwhelmed. She couldn't even pretend to find the content interesting, she had no clue how she was going to write a 1,000 word essay on it, and to put the icing on the cake: this was one of four that needed to be completed in the next two weeks as part of her final exam. Exasperated at the thought, she throws the book half way across the room as she finished the second chapter. Making it halfway through warrants a break, right?

She scrolls through instagram to allow her brain to run on auto-pilot for awhile. She scrolls past a photo JJ posted 43 minutes ago, of him, John B, and Kie hanging out at the Chateau. JJ snapped the photo, Kie leaning into him, laughing, while John B is in the background making a "you-caught-me-doing-something-I-shouldn't-have" face, no doubt saying something resulting in the laughs from the other two.

The picture makes her smile. Not just because it's of her friends, but also because between John B and JJ, they'll do just about anything to make their friends laugh. It causes her heart to flutter, and she decides to call him to further distract herself.

It doesn't take long for him to pick up, but it's not John B who answers the phone, it's JJ. "Hey Princess! How's college treatin' ya?!"

"Busy, boring, and yet still somehow not captivating enough to keep me from missing you."

"Oh, so you do miss me."

She rolled her eyes, "of course I do JJ."

"Not as much as you miss JB though, I'm sure." There's a pause, but before she can respond he's rushing out the words: "Oh, speaking of! Okay, Here's John B, I'll talk to you later, love you bye!"

She can tell John B is pulling the phone away from him by the decrescendo of his voice as he gets farther from the microphone. However, the sound of her boyfriends voice filling the speaker at her ear makes her smile even more.

"Hey Val." He greets, and she can tell he's smiling.

"Vlad. I must say it is nice to know that JJ misses me. Even though he won't admit it in as many words."

"Yeah, I think it's safe to say we all do."

"Is Kie still there?"

"Nah, she has to work tomorrow so she went home about 20 minutes ago. How did you know she was over?"

"I saw the picture JJ posted on instagram."

"Ahhh, yeah, that would explain it." She heard him walking around, saying goodnight to JJ before closing what she assumed was the door to his bedroom.

"Did y'all have fun?"

"We did- JJ what the hell, I just told you goodnight." He must have opened the door to John B's room.

Sarah could hear JJ say, "yeah but I didn't say goodnight to Princess! Night Princess!" He calls louder, making sure she can hear him.

"Goodnight JJ!" She calls back, knowing she was more than likely on speaker phone.

"Night Birdshit!" is the last thing she hears before she hears the door slam.

John B is back on the phone in an instant. "I swear, I might actually kill him tonight."

She laughs at their antics, and a bittersweet feeling settles in her chest as she realizes just how much she misses her friends.

"So," John B starts again, "How's your homework coming?"

Sarah scoffs. "Don't remind me."

"That bad?"

"It's just this class is so boring!" He's heard her rant about it a million times, but he lets her do it again. "I mean, it's a 400 level class. And I understand those are the more difficult ones, but--fuck--this is hard, and it's not even interesting in the slightest!"

"Which makes it only about a million times worse."

"It does!" She agrees, thankful that he's empathetic to her suffering. "And I have my Chemistry final next week, and my English 102 research paper due the week after. Nevermind the final project for my Geology, and Quantitative Reasoning class that I've only just started on--" She's ranting, and she knows it.

"Woah. Easy there, Val." He chuckles despite her. "You'll work yourself up."

"I am worked up!" The more she talks, the more overwhelmed she gets, and soon she realizes she's pacing her small room. "I just want to come home." The confession almost stuns her as she's catapoulted into a sea of homesickness, and even the knowledge that she'll be home for the summer in two weeks time doesn't even begin to calm the waves.

"You'll be home in a couple weeks, babe. Just 2 more, and then you're mine for the summer."

She knows he's trying to change her perspective, but she's not in the mood tonight. She's sad, and wants the space to allow herself to be sad. A half-hearted "yeah" is all she manages.

"Hey," John B doesn't miss the dejected tone of her voice, realizing how upset she truly is. "It's gonna be alright, Val. 2 more weeks is a piece of cake after the past seven months."

They'd seen each other since she started college, of course, but even then, the last time they were together was when she came home for Wheezie's lacrosse game 5 weeks ago. And after spending almost every day of last summer together, the distance began to do it's damage. Not on their relationship, no, their relationship was still so, so good. It was just on nights like tonight, when she was so overwhelmed that no matter what she thought of, it only made the drowning feeling three times worse.

She feels her throat tighten and before it even registers that she's getting emotional, she feels the gentle pricks behind her eyes indicating it won't be long and she'll be crying. "It's just really hard right now." She confesses, annoyed with how her voice is full of emotion, which is going to cause John B to go into his protective, "I'll-be-your-hero-and-fix-everything" mode.

And sure as shit, his tone becomes softer, and he's building her up. "I know it is, Sarah, but you're doing so well. I know this has been an adjustment for you, and for us, and it hasn't been easy, but you've been doing so well. You're killing it at college, and you only have these last two weeks, these last exams and projects and then you're home for the summer."

She nods, knowing that he's speaking truth, but still feeling discouraged. "It's just, everything's happening at once right now, and I'm just so overwhelmed, and there's just so much pressure riding on these last projects, and--I just want you."

"What do you mean?" She can tell he's laughing at her rambling confession.

"I mean I just want you. I miss you, John B." Great, that broke the dam, and now she's really crying. "I miss hugging you, and kissing you, and just being next to you. Because at least when I was home and busy, we were still together. Now I have to do all of this by myself, and I just feel so alone, and I just want to come home." She didn't intend to share all of these subconscious thoughts and feelings when she called him on the phone. She had initially just called for a distraction, and to see how JJ and Kie were doing. But sometimes the breakdowns come when you least expect them.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" The question is not how she expected him to respond.

She sniffs, thinking through what her Saturday plans were. "I'm- going to finish this essay, probably work on my projects, and study?" She phrases it like a question, even though she's answering his. After hearing silence for a little too long, she adds, "Why?"

"I'm on my way."

"What?" If she wasn't expecting him to ask what she was doing tomorrow, she REALLY doesn't expect him to say he's coming to see her at 10pm on a Friday.

"What do you mean you're on your way."

"I'm coming to see you." He answers as if it's the simplest thing in the world. She can hear his smile as he talks, probably patting himself on the back for being the hopeless romantic, her knight in shining armor, coming to distract her from her scholarly obligations.

"John B, you don't have to do that." Of course, she wants him to. But it's a ways to drive, and she knows his van isn't cheap to fill with gas.

"Shut up Val." He laughs. "I'm going to spend the weekend with you. But on one condition." He thinks, and then doubles back. "Okay, two conditions."

She rolls her eyes, always thinking there's no way she can be more in love with this man, and then he does stuff like this to prove her wrong. "And what are your conditions?"

"One. You have to write your essay. And I'm going to help you study. You don't just get a 'get out of jail free' card just because your man is coming to see you." He gets her to laugh with that one.

"My man?"

"Yes. That is what I am, isn't it? Your man?"

"Sure. And what's the second condition?"

"You have to buy me my own bag of Skinny Pop." Her eyes automatically roll for probably the 15th time tonight. "Okay, agreed. I will go to the store, and buy you your own bag of Skinny Pop."

"And you can't have any of it." He ammends.

"Alright, fine. And I won't have any of it." She grudgingly agrees.

"Deal."

"Deal."

"That settles it then! I'm on my way!"

"Drive safe, loser."

"I love you, Sarah."

She smiles to herself. "I love you too, John B."

"I'm serious though, don't eat my Skinny Pop before I get there."

[sorry-apsalar]

Why Wouldn’t I Be Okay?

This was inspired by a post I saw here on Tumblr that I would link if I could find it again but I can't. Anyway the post said something along the lines of 'imagine Bender recording Fry's voice to replay it to himself later. Now imagine him replaying it long after Fry had passed away'. It was supposed to have been a drabble but it ended up being 2k words long (my own fault for the choice of one of memories I decided to include) instead.

~

“Wait, you’re the only friend I have.”

Bender paused, turning to look back at Fry. “You really want a robot for a friend?” There was no way that could be true because what human in their right mind wanted to be friends with a robot?

“Yeah, ever since I was six.” He looked and sounded completely honest. Bender would’ve suspected it was an attempt at a cruel trick if it wasn’t for the fact Fry had just got done mistaking a suicide booth for a place to make phone calls and not realized the mistake until it had almost killed him; no way someone that stupid could fake being genuine so well. Meaning not only did he want a robot as a friend, he’d already decided that the two of them were friends. … Bender had never had a friend before so…

“Well okay, But I don’t want people thinking we’re robo-sexuals so if anyone asks, you’re my debugger.” Why not give this whole friendship thing a go? If it didn’t work out or he got bored of it, the suicide booth would still be there.

Bender sighed as he stopped the recording. It was crazy how much his life had changed that day all thanks to his chance encounter with Fry and then on a whim deciding to agree with Fry’s decision that they were friends. It wasn’t often he cared to take time to appreciate that but today was certainly a good day for it. … It was a good day for a lot of things.

The heater elements made him run uncomfortably hot and slowed down his other systems a bit but it was nowhere near bad enough to risk damage or automatic shutdown. A little bit of discomfort was worth it because his plan had worked; Fry had cuddled up to him without argument, complaint, or even much hesitation.

Fry was soft and squishy pressed up against Bender’s side. With an arm wrapped so firmly around him, Bender could feel his breathing. It was slowing and evening out as the last of the tension melted from his body. A quick furtive glance revealed that his eyes were closed now too; he was sleeping or in the process of falling asleep. Which wasn’t surprising the cold that had settled in their apartment after Bender had gutted the space heater had woken him several hours earlier than normal, especially for their day off. But it was still nice to see he was comfortable enough with Bender to fall asleep so quickly while they were cuddling like this. If only this could be a regular thing. …

Oh fuck, Bender was hopelessly in love, wasn’t he? Though he probably should’ve realized that upon coming up with this plan and deciding to do it, huh? Not that it mattered how or why he realized because…

Bender pulled himself out the memory. Looking back on it now, he almost couldn’t believe how he’d been so thoroughly convinced that there was no hope of that love being reciprocated. Him and Fry were basically the perfect match.

“I like you for you,” Fry said looking directly at Bender. “You’re great and you’re my best friend. And I love spending time with you whether we’re off on a space adventure or just lazing around the apartment watching TV together. So, I’d like to be more than just friends if that’s what you want too. If not, that’s… okay too, I’d understand.”

Bender did want that even if he’d never dared to actually hope for it. Before he said ‘yes’ though… “Oh, hmmm… what else do you like about me?” There was no way he could ever pass up an opportunity to make Fry say more nice things about him.

“You’re always fun to talk to and you’ve got great ideas for ways to pass the time when we’re bored. And even though you steal my wallet all the time, you always give it back eventually. And you’re a robot and that’s still super cool even if I’m used to robots by now because you were the first one I met and I wasn’t lying when I said I’d always wanted a robot for a best friend. So really by being my pal, you’re fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine. I’ve never thought about dating one before now though, it just never occurred to me until after that uh… kiss experiment we did.”

“Go on.”

Fry gave him a slightly annoyed look that only increased Bender’s enjoyment of the moment. “You’re also very confident, especially in yourself. And you’re also super strong, you can bend metal like it’s made of paper which is super cool. And sometimes you use that strength to open jars for me and sometimes you don’t even make fun of me for not being able to open it myself. Also, even despite our occasional disagreements, we always make up eventually and then we’re friends again like nothing ever happened and… that’s really nice. So… will you go out with me?” He held a hand out towards Bender, offering it.

Ah shit, Bender couldn’t drag this out any longer, could he? He wasn’t programmed to be able to handle emotional situations, heck he wasn’t programmed to have emotions at all. How did he say ‘yes’ without coming off as awkward and desperate? Or without fucking up his chances some other way? ... He had to say or do something! …

“Well, if you’re going to butter me up that much, I suppose we can go on one date and see what happens.” He couldn’t help but look away as he put his hand in Fry’s. That hadn’t exactly come out how he would’ve…

Fry’s grip on Bender’s hand tighter as he yanked him closer. “Can I kiss you again? For real this time, not just as an experiment?” Their bodies were very close now, enough that he could’ve just done it without asking. He didn’t even need to as far was Bender was concerned.

“I just agreed to go on a date with you meatbag, what do you think?”

Fry didn’t do it though, nor did he say anything. He was far too cute and sweet for his own good. It was endearing though.

Bender sighed. “Yes moron, you can kiss me again.”

Finally Fry kissed him again. His lips were warm and soft, an odd sensation but a pleasant one. And just like last time it was over before Bender was really ready for it to be.

“Better than last time?” Fry asked, his face flushing a little.

“A little.” And the first one had already been pretty good, even if Bender would never admit to it.

If only Bender could actually relive any of these moments. The visuals and audio were crystal clear and his recall of his emotions and internal thoughts were also recorded perfectly but it was still just a memory that he was choosing to play the full recording of in his head. No matter how much he wished he could sink into them as if they were happening in real time, he couldn’t. With another useless sigh, he started playing the next one.

As casually as he physically could, Bender strode over to stand by Fry as he hosed down the ship.

Fry turned his head to look at him with a smile. “I didn’t think you’d show up again until after the ship was done being cleaned.”

Bender hadn’t known that that was happening otherwise he would’ve stayed hidden for a while longer. “Eh, it’s whatever, Leela’s not around to order me to help so I don’t have to. But uh… I have a gift for you.”

Fry gave him a skeptical look. “It’s not another thing you stole that you’re giving to me so I get in trouble instead of you, is it?”

“Nope and for once I actually mean that. I did steal it though. But it was a while ago, I doubt anyone cares anymore so you probably won’t get in trouble for having it.”

He didn’t look completely convinced but after a couple seconds hesitation, Fry shrugged as he placed the hose on the ground and turned to face Bender fully. “All right then, what is it?”

Already in his hand and hidden behind his back, Bender pulled out the ring box. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he flipped open the lid so that Fry could see the big fancy ring inside. “Will you marry me?”

His eyes widening, Fry gasped. “I uh… yes, yes of course!”

Bender had expected a ‘yes’ – why wouldn’t Fry want to marry him? – but the enthusiasm was appreciated. Being excited about it was maybe a bit silly but -

“You okay Bender?”

With a jolt, Bender stopped the recording and opened his eyes. Cubert and Dwight hovered in front of him with worried expressions. Which just wasn’t right because they looked like their fathers now – especially Cubert because he was clone – neither of whom had ever been concerned about Bender, or at least not enough to look at him like that. How their sons had grown up to be such softies was a mystery, an annoying one.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Bender didn’t bother getting up from the couch in hopes that they’d leave soon.

“Well,” Cubert said, “You stayed overnight at work again. That’s not something people who are okay typically do.”

“Or maybe I just arrived before you did.” Bender had meant to leave the breakroom and head to probably the basement instead before they’d arrived but they’d just had to come in an hour early.

Dwight sighed and shook his head. “Also, according to my records it’s the one-year anniversary of… well… uh… you know. So it makes sense that you’re not okay, especially today.”

The one-year anniversary of Fry’s death. By some miracle he’d been the last to go, outliving even Leela by almost two whole years. It had been inevitable though, even modern science could only keep him alive for so long. And thus Bender had known it was coming from the very start and had seen all their friends die one by one… he’d never been ready to face it though, still wasn’t.

Despite that, he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s been a year, I’m over it. Meatbags die, it’s one of the things they’re most known for. So I’m over all their deaths, including and especially his.”

Neither of them believed him. In fact, they looked at him with even more sadness and worry than before as if he were some poor lonely sap to be pitied. “It’s okay to grieve,” Cubert said. “You don’t have to be ashamed of it, we miss him and everyone else too. And we know how much you two loved each other.”

Dwight looked like he was going to say something in agreement but before he could get a single annoying word out, Bender stood up. “I have work to do.” He went past them and left the room, heading for the ship hanger.

Only one of the two company ships were in. The other was due to return sometime today and when it did, the team crewing it would probably have something for him to do. If not and probably if so as well, he’d be sure to be part of the crew going on the next mission because he needed the distraction. Hopefully it’d be a long one too so he’d have an excuse to continue to not return to his empty apartment.

Ugh, he was actually looking to do work for once and hoping it’d take a long time. That’s how far he’d fallen this past year. … He could delete his memories of Fry and all his friends – he even missed Zoidberg and Scruffy, something he never would’ve predicted. It’d hurt so much less if he did. With help he could even delete them so thoroughly that he wouldn’t even know anything had been deleted.

But… meeting and befriending Fry had irrevocably changed his life.  Those memories not only included his happiest, they were also the majority of his life at this point. What would he be like if he did delete them? … Impossible to say and… he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. So… for now, he’d continue to live with them and continue to hope that maybe one day they’d hurt less.

[willpowers]

I know its 2021 and I havent written for death note since 2007 but like, ive been up all night so here meronia fandom, no more lurking in the reblogs lol

Rated T for swearing and like, implied possibility of nsfw?

Drabble 1

With the soft click of his door, Near let out a soft sigh.

Kira was unmasked and defeated, he had won.

No.

They had won.

His hand instantly went to his neck, almost on instinct by now, and held the cheaply made beads and wooden red cross he hid under his shirt.

Near had never been religious, and he knew these beads were just symbolic, the first one he could buy at midnight on that night, when grief kept him up and walking through the unexplored city, needing something tangible. So he could deny.

Denial was normal.

This... Was normal.

He winced slightly as the cheap wood splintered a bit, poking his pale finger. He let go of the effigy and held his still clenched hand at his side.

What would he do now?

Logically, he knew. He was L.

“Nate River” died with the man named Lawliet. Died with the thunderous slamming of the orphanage door that a 14 year old boy should not have been able to make.

L.

“Near” was dead now too.

Died with that man. Light Yagami.

So L he was.

A predictable future for a perfect boy whose only flaw was not worshipping a strange adult who came to visit. His apathy, which before gave him freedom, was the final bar in this jail cell of a title.

Did he enjoy being a detective? Probably, in some way. The battle against Kira thrilled him.

No, it wasn’t the one against Kira that kept his attention.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the puppets. He let them all fall to the ground. One by one, their tiny rubber bodies bounced a bit. There was L, first dead. Near never cared for him much. Took him five minutes to throw together something of a resemblance.

There was Kira. Honestly he was thinking about the hamburgler for this one. Petty killer with petty burger thief. Fitting.

Then Misa... Mikami... The others. Names he couldnt wait to just file away in some police report and forget about.

Then himself.

The white puppet, which he didn’t put too much energy into, but still made look a bit like him. He was simple. Monochromatic and bored.

Then him. He picked up the blonde puppet carefully, remembering how it took all night to get it right. He painted every detail he remembered from their one meeting at the headquarters. From every hidden camera quick shot of the man who was as bright as he was loud.

He couldn’t bear to even think his name.

Near picked up the puppet of him, putting them in their usual spots on his index and middle fingers. He would enjoy the thought of being on Nears middle finger. He was vulgar enough to.

He stared at them, and stood up. They needed a better home. The puppets didn’t have to be thrown away, like the real counterparts. Near opened his best toy chest, one he put his favorite toys into, and laid the two puppets, side by side. He put the blonde puppet slightly higher than the white one. A little victory. One the real man couldn’t claim by his side.

Near closed the toy chest, then looked back around his room. His toys were scattered, dice piled high, and cards strewn about.

The sight disgusted him.

It looked so... Normal.

He kicked over the dice, letting the clatter as they fall echo through the silent room. Kneeling down, he picked up the finished puzzles and dumped them out, one after the other. Their perfect completion being ruined by the destruction, and wet by the falling tears the boy didn’t even know he was capable to make.

Near knelt in the middle of his mess and grit his teeth, letting more of those rare droplets fall, tainting all his toys.

Why did such a win feel like such a loss? Like it had no meaning? He always did what was told. Kept quiet, did well on tests, become a detective. Catch Kira. Save the day. Save the world.

But he didn’t care at all. He had only loved one thing in his life, and in the process of fulfilling his duty... Their duty... He lost him.

Taking in a shaky breath, Near picked up the toys and pieces of puzzle and dice and cards and put them in his bigger chest. He took his time. He usually had the others do this for him, but he hated the person who was reliant on everyone to do everything. That man fucked up. He was foolish. He could die along with the rest of the casualties.

At one point, he heard his door open. He mentally chastised himself for forgetting to lock it.

“I thought I requested the night alone.” He said sternly, trying to not let his emotions show.

However, he got no response, only footsteps closer.

Footsteps with a heavy walk that none of his associates used.

Footsteps that should be six feet under.

Hallucination wasn’t one of the stages of grief. And it wasn’t on his agenda. He bit his lip, not sure what to think about. He didnt want to turn around. If he was wrong about who it was...

So he put more toys away. Methodically putting away robot after robot.

Soon another hand joined him. Taking a stuffed sheep and tossing it on the bed.

Only one person would know that goes there.

He reached for another toy. But hesitated. His mind was racing, trying to put together the puzzle. Figure out what was real. What was a lie.

A charred, bandaged hand grabbed the toy and put it away.

“Are you going to ignore me forever, or just until your toys are away.”

Near’s breath hitched a bit, the voice was deeper, damaged, but unmistakable.

He finally looked behind him, eyes a bit wider than usual, but still doing his best not to show his emotions. He had to have some cards left in his hand, for whatever game this was.

He looked like shit.

His hair was uneven and singed, his scar had gotten deeper and he could tell from the bandages he got more scars in new places. If he was here, he had to have survived a gasoline based truck fire.

He had to have survived the Death Note.

The man smirked.

“Sorry to interrupt your pity party, but it just so happened a kidnapped girl under immense pressure couldn’t accurately write a slavic name.”

Near stood up, walking over and gently touching his scar. He felt the other recoil, but he couldn’t care less.

He pressed harder, and earned a wince. He felt the warmth, a bit of blood from the wound staining his pale white fingers.

Blood.

Fresh blood.

He was alive.

“Mihael.” He said, under his breath, only able to be heard by the man before him.

He stepped closer. He pressed a hand on his chest, felt his heartbeat. He closed his eyes and counted... Steady, not in danger. Warm, quickening?

Near closed his fist a bit, gripping the leather under his palm. His fingernails would leave marks. But he could mark him. He was here to mark.

“Mihael...” He said, slightly louder. A reminder to himself.

Mihael snorted. “What, did you just remember it?” He said, a bit of a flush on his pale face. He could flush. He was blushing.

Near gripped his collar roughly, pulling him down and pressing his still lips to the others. It was awkward and obviously full of inexperience.

He felt the other snort, and could imagine him rolling his eyes. Probably savoring that he was going to obviously beat him at this. Near could care less.

The blonde held his face and tilted it into a proper kiss.

Ah.

This was actually a lot better.

Near kept the contact, using the new angle to press further against him, closing his eyes now, like he figured he was supposed to do. He was out of his depth here. There was no swell of orchestra or butterflies in his digestive system... But it was enough.

He pulled back, looking at him proper now. They were still holding each other, Near by his face and Mihael by his collar.

“Youre not better than me. For kissing me first.” He said, an uncomfortable look on his beet red face.

“I never claimed to be.” Was his response. “About anything. That was you.”

Mihael glared. “Stop it. Stop saying that. Not... now.” He looked down. It seemed Near wasn’t the only one feeling a lost sense of something.

Near looked at him and pulled back, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the bed.

“Prove youre better then. Unless you accept defeat..” He said, a coy grin creeping onto his face.

Mello went with him, smiling.

Nothing was solved, pieces weren’t clicked together in a perfect fit, the world didn’t suddenly make sense, and neither of them had a plan. However, they had a start.

And it looked promising.

[mother-snake]

dear sweet little letter,

(angst wih a heap of fluff? yeah... also dont forget if you would like to be tagged in future content, dont hestitate to ask!!!) tags: @idkanameatall @imma-potatoo @girl-with-many-fandoms words: 3896 warnings: sad snek times

Roman-

He had been having a fairly okay day. His work was complete but there was a nagging in the back of his mind that had been there since the big argument. he knew that what he said hit a dangerous nerve, but roman had hit one as well. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He could practically feel the bags under his eyes from sleepless nights riddled with guilt.

Well. If he wanted at least a nap then he could just go fix things up with roman. But he just wasn’t sure how. How do you repair damage that seemed far too damaged? roman was never one for confrontation, skirting around the issue. He would just deny that something was wrong until it weathered him down.

An idea crossed his mind. That could work… in fact. He at least knew it was a start. --

Roman had been in his room, curled up in a ball. Janus’s words had struck a deep buried pile of emotions he didn’t want to deal with. But alas. It was bound to happen. so when he heard the knock on his door, he was a little more than irritated. Patton had attempted at least once an hour during daylight to get roman to leave the room. But he had point blank refused.

But if he heard the moral side knock once more, he was going to flip. And the only way he knew to stop that was to open the door.

And that’s what he did. But no one was there. not a single soul. He rolled his eyes but stopped when they landed on something just in his eye view by his feet. a basket. Yellow and red. With colourful things on the inside. he hesitantly picked it up and looked down each corridor that were on either side of his room before closing the door.

His next destination was his desk. He placed the basket of things down and began to unpack. a knitted scarf with his symbol on either end. It was just the perfect mix of warmth and comfort. a small bag of wrapped up brownies. He tasted one. Yeah, these were good.

And then a red rose. Ruby coloured. His colour. it was tied to a letter. This had a yellow wax and a familiar double headed snake.

He looked at the things and was almost hesitant to open it. but he did it anyways.

Dear roman, as you can see, I’ve been busy this past week. I know we are not on the best of terms but I would like you to know that I do feel guilty for what I said. If you belie me or not, that’s up to you. but at least consider this a start? sorry for what I said. I apologise. Remember: you ARE Thomas’s hero. - yours sincerely, Janus.

Roman found himself placing the letter onto the desk. A wave of emotion hitting him all at once. Mainly guilt and a small drabble of hope. He looked at the peace offerings with a slight smile.

Maybe he could do something in return as a thank you. now… what to do?

 Patton-

He had been wandering his room. Pacing back and forth. Thinking and thinking. Had he liked it? an idea crossed his mind. Maybe he could do that for Patton! the two may only now be on speaking terms, but if he could clear up some air. That would be enough.

He opened his bedroom door and made his way to the kitchen. Recipe after recipe coming to mind. --

Patton was lying in his room. Staring at the wall in anticipation. Waiting for the hour to pass to make sure roman was okay. He hadn’t seen the side all too much. and he knew what had happened was taking its toll.

He had re arranged the room twice. From age to size. He was now half way into doing category. but there was something just not right in the air. He couldn’t place what it was… but it was there.

He heard a small knock on his door. Now if there was one thing Patton was good at- it was telling who was at his door. And by not recognising the sound. It was pointed to only one side.

He walked over as quick as possible before opening the door. But it appeared that he was wrong, no one was there. he took a breath before walking back into his room. Only stopping when a small thud of something comes from down below. he picks up the paper bag and makes his way to his bed where he sits down. The yellow ribbon tying it together in a neat bow makes him smile joyfully. he reached his had in and pulled out a jar of… oh. It was jam? He looked in to find another jar and what looked like a ton of baked goods. Some cookies, brownies and muffins mostly.

The letter at the bottom caught his attention. A small daisy attached. He picked it up and examined the piece of paper before opening it up to read.

Dear Patton, I know you are most likely the only person here who doesn’t hate me with a seething passion right now. But none the less. I give you these peace offerings. I know you don’t like lying, but I need you to at least understand this. I can’t change who I am. And I am deceit… I know you don’t like it. that you think its wrong. But I need you to know even when I lie, I'm trying my best… - yours sincerely, Janus.

Patton felt his heart go heavy. What Janus was getting at in the letter clicking pretty quickly in his mind he- no. he was going to make this right. Janus was one of his kiddos. And if he thought that Patton hated him. well. He wasn’t going to stand for it. he was going to make sure that Janus knew he was loved. he would physically fight anyone who dare disagree.

Logan-

He had been in the kitchen this time. He was still in the cold emptiness of the dark side area. He still couldn’t sleep. And he was so close to just getting Remus to- but he couldn’t. the side was no longer here.

He took a deep breath and groaned. Yeah, he was so close to just collapsing in exhaustion. The coffee he drank barely did its job anymore. his mind began to wander again. Wandering over to Logan, Thomas’s logic and reasonable thinking compared to the others. he winced as he remembered placing that skip button down. He didn’t think that anyone would actually press it. he thought they would be smarter than that. guess even he could be wrong about them.

He felt his chest go heavy as he remembered the mark on logans neck he had caught the other day delivering roman his gift basket of peace offerings.

He rubbed his temple, his non gloved hands looked normal, but the black talons on the end were otherwise too sharp to not be. He had barely disguised it when he had revealed his name. no reason for them to get scared. he didn’t need that on his plate as well.

He summoned a small pad and pen. It took far more energy than he would have liked, but not being one of the creativity’s that was bound to happen. Lack of sleep didn’t help either.

He began to write things down. But quickly scribbled them out. no, they wouldn’t work for apologises. And he didn’t know if Logan would want to see him. perhaps he could do that instead? That might work! --

It had been a while; he did leave his room of course. But it was mainly to eat, drink and replace his melted ice with fresh. He had enough work to do and was sick of everyone just ignoring him. so, when he arrived at his room to see his door creaked open slightly. He was not happy in the slightest.

Cup of herbal tea in hand he entered the room to find no one there. but a small parcel wrapped up and on his bed. Brown paper with a bluebell tied to a letter. the insignia told him enough.

He opened the parcel as neatly as possible. Careful not to harm its contents. it was a black box with his logo in silver. A lock and key placed on top. He moved it to the side and opened it up. a blue book. he opened it to find empty pages. But stopped when he reached the final page.

A list off things the other sides had said. Each one a compliment. He hadn’t realised how much they actually cared. he moved to the letter. Opening it up.

Dear Logan, I will be straight as possible with you. neither of us like confrontation. But this is the least I can do for hurting you. I know you don’t like expressing emotion, so why not write down how you feel instead? I hope you can one day forgive me for what I did. And remember, the others do care. It’s just hard to realise that sometimes.

-yours sincerely, Janus

Logan didn’t know what he was apologising for. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was right to remove him from the picture in that moment. The others refused to listen, so he swapped himself out. and that all it had taken.

But as he looked to the box. And then back to the book. then the letter. Maybe it would be good to take Janus’s words… to heart. he placed the book back in the box along with the letter. Locking it up and placing the key in his pocket.

Maybe he should go and talk to Patton. He needed to clear somethings up.

 Remus-

He had missed his friend. sure, he could now sleep, not so much guilt and pressure on his shoulders was eased slightly. But it still wasn’t gone. In fact, it felt worse than it had these past couple days. did the two sides accept his apology? Did they hate him even more- did they forgive him?

Thinking about all of what had happened lead him down that road once more. Thinking about all that was wrong, until they arrived at Remus. His best friend he ever had. Always there when he felt alone… and he had compared him to roman. despite knowing what had gone down, and even Janus knowing roman and Remus’s past… he knew it was only a matter of when for Remus leaving. And two days after the fiasco. two days of blatantly being ignored and glared at. And he was gone.

He would give anything to have that side talk his ears off for hours on end if it meant not being alone. he just wanted his friend back, he wanted someone who knew him. who knew that he couldn’t last without someone to talk to… but he understood Remus’s reasoning for ignoring him; no matter how often Janus tried to summon the side, it was ignored. who would want to talk to a liar like himself anyways?

But still he wanted to make it up to his old friend. Even if there was nothing, he could do to fix it… he could at least try.

Wiping his eyes, he quickly goes to work. Puling out his craft box and placing it on the table. --

Remus had been sat in his room. He had visited roman once the side had finally come out of his room. they had talked. An actual conversation… and none of it seemed too… well. Malicious as most other conversations in the past had been.

Now here he was, looking at pictures that had come with him in his room when he had left the dark side behind. His old friend… he didn’t even know if he could call him that. sure he missed their conversations. The way Janus would relax on him as he mumbled about another grotesque adventure, never once complaining.

But that was long gone. Janus had taken that chance away when he compared him to roman. He was nothing like that light side for certain. But he wasn’t the villain. Neither were. and that’s what pissed him off. Janus didn’t have the right to say that.

And the occasional tug turned into one every now and then. But they just stopped. And he was worried. It was never like Janus to give up so quickly. but he guessed that meant he didn’t care as much as he thought.

But the knocking on his door sent his thoughts out of mind.

He opened his door to find no one there. he looked down to find a black glass jar and walked back in. slamming his door behind. It sent a few things falling to the floor. But he didn’t mind. his attention was on the jar.

And it took a while to open it, but when he did, he wasn’t expecting to find what was inside. a plush. That was for sure. But he quickly recognised it as a heart. Not the valentines shaped one. But an actual human’s heart. The neat stitching, colour choice told him enough. He had known Janus longer than the others.

He looked in the jar to find a letter. It had a small clover attached to it, witch he quickly picked off and chewed. he unfolded the letter and began to read.

Dear Remus, hello old friend. And here we are. Opposite sides. I know you don’t forgive me for what I said… and I know you wont in the future. But at least accept this peace offering. I know you don’t wish to see me in the future… so. If you feel the need to share your thoughts, might I suggest Logan? I feel you two would get on splendidly.

And, I'm sorry for what I said. I truly mean that. -yours sincerely, Janus.

he looked at the letter and at the plush. Tears fell down his face as he realised just how much he missed Janus. who knew that the other side missed him too… heh. surely, he could think of something to show that he cared?

He got straight to planning.

 Virgil-

He found himself unable to move from his place on the bed. Curled up under the covers and feeling nothing. He hated it so much. he wanted to be hugged, to be held to be- he didn’t want this. That was for certain.

He had been thinking far too much recently. He had thought about Patton, Logan, roman and Remus… and now. Virgil. And his heart couldn’t take it any longer. Whatever had been there was no longer wanting to stay.

How had he messed up so badly? How bad did it have to be to scare away his friend? His first friend before Remus… back when it was just those two, then three everything was perfect. and then they had revealed themselves.

Argument after argument drove Virgil further and further away until he left completely. There was very little he could do without feeling supreme guilt about it. the sadness tagged along, that sucked as well.

Now he was lying in bed. So many things reminding him of his friend. He wondered if he had ever been forgiven. and as the last side he had yet to try and mend a relationship for… maybe he could give it one. Final. Shot? --

He guessed not everything was as bad as before since Thomas met Nico. The handsome mad had warmed his way into all the sides hearts. At least he thinks so at least.

His normally black eyeshadow had been more and more purple recently… and only ever went back to that dark colour when he seemed to remembered his past. oh sure, he had actually enjoyed Remus and Janus growing up. their company a welcome distraction he needed. Taking away the bad parts of the dark side and replacing them with funnier things.

But something had changed along the way. Janus had changed. He became desperate. He wanted to show Virgil how the lights were… but Virgil guessed that Janus hadn’t been expecting him to befriend any of them.

He wondered how he was doing alone, much to his own surprise. the knock at his door was sudden. But not unwelcome. He had a feeling it was either Patton or Remus again.

But upon opening the door to find nothing he let out a small confused ‘huh’ as his feet connected with something squishy. there wrapped in parcel paper was something alright.

He picked it up and brought it inside. he could feel something coming of the parcel itself. Residue of sadness and anxiousness. Who brought it to his door?

He opened up the parcel and almost gaped. it was a pretty pastel purple. The pocket and hood were grey, stitches don like his patches had been. his insignia right where it had always been.

And now he was more than- oh… he picked up the letter. Wax sealed with the double snake. He opened it up carefully.

Dear Virgil- I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything… I'm sorry. -yours sincerely, Janus

Virgil looked at the hoodie and back at his old one… maybe… just maybe he could do with a little change.

 Janus-

They were all gathered around the kitchen. Virgil had gotten compliments on his new hoodie, roman on his scarf. Logan was busy scribbling something down in a book. Remus seemed to be carrying around a plus more and more often. And Patton seemed to almost be stuck in his head. the room was otherwise silent until Logan spoke up. snapping his head up as if something clicked. “did Janus leave something at your door once this week?” he asked looking around at everyone.

Wide eyes looked around at everyone. “everyone?” Virgil muttered, pulling at the strings of the hoodie. “by the looks of it yes. that’s… I want to say a surprise but I have a feeling it’s not,” roman said. “anyone else feeling immeasurable amounts of guilt?” Remus muttered.

No one needed to respond to that. “well then, why don’t we do something?” Logan said, “we could do something for him together, from all of us,” he continued, getting rather exited.

Everyone smiled at logans sudden enthusiasm. Whatever Janus had given him must have begun breaking some of those walls by the looks of it. “I agree with specks over there. but it’s got to be grand!” roman cheered. “oh! I have an idea!” Patton said.

And soon everyone had their own mission. They each took a separate direction and began to grab everything that was needed. --

Janus hadn’t moved the entire day. He may have been cold. But what was the point? he didn’t know. He looked up to the wall opposites himself to see just how dishevelled he looked. Bags under his eyes, his hair a mess on top of his head. Tear tracks almost stained his face. red puffy eyes showed how he had been crying.

He had been confused to say the least when an exited knock banged on his door. He knew what that was! he found himself standing up and walking to the door. But stopped before opening it as something was pushed under. a small letter. Huh?

He heard as Remus bounded down the hall and away from his door. he picked the paper up and began to read.

Dear Janus, this letter is from everyone. we wish you to meet us in the lights commons at 9pm sharp. We have something for you that should be ready by then. we hope you can make it

-yours sincerely

He looked to see everyone had signed the bottom of the sheet. He was both confused, scared and worried. were they planning something to hurt him? would they just make fun of what he had created. But what if this was it? where they forgave him? would it be worth the risk.

A voice deep down told him that, yes. Yes, it was worth it. and for the first time he listened to it. --

He was standing in his pyjamas. He had been for a shower not too long ago and his hair had returned to its natural poufy state like before. his hands were gloveless. He couldn’t be bothered putting them back on. Remus would only ask him why they were there and the cover would have been blown.

Well. Now he was ready, and he had only five minuets to get there. it wouldn’t take that long to get there as of now. and thus he began walking. Cautiously and with purpose. then he was faced with the white door. And with a gentil sigh he opened the door with a click.

The lights were not on. black filled the entire lights commons. until it didn’t. the sound of a switching flip and he was met with fairy lights and a blanket fort.

He had to blink to make sure he wasn’t sleeping. taking a few cautious steps forward he peaked his head inside. No one was there. one thing however was certain it was so warm. the blankets and heated mat, he could tell there was one in there at least somewhere, and pillows he took a quick glance behind himself and crawled in. there was space enough for him to starfish across the ground with extra room.

The warmth around him filled him with bliss. If you were to listen ever so carefully, the sound of a purr could be heard emanating from his vocal cords. he heard the sound of shuffling and a small knock. he peaked his head out the crack in the side of the fort to see Patton sitting on the ground nearby with a tray in his hands.

“hi kiddo,” Janus tilted his head slightly. “hello Patton,” he responded. “enjoying your surprise,” “no,” he blushed, getting a giggle from Patton. “well… anyways. I’ve got you some cookies and hot chocolate if you’d like some,” he smiled.

Janus didn’t know what to do with this…, “where are the other?” he asked. “sleeping. We spent all day making sure this was stable and perfect,” he gestured to behind Janus where he realised where it was. a window seat. Not just any one…

He felt tears prickle his eyes. Back when they were children. That had been his sun-bathing spot. His own personal bubble. “tell them no thanks,” he muttered, grabbing a cookie from the plate. “you got it kiddo. Now don’t stay up too late. And don’t worry if you hear noise, the others might wake up to see how youre doing,” Patton said, patting Janus’s hair. “goodnight kiddo,” and he was gone.

Janus smiled for the first time in a long time. They had done this for him? just for him… he didn’t know what the feeling in his chest was, but he liked it. no, he loved it.

And little did he know. He would never have to not feel it again… after all he was a part of their famILY weather, he liked it or not. And he would be fine with that.

[thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters]

Request: “#100 with Dean + ‘younger reader’, smut, fluff” by @emoryhemsworth​ 

Prompt: “Everyone keeps telling me I should stay away from you.” 

Pairing:  Dean x Reader 

Word count: 3.1K  

Warnings: Mentions of age difference, smut, way too many words to call this a drabble (sue me) 

A/N: This one got away from me a little bit. Let’s just all agree to ignore the word count. Also, not entirely unimportant: the Reader has a specific age in this fic due to part of the request being for them to be younger, as noted above. 

Beta: @princessmisery666​ 

JJ’s Rockin’ 100 - PROMPTS || MASTERLIST || ASK BOX 

(gif)

Dean let the Impala roll into one of the empty spots on the motel’s parking lot and shifted his Baby into park. He leaned back, allowing a heavy sigh to pass through his lips. When he glanced up, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror. He decided he had definitely seen better days.  

The vampire nest he had been tracking, had been easy enough to take out. It was the place they had chosen as their lair that had done most of the damage to his appearance. That dusty old house had been leaning heavily toward a true vamp-cliché.  

Dean hated clichés. Especially if they contained filthy dark basements with earth flooring instead of concrete. One dive to dodge an assault and he had been covered in dirt.  

He reached up to wipe at his face, but the movement just made things worse. A low groan rumbled from his throat. At least the nasty bloodsuckers had gone down fast, and he could get some satisfaction out of that.  

Part of the day’s success was thanks to the other hunter that had been in the room.  

With Sam gone to help out Rowena with something out west, Dean had set off on this hunt alone. He had been in town for less than two hours when you found him. There was something in the way you looked at him that gave Dean an inkling of your intentions, and they didn’t seem to be strictly case related. 

It had been a while since Dean worked with another hunter, whom he had never met before. He had been surprised at how easy it had been. Especially since both of you had not exactly been able to focus solely on the tasks at hand.  

The first couple of comments had been innocent enough. He liked how he could make you bite your bottom lip with a few simple, well-timed words. And he certainly didn’t mind the suggestive remarks you had slipped in whenever the moment allowed for them.  

Another one of those inappropriate pieces of commentary was flung right his way when Dean stepped out of the car. He saw you leaning against your own vehicle a couple of spots down, a smirk on your alluring lips as you took in the sight of the dirt-covered hunter.  

“You are one filthy man, Winchester,” you said, pushing yourself off against the side of your car before making your way over to him.  

How was it you had only a few smears of dust on your shirt and he got the full facial? Not fair.  

“You don’t know the half of it,” he heard himself respond before he could think better of it.  

The smirk on your lips only grew. “Need some help cleanin’ up?” you asked, voice airy and casual but eyes darkened with an underlying, less innocent, motive. “’Cause if so, I’d be happy to offer you my services. I’m really... thorough.”  

Dean’s eyebrows shot up for just a second. He caught himself and quickly turned his expression back to neutral. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat when it suddenly felt awfully dry. “Think I can handle it. I’m quite the expert at getting those hard to reach spots just right.”  

He shut his car door a little harder than intended and started for his motel room, leaving you behind on the parking lot to mull over his words.  

The thought of you followed him into the shower. As he rid his skin of dirt, Dean couldn’t help but imagine it was you who was touching him. Your hands, rough from hunting but skillful and efficient. He could already feel his cock beginning to harden.  

There was still a voice inside his head telling him to walk away from this, to block it all out and ban it from his mind. That voice had been there since the moment he had laid eyes on you. There was no doubt you were younger than him, and not just by a year or two. Calling Bobby to check if you were legit – as he did every time before trusting someone new to hunt alongside him – had confirmed his suspicions.  

But the chemistry was there. The constant flirting. There was no denying that damned sexual tension. It hung in the air between you and weighed down on his conscience. Still, so far, it had done jack to keep him from flirting with you and augmenting the flames.  

You were an adult. He knew there was nothing wrong with the thoughts he was having. But he also knew he had changed over the years. His days of sleeping around with whomever he could persuade with a mere look, had long since ended.  

Dean muttered a few curse words he had picked up from his dad at a very young age and turned off the meager shower stream. After taking care of his little problem, with nothing but you on his mind, he got out of the tub and grabbed a towel.  

Fifteen minutes later he was hunched over the trunk of the Impala, forcefully stuffing his duffel bag alongside his machete that still had some vamp blood on it.  

“Not leaving without saying goodbye, are you?”  

Dean turned around to see you walking over to him across the parking lot. He could tell you had taken a shower yourself; your hair was damp and you were wearing a different set of clothes. Now that the hunt was over, you seemed to have traded your practical jeans and a t-shirt for a denim skirt and a yellow top with thin straps Dean would have loved to slide off your exposed shoulders.  

“Don’t tell me you’re going to get all emotional now,” he said, trying to force his eyes to focus back on your face.  

You scoffed. “You make me feel a lot of things, Winchester, but sentiment isn’t one of them.”  

Dean closed the trunk and walked around the car. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it simply because he had finished packing up his things, or if he felt the need to put some distance in between the two of you. There was no telling what he might do if you got close enough for him to see whether you were wearing a bra underneath that top or not.  

You didn’t notice his futile attempt and just continued to slowly close the gap.  

“I was thinking,” you spoke, “maybe we could go grab a drink. You know, celebrate our win from earlier?”  

Dean watched as the space between him and you grew smaller with your slow approach. “Not sure there’s much to celebrate, sweetheart,” he said, hand already on the door of his car as if he would jump right in and speed off. “This was probably one of the easiest hunts I’ve ever been on.”  

“That’s because you had me covering your ass.” Your grin turned cocky. Dean decided he liked that look on you. “But you know what they say; it’s important to celebrate the small victories every once in a while. Besides, from what I’ve heard, you’re not usually one to shy away from a drink or two.”  

By the time your lips stopped moving, so had the rest of your body, leaving the two of you only inches apart. Dean noticed you were about to take a final step so your bodies would be touching. He took a step back in an attempt to keep that from happening, but soon felt his back pressing against the side of the Impala.  

Dean cleared his throat. Why did it have to keep feeling so dry? 

“That so?” he said, trying to keep up the casual façade just like you seemed to be doing so effortlessly. “What else have you heard about me?”  

“Not much,” you simply shrugged, “except...”  

You paused and took a moment to glance up at Dean through your eyelashes in a way that made him want to groan. But he clenched his jaw and suppressed the urge.   

Dean had a few ideas of the things other hunters out there were saying about him. The Winchesters had a reputation, as a family, but also individually. Whatever it was you had heard, he had a feeling it wouldn’t surprise him. 

He coaxed, “Except?” 

You were still glancing up at him in that irresistible way when you told him, “Everyone keeps telling me I should stay away from you.”  

If Dean hadn’t been so busy staring at your lips as they moved, he would have laughed. “Everyone’s probably right.”  

“Probably?” you repeated. An eyebrow shot up, pulling at your perfect features, while you seemed to be measuring the seriousness of his words. After a moment of contemplation, you decided, “I’ll take my chances.”  

Dean felt his brain scrambling for a way to respond. If the dumbfounded look on his face wasn’t giving him away already, the strain in his jeans probably did the trick.  

But your expression changed when he remained quiet. He watched you take a step back, giving him room to breathe. You turned your head but he still managed to catch the look of hurt that flashed through your eyes. It made his insides twist painfully.  

“Right,” you spoke as if you understood. Your head bobbed in a curt nod. “I’ll let you get back to packing.”  

You were an open book in that moment. Dean could see the doubt all over your features. You were most likely wondering if you had read the signs wrong. He had to admit, he had let himself go a little when flirting with you these past few days. But it had all been so easy, felt so natural, with you.  

Dean dragged a hand over his face and took a deep breath. When he noticed you starting to turn away, he said, “Listen, kid-”  

“I’m not a kid.” Your tone was harsh and judgmental. The look of hurt on your face made way for obstinacy.  

Yet, still, Dean couldn’t help but scoff at your words.  

The thunder in your eyes told him you didn’t like his reaction. “Ten years isn’t that much, Dean. I know you know it, too.” You weren’t wrong, but damn if he was going to admit that out loud.  

“Eleven,” was all he said instead.  

Your answer came quickly, “I’m turning thirty in three months.”  

“Right, which means, as of right now, you are twenty-nine. Which makes me over a decade your senior.” Dean was still debating whether or not this argument was even worth it.  

He should have expected your response, but it still managed to catch him off guard.  

“And?” Your tone was challenging, clearly daring him to give you a good reason why any of this was an issue.  

Dean only pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. He looked over your face, took in your features and stopped at your eyes. They were hard; stubborn. But there was also still that clear hint of lust he had seen every time you had looked at him during the vampire hunt. He knew that was what it was, because he felt it, too.  

“And...” he started slowly, dragging out the word. Dean was trying to buy himself some more time to think this through, even though, deep inside, he knew he had already made his decision.  

There was a spark between you two that could no longer be denied the opportunity to turn into a sea of flames. Just because this wasn’t usually his thing anymore, didn’t mean he should deny himself what he so clearly wanted. It was obvious you both wanted this, and as long as you were two consenting adults, Dean knew he shouldn’t get in his own head so much.  

You had heard about his reputation and still you wanted to get closer instead of run the other way. Who was he to dismiss your grit? There was no need for him to suppress his urges when you were so consciously drawing them out. The only need he had to listen to was the one causing the indomitable pull he felt toward you.  

“...I’ll be expecting you to get the bill since it was your idea,” he finally finished his response.  

There was nothing subtle about the way you reacted when you realized you had won the argument. “I better get my wallet, then,” you said, clearing your throat and straightening your top as if you still thought you could pull off playing it cool.  

Dean watched as you walked away, eyes on your swaying hips until they disappeared around the corner of the motel.  

Once he was alone, he let his body fall against the Impala and heaved a sigh. It took him about ten seconds to make a decision. Now that he had let go of any unnecessary thoughts holding him back, he had a clear view of what he wanted. And he wasn’t going to get it standing and waiting around.  

“Screw this,” he grumbled to himself as he started for your motel room.  

You opened the door at the same moment Dean lifted his hand to reach for the handle. A look of surprise took over your face but you quickly recovered and stepped aside. You didn’t say anything, just let him inside with a simple nod of your head.  

Dean looked around the motel room as if he was interested in the musty décor. He heard you close the door behind you but he didn’t turn around.  

“Thought we were going out for a drink.” He didn’t have to see your face to know that cocky grin was back. He could clearly hear it in the amused tone of your voice.  

“I was thinking,” he said, finally turning to look at you, “maybe we should take care of the more important business first.” He watched your face for any possible last indicator that he wasn’t supposed to be here. “I’ll take you out to dinner after.”  

That last word hung in the air between you two for a moment, until your lips caught it and you repeated it back to him in a question.  

“After?” Your grin dissolved slightly and your face grew more serious. There was that hint of lust again, only this time it started to take over in your eyes until it was all Dean could focus on.  

Instead of specifying things for you with words, he thought it best to let his actions speak for him. He was in front of you in a second. His hands grabbed your shoulders and pressed you up against the door. Rough fingers slid down to your waist and found their way underneath your top, gripping your waist tightly.  

“Which restaurant are we going to?”  

Your question was about the last thing he had expected to hear – and Dean had heard quite a few strange remarks during sex over the years.  

“Hm?” was the only reply he could give you. He was too busy pulling off your top and pressing his lips against the base of your neck to care much for conversation.  

“It’s just that I’m really picky about the things I put in my mouth.” 

Though you tried to sound serious, it was clear to Dean you were playing games, just like you had been doing these past few days. Clever, dubious words in an attempt to throw him off. It was the breathlessness with which you spoke that gave away you wouldn’t be able to keep that up much longer.  

Dean needed you to give in. He needed you. Period.  

“I’ll take you someplace nice,” he promised against your collarbone, his fingers now working your skirt, struggling to get it down with you still pressed against the door.  

You reached up and put your hands against his chest, pushing him back only slightly. Then you took your skirt and panties off in one motion, leaving you naked in front of the hungry hunter.  

“Such a gentleman,” you responded, biting your lip as you watched Dean take off his own clothes in record time.  

His hands were back on you in a flash and this time his lips found yours. They were rough, demanding, but you had no trouble keeping up. “You’ve got me all wrong,” he growled before pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth. He pulled your body against his own and he could feel his hard length trapped between the two of you, pressed against your belly. “I’ll show you.”  

Dean hooked his hands behind your thighs and lifted you up in one smooth motion. He carried you over to the bed, placing you down on the mattress before positioning himself between your legs.  

“Look at you,” he said huskily. He took his time drinking in the full sight of your naked frame. “All of this, for me.”  

Your eyes met, charging the electricity that was coursing between you. Dean bent forward and kissed you hard. It only lasted a moment before he moved down, covering your neck, your collarbone, your chest. He paused at your nipples, giving them a little extra attention. They were already hard and ready for him, but he continued to suck and pull until you were arching your back.  

His lips traveled further down, pressing sloppy kisses to your stomach. The closer he got to your core, the more impatient the noises sounded that were coming from your throat. They were like music to his ears, so Dean willed himself to go a little slower.  

Your hips bucked restlessly but he used his large hands to grab a hold of them and pin you back down.   

“Isn’t this the way you like it, sweetheart?” he spoke, lifting his head to catch your eyes. They were pleading, desperate. It made his cock twitch. “Thought you liked to play games.”  

You threw your head back and groaned. He could feel you trying to buck your hips again.  

“Dean.”  

The breathy way you moaned his name was enough to throw Dean’s will for payback out the window. He let go of your hips to spread your legs a little wider. His head found its way between your thighs.  

The sounds you made when his eager tongue entered your wet entrance were almost as sweet as the taste of you.  

That afternoon, Dean showed you exactly the kind of man he really was.   

By the time you had relieved each other of all pent-up frustration, you were too tired to go out. Instead, Dean ordered takeout. You laid next to each other in the small bed, eating and talking together.  

Once the food was halfway gone, your hands were on him again and Dean pulled you closer.  

The rest of the day, neither one of you left the room.  

[lover-of-skellies]

I'm Sorry (a Pestilence and War drabble)

War sniffled, hugging her knees to her chest as she attempted to curl in on herself, attempting to muffle her voice with the fabric of her shirt. A small crack formed just along the edge of her soul as she recalled the events that led her to where she currently was - loitering on the outskirts of OuterTale, as far away from this worlds' residents as the AU itself would allow.

She couldn't afford for the others to see her this way. Not after she'd exploded the way she had. She let out a shaky breath, trying to wipe away her blue tinted tears before they had the chance to become threads, but to no avail.

Stepping out into the clearing, Pestilence glanced around, spotting the female skeleton with relative ease. Death knew she was here and had chosen to send him to bring her back, rather than doing it himself. The deity was frozen for a moment, unsure how to approach her at a time like this. His soul ached at the knowledge that it was him that'd caused this, and he sighed, quietly making his way over to her.

Settling on a patch of grass beside her, he stayed silent, waiting for her to speak first. She merely tensed upon sensing his magic, her voice cracking as she grumbled, keeping her face hidden, "Go away, Pest. Just leave me alone." He frowned, momentarily closing his sockets and speaking in a hushed tone, "I can't do that. You know I can't."

She growled, trying her best to sound threatening in hopes that it'd encourage him to leave sooner, "I don't care. Get lost already, will ya? You've done enough damage for one day." Pestilence reached out to gently touch her arm, his voice still soft, "War, listen to me... I'm sorry, ok? I didn't know. I had no idea. If I did, I wouldn't have-"

The female skeleton balled her hands into fists, cutting him off as she turned to face him, slapping his hand away, "You wouldn't have WHAT, huh? You wouldn't have said those things? You wouldn't have compared me to HIM? Tell me, Pestilence. What wouldn't you have done?!"

He frowned, his brow bones knit in concern, "I wouldn't have pushed the issue and put you through this. There's no words to describe it the right way, but something about knowing that I'm the reason you're so upset... it hurts me, probably as much as those feelings are hurting you."

War felt more tears begin to prick at her sockets and her angry expression faltered, appearing more broken now instead, "You're such a fucking jerk, you know that? God, I hate you so much. I hate that this happened, I just... I can't," she paused, a tear rolling down her face and transforming into a single blue string as her voice began to shake, "... What's your problem, huh? You can't just... you can't say those things to me, Pestilence. You can't just suddenly start acting like you give a damn."

Pestilence exhaled deeply, turning to face her before leaning forward and capturing her in a gentle hug, mumbling lowly, "Who says I'm acting? I do give a damn... really." War was silent for a brief moment before she tightly wrapped her arms around him and clung to his hoodie, burying her face in his shoulder and sniffling, her body glitching and beginning to tremble.

He was stunned, not expecting her to suddenly cling to him the way she was. Deciding not to pass this up, he tightened his arms around her the smallest bit, turning his head to press a delicate skeleton kiss to her temple. She offered no protest and he couldn't help but smile softly, his cheekbones dusting a faint shade of sickly green. He absentmindedly began to rub her back, allowing her to scoot closer to him, offering another apology, accompanied by the promise to never to do this to her again.

War stayed close to him, continuing to cling to his hoodie as she cried, the floodgates coming down and releasing all of the feelings she'd tried to bury. When the two of them returned home, War was in a deep sleep, cradled in Pestilence's arms as he carried her. He ignored the looks he was receiving from Famine and Death, making a beeline for the female riders' bedroom.

Nudging the door open, he slipped inside, crossing the room and very gently laying her down on the bed, hoping not to disturb her. Once he felt she was comfortable and not any closer to waking up, he released her, taking a step back. Despite being asleep, War's hand snagged his sleeve, and he stared at it, puzzled. Upon shifting his gaze back to her sleeping face, he decided to let it go, smiling softly. So she wanted him to stay, it seemed.... He could do that.

Lowering himself to his knees beside her bed, he gently held one of her hands, laying his head on the edge of the mattress as he watched her. Lifting her hand to his face, he pressed a soft kiss to the back of it before closing his sockets and yawning. After the day's events and the emotional rollercoaster he'd been stuck on, he settled on catching a nap too. Even if he fell asleep while kneeling, it'd be fine. He'd done it before, and he could do it again.

[mssjynx]

4,6,15 ohmtoonz? Oh and I love your stories so much! I hope you having a good day/ night! (*´˘`*)

ohmtoonz drabble | 4. mafia!au | 6. fake dating | 15. “i’m rambling again, aren’t i?”

-

There were two things Ryan absolutely sucked at. One, acting and; two, any emotion that wasn't riddled with sarcasm. 

So he really couldn’t understand why he was picked for a mission where he had to act as the boyfriend of a complete stranger. This stranger, Luke Patterson, was a young, handsome man who was an old friend of a person that had incredibly important information that Tyler needed to get his hands on.

Apparently, when the angry asshole that was Ryan’s boss made the flippant comment of: “I don’t care. Go in there, pretend to be his boyfriend and get the info from the guy that we need. Batt your eyelashes or something, fuck if I know.”  

Ryan had grumbled to himself but knew better than to start an argument with his short-tempered boss. Even if he’d wanted to challenge his mission, Tyler was answering a call and walking from the room.

When sitting in the conference room, chatting with Joe about some training he wanted to expand on, Marcel dropped in an envelope with his mission’s details inside. He excused himself from Joe, taking the letter to his office and popping open his laptop,

He got onto his homework; finding out every little detail about both the target of the mission, and Luke Patterson.

-

Ryan got approximately twenty seconds alone with his “fiance” for the evening before the target turned up. He sat down with a curt smile, meeting Luke’s eyes and holding out a hand to shake in greeting.

Handsome. There were definitely worse-looking guys that Ryan could be forced to act in love with. Cool brown eyes held not even a hint of nerves or discomfort as the man took Ryan’s hand but not to shake it. He tugged, dragging Ryan forward into his space and catching him by the jaw with a large warm hand.

They were so close that Luke was able to rub the tips of their noses together in an intimate moment Ryan had never even thought of sharing with someone he knew, let alone a stranger.

He stayed still as Luke lifted to press a sweet kiss to his cheekbone. 

“Garet just got here,” he murmured to Ryan as he intertwined their fingers. “Relax. Let me do the talking.” His voice was tipped with sweetness, words curling their way into Ryan’s head and wrapping him up in a blanket of reassurance.

He beamed at Ryan as if he was everything Luke had ever wanted and Ryan realised he should probably be smiling back.

“Luke? Man, is that you?”

Luke lifted his face away from Ryan’s as their target noticed them and Ryan turned with a face of innocent curiosity.

“Garet? Shit! How long has it been!?” Luke’s face split with a friendly grin that was all too natural as he dropped an arm around Ryan’s waist to pull him close up to his side. He stayed seated where he could hold onto Ryan, but held out a hand in greeting as Garet drew closer.

The man laughed, his face brushed with age in the form of soft wrinkles and wisps of silver hair. Upon shaking Luke’s hand, his sharp grey eyes slid to Ryan in curiosity, before dropping to the pretty diamond ring on the professional marksman’s finger.

“You got hitched?” Garet asked and, finally, Luke stood. He pulled Ryan up with him and beamed down at his fake-fiance.

“Not so fast. Wedding’s booked for June.” The love in his voice molded pretty soft words and Ryan felt a flutter in his chest when meeting Luke’s eyes with a bashful smile. To have someone look at and speak to him with such adoration was definitely no familiar sensation. 

He cuddled into Luke’s side, snuggled under his fiance’s shoulder like he was used to spending his time there. “I’m Ryan,” he introduced, his voice sounding smooth and natural as he reached out and shook Garet’s hand. “Should we grab a booth?” 

Luke nodded and they let Garet lead them both to an empty booth. Luke shot Ryan a look of silent praise and Ryan tried not to show his pleasure in simply being smiled at. A stranger’s pride wasn’t exactly a normal feeling to accept.

“Are you still working in the car shop?” He popped down beside Luke and dragged Ryan’s arm back to its place around his waist. He hadn’t expected himself to sink into his little acting role so easily but there was something about Luke that had confidence and comfort rolling down his spine. He found it almost easy to share Luke’s smiles and softened his eyes as he nestled his head on Luke’s shoulder.

The sharp laugh Luke let out had a smile on Ryan’s own face. “Work in it? I own that car shop now,” he teased and his pride was evident in his tone. “I bought it four years back and business has almost tripled.” 

“Wow, man!” The awe in Garet’s voice sounded genuine as he reached a hand over the table to clasp Luke’s in a firm shake of congratulations. “That’s amazing news, bro. Congrats!” Ryan laughed lightly, snuggling further into Luke’s side as his fiance sat back in the booth. “So how long have you guys been together?” Garet asked, a kind smile on his face when addressing Ryan. 

The arm around his waist tightened and Luke beamed with more pride than he had shown for his business. “Well, we met through the shop. Ryan, here, managed to get his car stuck in a ditch off the highway. He’d popped two tires and damaged the brakes; his car needed a week in the shop before she was back on her wheels. And maybe I took my time on her just so I got to see Ryan a couple more times; I couldn’t get him out of my head! So, like a proper gentleman, when he came by to pick up his car, I left my number on the dashboard instead of talking to him and asking him out, and waited anxiously for three days before I got his text wondering why I had left my number, which basically forced me to ask him out directly which, really, is karma for being such a chicken shit about it all-” Ryan could barely follow the story as Luke carried on. The love in his voice sounded more real than anything and he struggled to keep the surprise off his face as he tried to keep all of the random little details in his own memory. When Luke cut himself short, he dropped his attention down to Ryan and brushed his thumb over the curve of the marksman’s hipbone. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?” 

Ryan’s smile came with ease and he found it too easy to reach up and catch Luke but the jaw, pulling him down to Ryan could press a kiss to his “fiance’s” cheekbone. “Yeah, you are,” he told him, ignoring the slight widening of Luke’s eyes. It seemed he really didn’t expect Ryan to fall quite so easily into the act.

But Luke bounced back within seconds, not showing his shock for long enough for anyone but Ryan to notice. He nuzzled his nose against Ryan’s temple with a grin. “Basically, I got a date with him and the rest is history.” He turned his attention back to Garet who was sipping his drink with an amused smile. 

“Well, I’m real happy for you man,” he said with a nod. “Things seem great for you, and you deserve that.” 

Luke grinned. “Thanks,” he said, pausing a moment before cocking his head in curiosity. He leant forward slightly on the table, his smile dancing with secrecy. “You still working with Miles?” Luke asked with a voice low and knowing. 

Something flashed in Garet’s eyes and Ryan kept his face innocent. Their company raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck with a laugh. Immediately, Ryan was focused; on every word, every pause. He drank in the information Garet gave, the explanations and the stories. He jotted down all the things he needed to know in his mind and, while he rested his cheek against Luke’s shoulder and took a sip of his cocktail, he revelled in the pleasant success of his mission.