#this is no excuse for the poor care they inevitably received at my hands but. man.

[blujayonthewing]

just realized the reason I feel instinctively nervous about my husband wanting a pet bird that I don't feel responsible enough to take care of properly is that my ex repeatedly got animals for himself that I was not responsible enough to take care of properly and then kept them at my house where it was my job to take care of them

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

Summary: Max and Lucas are tired of their friends silently pining over each other but never making a move, so when the Winter Formal rolls around, they take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluffy fluff

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Happy anniversary to the love of my life, @corroded-hellfire 💚 one year ago today, we met in person for the first time, and my life has been infinitely better ever since. Thank you for being my best friend. I love you more than Dustin loves his Weird Al shirt. Red, this fic is for you.

Divider credit to @saradika

“Kill me now.”

Three words uttered by none other than Max Mayfield, sliding her lunch tray onto the table and sitting down with an irritated sigh. 

You look at her with an amused grin. “What is it this time? Bombed a pop quiz? Got detention for flipping off a teacher—again?” Her brazen, flippant attitude provided many entertaining moments, so long as you weren’t on the receiving end of it. 

Max shakes her head, spearing a limp macaroni noodle with her plastic fork. “I wish.” She holds up two tickets to the Winter Formal. “Lucas is dragging me to this bullshit. ‘All the other basketball guys’ girlfriends are going,’” she mocks him in an octave much lower than his actual voice, “so I guess that means I have to follow suit.”

Bringing a hand to your heart, you jut out your lower lip in mock-pity. “Oh, no; your boyfriend wants to show you off at a school dance! How will you ever survive?” 

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “You could go, too,” she says, blue eyes pleading. “Keep me company when the guys inevitably bail to get wasted in the woods.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t need a date,” she insists, reading your mind before the words can leave your mouth. “I’m telling you, Lucas is gonna ditch me as soon as Jason and Patrick show up.” She takes your hand between both of hers. “Please? I’ll even tell Ms. Kelly the lengths you went to for your poor, troubled freshie.”

You exhale, knowing that she doesn’t need to go to all of that trouble. You’d started off the school year as her peer mentor, but just a few months later, you two have become close friends. “Fine, I’ll go,” you acquiesce, laughing when she pumps her fists victoriously. “But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

You return to your own lunch, completely missing the mischievous look that graces her freckled face. 

Unbeknownst to you, a similar discussion is had at Hellfire Club later that same afternoon. 

“Absolutely not,” Eddie scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Nice try, Sinclair, but I wouldn’t be caught dead at some lame dance.”

“Seriously,” Jeff smirks from his position across the table. “He’s never been to a single one in his ten years of high school.”

Eddie flips him off casually. “It’s only six, asshole. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not dressing up in some penguin suit to drink unspiked punch with a bunch of shitty people.”

“C’mon, dude,” Lucas says, his tone bordering on a whine. “If you don’t go, I’m gonna be stuck with the jocks all night, and they just wanna suck face with their girlfriends.”

“And you don’t?” Gareth quips. 

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Not in front of everyone. And I don’t need a front-row seat to their performances, either.” He turns his attention back to the Dungeon Master. “Look, I’m desperate. Mike’ll be visiting his grandma and Dustin’s grounded because of his D-plus in Spanish.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “What about Huey, Dewey, and Louie over here?” he asks, gesturing to the three remaining club members. 

Their collective responses are jumbled excuses; Eddie swears one of them says he’s going kayaking—in mid-December in Indiana—but he doesn’t bother to sift through their lies. “You owe me, Sinclair,” he declares, pointing his forefinger at the underclassman. “Big time.”

The next few weeks leading up to the Winter Formal are spent meticulously making plans. For someone who seemed so disinterested in this dance, Max is paying careful attention to each detail. 

You walk out of the dressing room in a velvet emerald green dress that hits just above the knee. Max is beaming as she adjusts the off-the-shoulder sleeves and smooths down any creases. 

“You look really nice,” she says, nodding her head. She’s trying to temper her enthusiasm, but you can sense her excitement. “I can’t wait to tell Lucas.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lucas? Why would he care?” He’s a nice kid—more in tune with emotions than the average fourteen-year-old boy—but that doesn’t constitute an interest in your fashion choices. 

Max’s cheeks burn as red as her hair. “Uh, well, seeing you happy makes me happy, and seeing me happy makes him happy, so…everyone’s happy?” she finishes lamely. She clears her throat as if expelling the awkwardness from the conversation. “Anyway, let’s buy this dress so we can look for shoes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You’re not fully convinced, but you brush it off and steel your nerves to ask a question. “Is anyone else gonna be there that we know?” You really want to know whether Eddie Munson is going to be there, but you can’t say the quiet part aloud. 

“Probably,” she shrugs, a bit too quickly, but she’s pushing you back behind the curtain to change before you can inquire more. 

“Why does this stupid tie need to be green?” Eddie asks, sifting through the store’s selection with Lucas by his side. 

“Uh, Christmas colors,” Lucas stammers, fumbling for a decent explanation other than the contents of his secret phone call with Max earlier today. “And, y’know, red is way overdone, so…” he trails off lamely, going back to the display table and hoping Eddie drops the matter. 

They find exactly what they’re looking for—not without Eddie complaining about putting in too much effort just to be a third wheel—and make their way over to the food court. Eddie makes a beeline for the Pizza Hut when he stops dead in his tracks. “Shit, Sinclair; we gotta go,” he says urgently, clapping a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and steering him away from the fast food. 

“What the hell? I’m hungry!”

Eddie shakes his head, curls brushing against his shoulders. “Look, man.” He discreetly points to his left, where you and Max are giggling at the Orange Julius. “We can’t let them see us.”

“Dude, she’s like the nicest person ever,” Lucas rebuts. “Even Max likes her, and Max pretty much hates everyone.”

“That’s not the problem.” Eddie rakes his ringed fingers through his hair, wincing when he snags one on a knot. “The problem is that she’s gonna be all, ‘hi, Eddie; what’re you doing at the mall?’ And I’m gonna be all, ‘just picking out a tie for the Winter Formal.” And then she’ll go, ‘oh, who’s your date?” And then I’ll have to say, ‘I don’t have one; I’m just playing babysitter to some freshmen like a goddamn loser!” He hops back and forth to indicate each character change.

“First of all, ouch,” Lucas quips, “second, go hide in the bathroom if you want, but I’m getting something to eat.”

Eddie exhales an exasperated sigh, giving in and schlepping over to Pizza Hut, one of the few times in his life that he’s trying to be inconspicuous. 

You pull into the school parking lot on the night of the Winter Formal and shift into park before killing the engine. Max is bouncing her leg up and down in the passenger seat, lower lip tucked between her teeth.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, mistaking her excitement for anxiety. “You know that Lucas would think you look beautiful even if you showed up in a potato sack.” You furrow your brow. “Where is he, anyway? Why didn’t he come with us?”

She mumbles something about not wanting her mom to ask any questions about the relationship, and you take them at face value. Her eyes light up when she spots her boyfriend walking into the school alongside…Eddie Munson?

“Eddie’s here?” you ask in a hushed whisper, feeling sweat prickling under your arms. You’ve been nursing a massive crush on him for ages–one that Max is very much aware of. And now he’s here, dressed in a black suit with his hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. “Max, why didn’t you tell me? Who’s he going with?” The idea of him slow dancing with someone else has your stomach turning.

Max just shrugs. “I don’t think he had a date.” Too casual, too blasé–she knows something. “C’mon, let’s go in.” She swings the car door open enthusiastically, leaving you shell-shocked in your seat.

“Maxine Mayfield!” you hiss, using her full government name to drive home your bewilderment, but she just skips ahead. Damn your heeled shoes, slowing you down before you can catch up to her. When you finally do, she just grabs your hand and tugs you towards the guys.

She poorly feigns surprise, jaw dropping as she exclaims, “Eddie? What are you doing here? Oh, my gosh, this is such a coincidence!” She pulls you closer, smiling far too wide. “Lucas and I both brought our upperclassmen friends! What are the odds?”

“Yeah, so weird,” Lucas says, not as loud as Max but just as transparent. He looks at Max before regarding you and Eddie. “Okay, well, we’re gonna go dance–bye!” The two of them scamper off, leaving you alone with Eddie. If their stilted dialogue wasn’t evidence enough, the way Eddie’s tie perfectly matches your dress certainly clears up their intentions.

Eddie speaks first, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and nervously swiveling his body. “I, uh, think we’ve been set up,” he says with a small, awkward chuckle. “I swear, it wasn’t my idea. Not–not that it’s a bad thing, I just meant, like, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I don’t wanna be held responsible.” His cheeks burn red. “Shit, I need to stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with your own kind laugh, “we might as well make the most of it. Get some punch and make fools of ourselves out there?” You gesture towards the gym’s makeshift dance floor; the band has just started playing Journey’s “Faithfully.” Eddie’s nods, following you to an empty space, and you timidly drape your arms over his shoulders. Taking care to avoid an inappropriate touch, he rests his palms on the small of your back. 

His voice is low when he murmurs in your ear, “you look really beautiful tonight.” He clears his throat and speaks again. “You always look really beautiful, though.”

The two of you sway to the music, swapping shy smiles and fleeting but longing glances. As the song ends, you look over your shoulder. “We’re being spied on,” you report, noting the way the two younger kids are watching you from across the room. You consider your next words before eventually deciding to go for it: “Did you talk to Lucas about me as much as I talked to Max about you?”

“Probably more,” Eddie laughs, bringing you a bit closer. “But I’m interested in comparing notes.”

You nod, staving off any lingering nerves. “Maybe after the dance, we can split a burger from Benny’s and discuss?”

Eddie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah,” he says; you can feel his lips move against your skin, “I’d like that.”

--

[raineandsky]

#38

tw: vampires, blood

Something dark has been festering in the city recently.

The hunter knew this even before it was obvious. The blindingly dark nights, the strange fear to walk anywhere alone. It was only after that that people started to notice—the odd disappearances. The hunter knows he could’ve stopped it sooner, but any attempt he made was met with scorn; they saw him as a man out of business, making up stories in the hopes he could scrape up a little cash. Now though, the mayor has called him rather urgently to his office, and has taken to holding back dramatic tears as he tries to backtrack everything he said before.

“We’re dying,” he cries, and his emotion is met with the same distaste the hunter always received on the street weeks ago. “Please, you have to find this thing before it takes anyone else—”

“Oh, it’s a thing now?” the hunter spits. He knows he should jump at the opportunity for work, but the cuts the mayor left as he laughed him out of his office still haven’t healed.  “I thought it was a fantasy before.”

“I– I’m sorry. I know I was foolish.” The mayor snivels pathetically, and it takes a lot of willpower for the hunter to not roll his eyes. “My– my daughter… it—”

“You’re only asking because someone you care about got hurt?” the hunter snaps, and the man’s sniffling increases tenfold. “You’re a poor excuse of a mayor. I’ll do it, but because I care about the rest of the people who live in this city, unlike you.”

The hunter turns on his heel, ignoring the rambling thank yous the mayor is throwing as his departure. He pauses in the doorway. “I expect double for your insolence, by the way.”

-

The disappearances seem to be from all over, but they all triangulate in the woods just beyond the city outskirts; people were seen walking this way just hours, minutes, before they vanished.

He’s never seen this thing, but he knows exactly what he needs to do.

The hunter treks through the woods as quietly as he can, leather briefcase in one hand, sharpened wooden stake clutched in the other. He knows what he’s looking for—the moment he feels that uncomfortable nausea is the moment he knows to strike.

He finds exactly what he’s looking for not too long later. Maybe it’s a new type of vampire, he considers. The thing is rustling around in the undergrowth, sweeping his hands through the greenery. It’s luring people into the woods somehow. I didn’t know they could do that.

He needs to observe it. If things go bad as fast as they did in the city again, he can’t afford to waste time twice. He has to learn this now.

Someone calls from further in the woods, her voice echoing between the trees, and the vampire perks up at the sound. A new victim. The hunter can’t let her die to this thing—but he needs to know how he hunts, so he opts to stay in the shadows of the forest to watch.

A girl appears in the clearing the vampire is waiting in, giving him a bright smile. “Hey,” she opens casually. “Can this be quick? Cassidy said she wants to watch a movie tonight, and the first ten minutes of Legally Blonde are the most important.” 

The vampire laughs shortly, the most human he’ll ever sound. “You know I can’t be too fast,” he warns as she holds her hand out to him. “I’m sure she’ll wait for you.”

The hunter frowns as he bends down to her arm like he’s simply laying a kiss upon her hand. He must have his victims under some sort of spell to be so willing. He has to be careful if they’re getting this powerful.

The girl pointedly averts her gaze as the vampire’s lips brush her wrist, and from the way she flinches the hunter knows exactly what’s happening. Does he intervene yet? How much is there to know about this thing before he knows enough to strike him down?

The vampire leans back after a moment, dabbing his mouth like he just ate a five-star meal. Said five-star meal is still very much alive, somehow unbothered by this ordeal.

“It’s like a blood test. I just can’t stand looking at it.” The girl smiles, glancing at the inevitable holes in her skin. The hunter can see the trail of blood they leave from here. “You’re welcome to come with, if you fancy watching it again.”

“Seven times is enough for me,” the vampire counters with a grin. “Thank you for this, my dear. I have to prepare a bed for our newest friend, so you have maybe an hour if you need anything before I take flight for the evening.”

The girl frowns confusedly. “Oh, I didn’t notice someone else joined us.”

The vampire tilts his head, looking past the girl and into the trees beyond.

Straight into the hunter’s eyes.

“He hasn’t joined us just yet,” he says, almost to the hunter in the treeline, “but he will soon enough.”

[marvelcinematic]

Friends with Benefits| 18+

Druig x F!eternal reader 

Summary: Druig decides to help you with an unusual problem.

Warnings: Smut, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, masturbation, sex toy, mentions of sex in general

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: I’m back! This is my first time writing smut so be warned.

Being on Earth meant enjoying the pleasures that come with it. Unfortunately for you the men of Earth did not fall under those pleasures. Here you were, feeling human for centuries and getting the all too common disappointment from the men. You were never attached, you just wanted to feel the pleasures Sersi so shamelessly bragged about to you whenever she and Ikaris made love. Sure, you were slightly disgusted but you couldn't help but fantasize about the pleasures that you could be having. Instead you had to settle for a man's minute of pleasure every once in a while, feeling disgusted with yourself every time you walked back to the Domo. You never told anyone of course, not even your new best friend Druig. The thought of him teasing you about your sex life killed you. Poor beautiful Y/N, desperate for satisfaction that no man can give her. You were worried, you had even spoken to Ajak privately about the matter to which she just chuckled about the nature of man. "My sweet Y/N, you are having sex but you really want to be making love." You rolled your eyes at her comment, another excuse for the failures of men.

You were in Athens when you had come across a group of women. They had surrounded you with praise after you and your fellow Eternals had saved the city from the first of many deviants that would attack. You had grown close to the women, and from them you received the oddest gifts.

You had snuck out of the Domo late at night, making your way to the forest of olive trees in the night. You had make sure no one had followed as you shakily sat down at the trunk of an olive tree. You nervously glanced around you as you slowly pulled out the invention the women had given to you after you had spilled to them about your struggles. You didn't care how you got it, you just needed release after all these centuries. You gulped as you looked at the olive oil and phallic object from your bag.

You never were this nervous when you had slept with men. Maybe because you knew with the men it would last less than a minute most of the time. No you could control how long you could go, how much pleasure you could receive.

You closed your eyes and leaned back, raising your tunic as your hands slowly guided the toy covered with oil to your folds. Just as you felt the pain of the tip enter you your head shot up as a voice murmured from in front. "I think you're doing it wrong." your cheeks heatened as your eyes shot open and made eye contact with Druig's amused eyes. You gasped, shutting your legs and putting your tunic down in embarrassment as you tried to search for words. You sat flustered, unable to make eye contact with the man as he slowly approached you. "You didn't need to stop the show." "Shut up Druig!"you snapped as your hands ran through your hair in frustration. You would never hear the end of this. Druig chuckled, "Got tired of men now so you've moved on to objects?" he bent down and picked up the phallic leather toy stuffed with wool and looked at with genuine curiosity. "Y'know I don't think olive oil or even leather is safe to be put, you know, inside of you." You glared at him as you pulled your knees to your chest now more angry than embarrassed, "I will stop being your friend." "Over me walking in on you trying to masturbate? I would think this situation would be inevitable?" "Which situation?" "The one where you finally admit to me that your sex life is...disappointing." Druig said with a smirk as he glanced you up and down. He knew you were too good to be treated like a mortal woman. He knew of your sex escapades, and how he could feel the disappointment off of you as you tried to sneak past him. "My beautiful Y/N, these men fuck with the intention to breed whether they think it or not. They're no better than the animals you so dearly love." You interjected, "That's not true! Sersi makes it sound so nice." Druig rolled his eyes, as he held your gaze, "That's because she's in love." He wasn't going to give the benefit to Ikaris and say he was good at sex. "Well that's not fair!" you were frustrated, even Druig could feel that. You were his closest friend now, and he couldn't help but pity you over your lack of release. Of course there was a selfish part of him that lusted over you, especially when he found you exposed in the night. Centuries of admiration were built up, but he held himself back over respect for your bond. Besides, it was easier for him to relieve himself of this lust in the privacy of his own quarters. But you? Arishem had cursed you with creating you as a female on a planet that wasn't exactly sex positive yet. Druig crouched in silence in front of you taking in your words. "You need to find out what you like first." he said matter-of-factly. You looked at him in confusion. You had never thought about what exactly you liked, you didn't think sex was that contemplated. "What kind of foreplay do you enjoy?" "I don't think this is an appropriate conversation." "The men don't offer you foreplay now do they?" "I mean I like kissing." Druig rolled your eyes at your response. It was amazing that all of these years you were depriving yourself of pleasure. "Have you ever been fingered?" You blushed, looking away again. Sure you tried slipping in a finger or two, but you've never actually gotten off on it. Druig looked around to make sure there were no prying eyes or ears. "I have a proposition." Your cheeks filled with warmth as you felt what was coming. Sure you've fancied Druig and maybe fantasized making love to him, but you prefered to keep your friendship in tact. "I can help you, you just have to set the boundaries." he looked at you with anticipation, part of him wanting to help you and the other part wanting to breathe in your scent with lust. You closed your eyes, nodding. If you wanted to experiment what better way than with someone who could you trust? Besides it didn't have to be love making, it was just sex between people who respected each other. "Okay. But thus changes nothing about friendship, we never talk about this, and we don't kiss." Druig was taken back by the last part, but he supposed it was fair. You figured kissing meant there was something more implied. "Shall we start then?" you nodded, as you stood up. Druig shook his head and motioned for you sit back down. He stood up and walked behind you, noticing how you tensed. He nudged himself behind you so your back was against him and his was now against the tree. "Relax." he whispered in your ear before you relaxed against him, your warmth melting against him. You made note of the hardness pressed against your back, taking in some satisfaction that you made him feel something too. "You need to know how to fuck yourself first." Druig muffled into your ear as he gently grabbed your hand with his right and pulled your tunic up with his left. You instinctively spread your legs, feeling hot at the eroticism of it all. He guided your hand to your folds, careful not to be carried away. "Can I take control?" he asked attentively, you nodded. His eyes glowed as he slowly took his hand away as he instructed you to rub yourself. He peered over your shoulder as he watched your fingers rub your delicate folds. Touch your breast with the other he instructed. He watched as you caressed your left breast, gasping at the sensation as you felt pleasure from your hardened nipple as you rolled it between your thumb and finger. He inhaled sharply, noting his increasing arousal at the sight of your pleasuring yourself at his command, but restraining himself as his only focus now was you. You started to rub frantically, feeling more pleasure now than ever, wanting the release. Patience, don't tire yourself. Let your fingers explore the inside. You did as he commanded one finger slipping in before the other followed. You looked down, your hand now caressing your other breast as you slowly pumped your fingers in and out of your sex. You were sweating now as Druig instructed you to abandon your breast and rubbed your clit as you fucked yourself with your fingers. You were desperate now, not caring about the man behind you and in your head as you felt your climax build up. Druig knew exactly the move that would bring you release Curl a finger. You gasped as you felt your g-spot and suddenly you felt your release wash over you. You tried to hold back your moans as you fucked yourself through the orgasm but Druig thought best you got the full experience let go. You winced, unable to hold back your moans as Druig wrapped his arms around your waist, stopping you from slipping off of his back. Druig inhaled sharply, feeling your pleasure as the two of you were connected and suddenly letting go when he realized your orgasm was finished. He glanced down at your panting, sweating form with pride. He helped you do that.

You glanced up at him with a weak smile, feeling suddenly high. "Thank you." you could kiss him right now, grateful he helped you explore your body. Druig gave a small smile back, hoping you wouldn't recognize how sexually frustrated he was now. You rested his head against his chest, not minding that his arms were around you as you tried to regain composure. The two of you sat in silence before you glanced up at him, "What's next?"

Druig raised an eyebrow, "I just taught you how to pleasure yourself, what else is there?" He didn't want to expose how badly he needed to release himself, but you had him on the edge now. You sat up and turned around to him, shrugging off your tunic and tossing it to the side. Druig gulped as he glanced down at your breasts, hoping you wouldn't notice him breaking eye contact. You smirked leaning back so he could get a better view of your front, you purred "Fuck me like a man is supposed to fuck me Druig." You looked at him through lashes as he inhaled sharply, suddenly he was at your control. He nodded to himself, this was the deal after all, besides why were you the only getting all the pleasure. He crawled forward moving you so your back was against was the tree. It took everything in his will power to not kiss you at the moment so instead he leaned forward and encircled his lips around your nipple. You gasped as your hand gently caressed his head as his tongue swirled around your nipple before he gently bit. His other hand worked your other breast as you threw your head back in pleasure, he had noted how you liked it when you toyed with your breast. His leg nudged forward to your core and your hips instinctively bucked to rub against his thigh with your still sensitive pussy. His lips found their way to your neck, his hand still toying with your nipple. He kissed your neck before sucking, you moaned at his love bites, your hands softly going through his hair. He stopped and nuzzled your ear, "If it any point you want me to stop tell me." He gently nibbled your ear with affection as he noticed how hot with frustration were getting again as you continued to rub yourself against his thigh. He slid back his hand grabbing your thighs as he looked at your throbbing sex. He inserted two fingers and curled them upward, your toes curled and you moaned never taking your eyes off of him. He smiled in satisfaction as he glanced up at you, "My beautiful Y/N, you haven't experienced cunnilingus now have you?" He knew the answer, given the disappointing nature of men. You shook your head and he smirked. He knew you would love this. He nuzzled your clit with his nose before slipping in his tongue as his finger were both inserted. You moaned, your breathing quickening as you felt Druig fuck you with his tongue and fingers. You were soaking wet now as he started suckling on your clit before slowly licking your pussy. He watched you through his eyelashes as you edged closer, one hand gripping his hair while the other tried holding yourself up. He switched off between slurping, suckling, tongue fucking, all the while inserting his fingers once in a while until you finally released on his face. He licked up your juices scooping some up with his fingers. As you regained your breath he offered some of your pleasure to you. You looked at him as his fingers slipped into your mouth. Druig looked down at your sweating form as the moonlight hit your naked body bathed in sweat. He needed his release, but if you wanted him to eat you out throughout the night until dawn he would do it.

You regained your composure once again, noting how dressed Druig was. You shook your head, as you reached for his clothes, watching to see if he would have any notions of saying no. He let you take off his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. He had to take in this moment as much as he could, as this could be his only chance of spending the night with you. You switched places with him, he leaned against the tree. You noted how beautiful he was, from his eyes to his abs to his thighs and to his member. You admired him, wondering if the sculptures could ever capture his beauty. You snapped out of it, remembering how frustrated he must be right now. You gathered some of your own juices that were left behind, your wet hand lubricating his cock as he tensed. Let me do this for you. He nodded as you bent over moving your hands up and down his shaft before your lips wrapped themselves around his tip. He moaned at the sight of you looking up at him through your lashes as you took him in your mouth. His hand ran through your hair gently as you took him, trying not to gag as he hit the back of your throat. You worked him for a while, your hands shifting from his shaft to his balls every so often. Just as he was about to release you stopped. You looked up at him as you removed your mouth from his still hard cock. You didn't have to ask out loud, he nodded as you steadied yourself, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried aligning yourself with his cock. Your moans melded together as you slowly adjusted onto him. You pressed his forehead to his, both of you not knowing how much you wanted to kiss each other now. You panted as you sat up straight Druig admiring how your breasts looked in the moonlight and how good you looked on top of him. You shifted up and down, moaning as Druig steadied you with one hand on your back and pleasured you with the other rubbing your clit as you rode him. You lost track on how long you were riding his cock before he moaned, "Y/N please." You moaned at his pleas as you sped up the pace until he groaned, his release spilling into you. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, your hand running through his hair as you felt him softening in you. You placed a kiss on his ear, "Thank you." You removed yourself from on top of him, rolling so now you were besides him, leaning naked against the olive tree. The two of you sat in silence, regaining your composures and enjoying the sounds of the nighttime that were previously interrupted by your sex and moans. You looked back at him and inquired, "Druig?" "Hm?" "How long did you know I was having sex troubles?" Druig chuckled, "Ever since Babylon. You always took your frustrations out on everything else." He never was the jealous type, after all he knew he could pleasure you if you gave him the chance. It killed him to see your disappointment, but now he had you. You rolled your eyes, "Then why didn't you help me before?" You wondered if he lusted over you like you had over him, but you were afraid to know if he actually viewed you in that way. Druig shrugged and smirked, "'Cus I figured your frustrations would eventually lead to me." You blushed at the response looking away from him. You teased, "Pervert." Druig scoffed, "I wasn't the one trying to fuck myself with olive oil and a leather toy." You threw your head back in laughter, not noticing how Druig was admiring you. He knew he was screwed when he focused on your smile instead of your naked form. Of course he admired both, but right now he took pride in making you laugh. He wanted to kiss you on your lips, he had explored nearly every inch of your body tonight but the one thing he wanted was the thing he couldn't have. You looked back at him, looking into his cool blue eyes. You could have kissed him right there and then. You stopped yourself as you looked away and stood up, Druig watching your figure as you went to pick up your tunic. At the moment you were at a cross-roads, ruin the friendship or try to find something more. You sucked in your breath as you smiled back at him, "Thank you again my friend." Druig couldn't help but feel hurt at the reminder at the end. They were just friends, no matter how much they were able to explore each other. It hurt sure, but he understood that he would rather be your friend for eternity than for the romance to fade in centuries. He watched as you turned to leave, he slipped on his clothes as you started to walk away. "Y/N." he called out. You looked over your shoulder, hope rising in your stomach, "Yes?" You're beautiful, please be mine for eternity and I will make sure your nights will never be alone, let me just kiss you and tell you that I love you. "If you ever need me for anything just know I'm here." You nodded, satisfied yet not completely fulfilled before turning and walking back home.

[sableseb]

Deflowering the Garden

Charles Blackwood x innocent!reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: smut, dirty talk, innocence kink, dacryphilia, hitting, very slight daddy kink, degradation, oral m receiving, dry humping 

a/n: This is a very self indulgent piece filled with 3.1k of smuttiness. I played around with multiple povs and each pov switch is marked. Huge thanks to @please-buckme​ for taking the time to read over an excerpt and giving me some much needed pointers. Please check out her stories as well!

Charles has a taste for the finer things in life. But, the finest wines, the finest art, and the finest suits have nothing on the pretty little thing he spots from across the lawn. She’s in a floral dress that falls just above the knee. Hair down and messed around her soft features from the wind that seems to have picked up from the moment he laid his eyes on her. 

As he sips from his champagne flute, his mind races with all the things he would do to the rather fragile looking girl. If only he could grab her and sweep her away from this pitiful excuse of a party. He had a hunch that he wouldn’t keep her long and that no one would even register she was missing.

He bets he can get her to cum in less than minutes. He imagines it’d only take a few circles with his fingers before she whimpers out his name as she reaches her climax. Charles’ mind paints a mental picture of her face when she cums. Those rosy lips parted, gasping. The blush that would fall upon her cheeks. That pert chest rising and falling as he slowly takes her apart. 

The ache of his growing bulge snaps him out of his little day dream. God, he needs her. And he needs her now. He sits his flute down and begins to make his way towards the prize that’ll soon be his. He glides his way through the upper class bodies scattered about the yard. The closer he gets, the more his excitement grows. He knows he has to keep a mental check on himself or he risks scaring the poor lamb off. 

“Hello,” he starts as he extends his hand, “I’m Charles. Charles Blackwood.”

Her eyes widened a bit. Clearly shocked at his forwardness. Nervously, she flashes a smile up at him.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Blackwood. I’m y/n.” the young girl says.

He lets his palm linger a bit longer than what’s considered appropriate as he registers her voice. So soft spoken. Almost as soft as the hand that pulls away from his grasp. He just knows that the rest of her body is soft in all the places that count. He couldn’t wait to explore the expanse of this fair creature's skin.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. I’d remember a pretty doll such as yourself.” he said with a glint in his eye that goes unnoticed by the girl. She’s too preoccupied with the complement that has an obvious effect on her. Charles can tell by the way a slight pink creeps up her slender neck and the way those big, doe eyes cast a glance to the neatly kept grass below.

Once she gathered enough courage to look him in his eyes again she says, “I’m actually new to the town. My daddy is the one actually throwing this garden party.” 

So, your father is the one that’s been the hot talk of the town. Charles didn’t really pay attention to the gossip. All he knew was that another big shot with cash would be occupying the manor across from his own. He never imagined this big shot would have a daughter so young and ripe for his picking. How could he be so lucky to be living just feet away from this little fruit? He’s silently thanking the gods for giving him his own personal heaven. 

“Would you care to join me for a stroll, doll? I can tell you all you need to know about the town and you could indulge me with getting to know you.”

Those large eyes of hers shifted from side to side. As if she were looking for the trouble that would inevitably fall upon her, Charles would make sure of that. 

“Um. Sure. I think that’s a lovely idea.”

And with that, Charles offers his arm to his soon to be conquest. She links her own with his and he leads her down towards the path beside the pond. They both stay like that for a while, just walking and talking. It’s peaceful. But, Charles wants more from her than just peace. 

“You mentioned you have a collection of plants, correct?”

A smile breaks across her face. It makes his heart lurch. He could get used to seeing that sweet smile of hers each day.

“I did! Do you enjoy plants as well?”

Charles does his fair share of gardening from time to time, but the passion and intelligence she holds when speaking of her flowers and ferns has him pegged as an amateur at best. 

“Indeed, I do. How about you show me this little collection of yours?”

Her eyes lit up as the words fell from his lips. Oh, sweet girl…, he thinks, you’re too easy.

She leads Charles to her room. He’s more than happy to follow. His eyes stay glued to that round ass the whole time. And he even catches glimpses of her pretty pink panties when the breeze blows by just right. 

“This is my room. I spend most of my time here.”

 Charles takes in his surroundings. Plants are littered here and there on the large windows she has on each wall. Potted plants sit on each side of her fluffy white bed filled with pillows and stuffed animals.

 “I actually have a book I draw my plants in. I’ll let you look at it.”

Her comment breaks him out of his observations. She walks over to her desk and bends over a bit to find the item she wants to show him. The dress, the childlike excitement, and the way she’s positioned now is too much for Charles. He’s done waiting out. He’s made it to the one place he wanted to be with her. In her room, alone, while the party goers below mingle.

He stalks up behind her and grasps her waist, pressing his hardening erection against her ass. She retches back, standing stiff. And with timid trepidation she asks, “Charles...what are you doing?”

The slight tremble in her voice has his grip tightening. He loves the fear of the unknown behind her panicked breaths. 

“Tell me, my dear,” he speaks low in her ear. “have you ever been touched by a man?” 

She shakes her head slowly. Charles’ right hand flies up to her throat. Applying enough pressure to choke a ragged gasp from her. “You’re a big girl aren’t you? Words. Use them.”

Her hands fly up to wrap around his wrist resting against the base of her throat. “No. A man has never touched me.”

Charles knew this to be true deep down, but hearing those chipped words fall from those sweet lips, affirming his suspicion has a groan emitting from his throat and his hips buck, trying to find friction across her backside.

 Slowly and sickly he asks, “Would you like me to show you how it feels to be pleased by a man?”

She’s silent for a moment. He fears she may try and make a run for it and that he’s going to have to use even more force than he’d like. But, a pitiful, yes, leaves her lips. And Charles can’t contain the grin that cracks along the rows of his perfect teeth.

He spins her forward, trapping her between his firm body and the harsh wood of the desk. “Oh, my sweet.” He traces slender fingers along her jaw, “I’ll give you all the pleasure you want, but first,” his thumb finds her pout, “you’ll give me mine.”

He lowers her down to her knees. The sight of this pretty thing below him almost makes him cum right then. The way worry is etched into her features, creating a glossy look behind her eyes. He can’t wait to see the tears stream down those round cheeks. 

“Take me out, doll.”

Slowly, she undoes his belt and then moves to his zipper. She pulls his underwear down by the band. A hand accidentally brushes against his member making Charles suck in a breath at the slight contact. He has to restrain himself from grabbing that mouth and fucking her throat raw. In a minute, he reminds himself.

“Now, open that pretty little hole of yours and start sucking.”

Charles lets out a moan as she wraps her lips around his tip. The softness of her mouth feels so good on his dick. He hasn’t had this feeling in quite awhile, having a dame on her knees for his pleasure, taking him inch by inch, feeling the walls of her throat close up and rendering him breathless.

He grabs her by the hair and aids in the movements. He can feel trails of saliva drip down to his balls. Under hooded eyes he can make out the way she struggles to take him. His sweet girl, all she wants is to be taken care of. And what better way to take care of her than by shoving his cock between her lips?

“Relax your mouth, sweetheart.” he grunted, “Let me use you.”

She complies. Slacking her jaw even more and letting him take her as he pleases. Charles starts off slow. Feeling every inch of her wet cavern before ramming his cock down her throat.

The way her mouth constricts around his girth has him seeing white. He basks in the gagging noises she makes as he forces her to take every inch. He’s close to cumming. He can feel it in the way his stomach constricts and his thighs tremble.

“Such a good girl. Taking all of me. Don’t swallow.” he states breathlessly as he takes apart her mouth. 

His pace is feral as he chases his release. Her tears mixed with the obscene noises he’s forcing from the back of her throat sends him over the edge. He watches with parted lips as he paints her sweet tongue with his spend. 

She holds her mouth open with her tongue out. Obeying his command by keeping his semen where he can see it. He bends down a bit to get a good look at the mess he created. He grips the sides of her mouth firmly. “Now, swallow like the good slut I know you can be.”

Charles watches as she swallows his seed and opens her mouth to show him that it’s all gone. He’s growing hard again just by looking at her debauched state. Hair wild, eyes swollen, and cheeks flushed. Oh, how he loves virgins. He loves stripping away their innocence. Always so easy to bend to his will. Always so good for him.

He starts undressing himself. Once he’s fully nude, he struts over to her bed and makes himself comfortable against the sea of pillows and plushies. He folds his arms behind his head. With a steely gaze he says, “Get up and strip for me, baby.”

~~~

The way this man, this Charles, makes her feel is unlike anything she’s ever experienced. His oh so blue eyes make her feel as if she’s the only girl in the world. She knows she shouldn’t, but she loves the feeling of, arguably, the most handsome man she’s laid eyes on telling her what to do.

She’s hooked on his dirty ways and sweet praises. She wants more. She wants Charles to show her every position a woman can lie with a man. But, she also hopes he’ll court her properly. Is this how love is supposed to start? She can’t dwell on that question because Charles’ heated voice snaps her out of her head.

“I’m not telling you twice, girl. Get up and strip.”

On shaky legs, she stands to her full height. Her hands shake a little before grabbing her dress straps and pulling them from her shoulders. Then, she’s shimmying out of the floral cloth and pulling it down from her waist and past her hips. There she stands, in the middle of her room, bare except for her light, pink underwear.

Her eyes meet the sight on top of her bed. Charles looks like a sculpture from the Greek art book she has sitting on her bookshelf. His beauty is unmatched by any other mortal man. She worries that she’ll blink and he’ll be gone. His abs are taught, skin kissed by the sun, with his hard cock in his grasp. She didn’t know how she was able to take him in her mouth moments prior. 

“Come make yourself pretty on my lap, darling.”

Her stomach drops. How is she supposed to go about this? Is he going to help her? Teach her? She can only hope she’s not an embarrassment as she walks over to where he lays. She reaches the side of her bed and climbs up to position herself over Charles’ body. 

“There,” he sighs, “this is much better isn’t it?”

“I- I don’t know what to do.” she says. Her voice is now giving away her timidness, not just her body.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, bringing his hand to her cheek, “I’ll show you.”

~~~

Charles takes a handful of her hips and pushes her clothed cunt down against his dick. She gasps at the impact. She can feel his hardness resting snugly between her lips against the fabric. That, mixed with her arousal sticking to her panties makes her let out a needy whimper. 

“I want you to rub yourself on my cock until you cum. Can you be a good girl and do that for daddy?”

Daddy. The word makes her clench and she is sure that Charles felt it because he lets out a rugged groan and his hands tighten around her. She can feel the bruises starting to form under his grasp. 

Meekly, she says, “Okay.” 

He grabs her panties and pulls them to the side so he can feel her. His pupils dilate at the site of her bare pussy. She’s so wet that she’s practically drowning his shaft. He loves how easily he can take her apart. 

She’s hesitant with her movements at first. She feels little jolts run up her spine with each pass of her swollen clit over his leaking tip. She places her hands on his thick chest and leans into his neck to bury her face against it.

The way his dick is gliding through her dripping cunt just right makes her pick up speed. Charles helps with her movements by his grip on her underwear, pulling her back and forth while he uses his other hand to smack and grab at her ass. She shoots up with a yelp. The rough sting of his palm connecting to her supple flesh makes those little tingles turn into full on pulses.

“That’s it baby.” he praises. “Take yourself apart on my dick. Look at you. I haven’t even fucked that tight cunt yet and you're a mess.”

His words mixed with the delicious friction between her thighs has her doubling her efforts. She’s gasping as she chases her high. She feels it creeping up towards her belly and through her limbs. Her chest sticks to Charles’ as she leans in close to his face. He takes the opportunity to kiss her.

Her mouth falls open as he shoves his tongue past her teeth. His force and the grinding has her panting into his mouth. She’s so close. So very close. Charles takes notice of her state and slips the hand that was hitting her from behind between their bodies to play with her clit.

She lets out a moan. A moan so debauched she isn’t sure it’s  even her own. His fingers helping her find release swirl faster and faster until her whole body tightens above him. His lips capture each squeal she emits. That tight string in her core snaps. And she’s cumming with a whine. 

She’s made herself cum plenty of times in the past, but with the aid of a man, the heat that engulfs her is so much more powerful. Her eyes roll back and her head falls into Charles’ neck once again. She hears him shush her and she feels his large hand stroke her head before gliding down her back to soothe her heavy breathing.

“You did so good for me. So good, sweetie.” he whispers in her ear. His hot breath sends shivers down her body and straight to her weeping pussy. 

Charles rolls her onto her back. He looks down on her and leans in to capture her lips once more. The kiss is hot and heavy. And she finds herself chasing his hips with her own. Charles pulls away much to her displeasure and grabs the band of her panties to slide them down her long legs. 

 Her face heats at the sight of the clear string of arousal connecting from her pussy to the base of her panties. Charles doesn’t seem to mind the mess as he throws the cotton at the end of the bed. He spreads her legs apart to get a good view of the treasure she holds between her legs.

She tries to close them. His gaze so close to her most intimate area makes her self conscious. He isn’t having any of that as he pushes her legs even farther apart. She can feel an ache starting to settle in her hips as he manhandled her into being on display for his hungry eyes. 

“Such a pretty pussy.” he says in a daze. He crawls up her body and brushes her nose with his. ”Shame I’m going to ruin it.”

Her eyes widened a bit. She can feel her chest tighten with concern. “I don’t know if it’ll fit, Charles.” she voices her concern. This makes him chuckle and he slowly leans down to whisper in her ear, “I’ll make it fucking fit, honey.”

He lines himself up to her entrance. As soon as the head of his dick pierces through her, she feels the burn. He’s painfully thick. More tears start to well in her eyes. She has a fleeting suspicion that Charles likes to see her cry, so she lets them flow. 

Inch by inch he slides in. She’s undeniably wet and it helps with the pain, but the pressure is still there. He’s knocked the breath from her lungs already. When he’s fully sheathed inside her, he lets out stuttered gasps. He can feel her walls still pulsing from her first orgasm. She feels like the finest silk money could buy.

“So tight. Squeezing me so tight.” he rasps through clenched teeth.

He lets her adjust for a moment before he starts to move. She can feel his cock move along her sensitive walls. Every ridge and vein is a prominent factor in the feeling that the delicious drag of his dick is giving her. He’s gliding with such ease that he has to make sure he doesn’t slip out or accidentally go through a different hole he plans to explore later.

The bed starts to shake and creak as Charles picks up his pace. He’s hitting her in places she never knew she had. The sounds of her falling apart below him has him harder than he thought possible. One particular angled thrust makes her back arch up to him and she’s grabbing his sweat covered back.

“Charles, please.” she begs against his ear.

“Please what?”

She honestly wants everything he’s willing to give. There’s just too much going on for her to think straight. It’s hard to concentrate when he keeps hitting that spongy spot inside her. She’s a drooling mess beneath Charles. The sight of her so fucked out makes him grunt.

She feels air rush around her as he leans up. She doesn’t notice him raise his hand, she’s too blissed out from the friction of his thick cock pounding in and out of her. But, she feels the sting of his slap. He hit her hard enough that her head snapped fiercely to the side. She didn’t have time to fully register the fact that he hit her across her face, or the fact that she enjoyed the feeling of him striking her, before he roughly grabs the sides of her mouth, forcing her to look at him.

“Tell me what you fucking want.” he growls. His pace not faltering once.

The man above her wasn’t the one that peaked her interest outside with his attentive nature and charm, no. This man is feral, using her for his pleasure. She doesn’t know which version she likes better.

“I wanna cum. Please. Make me cum.” she cries.

“You beg so nicely, dear.”

His hand moves from her face to her throat. He’s grounding her while he pounds into her abused pussy with no mercy. He watches the way her tits bounce with each snap of his hips. The way the flesh moves has him groaning and his climax rising. 

“You like when I’m rough with you?”

“Yeah, my dirty girl does.”

“Fucking take what I’m giving you, bitch.”

“I want you to cream on my dick.”

His dirty words send her reeling. How can such a pretty mouth say such horrid things? And why is she soaking with each word? The coil in her lower stomach is tightening again and she knows he’s close too by the way his hips are faltering.

He reaches for her hand that’s around his neck and brings it above her cunt. “Play with your clit.” 

She reaches down and starts moving her fingers rapidly against her bundle of nerves. Charles knew right then and there that the sight of his cock slipping in and out as her fingers work against herself is a sight that will be forever burned into his mind. He can feel her tightening around him as she’s close to cumming for a second time.

A final flick of the wrist and a single thrust sends her over the edge. Her toes curl as she chants Charles’ name like a prayer. The feeling of cumming while something is inside her is foreign. And she’s already addicted to the way she clamps down on his dick.

Charles cums right behind her. Her vice like grip on him has him shooting his load deep into her. He collapses on top of her. His weight crushed her sticky body. She can feel the warmth of his cum deep in her stomach.

After he regains his senses, he pulls out of her, watching as his seed leaks out of her tiny hole. She whimpers as he runs his fingers through her folds and brings his fingers to her lips. She doesn’t hesitate to suck his fingers clean. Their cum mixed together creating a distinct bitter taste.

“You were amazing, sweetie. So good for me.” he tells her as he leans down to pepper kisses all along her face and down her neck.

She basks in his praise and his soft lips against her heated skin. She got a taste of Charles Blackwood and she wants all of him, physically and mentally.

“Will I see you again?” she asks shyly.

“I’ll make sure of it, my dear. I’m right across the street.” he states smugly with a smile.

She’s been wondering for the past week who she and her father share a street with. Never once figuring it was this god of a man that would end up between her legs. She knew she shouldn’t have bent to his will, knew it was wrong. But, she couldn’t resist his sparkling blue eyes and that sly smile. She’d be making frequent trips to her neighbors, that’s for certain.

[chemicalpink]

대취타 (DAECHWITA) | EMPEROR!YOONGI X READER | FINAL

Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi x Assassin!Reader

Words: 3.5k

Genre: Emperor AU, Historical AU (kinda), smut, angsty

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of historical public execution, oral sex (male receiving), lowkey breath play, unprotected sex

A/N: FINALLY IT’S HERE. I hope you enjoy, I had a hard time trying to make this not seem lame so here it is! please let me know what you think!

Summary: You used to be an assassin, got caught and works at the palace as a servant up until you are escorted to the main palace, either to meet your inevitable destiny or for a change of plans. 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Forehead resting against your own as you found yourselves panting, him sliding out as your spasming cunt dripped with both of your releases onto the floor, placing one more soft kiss on your lips with his eyes closed “Marry me”

 You almost sat up with a start. Suddenly the world was bright and hazy. Yoongi had opened his eyes and they were digging like daggers into yours, an unusual look on him. You looked at the emperor apologetically before turning your gaze to the end of the room where there was a pile of books, silently detangling yourself from him.

The silence was deafening.

Then again, who in their right mind proposed marriage while having their cock buried deep inside some assassin turned royal slave. All the same, Min Yoongi wasn’t exactly known for having a right mind. But it wasn’t just the fact that he had proposed seemingly out of the blue, more than it was everything that came with it. The words seemed to tangle themselves inside your brain as you hear him say them over and over again. That he couldn’t think of himself marrying some woman that was inferior to him in mind and spirit. That he had wanted to marry to someone he loved. To think that Min Yoongi had proposed you marriage not in the heat of the moment but fully conscious of his actions would not only mean that he was in it for the great sexual escaped you two regularly went on, but because due to some fucked up mindset the royal had, he believed he could love you. 

Yoongi reached for your hand in an attempt to get your attention, face soft with post orgasmic bliss as he repeated the ill fated words “Marry me, Y/N”

You  snapped out of his hold. “Yoongi I don’t think you understand the situation”

“What is it then, please do enlighten me, Y/N cause from what I understand is me asking for your hand in marriage, twice now” he blinks a few times, looking at you expectantly, crossing his arms like a petulant child

“FUCKING READ THE ROOM MIN YOONGI ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND”

“Well I’m not, but you seem to be”

“I’m a fucking assassin, my hands? they will forever be tainted red” you look down at your hands and the blond man comes near to hold both of them inside his 

“Y/N I couldn’t care less about that, it’s not like I’m a saint either”

“You just don’t understand”

“Then help me out” somehow his ever consistent and aloof tone gave you more chills thana you could’ve imagined if he were to raise his voice at you “Y/N I’m serious with my proposal, the sex is amazing, but you’ve proven to be an excellent addition not only to my court, but to my life”

You are shaking, voice trembling and just above a mere whisper “I was the one that killed your mother on that freezing December night”

He freezes in place.

He seemed oddly composed for someone who had just been told the responsible of his mother's death was none other than the woman he thought he wanted to marry

You remember how a few years ago, he had gone on a killing rampage, exposing heads outside his palace as if they were homemade decorations, swearing to find the person responsible for his mother’s death and get revenge. It had been months of bloodbath. Some had considered the emperor’s son to have gone completely out of his mind. 

You storm off. Not before accepting the responsibility of your actions, perhaps Yoongi had also been a good addition to your life “I’m fine with you deciding to execute me for my crimes, I understand whatever sentence is best fitted for me, your majesty” for the first time since you had arrived at the palace, you don’t dare to look him in the ye, opting to follow court protocol and bow deeply before taking your leave, attempting to detangle yourself from your messed up robes and even more messed up string of thoughts.

The following days to that conversation were a blur and for the most part, uneventful, the emperor had opted not to gravitate your way unless strictly necessary, oddly enough, the air wasn’t awkward at all, it was as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you in the first place. Yoongi had retreated to being an aloof ruler, along with regular trips to meet his once very occupied and spoiled rotten concubines, all the while you were kept apart from. Sometimes, you would receive jobs outside the palace and were expected to fulfill them according to instructions. More times than not, you were left wondering if you would make it back to the palace or if it was one hell of an excuse to execute you.

Hearing approaching footsteps, you couldn’t help but hide the best that you could behind one of the hostel’s walls. Hooded and well muffled with the cape, as you did your best to camouflage yourself into the shadows and become a mere wisp of darkness. A maid from the hostel trudged to the open window and closed it, grumbling. Lightning illuminated the landing. You took a deep breath and reviewed the plans that you had so painstakingly memorized throughout the three days you had been guarding that building on the outskirts of the kingdom. Five doors on each side. The target’s bedroom was behind the third one on the left.

Stealthy as a specter, you walked down the landing. You pushed the target's bedroom door, which opened with an almost imperceptible squeak; waiting for another thunder to rumble to close it carefully. A second flash of lightning illuminated the two figures sleeping on the canopy bed. Young Hee must not have been over thirty-five. His son, small and beautiful, slept soundly in his arms.

“I’m not murdering a poor kid’s mother”

“So you’ve gone soft”

“No I haven’t gone soft” “What could a poor merchant woman have done to you for her to deserve such an end to her life”

He sits down on his throne “You didn’t even hesitate when killing my mother, though”

“Yoongi I-” he turns his head to you, a sharp gaze following your every move, as if he was a predator waiting for the precise moment his prey took a wrong turn to jump on them. You turn your gaze to the floor immediately “Your Majesty”

“Listen Y/N- I’m a very busy man, so I’ll make it easier for you” he stood up from where he was sitting, and although you weren’t looking directly at him, you could hear him move around the room until you were able to see him stop right in front of you, a hand you were so familiar with once caresses your cheek as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him face to face “It’s either her life, or your life. Easy choice, Y/N”

You can feel your heart wanting to burst out of your ribcage at that exact moment, finally understanding the importance behind such a horrifying task, the mirroring in the situation. And the choice was as simple as it could get. “Kill me instead”

You could see the rage inside his eyes, even as he stood still for a few second, steady as ever, unfaltering as he called over one of the palace’s servants to get him the royal seal, the infamous red ink that decorated the skin of those in line to be executed by the royal himself, an utmost sign of rage, of personally wronging the monarch. A sense of longing crossed his gaze for half a second as he locked eyes with you before he took your wrist in his hand and stamped the cold ink on it; you couldn’t keep your body from reacting to the action, whether it was having him touching you again, the almost imperceptible stuttering of his movements when he did so, or the knowledge that you’d have to face an execution, making you shake lightly as adrenaline filled your veins. 

Preparations were something the emperor certainly didn’t scattered in, back when he became known as the cold hearted borderline psychopath he had a vaste fame of, ikt was mostly do to the whole antiques that surrounded his personal executions, the way that they seemed to mimic a kingdom’s festivity was almost breathtaking, were it not for the fact that the main entertainment of the day would be having you publicly executed.  You had been waiting for that night for a whole week. Sitting in the wooden corridor nestled to one side of the golden dome of Min Yoongi’s personal library, remembering how the last time you had been there, things were so different from how they were now, where the emperor had asked you to marry you in the worst way possible and you had confessed the greatest murder of the dynasty; you let yourself be carried away by the music that rose through the amphitheater. With your legs dangling under the railing, you leaned forward and rested your cheek on your crossed arms. One could almost swear the palace was preparing for a wedding, if the way you were constantly dressed up and down during the week, the way the palace’s servants were constantly bustling around the building to ensure the greatest quality for the evening, the greatest night for the kingdom. The execution of the Empress’ murderer. 

“You seem oddly calm for someone who's about to be executed” Jungkook mentions as he approaches where you were currently hanging out, a few minutes to spare before a small group of designated maids were to call you to get you ready for the night.

You look up at him tiredly, without separating your head from where it was laying, catching him taking a seat by your side in the most infantile way you had ever seen the royal guard do, shrugging to no one in particular, you add “You know, accountability and stuff”

“Oh and she grew a moral compass during her time here” if he was expecting a bickering comeback, the way you used to do back when he was designated to look after you, he was certainly not getting anything other than be met by an extended silence that seemed to rise the tension and seriousness of the whole interaction between the two “Why are you letting this happen to you?”

“What are you talking about” this time, you do turn to face him, confused as to where he was expecting the conversation to go.

“You didn’t kill his mother”

“I did”

He huffed out air, sounding a bit exasperated at your response; you could have even sworn you saw him roll his eyes faintly “No you didn’t, you were a mere 15 year old” there was a bit of laughter behind his sentence before he regained his composure and went back to his former self from a few minutes ago, looking at your face quizzically as if there was something hidden in there that held the answer to his question  “So why are you doing this”

You try and miserably fail to convey a nonchalant look on your face as memories of your time with the emperor fill your mind, not just the carnal ones, but those where you would watch him work for his place in the royal hierarchy, the soft sides around the rough edges that were publicly hidden on purpose, turning away from the guard you say softly “Yoongi’s a great man”

“Okay sure, he could do with a more...tame temperament, but what does that have anything to do with you chopping your own head off”

You try your best to ignore the way your heart seems to physically ache at the thought behind the answer; you almost don’t get enough strength from within to mutter “I’m hoping to get him some closure, be an even better ruler”

“That’s- definitely not how it’s supposed to work Y/N” Jungkook says incredulously 

 “I was technically part of the killing so, it’s all the same”

He huffs before going to stand up, dusting off his uniform and already facing away from you, before you can hear him call for you one last time “Yoongi’s in his room, you know, he was looking for you a few hours ago, in case that information helps in any way”

So perhaps you were naive for thinking that he would answer his door, he would have no reason to do so, especially given the circumstances, if it were you, opening the door to the person that had confessed of murdering your mother, and having them come up at your room, you wouldn’t even need to think it once to decide not to further interact with them, but Jungkook had said Yoongi had been looking for you before, so the chance of him wanting to see you alive one last time were there. Unless you were reading it all wrong. You turned your back on the huge wooden door you had come to know as the emperor’s bedroom a few months back, resigned, when you heard the creaking of a door opening and a calm steady voice.

“So you’re going to just knock on my door and run away the same way you entered my life and are now leaving it forever?” his frozen tone still having an effect on your body as you turned to face him properly for the first time in what seemed like an eternity “Came to discuss a bargain for your life?”

“Not at all” you lock eyes with him when approaching him, until you were practically inside the room, his judgemental gaze still on you “I wanted to say my goodbyes properly, your majesty”

“Then don’t waste my time and come in already, Y/N” 

The royal wasted no time in cornering you against the door, face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin, the tip of his nose nuzzling the side of your face and you knew him enough to know he had his eyes closed to keep his composure as he talked “I’m going to miss you like a fucking mad man” 

It felt like falling back into routine, the way he kissed you, down to your neck up to your collarbone, pushing past the robes that covered your skin, in preparation for the ritual, his hands roaming freely in a familiar way, grabbing all the right places as he draws little sounds from your throat, all while he worked the both of you to where his bed was placed, although he was giving your body and pleasure a decent amount of attention, you couldn’t brush off the fact that he irradiated an angry aura, words left unspoken as he got his anger out by pleasuring both of you. Maybe himself more than you, as he removes himself from caressing your body as he usually did and positioned himself above you, his member laying flat on your already expecting tongue,as soon as you realised what his intentions were when he started undressing himself, his hips thrusting a few times in an experimental manner, soon enough finding a  pace at the same time as you bobbed your head up to capture as much of his length as you could inside your mouth, your hands captured under Yoongi’s weight, unable to help you work him further, the way you’d done before. 

You feel him start to thrust further into your throat at one particular kitten lick of yours to the tip of his cock, your head starting to hang from the edge of the mattress you two were on as he picked up the pace, his cock filling you up all the way until it hit the back of your throat a few times, you trying to whine around him, only further encouraging him to take a handful of your hair and push you further against him, your gag reflex taking the best of you as he held you there, nose close to his navel, deep grunts ripped from his lips, the air leaving your lungs and becoming slightly light headed after a few seconds of you tapping his thigh in a motion to let him know to let you breathe, at which Yoongi locked eyes with you, a mix of anger and longing in his yes as he  thrusts a few more times as saliva started dripping from your mouth, tears decorating your pink stained cheeks before he removed himself from you, giving you a few seconds to gain air before he repositioned both of you. A deafening silence taking over both of you, as you were still catching your breath and he positioned his cock at your entrance, his tip, wet with your saliva, playing with your folds for a few seconds, as you take a sharp intake of air when he enters you and immediately sets a slow deep pace. You can feel his member filling you up perfectly, mind racing with flashbacks to all those other nights before where the emperor and you shared endless nights all over the palace. 

The knowledge that this would be the last time creeping up in the back of your mind. You feel an unfamiliar wetness hit your neck where Yoongi was kissing your skin, rolling down as you identified it as tears, as he was still passionately thrusting into you. 

“I don’t want to lose you” his voice barely above a whisper, trying to conceal the way his chest was tightened with sadness 

“You have to let me go, Yoongi” one of your hands comes up to caress his locks as he pushes up to stare at your face, anger long gone and replaced with utter sadness before one last thrust has him filling you up with his seed, warmth enveloping you, a soft whimper leaving your lips as his cock leaves your cunt, a briskly wind coming from the window causing your body to shiver for a second at the loss of body heat on top of you.

“I guess this was it then” his cold and unnerved facade was on again, making the cold shivers in your body that much worse as you watched him adjust his clothes and walk out of the room, leaving you to dress yourself and ultimately face your fated destiny at the end of the day.

The palace’s front plaza is filled to the brim with spectators as the news got out that the Emperor was finally getting revenge for his mother’s killing, people from the kingdom and even some people from neighbouring ones all lined up in the outer sides of the fire marks that decorated the space to illuminate the middle path where you were placed in the end of it to walk your way up, two unknown guards on each side of you as each grabbed your elbows to push you forward, the rope certainly leaving marks on your skin as it was wrapped tightly around your wrists.  

You could only catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s blond hair, wrapped in his infamous black and golden hanbok, drums roaring in unison, people screaming as you watched him take the sword from the swordsman that had prepared the ritual beforehand, as someone wrapped a cloth around your eyes and you were promptly pushed forward, legs buckling every few seconds as you came to realise what you were about to face, it hadn’t been clear before, mere seconds away, finally falling to your knees, head bowed down in resignation as you could barely hear the sharp sword cutting the air around you, gasps from the crowd filling the air along with the constant sound of the drums around you. You could only hope your death would bring much needed peace to the monarch and his kingdom. Your heart seemed to want to burst out of your chest, if anything, Yoongi was known for being an espectacular swordsman, which hopefully made the whole execution that much easier. You could hear cheers and a metal cutting the air before your body fell limp to the ground.

But your consciousness never left, the drums couldn’t be heard anymore, cheers were replaced with confusion as a pair of hands helped you up to your knees, fumbling with the cloth around your eyes to come face to face with Min Yoongi kneeling before you, a subtle smile on his face as one of his hands caressed your cheek before helping you up beside him.

“I’m sure you all must be confused right now” he announced to his subjects “This woman right here, has got more courage in her than anyone that has ever worked for me, any of us, for that matter. Which is why I’m asking once again, publicly, for the first time, for her hand in marriage” he turned to face you, as you were still dazed by the whole ordeal, his hand in yours being the only thing holding you down “Marry me, Y/N”

[fandom-blackhole]

blind date and poorly timed confession with Rex x reader?

Ngl it took me a bit to figure out what I wanted to do with this one, but I like how it turned out so I hope you do too

46. Blind Date

60. Poorly Timed Confession 

Captain Rex x Reader

When Fives, Jesses, and Echo all came walking over to him after a briefing, each with a grin and a bounce in their step, Rex knew immediately that something was up. So with grinning faces, and Fives in the middle with his I've done something you are going to disagree with Captain shit eating grin, Rex immediately prepared himself for whatever his men had done this time, and preparing for the headache that inevitably was going to form behind his temples.

Rex waited until they were all stopped, forming a small semi-circle around him, before he immediately cut in, not letting Fives who was opening his mouth to speak get even a sound out. "What have you all done this time?"

It was Jesse that replied first, chuckling and saying, "Why d you always assume the worst of us, Captain?"

Rex only gave him a side eye before looking down at his data pad and saying, "I don't know, why is it always you three in the middle of of whatever chaos happens when the 501st is on Coruscant?"

This time it was Fives, with a faked gasp and a hand held to his chestplate, still with that damned grin on his face, "Captain I am hurt, and to think we did something nice for you."

That got Rex's attention, his head whipping up to look at each of them with a glare, "What. Did. You. Do."

"Honestly, Captain, we didn't do anything bad this time," Echo's somewhat sincere voice spoke up, "We just know you work too hard and never take any real breaks for yourself, so we thought we'd do something nice."

"Which is?"

Fives, excitedly interrupted his twin as he was opening his mouth to speak, which resulted in a glare from Echo and a wider grin from Jesse. "We step you up on a blind date!"

Rex took a second a second, staring blankly at the three of them before tiredly saying, "You did what?"

Jesse reached out and laid a hand on Rex's shoulder, and with a smile still on his face, but with a bit of a more serious tone said, "We got you a blind date. Captain you work too hard, relax and go have some fun. Hell turn it into a one-night stand for all we care, just take the night off."

This time it was Jesse on the receiving end of Echo's glare as he spoke up and said, "we all know the Captain isn't going to have a one-night stand with this date."

Fives laughed, and turned to his twin with a smirk, "No, but he definitely might be fuck buddies with them."

Echo, sighed loudly, and elbowed his brother in the side hard, and ignored Five's yelp of pain and turned back to Rex, saying, "The date is tonight at that diner you like, and don't worry about cleaning up or trying to look nice, you can take my word for it when I say they won't care." Then Echo was pulling the other two away, and Rex caught Fives complaining about his side and 'why did you have to do it so hard?'

The rest of the day, Rex was trying to think of reasons or excuses for why he shouldn't go to the 'date' and with each passing hour each excuse just became more and more flimsy. So by the time he filled out his last report for the day, Rex sighed heavily and stood, the only thought running through his head was, well I can't let the poor soul sit there all night, especially after dealing with Fives, Jesse, and Echo.

That didn't mean that Rex didn't drag his feet on the way to the diner though. This wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend one of his few nights off, but at this point he was too deep to back off. What was he even going to say, to do? Rex has never really been on dates before, never really had time for them, so he was at a complete loss, and was was panicking by the time he reached to door of the restaurant.

Rex hesitated by the door, realizing a touch too late that none of them had mentioned how he would know who he was there for, how was he going to know? Now he was fully panicking as his hand reached up and pulled open the door. Rex immediately scanned the booths when he walked in, most of them already containing two or more people, but then he stopped. There, in the far corner was you, and Rex cursed his men for the hundredth time today. It couldn't have been, they didn't set him up with you, his soft and sweet civilian officer, the one person besides his brothers he trusted, the one person he would do anything for just to see them smile. His brothers wouldn't do that to him....would they?

Slowly, and almost shyly, Rex approached your booth, and asked quietly, "Is this seat taken?"

Rex watched your head raise and take in his form, he watched as the surprise and shock from seeing him slowly took over your facial features, before you nodded jerkily and motioned to the seat across from you. Rex sat, and looked around the small room, his jaw clenching and unclenching trying to think of something to say to you, but then your voice spoke up quietly, but amused, "So, Captain, I am guessing it is you that the boys set me up with tonight?"

Rex responded by nodding softly, before he turned to look at you. You looked so pretty in the soft light, flashy colors from the neon lights outside reflecting off your skin accentuating your features and making Rex swallow. You looked so beautiful it hurt. While he had come straight from his office, only taking time to just brush his hand over his buzzed hair, you had actually changed from your uniform, putting on clothes that highlighted your body in all the right ways, while still being modest, the clothing colors also fitting you and just making you pop in a way the boring grey uniforms never did. Maker, he both loved and hated his brothers for this.

The silence between the two of you dragged on for a few minutes, only broken by a waitress coming to get Rex's order, which he only asked for a cup of caf. When she left, Rex turned back to you and cleared his throat, "So how was your day? Besides having to deal with my idoits?"

Hearing your giggle made his heart soar, and a soft smile to form on his lips, as you looked up to meet his gaze. "It was boring, as usual. Nothing but paperwork, and lots of sighing as I read over your reports. Captain-"

"Rex... we aren't working, so you can call me Rex," he interrupted softly, a small blush highlighting his cheeks, but again your smile was more than worth hiss embarrassment.

"Rex," you rolled his name off you tongue in a way that had Rex repeating the sound over and over in his head, having him willing to give anything to hear you just repeat it over and over for the rest of his life, but then you continued, "I really think you should try disagreeing with General Skywalker's antics sometimes, I hate it when I read about him throwing you around like a rag doll."

Rex sighed, and looked down at his hands, before jokingly saying, "Well I hate being thrown around."

You giggled again, before letting out a soft, 'oh'. Rex looked up, and you gave him a fake stern look before saying, "And stop calling Fives, Jesse, and Echo idiots, we all know that Echo just gets dragged into the other two's schemes when it comes to anyone but his brothers. Echo doesn't deserve that title."

Rex chuckles, and shoots you a grin that your return fully, before he responds with, "I think you would be surprised, I have found half the time Echo is the mastermind behind whatever stunt is being pulled."

"Even more reason for you not to call him an idiot! Echo's smart enough to send Fives and Jesse, and occasionally Hardcase, to do whatever he thought up, and as a result finds himself away from the trouble."

Rex sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. "I will give you that one, mesh'la."

After that the two of you fell into another round of silence, occasionally stealing looks, and getting embarrassed when you were caught, but Rex just couldn't keep his eyes off of you. He couldn't stop staring at the smile that lit up your face and eyes, one that he only occasionally got to see while you both were working. rex just couldn't stop taking in how beautiful and relaxed you looked, how relaxed you made him feel. And it hit him then, like a ton of bricks, just how much he had fallen for you, how in love with you he was.

It wasn't until the waitress cleared her throat and set his caf down before scurrying away that he realized. I wasn't until he turn and found your shocked face, mouth slightly opened and searching eyes that another realization his him. Rex had just said that completely out loud. and in front of the waitress none the less. rex had just laid his love for you out in front of you on what was essentially your first date.

Wide wide eyes, and a blush covering his entire face, ears, and neck, Rex started to close in on himself, trying to come up with an excuse to leave or an explanation but just coming up with panicked thoughts on how he had fucked up. Rex felt like his world was crashing around him, and he always hoped he'd never die, but in this moment he would give anything to do just that to get away from this feeling.

But then you whispered his name, so softly that he barely heard it, his brain barely acknowledging it as he was too caught up in his own head. Then he felt your hands reach across the table and curl around his clasped ones. with a clenched jaw he looked up, as you said his name again louder, and when he met your gaze all he found was soft hope. "Rex... did you mean it? Do...do you...."

Knowing his feelings were already in the open Rex cleared his throat and forced himself to speak, "Love you? With my entire being, cyare. I love you...."

Send me Tropes

[drowningbydegrees]

Something Ordinary - Part 1

This is my Novigrad Exchange gift for @aalizazareth who asked for fluff, road trip, or hurt/comfort, and I figured how about all of them? I hope this delivers! 

A huge thank you to @goodheavensgwen​ for betaing, but also for all the brainstorming and cheerleading along the way. This fic is so much better for having your input. <3

It’s in the same verse as Noonwraiths and Other Woodland Forest Creatures, but it’s not necessary to read that to understand this one. Not, this is largely fluffy and ridiculous, but there’s some canon typical mention of blood and injury.

Read on AO3

Ordinary people don’t… date witchers. Granted, Geralt has been coming to the diner where Jaskier works for the last year and a half, just about. Twenty-one months, but who’s counting? It isn’t a precisely educational experience, but between the pancakes and mediocre coffee he’s come to realize that Jaskier is anything but ordinary.

Geralt had never meant to do anything with that information. If he sometimes goes out of his way to stop in between contracts, it’s no one’s business but his own. It’s just nice to have one place he can go where someone is genuinely happy to see him. And alright, Jaskier is more alluring than he has any right to be. And perhaps Geralt spends his visits wordlessly nursing a cup of coffee just to have an excuse to listen to Jaskier chatter on about nothing in particular a while longer.

Well, he did, anyway. Things are different in the months since they exchanged numbers after Geralt stumbled in half dead after a contract. Jaskier’s conversation demands more participation, his smiles are more intentional. And though Geralt would like to think he put up at least a token resistance over these last few months (in which he has received what he’s sure are more text messages than his entire life before), somehow Jaskier has pulled Geralt right along with him.

The point is, Geralt doesn’t do this. He doesn’t let himself get attached to people. He doesn’t give himself a reason to maybe stay in one place a little more. He definitely doesn’t go for coffee shop dates. The fact that their current circumstances started with an attempt to do exactly that is completely coincidental.

Wednesday

2:15 p.m.

Like many things in Geralt’s life, things go sideways before they even start. They don’t even make it inside the coffee shop before his phone rings, and given the only person who calls him for frivolous reasons is right next to him, it’s probably important. All of which is why Geralt had to cancel and is pulling into the gas station before a six hour trip to Oreton.

He’s still not sure how Jaskier got here, though. It’s a bewildering leap from a coffee date to committing to hours in an enclosed space together, but by the time Geralt wraps his head around that Jaskier is already in the passenger seat.

“I’ll get snacks,” Jaskier offers, already opening the car door. “Do you want anything?”

Geralt motions to a box in the back seat. “I’m good.”

“Are those granola bars?” Jaskier makes a comically disapproving noise, sliding out of his seat. He leans over enough to poke his head back in. “Do you know who thinks granola bars count as road trip snacks? My grandma.”

“What’s wrong with…” Geralt starts, but Jaskier is already gone.

To Jaskier’s credit, he’s emerging from the gas station once more by the time the gas tank is full. Well, Jaskier along with a bag of what looks like more candy than someone could eat in a week and the two cups he’s juggling.

“I promised you coffee! I can’t guarantee it’s good coffee, mind you, but it is coffee,” Jaskier explains before Geralt can ask, circling the car to press a cup into the witcher’s hands.

He doesn’t do this, and supposes he could be mistaken, but Geralt is pretty certain the coffee isn’t actually the operant word in ‘coffee date.’ Still, it’s… it’s something he doesn’t quite know what to do with. Jaskier has always been friendly, but he’s taken up doing all sorts of things as of late that can’t be chalked up to it being his job, and they never seem to leave Geralt any less unmoored than he feels right now, staring at the paper cup aggressively warming the palms of his hands.

“It’s for drinking,” Jaskier prompts, and as silly as it is, the whole thing only gets more absurd. Because the glare Geralt responds with is normally enough to make people shy away, but Jaskier doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to be alarmed. He laughs, soft and lilting in a way Geralt never wants to let go of, like there’s nothing strange about any of this. Like the two of them are made for these ordinary things Geralt has never given himself the space to want.

But Jaskier has never been ordinary.

3:07 p.m.

He’s made a terrible miscalculation in this plan, Jaskier privately acknowledges about thirty miles from home. This plan. The one that was definitely an actual plan and not just an impulsive desire to go on an adventure and see Geralt in action. Does it count as a plan if he invents a purpose? Maybe he’ll write a song about it. The subject matter is a little niche, but that’s half the appeal.

The other half of the appeal is the man sitting in the driver’s seat, silently watching the nearly empty highway stretch out in front of them. He’s always pretty, but working third shift Jaskier has never really gotten to see Geralt like this, drenched in sunlight that softens his features and mutes the slight frown that seems to own permanent real estate on his face. It’s haunting, the way it lights up Geralt’s silvery white hair, like some particularly attractive ghost.

Therein lies the miscalculation, because the thing is, Geralt is no different than any other time Jaskier has been around him, which is about as talkative as the pet rock he had when he was six. Normally, that’s fine. Geralt tolerates Jaskier’s chatter at the diner. And since it’s Jaskier’s job, he usually only wanders to Geralt’s table for minutes at a time. But there are no places to wander off to in the passenger seat of Geralt’s car, and he’s barely gotten three words out of the witcher since the gas station.

“So, what are we hunting?” he tries, because it’s the one topic he’s seen loosen Geralt’s tongue. A lot, actually. He doesn’t remember even half of what Geralt tells him, but it’s terribly endearing all the same. Even if it leaves him longing to know more about what else Geralt cares about.

“I am hunting a leshen. You are staying in the car,” Geralt replies without so much as a glance his way. If he notices Jaskier’s exasperated sigh, he gives no indication.

“I… remember you mentioning those, I think,” Jaskier focuses on the leshen because it was very definitely on the list of things Geralt told him about the first night he successfully got the witcher to have anything resembling a conversation. He resolutely ignores all the words Geralt just said around that. If he doesn’t lie and say he’ll stay put, then he won’t be lying when he inevitably does not do that. Sheepishly, he ducks his head. “In my defense, there was kind of a lot going on that night. Maybe tell me again?”

That earns Jaskier a smile, however small and brief it is. It’s a win as far as Jaskier is concerned. Now if he could just wrangle a conversation.

“Tall. Sort of humanoid. Covered in branches.” Geralt says nothing else until Jaskier clears his throat, trying to prompt the witcher to give him something at least. “They have antlers.”

“Very informative,” Jaskier chides, shaking his head. He supposes he should have known better than to assume this would work. “Anything else?”

“They live in the forest.” Jaskier is so surprised to actually get an answer, he almost misses the way the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitches upward. “You know, like noonwraiths.”

Jaskier gasps, holding a hand up to his chest as if in shock. “Was that… I’m sorry. Was that a joke I just heard?”

It’s been a ridiculous joke between them for a while now, but it hits differently this time. It’s always silly, but for the first time it sinks in that it’s theirs. They have A Thing, and it leaves Jaskier all but vibrating to realize because that’s… well, that’s significant. It feels significant at any rate.

“You were serious about the woods though, right?” Jaskier asks once he remembers they were in the middle of a conversation.

“I was serious about the woods.”

Jaskier cocks his head to the side, trying to make sense of that. “Then, how is it an emergency?”

“This one was in someone’s yard,” Geralt clarifies. As much as Jaskier would like to be annoyed by the brevity, he has to admit that that actually more or less clears it up.

Jaskier tries to imagine this tree branch antler person… thing creeping over the fence of some poor, unsuspecting homeowner like a nosy neighbor. It’s a mistake, because Jaskier doesn’t know the shape in which those descriptors fit together, so it’s much more comical than frightening. He tries and fails to stifle an amused huff of laughter, but of course that would be the thing that finally gets Geralt to look at him for a second.

“Sorry, I…” Jaskier pauses, not sure he can actually explain why that’s funny since Geralt has the benefit of knowing how all his sparse descriptors fit together. “So, what are you going to do? Bribe it to go home?”

“Not this time. They’re intelligent, but you can’t reason with them. Most creatures kill because they feel threatened or to survive. Leshens are hostile. Always.” The explanation makes sense. It doesn’t sound like there’s any way around killing the creature, but Jaskier knows he isn’t imagining the sadness clouding Geralt’s features.

He has no idea how someone could possibly meet Geralt, who never takes a life if he can save it, who spends his existence keeping people safe, who has so much compassion for even the most unlovable of things, and think witchers are anything but good. Underneath the caustic disposition he shields himself with, Geralt is kinder than most humans. It makes Jaskier yearn to coax the world into seeing what he does.

Maybe he can. There’s the beginning of an idea, but before Jaskier can follow that thread, he’s distracted by Geralt. More specifically, he’s distracted by Geralt being distracted, something finally luring the witcher’s eyes briefly from the road. So, of course Jaskier turns his head to see what could possibly be so interesting.

“Horses?” Jaskier winces when he realizes he’s asked the question out loud. It’s not really even a question. They were definitely horses, one chestnut and one gray, happily grazing along the fence containing them.

“Witchers used to travel that way,” Geralt murmurs, before Jaskier even asks a question. It’s a good tactic, giving one piece of information to steer away from Jaskier’s pursuit of another. Or it would be if Jaskier wasn’t onto him.

“Yeah. Witchers and everyone else. It’d be pretty inconvenient now though, what with all the… highways and stuff. So, I’m not sure I’m following the significance.” Jaskier watches carefully, but Geralt’s expression betrays nothing. “Unless this is the part where you’re gonna tell me you’re three hundred years old or something.”

Geralt is conspicuously silent. Jaskier has never met someone who can express so much with the various ways he chooses to express nothing. It’s an exasperating quality, but impressive.

“Wait. You’re not actually, are you? I mean, not that that’s a problem, per se. Just that—” Jaskier pauses in the midst of his babbling when he catches Geralt turning his head away just the tiniest bit. It’s not fast enough to hide that Geralt seems to be biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

3:34 p.m.

There’s a lot of farmland out this way, miles of cornfields, sure, but animals too. Jaskier briefly entertains the notion that maybe Geralt grew up on a farm and is homesick or something. He’s a storyteller by nature, after all, and Geralt is such an enigma, surely he can’t be blamed for trying to fill in the gaps. Jaskier curiously watches Geralt when they lapse back into silence. They’re surrounded on both sides by… actually, Jaskier has no idea what those fields are. The only crop he actually recognizes is corn. But whatever it is, if Geralt has any attachment to it, his expression betrays nothing.

Jaskier is about to write his previous observation off as him reading too much into something ultimately unimportant when crops give way to a green, open meadow. It’s the kind of place Jaskier thinks looks about perfect for a picnic or laying out to watch the clouds drift by, or something. It’s also the kind of place where someone keeps a rather striking-looking horse, its coat a shade of gold just a touch warmer than Geralt’s eyes. “I’ve never seen one like that.”

“It’s a palomino,” Geralt replies, though Jaskier doesn’t think he’s actually looked that way. Either Geralt is even more subtle than Jaskier gives him credit for, or something about that merits remembering.

“The breed?” Jaskier presses. This is even more fascinating than coaxing Geralt into talking about monsters. It’s not a subject Jaskier knows a damned thing about either, but it’s an unexpected thing Geralt seems to be interested in, and that all by itself makes it worth pursuing.

“It’s not a breed.” Maybe ‘talking about’ is a little too charitable a description for the handful of words Jaskier gets Geralt to part with at any one time. That’s a puzzle too. Jaskier hasn’t quite sussed out whether Geralt actually doesn’t like talking or if it’s a side effect of the way humans tend to respond to witchers. It’s a shame either way. Jaskier quite likes listening to him.

“Okay…?” Jaskier prods. It’s only afterwards that it occurs to him that if Geralt truly isn’t interested in talking, maybe when the witcher is stuck a foot away from Jaskier and can’t extricate himself from the situation is not the right time to push the matter.

“It’s a color.” After a slight pause, Geralt adds, “Gold coat. White mane and tail.”

There’s more after, not that Jaskier can keep up with most of it. Often, even when Jaskier is actively trying to engage, all he gets from Geralt is a wordless hum or a raised eyebrow. So, the fact that there are a number of words in a row is noteworthy already. That Geralt is continuing to speak without being prompted is nothing short of a miracle. Maybe pushing wasn’t the problem so much as finding the right subject matter.

And thus, a new game is born. Whether out of some sense of dignity or something else, Geralt doesn’t actually mention when they pass by horses. It’s the very slight shift in Geralt’s body language, something Jaskier would probably say was him perking up if it were more explicit, that clues Jaskier in if he doesn’t see them himself. But the minute Jaskier mentions them, Geralt appears all too happy to talk about the precise measurement that differentiates horses and ponies (14.2 hands or less, which then becomes an extended conversation about why horses are measured in hands), the Lippizaner stallion troupe (which Jaskier will admit he would really like to see if they’re even half as impressive as Geralt suggests), and that one breed of wild horses that are maybe possibly completely divergent from domestic horses (Jaskier immediately forgets how to pronounce their name, but he does remember they sort of look like especially stocky donkeys).

“How do you know all this, anyway? I’m starting to think you should have gone to work in a stable or something instead of being a witcher,” Jaskier teases after a particularly emphatic explanation about what an utter failure Redania’s wild horse adoption program is. “I mean, it would definitely be my loss, but…”

He trails off, teasing smile immediately fading as he happens to look over at Geralt. Even when he’s happy, Geralt’s expressions tend to be a bit muted, but there’s no trace of anything like happiness now. His head is subtly bowed, like he’s ashamed of something, and that just won’t do at all. There’s nothing shameful about the details that make up a person. Before Jaskier can ask what exactly dampened the mood, Geralt softly replies, “I was going to.”

“You were?” It might be a mistake. This was meant to be fun. It’s just that Geralt so rarely gives Jaskier anything about himself, and Jaskier so desperately wants to know him. He rationalizes that if he drops the matter, Geralt will think he doesn’t care and won’t ever try again. “What happened?”

“Not important.” The words are clipped, but Jaskier has at least known Geralt long enough to differentiate between the witcher being actually irritated and any of the multitude of other emotions that make him sound irritated. This is definitely one of the latter.

“Of course it’s important if it makes you look like that.” Impulsively, Jaskier reaches out to lay a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. The way Geralt nearly jumps out of his skin is a stark reminder that he’s not quite so instinctively tactile as Jaskier is. Geralt doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t answer either, so Jaskier only lingers briefly before pulling his hand back into his lap.

“I thought everyone was exaggerating about how things would change when they made me into this,” Geralt explains, so quiet that Jaskier has to listen carefully over the engine. It’s an aching, vulnerable thing, as human a confession as Jaskier has ever heard before Geralt’s expression abruptly shutters.

“I’m so sorry… Wait, made you?” Jaskier realizes, not for the first time, that he knows nothing about witchers. Nothing true at any rate.

But whatever strange magic had coaxed Geralt into speaking has passed, and the witcher doesn’t even acknowledge Jaskier has said anything. He longs to know more, to soothe whatever it is that hurts so much, but Jaskier has at least enough sense to realize that if he presses now, Geralt will think twice about telling him anything later. The minutes stretch out between them like taffy, the silence deafening until Jaskier absolutely cannot take it. He impulsively reaches for the radio, turning the dial until the static of a station that’s long since out of range is coming through the speakers. “So… music!”

Geralt’s lips purse in… actually Jaskier isn’t all that familiar with this particular expression yet. His default state is so grumpy, it’s hard to tell this time if he’s annoyed or uncomfortable. Neither one is what he’s going for, so he pointedly does not ask what that station is, immediately setting about adjusting until a melody cuts clearly through the hissing noise. Fic Masterpost

[merakicharm]

SERENDIPITY

(part - 4)

"Do you think Kageyama will come for practice?" Kindaichi asked, looking at his boyfriend, before he pulled a shirt over his head.

Kunimi shrugged.

"Exchange students have to attend the same clubs they participated in at their schools, so he has to come, right?" Kindaichi persisted.

"I don't know" Kunimi hissed, annoyed. He really didn't want to discuss this. Kageyama was....a touchy topic and he really wished that anyone from Karasuno had been the exchange student, but Kageyama. Heck, even the Shrimp would have been better than this.

The door to the boys locker room opened. The Seijoh Coach strode in, the exchange students behind him.

"Ok boys, this will be your locker room, and you will use the free ones. Feel free to ask me or any other students, in case you have any confusions"

Saying this, he exited the room, leaving the boys to get changed.

Kunimi and Kindaichi watched the crowd curiously, just like the other Seijoh players in the room.

Tsukishima was the first person to separate himself from the crowd and move around, searching for his locker.

Which happened to be right next to the one that Kunimi used. Both gritted their teeth, very much annoyed.

"Kageyama senpai! Our lockers are here!"

Kindaichi turned to his left to see a boy, first year by the looks of it, opening the locker just one place away from his.

"Where's mine...?" the low husky voice, had Kindaichi gasping sharply.

Two places away, Tsukishima smirked.

"Here senpai!" the boy said again, his pale blonde curls flopping over his grey green eyes. He really had too long hair for a boy, it reached almost till the nape of his neck.

As Kindaichi watched, Kageyama emerged from around the corner, his expression somewhat annoyed. He looked to where his junior was pointing.

Even as Kunimi turned around to face the Karasuno ravenette, the boy seemed to have grasped the fact that his locker was right next to his former team mate's.

Heaving a sigh, and looking more irritated, Kageyama spoke.

"Hey Kagari, swap with me"

The boy paused, looking at his senpai. Kageyama's face bore a look of irritation, but when you looked closely, thought Tsukishima, you could clearly see the tinge of despair and fear.

"Well?" Kageyama asked, raising one of his eyebrows in question.

The boy nodded.

"Hai!"

"Thanks Kagari, I appreciate it" he said as he opened his duffel bag, refusing to look into the eyes of his crushes.

Which was good, since Kunimi and Kindaichi's faces were a mixture of emotions.

The real show began when Kageyama took off his shirt. At least for Tsukishima. He saw how Kindaichi's eyes seemed to almost thirstily take in Kageyama's abs and muscular arms. Kunimi had shut his eyes in an attempt, not to do the inevitable and it seemed to be working, albeit with a little too much effort. It was getting difficult for the SaltBottle to refrain from laughing aloud at the antics of the Seijoh players.

"Hey King! Let's go. We're gonna be late"

Kunimi's eyes snapped open in surprise. Kindaichi whipped around to face Tsukishima. They didn't get how he was calling Kageyama 'King' just like that.

Kageyama shrugged. That was what Tsukishima always called him, no matter what. He didn't mind. It'd be weird if he called him by his last name or first name.

Plus, that name reminded him of his faults, reminded him of how he had been, and what he had lost because of his stupidity. It reminded him of his royal cruelty. And right now, it reminded him, that he had no right to fall in love with the two boys standing but one place away from him. Or another pair of setter spiker boys.

Nope. He'd extinguished that hope with his 'King' like attitude and his 'natural talents'.

Sighing heavily at his depressing thoughts, he banged the locker door shut and waited for the first year setter beside him.

Kunimi grabbed Kindaichi by his arm, indicating clearly that he had had enough of this.

"Let's go", he said in his usual quiet voice.

Kindaichi let himself be dragged, not glancing again at the King. But just as Kunimi was about to open the door, someone else opened it from the other side.

A boy with midnight blue hair and black eyes stepped into the room. He was a little shorter than Kindaichi, and as he entered, he almost knocked over Kunimi, who was standing just by the door. Kindaichi supported him, preventing him from falling.

"Warui warui!" the boy spoke up immediately, apologetic. "I really should have been careful. Are you okay?" he looked at Kunimi, concerned.

Kunimi nodded, he'd just been surprised.

Kindaichi fussed over him.

Kageyama, watching all this drama, felt melancholic, knowing well that he would never be the receiver of those caring caresses.

The boy ran his eyes over the room, before he spotted Kageyama. A grin lit his face as he called out his friend's name.

Kageyama looked up.

"Anzai!" he was surprised.

It would entertaining to see the King's former soldiers getting jealous, thought Tsukishima, lips curving into an evil smirk.

"Go ahead with him," he indicated at the bluenette, "we'll follow along"

Kageyama nodded. He was glad of any excuse to escape from the room. He grabbed his friend's hand and pulled him out of the room, hurriedly.

He didn't notice how angry Kindaichi looked or how Kunimi was biting his lip in his attempt to keep his sanity.

Tsukishima was cackling on the inside.

The poor soldiers! They sure don't seem very happy that the King's social skills have improved!

"So? Aren't you supposed to be with swim club?" Kageyama asked his friend.

Whenever he thought of the word, he felt warm tingles go through him. After the incident at Kitagawa, he'd really thought that he was incapable of being friends with anyone.

Yamato was a friend, but then he was Kageyama's childhood friend who knew him inside out. He also had an open mind and inextinguishable optimism, putting up with Kageyama, even when he was at his rudest. He had stuck by him through the whole King of the Court thing, making him precious. But his real best friend was Hinata and Hinata alone.

Or so he had thought.

Until the ginger head and Suga had talked with him seriously about the need to make more friends, from outside of the volleyball club. He'd been reluctant, the old memories resurfacing, and hadn't put any effort into it. That was when Hinata, in a desperate attempt to make him sociable, spilled the beans about his past to his class. He'd been so in shock at the act, that he'd almost gone into one of his panic attacks.

Although his past revelations made his classmates understand him more, and he had made friends with people like Rikka, the class Prez, Mei, Subaru, among others, his best friend remained Hinata.

Up until Anzai arrived.

He introduced himself quickly, quietly, hood covering his head. He sat next to Kageyama and had actually slept through most of their classes. He never spoke to Kageyama, even when he needed something. He just tried to figure it out himself or gave up quickly.

As Kageyama told Hinata, 'it's like I'm sitting next to my own reflection'

Hinata had laughed a lot at that.

"Why don't you try making friends with him then? You'd be quite a pair."

For a while, Kageyama had been silent. Then he'd asked Hinata very seriously, whether he was fed up with their friendship. Although he had spoken calmly, his heart had been beating fast.

Hinata had shaken his head and explained how Kageyama was going to have to get over his fear of making friends or getting close to people. Kageyama had felt touched at how much his friend looked out for him and had decided to follow his advice, although he was doubtful.

The next day he'd tried to talk to Anzai and had been successful, although both of them, it turned out were just very socially awkward.

After four more months, Kageyama, Hinata, Anzai, Yamato, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Yachi, Mei, Kumiko, had become the best of friends.

In that time, Kageyama had discovered that Anzai had a dare devil streak to him, once you got to know him really well. Anzai had discovered that although Kageyama and he had almost the same likes and dislikes, there was a huge difference between their temperaments. Kageyama got crankier faster, to no one's surprise. Anzai was the slightly more cheerful of the two.

Now the pair were really close and had been delighted when they had got assigned to the same school. Kageyama hadn't still told him about his crushes though.

"Hmm? Oh first day so no practice apparently" his 'friend' answered now.

"Wanna try spiking my sets?" Kageyama challenged, smirking.

The swimmer answered with a smirk of his own.

"Sure!"

As the two boys rushed into the gym, Kageyama glanced at the boy, racing beside him, blue wavy locks fluttering in the wind. For a moment, as he squinted, there seemed to be a ginger haired boy running by him.

"Look straight ahead idiot!" Anzai panted out, "or you'll f-fall!"

He looked ahead but he saw faces flash past in the back of his mind.

Hinata, Anzai, Yamato, Yamaguchi, Yachi, Tsukishima, Noya, Tanaka senpai, the two captains, Suga, Asahi, Narita, Kinnoshita, the new first years, Mei, Kumiko.

"I win!!" Anzai pumped his fist in the air.

Uncharacteristically for him, Kageyama nodded. Anzai looked at him, surprised. A soft smile came on Kageyama's lips, as he thought,

I may have lost a race, but I think I'm winning the marathon.

[dollarstoreghostie]

Can I request a headcannon with asa and jesse with a reader who has hetrochromia ( one eye piercing blue and the other piercing green ) 😊💕

Absolutely!! And my apologies for the late response, I lost my password and got locked out for a long while, but I'm back with a vengeance!! Haha

ANYWHO, A BIT OF CONTEXT

JESSE AND ASA have very very very different love styles and this translates into vastly different relationship dynamics.

FOR INSTANCE, ASA generally doesn't view people as being equal to him. Resulting from his complete disconnect and disassociation with the human race, he views people like novelties, collectables; just another predictable creature to be cataloged and added to his ever-expanding collection of life and art. But you're different- don't get him wrong, you aren't on his level, but you're not so easily replaced. You're special. There's just something about you that has him like a fly in a web. No matter how much he thrashes and tries to free himself, he becomes more entrapped in you. The way you smile and talk and the way you walk and carry yourself and care about these things he can't understand. A part of him, being the drama queen he is, longs for you to put him out of his misery and sink your fangs in— freeing him, just as the spiders do when they consume their prey, but you don't, you refuse to, he's left himself vulnerable in front of you, waiting for you to put him out of his misery.

But you never do, it infuriates him. He disconnects from you, and, in the most uncharacteristic move for him, he leaves you alone and isolates himself from you and anything that reminds him of you and it's in this self-imposed isolation that he finds life so bland without you, it's worse than just missing you, it's longing. He feels like what those old poets spoke of, you won't leave his mind, no matter how he tries, and it's even more angering, but he finds, despite his pride, just how much fondness he has come to feel for you, and love, as tacky a word as that sounds. It's all he can describe it as. Inevitably, he comes to find that despite how much he loathes being out of control that he'd prefer to keep you around. You're just, you're weird, he can't explain it or his fascination with you, but he can't get enough of you.

MEANWHILE, JESSE TAKES AN ENTIRELY STANCE; his love doesn't place you equal to him or even beneath him. You are, in many ways, viewed above him. Now- hear me out here- Jesse would never think you were capable of defending yourself, or hell, even holding your own. But you aren't a pig. You aren't disgusting. You aren't meat in the way he views his victims or nuisances in the form of the brainless yes men that surrounds him in droves, like flies above carrion hoping to have a taste of the kingdom of blood and deceit he's built for himself. You are; you're beautiful. You see things so, not simply, but guilelessly. Unlike the sheep he employs, you are kind, so kind and sweet. You would never try to use him, and he knows this. He relies on this. He can trust you, and he sees you almost like an angel, especially after the accident that disfigured him.

You didn't run from the sight of his face, and that, that did it for him. If he ever had a thought about getting rid of you beforehand. That faded the first time he melted in your hands because, through his half-blind, remaining eye, all he saw in your face was concern and empathy, not disgust, not anger, not an attempt to stay strong and hide those all-consuming, repulsive emotions. He saw the exact reason he fell so deeply for you and the same reason Jesse had spared you of a role in one of his tapes. But this kindness of yours, as much as he adores it, concerns him and infuriates him at times. In his view, HE is the only one who should be on the receiving end of your softness, HE is the only one who deserves it, and these swine, this meat, would dare try to rob him of what only he deserves. The idea is enough to make him enraged. Still, this anger is never directed at you. Instead, those around you because he views you as utterly oblivious to the disgusting habits of the meat around him. To him, you are a victim. You are so wholesome, it's the world that would try to corrupt and turn you into another pig, and he will protect you from it.

NOW, WHY BRING THIS UP, BUN? Well, the thing is, it translates directly into their very different takes on loving your beautiful and unique eyes! Because regardless of their, well, peculiarities in how they love, they will love how you look, and really your personality is what counts the most to them. REGARDLESS

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 / 𝐀𝐒𝐀 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋 / 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐀

ASA IS FASCINATED WITH YOUR EYES. Perhaps they were what drew him to you in the first place. Scratch that, they were definitely what drew Asa to you in the first place. He had been leaving the shitty cafe outside of his university, with his first of many drinks for the day. When he'd taken a minute to catch his breath, the watery, bland and yet strangely bitter taste of the poor excuse for coffee knocking him back when he saw you pass by.

YOU DIDN'T STRIKE HIM AT FIRST, in fact, you seemed a little bland, the shade of your hair and its texture were something he had collected in droves, similarly, your skin, though breathtaking in its own right with the occasional blemish here and there, was nothing he hadn't collected before. In fact, he wouldn't have given you a second glance, if you hadn't turned to him and given him that polite smile.

THE WAY YOUR EYES GLIMMERED IN THE SUNLIGHT, THEIR MISMATCHED HUES SEEMING TO GLISTEN AS THE SHADES FRAMED THE POLITE BEND OF YOUR LIPS. He knew he had to have them - had to have you. But it wouldn't be until he watched you closer that he realized that the way he had initially thought wouldn't suffice. No, he couldn't put you into a jar or stuff you in formaldehyde. As he watched you walk home at the end of the day, the way you bobbed your head to the music, you were endearing, he didn't understand it, but you were. He'd have to hold on for you, play the long haul, as it were. And approach you as Asa far before he would collect you. It's easier to catch flies with honey rather than vinegar after all, and he'd prefer to keep you alive for now.

WHEN HE GOT YOU THOUGH, HE COULD NOT STOP STARING, it was, strange, you'd often turn and find him staring at you, his face unreadable, but his eyes speaking nothing but quiet admiration as he rode whatever train of thought seemed to have taken him at that moment.

AND FOR A TIME, YOU THOUGHT THIS MUST BE A COINCIDENCE, he wasn't looking at you, just in your direction and was lost in thought beforehand. It was a reasonable conclusion in your mind, he was the silent, contemplative, education type. It seemed to complete the persona. But no, no matter what you were doing, he'd be quietly watching. In awe as the light bounced from your eyes, the way the colours shifted. How your face shifted into concentration. How your lips would twitch when you thought of something funny.

WHENEVER YOU TRIED TO CONFRONT HIM, JOKINGLY OR NOT, HE WOULD BRUSH OVER HOW HE WAS WATCHING YOU AND THE LOVING WAY HE SEEMED TO FOCUS ON YOUR FACE. Always an excuse it seemed, but the way he would stumble on his words when confronted, smiling nervously and almost begging you to believe him was adorable and told you more than any explanation ever could.

YOU WOULD NOTICE THOUGH THAT HE'D BECOME FAR MORE INTERESTED IN THE MAKEUP YOU'D WEAR AND THE WAY YOU'D ACCESSORIZE. You think he's trying to be helpful but speaking out of his ass, but on the contrary, Asa has done his homework, he knows how to make your eyes pop, and he would like to make sure you knew how exactly to make your most precious asset look its best.

SOMETHING IN THE VIVID, MISMATCHED HUES OF YOUR EYES BRINGS JESSE BACK TO A SIMPLER TIME. Back when the height of the excitement that came from his twisted life were the frequent visits to his father's funeral home. How his father would force teach him how to dissect women. The ringing in his ears when his little hands shook to much to properly hold the blade. The hot tears that ran down his face when he inevitably left into the back alley, humiliated and tears and the soft respect of the old alley cat that lived back there.

SHE NEVER HAD A NAME, BUT SHE DIDN'T NEED ONE, the soft tufts of orange fur, that sweet, rhythmic purr and those striking eyes. She would come to him and curl up in his lap, purring and meowing and batting at the drawstrings on his jumper. And he would forget the humiliation, he would forget his father and the women, and he would play. To this day, he could still recall the warm fuzzy feeling of weightlessness that came as that cat showed him the love and affection his father never would.

BUT EVENTUALLY, THE CAT STOPPED COMING. Logically, Jesse knew the cat had probably passed away - the last few visits, he could recall the sharp bumps of the cat's bones through its skin, how small and frail it looked. A part of him feared the worst and contemplated bringing her home, but he knew if the cat didn't pass on the streets, she would meet a far worse fate in his home. But the sting of the loss of who seemed to be his only respite from his father and the only constant in his life burned.

AS THE YEARS PASSED, HE EVENTUALLY FORGOT ABOUT THE CAT, but the feelings it gave him, the warmth and comfort he felt as that cat circled between his legs, its tail curling as though it had a mind of its own and those striking eyes staring up at him with nothing but love... that never left.

WHEN HE FIRST MET YOU, HE HAD THAT FAMILIAR RUSH, LIKE SEEING A GHOST. It took him a while to realize where it came from - after all, the years eventually blend together into this stew of anger, lashing out, the wins and the loses and the tapes. But when he gets it - he gets it. That strange little cat and you? The coincidence is impeccable, and he gives a hoarse chuckle at the thought.

HE GIVES YOU THE NICKNAME 'ALLEY' AND 'KITTY' you don't understand it, and he will never explain, lest you decide to go poking around in the oldest dredges of his family photos, but it's cute, and you can tell by the creases in the corner of his eyes and the knowing half-grins he gives at your mock offence that he means the term lovingly. As strange as that seems.

AND YOU CAN BET HE'LL BRAG ABOUT YOU TOO. No one in his 'circle' would ever be allowed to see you - let alone contact you or see you for themselves - those sheep don't need that leverage over him. But they will hear all about your eyes, your beautiful eyes, the way they smile, how they bunch up with anger, how they don't hold the same animosity, degeneracy of his past suitors. Of whom there were many.

ITS ALSO NEEDLESS TO SAY, BUT THERE WILL BE GIFTS TOO, Jesse isn't much of a gifter in general, but he makes an exception for you. He loves seeing you dressed up, fancy, like a gift, like you deserve to be. You make him so happy, after all. But there will be jewellery, earrings, maybe a necklace, bracelets, rings... Whatever you want in those colours.

[guqin-and-flute]

In Your Hands [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[@theleakypen​ *points accusingly* Look what you did! 😁]

[Second Chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

It starts small and slow, because Yanli asked and because A-Yao listens. It’s more delightful than she could have imagined, to shyly mention something and see it tucked away behind a smile. To have it come back later and set before her in reality. 

She isn’t truly used to receiving a great many gifts--A-Cheng and Xianxian are men of action, showing love in hugs and favors and tucking her into bed when she is too tired or sick to do so herself. (Now she has 3 people who would do this. Sweet boys. How lucky is she?) 

Usually, it’s her that brings the food they like, makes sure to tuck little notes into the folds of their clothes when they pack for a trip, brings back little knick knacks from the market that might make them smile. So, when she wakes alone in the crisp air of their bedroom and goes to do her hair for the day, she is startled to find a silver hair pin topped with a delicate metal lotus with tiny pink beads tucked in the petals that mirror the ones interspersed throughout the 2 trailing chains that dangle beneath it. There is no note, but it had been placed very obviously and precisely in the middle of her table. Yanli finds herself smiling as she picks it up and admires it, noting the fine, swirling engravings that etch down the stick itself. It’s a gift! For her! 

She, of course, slides it into her wound hair and finds herself holding her cheeks as she grins at herself in the mirror and  turns this way and that, watching the little chains sway with her movement, clicking gently. The flush on her face matches the beads. It’s a little silly, she tells herself, to be blushing over a gift like this. He’s my husband! I’m already married! 

There is still that giddy lightness in her chest that feels as though she will burst out laughing at any moment, like the morning sun has roosted in her heart.

Because it’s more than just the gift, of course. She and A-Yao had been chatting over tea one evening on the pavilion over the lake, listening to the night frogs and the fresh wind through the curtains and distant treetops. It had been very soon after their realization (their breakthrough, she privately considers it, the silly man, of course she cares for him, of course) and he had been watching her with warm eyes. “Jiang-furen,” he had said lightly, because it made her wrinkle her nose at the formality--and she had, and he had smiled. “Would you allow this one to court you?”

Oh. 

‘I think I would like to try,’ she had told him, and with such confidence, too. Loving. And here they were, at the trying part. Complication had swelled within her chest like a tide, wanting and fear and a sudden shyness. The thrill of flattery and being wanted; the fear of ruining this, too, somehow, by too demanding. Unworthy.

The fear that she would not be able to...feel the right way. She had never been in love, not even the giggling, girlish love her friends had spoken of as children, nor had she ever understood the longing whispers of her shimeis and shijies when they saw the young men unloading the boats, sweaty and gleaming in the sun. She had been confused when her mother had lectured her on the importance and the virtue of staying out of the beds of men. It had just never seemed as difficult as anyone made it out to be. She had been prepared for the duties of a wife and a mother when she had agreed to marriage--both times--and had not meant to shy from it. It was the way things were. And she did want a child--several of them, actually. 

And then had come A-Yao with his gentle understanding and his poor wounded heart and his telling her that she had no obligations and him, no expectations. And that secret part of her that had bound herself up tight in the waiting had breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

Now, within the bounds of marriage, she was being asked. Is it what she wanted, of them, with him. It was real and present with no barriers, time or otherwise. And she didn’t know. Because he was sweet and kind and she did not want any part of him hurt.

It had almost been easier when there had been a straight path she had been bound to walk with no option of deviating. Inevitable. 

Oh, and she had been silent for too long, leaving him waiting and wondering. She had felt him go completely still across the table. Hurriedly, she moved her hand over to cover his, to quell any rising anger or misunderstanding, had opened her mouth to try to stumble through an explanation--

And his hand had covered hers. And he had waited. And she had loved him for it. His face was stiffer than she might like, his pleasant smile up, now, like armor against whatever he thought was going through her mind, but he allowed the time it took for her to gather this all up. “A-Yao…” she had begun and her throat had closed up and she had chastised herself for being a silly, stupid girl and making him wait, making him fear that she was saying no, because she wasn’t, she did want to try, for him, for her, because she could feel the first step in her heart of loving him in a way that was unlike A-Cheng and A-Xian, unlike her mother and father, but she couldn’t say exactly where or how far those steps would take her and she would never want to break a promise or get his hopes up and be unable to--unable to--

“A-Li,” he had said, polite shield of a smile disappearing, brow tucking into worry as her eyes filled with frustrated tears. “Have you...changed your mind?”

She shook her head quickly, mouth working and oh, why couldn’t she ever just speak? 

“Are...you sure? You don’t....”

Yanli nodded, just as vigorously and she sniffed, trying to stem whatever this was. “I’m...Of course….Yes, of course, you can, I’ll....”

Hurriedly, he had risen to kneel beside her, below her, both his hands on hers, now, where they rested on her knees, face open and almost scared. “A-Li,” his tone had been urgent. “What do you think I’m asking you?”

Finally, finally, she had choked her way through an explanation, an apology, a promise to try to do better, to try to fix whatever incomplete love she was offering and his fingers had tightened over her own. 

His voice had been rough. “I would never ask something of you that you’re not ready to give.”

“But...what if...I’m never ready?” she had managed in a watery whisper.

His answer had been as gentle as the breeze that brushed by them from across the lake, flickering the flames in the lanterns. “Then I will never ask.”

“Wouldn’t that be horribly selfish of me?” Her eyes had remained fastened on the rise and fall of his chest in his purple robes, unable to meet his gaze. She could hear her mother in her head, knew what she would say; yes. Selfish and childish and unrealistic. If Yanli could not cultivate, if she could not be strong or clever or useful, what on earth did she expect to be her duty to her family? Did she think she was special? Did she think that marriage was just easy for everyone? 

“Why would it be selfish?” 

When she gave a small, despairing laugh at what she assumed had been a joke, he had simply blinked at her. She had wiped her eyes. “Children, for one, A-Yao.”

Something distant had come over his eyes, the look he got when he was puzzling through a problem for A-Cheng on the spot and his tone was one of musing when he said,“If you wanted a child, I could get you a child.”

That laugh had burst from her in shock and some of the tightness in her chest lightened. “You’re as ridiculous as A-Xian. Is YaoYao 3, as well, with that sort of reasoning? Where do you think children come from? A roadside store?” Shaking her head, she had bopped the tip of his nose with the crook of her finger and tucked his already neat hair behind his shoulder, soothing herself, giving an excuse to be close to him.

He had smiled, slow and sleek, head tilting a little, saying, “Of course,” and nothing more. When he had simply waited patiently for her to stop fussing over his hair, she had taken his dear face in her hands and ran her thumbs over his cheeks.

“We’re here again,” she had noted and knew by the way his smile dimmed, slightly, and the softness that came back into his eyes that he, too, was thinking of their wedding night when they sat in this very same position; him at her feet, promising to take no more than what was offered; her holding him in fondness. She sighed and tilted her head in hopeless asking. “And what about a wife’s duty to her husband? The other part you’re promised.”

“Neither of our vows said any such thing. All I was promised was loyalty and support.” His voice had quieted further, and a tentative had hand lifted, and rested on her cheek, light as a moth’s wing. “Which you have given. I want to court A-Li because…” To her delight, his cheeks had pinkened slightly, and he looked young and sweet and oh, yes, she loved him as A-Yao--whatever that meant to her, she did. “Because I want to. I-I want to do it the right way, to please you, and bring you gifts and gain your favor. Because you deserve it.”

She had felt a warm curling in her throat, like tears, but not (loved! loved!) and she had smiled and hadn’t been able to help from leaning down and kissing his forehead, kissing the tip of his nose. Then, daringly, because she wanted to, she had brushed her lips over his and he had sat, hands carefully in his lap, still as a stone as she pressed them, warm and soft against hers. He smelled like the fragrant flower tea they had been drinking. “You already have my favor, ” she had murmured when she sat back from the chaste kiss, feeling her own face heat up as his had. Oh, as his was!

“If it…” he had started, almost staccato and slightly too loud, as if he had surprised himself and he pressed his lips together and made a face like he regretted it. But then he pushed out, almost in a rush. “If it makes you feel any better, I also wasn’t...looking forward to...that night. I...would have slept with you. If it was what you had required.” He took a breath and pressed his hands, chill in the night air, over the backs of hers on his face. “But, now, we can go as slowly or as far as only you desire. It is in your hands. I’m simply happy to have A-Li.”

Her heart felt as if it were the tail of some magnificent fish, fluttering and flashing around with a gleaming joy. She believed him. Knowing what she knew of his mother, of his father, and of how that rested in him like chains and blood and hurting, she believed every word. Safe. Safe to test, to try. To stop.

He was safety.

“One condition,” she had said, schooling her face to seriousness and warning so quickly, he must have known it was a jest. 

He, in turn, however, didn’t make light, and only smiled, dimpled and almost completely real. “Name it.”

“I can court you in turn.” 

At this, his face had dropped into blank startlement for a brief moment before a crooked little smile had hitched itself back on his face. That was real. She had been able to tell. “Of course,” he had agreed steadily. “Anything at all.”

And now, as she leaves their room with his first gift in her hair, she sees him down the walkway, slim and purposeful in his angling, talking to A-Xian about something. All at once, something mischievous and powerful skitters up from her stomach and down her arms like laughter and she straightens and glides like she was taught, a grin on her lips. A-Xian looks up first and grins back. Excitedly, he bounds up for her to stroke his cheek, which she does, still walking, still passing, and as she draws level, she gives a preening toss of her head, making the little beads of the pin click and flicks her eyes over.

A-Yao is watching her performance with eyebrows raised, eyes wide in surprised appreciation, fresh delight pressed behind his lips, making his whole face light. Like they are sharing a private joke. Like he thinks she’s beautiful and funny. His regard feels like lovely fingers combing through her hair and, beneath this silly posturing, she’s blushing all over again. “Husband,” she greets with exaggerated propriety, inclining her head. The chains sway in her peripheral vision.

He inclines his head back, smile wide and gracious. “Wife.”

She doesn’t break her stride, continuing her glide down the walkway, not looking back. She hears A-Xian say, “What the heck was that about?”

She is in earshot long enough to hear A-Yao laugh, quietly.

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

Jim was startled awake by the buzzing of the intercom and could barely keep back a yawn as he dragged himself off the sofa and sloped towards the front door, his “quick kip” having turned into an hour-long nap. He wondered who would be visiting this time of the day. Freddie was away doing a photoshoot and Khaleel was at school, so he hadn’t been expecting any visitors.

‘Who is it?’ He mumbled sleepily into the intercom.

‘It’s me.’ A familiar voice replied.

Mary had started making a habit of popping around in the afternoon, even if she knew Freddie wasn’t there. Jim would make her a cup of tea and they would sit in the kitchen or the garden, chatting for a couple of hours. It seemed to be her way of extending an olive branch, and as odd as he sometimes found her, Jim was happy enough to oblige; having Mary as a friend was preferable to the hostility that once existed between them.

But when Mary stepped through the front door, Jim immediately sensed that something was amiss. The woman looked nervous, clutching a large carrier bag in her hands as her eyes darted around the hallway with uncertainty, like she was expecting a tiger to spring out of nowhere.

‘It’s lovely to see you.’ Jim took one of her hands in his own and pressed a kiss against her cheek, which seemed to pacify her, if only slightly. ‘Is everything alright?’

Mary hesitated, before giving him a rather forced smile. ‘Yes, everything’s fine.’ She glanced around again. ‘Freddie’s not here, is he?’

‘He has a photoshoot today.’

‘Oh, yes. Of course he does.’

Jim frowned, his thumb extending to gently stroke her knuckles reassuringly. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

She seemed tempted to lie again but must have realised that doing so would be pointless. She sighed and gave Jim’s hand a squeeze. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’

Jim took her through to the lounge, calling for Phoebe to put the kettle on for them all. He sat on one of the sofas beside Mary, noting how she fiddled with the carrier bag before setting it at her feet. Whatever was in it seemed to be the source of her discomfort.

‘Freddie’s parents have been in contact with me.’ She finally announced, taking Jim by surprise.

‘Ah.’ The Irishman now understood why she had been so wary about Freddie being present. ‘I see.’

‘I didn’t say anything because I knew Freddie would hit the roof if he found out I’ve been speaking to them. But they were desperate for my help and I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘You could have said no.’ Jim muttered, though he immediately felt like an ass when he saw Mary cringe with guilt. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But he’s cut them off for a reason, Mary. They almost cost us our son.’

‘I know, I know. I’m so sorry, Jim.’ Her cheeks went pink and for a moment Jim was worried she might cry. ‘What they did to you and Freddie was unforgiveable. But they really regret their actions. They just want to talk to Freddie, tell him they’re sorry, explain.’

‘I don’t want to hear their explanations and neither does Freddie.’ Jim replied firmly. ‘There’s nothing to discuss. They did what they did, and there’s nothing they can say or do to redeem themselves. I know you’re just trying to help, Mary, but they’ve hurt Freddie enough. I won’t stand by and let them do it again. You tell them that if they truly care about Freddie, they’ll stay away.’

Mary nodded sadly. ‘I had a feeling you’d say that. I can’t say I blame you. Jer and Bomi have always been good to me but sometimes I think they blame me for not keeping Freddie “in check” so to say. Honestly, at times it felt as though they expected me to wave a bloody magic wand and just stop their son from being gay.’

‘They’re products of their time.’ Replied Jim with a sigh. ‘They’re good people, but if they can’t accept Freddie for who he is, then they can’t be a part of his life. Freddie’s tired of leading a double life, having to pretend he’s something he’s not for their comfort. His illness made him realise that life is too short to live by other people’s standards. I had hoped his parents would understand that but clearly they don’t.’

Silence overcame the pair, only interrupted when Phoebe walked in with a tray of tea and biscuits. The three of them fell into pleasant conversation for the next few hours, though Jim could tell that Mary had been upset by the whole ordeal and he made a point of holding her hand to comfort her. After Phoebe cleared away the dishes and retired to the conservatory, Jim escorted Mary to the front door, his eye falling upon the plastic carrier bag that she was still clinging to like a lifeline.

‘What’s in the bag?’ He enquired, ignoring his mother’s voice at the back of his mind reprimanding him for being nosy.

With great hesitation, Mary reached into the bag and pulled out a large baby blue quilt, holding it up so Jim could see. It appeared to be hand-knitted, embroidered with floral patterns and tiny white birds. In the middle, the word BIJOU had been sewn in thick, calligraphed letters.

‘Khaleel’s blanket.’ Jim observed, feeling his heart sink to the bottom of his ribcage.

‘She wants him to have it.’ Mary said softly, her eyes slightly moist. ‘In case she never gets to see him again.’

Jim knew that he should turn it down. He wasn’t going to be manipulated into feeling sorry for his in-laws, especially after everything that had happened. But he remembered the look of excitement on Khaleel’s face whenever he came back from Dādī and Dādā’s house and gleefully updated him on the progress of his new blanket. The child would sit and watch Jer knit for hours, following every rise and dip of the needle as if he was in a trance. Even two years later, he still asked about the blanket, confused as to why Dādī hadn’t finished it yet, why they never went around to Jer and Bomi’s for tea at the weekend anymore. Denying his poor boy the last remaining tie to his beloved grandparents seemed unacceptably cruel.

‘Thank you, Mary.’ Jim took the blanket, folding it up with the greatest of care. ‘I appreciate you telling me. I wish this could have turned out differently.’

‘Me too.’ Mary replied. ‘I’m sorry, Jim. Please, tell Freddie I’m sorry too.’

--

Jim had just sent Khaleel up to brush his teeth when he heard keys turning in the front door and the familiar sound of his husband’s voice calling, ‘darling, I’m home!’

He sighed, pulling out the blanket from where he had hidden it in the drinks cabinet and smoothed it out on the sofa, preparing himself for the row that was inevitably coming his way.

‘You won’t believe the day I’ve had.’ Freddie drawled as he glided into the lounge. ‘Roger came in with a raging hangover, so we all had to wait until he’d drank a litre of coffee before we-’

He cut off as soon as he noticed the blanket, the smile immediately disappearing from his face. Jim expected him to start screaming and shouting right then and there but he didn’t say a word. He seemed frozen, so shocked he couldn’t utter a syllable.

When he finally did speak, his voice was low and dangerous. ‘What the hell is that doing here?’

‘Mary brought it over.’ Jim said calmly. ‘Your mother gave it to her to give to Khaleel. She wants him to have it.’

More silence. Freddie wasn’t often left speechless, but right now he seemed genuinely lost for words. Jim could only imagine what was going through his head; all the suppressed memories that were suddenly resurfacing, coiling around his brain like a venomous snake.

‘Get rid of it.’ Freddie whispered.

‘We can’t keep this from him.’ Jim replied, being mindful not to raise his voice. ‘You know how much this blanket means to Khaleel. If he ever finds out we kept it from him, he’ll never forgive us.’

‘I want it gone!’ Freddie snapped, hands balling into fists like a stubborn child. ‘Why the fuck did you accept it? Why the fuck did Mary bring it? Who the hell does she think she is?’

He abruptly turned and started marching towards the phone, grabbing the handset, and stabbing at the buttons furiously.

‘Freddie, what are you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ Freddie growled, ‘I’m going to give that backstabber a piece of my mind! Hello, Piers? Put Mary on the phone. I don’t care if she’s asleep, put her on the phone right now-!’

‘Freddie!’ Jim snatched the handset and slammed it back on the receiver, startling the Persian man. ‘Don’t blame Mary for this. Your parents put her in an awkward position, and she did what she thought was right. I understand why you’re upset, and you have every right to be! But don’t take it out on her.’

Freddie scoffed. ‘Since when are you two the best of friends? She knows what my parents did to us, yet she’s willing to do their dirty work for them.’

‘She was just trying to help. She thought this might help you reconcile with them if you saw how much they care.’

‘If they really cared about me, they would have come themselves; instead, they’re using my ex-girlfriend as a fucking middleman!’

‘You know I resent them as much as you do, but we can’t go on lying to Khaleel forever. He hasn’t seen his grandparents in two years, Freddie. He’s always asking when we’re going to see Dādī and Dādā again, and I can barely look him in the eye when I use the old “they’re busy” excuse. One day, he’s going to find out what really happened, and he’ll resent us for not telling him the truth.’

‘And how the hell do you explain to a seven-year-old that his own grandparents don’t value him as much as his cousins because he’s adopted, and his parents are poofs? Please tell me Jim because I’d love to know! You don’t think I want to tell him the truth? Do you think I enjoy lying to his face whenever he asks about them? I’m so glad you have such a high opinion of me, darling!’

Freddie’s dark eyes swivelled to the blanket, sparkling with tears, and filled with hate; he suddenly grabbed it, making a beeline for the fireplace only to be intercepted by Jim.

‘Freddie, don’t.’ Jim begged, his grip firm on the blanket, though he made sure not to pull it in fear that it might tear. ‘Don’t do it. You’ll never forgive yourself.’

‘Fuck off!’ Freddie spat, tugging in an effort to get it out of Jim’s hands. ‘I don’t want any trace of those people in my house! If you truly loved me, you’d understand!’

Jim froze, his hold on the blanket loosening. Then he released it altogether.

‘Fine.’ He said coldly, in a voice that made Freddie feel like a ghost had passed through him. ‘Go ahead. Burn the damn thing. But when Khaleel asks me when his blanket is coming, I’m not going to lie to him anymore. You can explain to him that you tossed it into the fire. So, go ahead. Do it.’

Freddie stared at the flames determinedly, Jim’s words doing somersaults in his head. His fingers itched to just throw the quilt and watch it burn but picturing the look of heartbreak on Khaleel’s face deterred him from doing so.

‘Fuck.’ He hissed, tearing away from the fireplace, and fleeing the lounge.

Fucking Jim, he thought as he tore up the staircase, swearing under his breath as he made it to the landing and stormed towards the airing cupboard, fucking fucking Jim.

He threw open the cupboard door and was about to bundle the blanket behind the towels when he noticed the words that had been sewn into it.

BIJOU

Tears pooled into Freddie’s eyes. Almost instinctively, he brought the blanket close to his face and softly inhaled. It smelled of lavender and the spices Mama used for cooking. It smelled like home.

Freddie furiously wiped his eyes and shoved the blanket right into the far end of the cupboard.

Part 34 of the Jimercury kid series

Oof, you weren't lying when you said that angst was on its way for our favourite family. Firstly, Freddie's parents reaching out to Mary and trying to make her act like a pacifier, instead of say, Kash, is very plausible, especially after Kash's indirect involvement in the entire fiasco.

This is honestly such a tough decision for Freddie, and Jim too. No matter how big an olive branch his parents extend, the shadow of their actions will always loom over their relationship. I really feel for our two dads. And it's definitely not an easy thing to explain to Khaleel, either. But should they give it a shot? Or is it better to keep from their son the fact that his grandparents were the cause of his trauma?

I just love how well you're able to convey the emotions of your characters in such few words. I could not only see, but also feel their pain, and oof... hats off to you for being so evocative with your words.

I really cannot wait to see what happens next💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

(All the parts of this series can also be found under the tag #freddie and jim and their baby on this blog)

[fellulahh]

‘Mammon visits MC in the human realm and Lucifer gets jealous’ Part 28/???

WARNING NOTICE: this chapter involves some mild violence and upsetting language

-

“MC’s not here - I can’t find her.” Lucifer interrupted abruptly. “Please keep Lillian safe, I’m going after her.”

He hung up just as fast as he called Satan. Breathing heavily, he began running down the street after hearing another scream. Without realising, his raven wings sprouted from his back and his horns twisted through his hair.

In all of his demonic glory, Lucifer soared into the air with wrath seeping through his body.

-

Hearing her cries in the distance, Lucifer followed her voice until he found himself hovering over a nearby alley. Although he couldn’t see her, he knew she was nearby. He brought his body to the floor with some strength as he began storming toward the screams.

His heart thumped in his chest as he had very little time to process the danger that MC had gotten herself into. Lucifer’s raven hair fell across his face as he frantically turned his head from left to right. The cries had stopped.

“MC?!” He bellowed.

He stopped breathing. Refusing to make any noise as he waited for her voice to answer him, he remained frozen.

Suddenly, he heard her. “Lucifer!”

Her voice was desperate and it was clear she was struggling. Quickly shifting his body between the various abandoned objects discarded in the alley, he eventually turned a corner, finally finding her.

Only MC wasn’t alone.

With a strong arm wrapped tightly around her neck, MC struggled to breathe. Lucifer’s eyes widened at the sight, immediately recognising the demon that had kidnapped her.

“You see, darling? I told you he’d come straight away.” The stranger smirked as he teased MC. Her body squirmed as she tried to loosen his grip. “Poor Lucifer’s grown weak falling for a human.”

“Belial...” he seethed under his breath.

“You know him?!” MC breathed before the grip on her neck tightened causing her to choke. Desperately clawing at the demon’s arms, MC’s eyes became bloodshot as she lost air.

“Let her go.” Lucifer demanded through gritted teeth, ignoring MC’s question as his eyes began to darken. Even from a distance, Lucifer’s body seemed to tower over Belial’s. His wings spanned across his back, stretching out behind him. Usually anybody would cower at his threats but today was different.

Feeling a sudden wave of intimidation flow through him, Belial brought his face next to MC’s abruptly.

“Say it.” He muttered in her ear quickly, “SAY IT OR YOUR PRECIOUS CRETIN OF A BABY DIES.”

Tears pricked in MC’s eyes as he shouted in her ear. “Lucifer do not harm him!” She spoke desperately. “Don’t lay a finger on him...dont fight for me.” She whimpered. “I command it.”

Feeling all of his strength seem to be ripped away from his body, Lucifer was left completely defenceless as MC used their pact against him. “No...” he whispered in disbelief, wrath emanating from his body. His chest began to heave as he glared at Belial who was now grinning manically. “What have you done?!”

“Did you really think I’d come and fight you and be inevitably beaten by the great Lucifer?” The noble demon laughed, “no...I had to get you completely weak and thankfully your little human here was the key to do that; you were a fool to make a pact with her.”

“Who are you?” MC whispered wearily in a faint voice.

“You don’t know me dear?” Belial sniggered, “Has Lucifer never mentioned us noble demons before?”

Lucifer breathed heavily as all he could do in that moment was stare at the demon.

“Your precious Lucifer and all of his brothers aren’t the only important demons in this kingdom; there are others far less easily manipulated than them. Imagine allowing a human to stay with you and then impregnating her with your child.” Belial directed at Lucifer. “You completely sicken me.”

Rage filled the eldest brother as he continued to listen to every word.

“After the news reached us of your happy little family we had no choice but to step in. How barbaric would it be to allow a half demon half human baby grow up in our kingdom? It’s a mockery on us all!” Belial seethed, “The others chose to do nothing but I wasn’t going to let it happen. Your baby won’t live to see another day, Lucifer. And neither will she.” He spoke, yanking MC by her hair to make her look up.

“You told me you wouldn’t harm her!” MC cried, referring to Lillian.

“The fact that you believed me proves how feeble and mindless of a species you humans are.” He spat.

“Diavolo will have your head when he hears of this.” Lucifer threatened.

“Will he?” Belial asked patronisingly, “then why didn’t he warn you after I first sent him a threat?”

Lucifer’s heart stopped as it was impacted by a second betrayal of the demon Lord.

Noticing his shocked expression, Belial laughed. “Oh Lucifer, did you not know? You’re not the first to receive one of your raven feathers.” He smirked. “Has your Lord Diavolo deceived you?” He asked, touching a nerve.

By now MC’s body had grown weak. Her head was slumped as silent tears flowed down her pink cheeks. Gazing at Lucifer with pained eyes, she winced every time she felt Belial do so much as move.

“Your precious Prince only cares about uniting the realms. In truth, he doesn’t care about her at all. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I killed her and the baby.” Belial smiled cruelly at the vulnerable demon in front of him.

“Is that what you think?” A new voice boomed from behind.

Lucifer’s breath hitched in his throat as the almighty Diavolo stood tall in his demon form behind Belial. And boy, was he livid.

The demon’s eyes immediately widened as he lost all confidence. Dropping MC’s body to the floor, she landed with a thud as she was unable to support her weight. Her hand flew to her neck as she took his heavy breaths, trying to stay conscious after being gagged for so long.

Seeing Belial lose his focus momentarily, Lucifer rushed to her side. “MC!” He cried desperately, holding her body in his arms.

Distracted by the demon lord, Belial turned around, his huge eyes slowly trailing up the colossal form of Diavolo until he met his dark amber eyes. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The Prince asked in a low, serious tone.

Knowing he’d reached his demise no matter what he’d say, Belial refused to cower despite being beaten. “You’re all foolish.” He spat at Diavolo, “You’re a disgrace to your kingdom! How dare you spit on all our legacy by allowing one of our own to have a baby with a measly human like her?!”

Diavolo remained silent as he glared at the writhing demon in front of him.

“You shouldn’t be King.” Belial shook his head, “No true King of Devildom would allow that!” He stated, pointing at Lucifer and MC. “Your Father was right about you. You’re a pathetic excuse of a Prince.”

Deciding he’d had enough, Diavolo began striding toward Belial with a sinister look on his face. “Enough is enough.” He muttered, lifting one of his large hands to grip Belial’s throat harshly. In one quick squeeze, his neck snapped. Diavolo scrunched his face as he tensed his body.

Dropping Belial’s lifeless body to the floor, he glanced at Lucifer who was staring at him wide eyed while MC clung onto his body. Although he looked at the eldest brother with hurt eyes, he went to speak but then hesitated.

Closing his mouth, Diavolo turned around.

Lucifer watched the demon lord as he slowly stepped away before disappearing down another alley. He was left completely speechless as he watched the demon who’d betrayed him, now save his, MC’s and Lillian’s lives in a matter of seconds only to leave immediately after.

With his eyes falling onto Belial’s body, Lucifer’s face hardened. Helping MC sit up, he then got up onto his feet. “Look away, my love.” He spoke lowly as he approached the corpse. “You won’t want to see this.”

-

As Satan slowly placed his D.D.D down on the table, he was left white in the face. Glancing down at Lillian who was cooing in his arms, he held her close as he tried not to worry.

“Who was that?” Mammon asked immediately, being the nosey brother he is.

“Lucifer.” Satan sighed, unsure whether to tell the brothers what he’d just heard. “MC’s feeling a little weak so they’re going to head back to the house. He asked if we could look after Lillian.” Satan lied.

“Ah looks like ya spending time with ya Uncle Mammon!” He grinned holding out his arms.

Very reluctantly, Satan passed him Lillian. But much to his amusement, she immediately began crying as soon as Mammon held her in his arms.

“I don’t think she likes you.” Satan stated point-blank.

“Wha?? Nah she’s probably just hungry!” Mammon shook his head getting flustered as Lillian continued to wail. “Come on, smile for ya Uncle Mammon!” He pleaded desperately causing Satan to laugh.

Turning his head away from his brother after being distracted momentarily, Satan let out a sigh as his mind returned to the phone call he’d just had. Lucifer said very little but every word he did say repeated in Satan’s mind. What was happening? Was it Diavolo?

As time passed he began to feel more and more anxious. If something happened to MC does that mean Lillian wasn’t safe either? Not wanting to take any chances being out in the open, Satan made the decision to leave The Fall early. Although the brothers whined at first, he eventually managed to convince them which did involve allowing Beel to smuggle his food in his pockets.

As they all arrived back at the house, Mammon immediately began searching for MC with Lillian sat in the baby pouch on his torso. After checking every room, he appeared back in the doorway.

“MC and Lucifer aren’t here?” He said confused.

“Oh? Did I not tell you?” Satan spoke quickly, “They’re at the doctors.”

Satisfied with his response, Mammon shrugged as he walked off, Lillian still in her pouch.

An hour had passed and the brothers all went off to do their own thing other than Satan. Sitting with Lillian asleep in one of his arms, he held a book in the other. Although he seemed to be focused, he hadn’t actually turned the page for about twenty minutes. He just stared blankly at the words, anxiously awaiting a phone call from Lucifer.

However, his anxieties were soon cured when he heard the front door open. Standing up carefully, he carried Lillian through the house after hearing Lucifer’s voice.

As soon as he appeared in the entranceway, MC’s eyes lit up when she saw her baby girl. “Satan!” She gasped, running up to him. “Thank you so much.” She spoke with a croaky voice.

She gently hugged his side, ensuring not to disturb Lillian as she gazed at her daughter with glassy eyes. Lucifer stepped up to him too with a sincere expression. “Thank you, Satan.” He spoke quietly.

“What happened?” The blonde haired demon asked confused, noticing the redness of MC’s neck.

“Belial.” Lucifer stated with a stiff face.

“The noble?” Satan questioned.

“Yes.” Lucifer sighed, “it’d seem he didn’t agree with MC and I having a baby together...let’s just say his opinions were distorted and his mind was stuck in the past to say the least.

“Was?” Satan asked with an arched brow.

“He’s dead.” Lucifer stated simply.

“You killed a noble?!” Satan questioned in disbelief.

“No, Diavolo did.”

“Diavolo?” Satan asked once again, “when did he come into this?!”

“You should probably sit down.”

[innittowinit]

Run Rabbit Run (1/3)

Summary:

When Assassin Technoblade receives an offer he can't refuse, to kill the king, he starts to live a double life as a knight inside the castle walls.

Unexpected to him, he meets a pair of troublesome brothers, a skilled gardener and a father figure in the process, Can he go through with it this time?

AO3

Arriving at the castle gates

The objective was simple: infiltrate the palace, earn the king’s trust, kill him and then get the hell out of there. Really, for a skilled assassin, such as Technoblade, it should have been easy; he’d been given a couple months to work on getting this target but he had been confident he’d have it done in less than a week.

Usually, he would never accept offers to assassinate royalty but he had been down on funds and his client had offered him so much gold. You see, most of the time the work it took to not get caught for these kinds of jobs just outweighed the reward but this person must have really had some vendetta against the King as, when Techno had initially declined, he had quadrupled the amount of gold he would get as an award.

In today’s economy? He was not in any position to be declining that kind of offer.

And so, confident that he was being paid fairly for his work, he began working under the King - arguably one of the biggest mistakes of his lifetime.

---

“There’s a new guard coming in today” A scruffy looking boy, dressed in a long white apron had chirped as he stacked plates and glasses full of expensive looking cuisine and beverages onto a tray for the butler to carry.

“Knight, Tommy” The butler corrected as he repositioned some of the plates so they wouldn’t fall “And I don’t know why you care so much, Phil brings in new Knights all the time”

“Ugh!” Tommy, the boy in the apron, had groaned as he dug his hand into the silverware drawer, trying to fish out some that he would need to polish the least, “Come on, Wil! Poor guy is probably terrified, he probably thinks Phil will like...accuse him of treason or something if he makes any sort of mistake, we should welcome him!”

“Okay Okay” Sighing, Wilbur picked up the tray, grabbing the silverware for Tommy once he decided he was taking too long, “We’ll go say hi to him when he gets here, for now, just do your job and cook the food”

With that, the conversation seemed to be over, Wil ruffling the cook’s already messy hair and leaving to take the tray to whatever room the King was in.

---

Applying for the role of Knight had all been a part of his plan, having an excuse to be carrying a weapon around with him was far far better than having to try and hide it and come up with excuses whenever someone found one. Part of being an assassin was being able to plan far far in advance.

Walking up to the Palace, it was obvious that this was a wealthy kingdom, not at all like where he had been born. In a way, the fact that he’d be killing someone rich helped with the guilt. Jealousy could always be more powerful than guilt. Creamish grey pillars stood tall on either side of the actual castle portion of the palace, the entire thing being surrounded in a tall stone wall that looked as if it was more for aesthetics than for use in an actual battle. In Techno’s experienced opinion, it didn’t look like it had been used at all for the original intended purpose, in fact it looked as if it had been scrubbed clean by the servants after every storm to keep it looking pristine.

Somebody must have been watching him approach since as soon as he got to the moat a large drawbridge was lowered for him to walk across and into the safety of the walls.

“New guy!” Whipping his head around to the source of the sound, he spotted two men dressed in different uniforms, They were both taller than he was however the blonde boy was quite clearly younger, having more boyish features on his face.

The pair quickly jogged over to him, both grinning like idiots as they introduced themselves, “I’m Wilbur and this is Tommy!” The taller of the two spoke “He’s my younger brother, the king took us in to work for him when we were living on the streets so please don’t be nervous, he’s extremely kind and will definitely want you to see this as your new home”

Techno had to keep himself from chuckling, to him this was nothing more than a workplace, somewhere he could plant his seeds and then strike when nobody was looking, still though, he needed to keep himself as unremarkable as possible in order for his plan to work.

“Quiet type huh? That’s fine, I’m sure the King would still like to meet you first though so just follow us” Wilbur hummed as he spun around on the balls of his feet, leading Tommy and Techno towards the main building. It was a little morbid how they didn’t realise they were inviting death into their home, the thought of the pain he would inevitably bring these people always seemed to upset him so he tried his best to push that fact away as far as he could.

This was his job, he was being paid. The blood wouldn’t be on his hands, as always it would be on his client’s.

Tommy had squirmed his way between the two older men as they walked through the gardens, he had to admit the rose bushes that lined the royal stone brick path looked beautiful, especially during this time of year, it was so warm and bright.

“Hi Tubbo!” Tommy had called out to a boy with brown hair who was tending to some purple aster’s, the boy (who he assumed was this Tubbo guy) gave an enthusiastic wave back, his smile was incredibly welcoming and friendly. Needless to say, it was obvious the two boys were friends, but he also had a little bit of an edginess to him, he cut off the dead flowers with so much precision that Techno was half expecting him to be a second assassin here who was just being careless about hiding their skill with weapons. One look at that stupid smile made it very clear that he was in fact not an assassin though, instead he just seemed to be very skilled in his craft.

“That boy over there?” Wilbur chuckled, seemingly noticing Techno staring “That’s Tubbo,  Tommy’s best friend, they met when we first moved in here and they’ve been pretty inseparable ever since. Honestly, if you hadn’t been moving in today he’d probably have made some excuse to come down to the garden, probably to ask Tubbo for fresh vegetables or something”

Nodding silently, Techno willingly gathered information on the dynamics of this strange little family, information was truly the most powerful weapon and knowing how to manipulate them if he’d ever need to do so, would be a very important life skill.  

A man clad in shimmering Iron armour pulled a rope as Wilbur informed him that they needed to be let back inside, a few seconds later a low bell rang and the large wooden doors slowly began to open. Really, the interior had been just as expected, grandiose and extravagant, clearly owned by a man who had far too much money than he knew how to manage. Suddenly Techno felt a little less bad about ruining their family, sure, it was entirely fueled by jealousy but still it felt rather disgusting to know that he had to kill in order to feed himself whereas some people could live a life as ravish as this, without even making a dent in the wallet.

“It’s… big”

Clearing his throat, to try and break up some of the silence, the piglin heard his voice reverb around the high walls. This hall would surely be good for playing music, the ambiance would definitely make the worst of pianists sound like Mozart.

“Yeah, I was a bit overwhelmed at first too.. Isn’t it pretty?” Wilbur sighed, placing a hand on Techno's shoulder as he let a grace smile dust his lips, “It’s really inspiring to think of the Artists that would have worked here”

“Oh my GOD” Tommy groaned, grabbing them both by the arm and starting to hop up the white marble staircase in the centre of the room. “We already have one Wilbur. Don’t encourage him, New Guy!”

After being dragged the rest of the way around the palace, they eventually ended up standing in front of a large wooden door with golden accents, spelling out things that Techno couldn’t read. He had to admit, it would be nice to live with so much gold, but throughout his life he’d learnt to suppress all his Piglin urges in order to not be deemed sub-human (even if he technically wasn't even a human.)

For now he could live with the gold he earned by working hard and doing his job.

On the subject of his job, Tommy had knocked a few times and then immediately opened the door, causing Techno to cringe beyond belief. Seriously, who knocks without waiting? And to the King no less.

“Oh? ‘Ey mates”

With Blonde, wispy hair that reached his shoulders, and dressed a royal suit of green, a man spun around in a comically large desk chair to face them. He had a golden crown placed atop his head with a few different coloured gems embedded into it, it was magnificent and every instinct in his body was telling him to pounce, pounce, POUNCE.

He hated the common misconception of Piglin’s being animalistic brutes who were nothing more than crooks but clearly this man thought more than that. He had only just met Techno and he hadn’t even cared to hide his Gold before allowing a piglin into his home. In a way, he was conflicted. Once King Philza was gone, he could take that crown for himself and bask in it’s golden glory but then again… this man had been one of the few people who trusted him. Sure, the trust was misplaced, Techno was planning his death of course, but it was nice to not be labeled as a criminal because of his species for once.

Sure, Technoblade was a renowned assassin but he was an assassin because no other jobs would hire a piglin, there was quite literally nothing else he could do to make an income. Plus, he was strong and he felt less sympathy for his victims than most would. He supposed that was just one of the perks that came with growing up in the nether, you were always desensitised to death.

“It’s nice to meet you!”

The King got up out of his chair, walked towards Techno and...bowed? Needless to say he was a little taken aback.

“I sincerely hope you enjoy your time with us here in Minecraftia, we’re a small Kingdom but I’m sure both Wilbur, Tommy and any of my other staff members would be thrilled to help you get settled. Will you two show him to where he’s going to be staying? I’m sure he’s exhausted from traveling so far”

Was this really a nice king? Why had he got the assassination request? This man was so gentle to bow to his Knight, who hadn’t even been knighted yet, and somehow someone hated him so much to pay for his death.

Shrugging it off, Techno decided it wasn’t his problem. After all, the blood was never on his hands.

[hazza-bear-care]

Stay Safe (3/3)

A/N: LAST PART BABES!!! Thank you so much for all the love this series has gotten, but the time has come for it to end. Let me know what else you guys want to see and I’ll keep posting from every fandom!!! Also, I know the Washington Football Team is no longer affiliated with the name ‘Washington Redskins’ but their old logo is pretty recognizable, so shut up. #HTTR for all my D.C peeps out there ;P

Summary: After MONTHS of teasing, Spencer and Nova finally seal the deal. 

Warnings: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (Kinda? Nova’s on the pill, but wrap it before you tap it), daddy kink

~~~~~

The weekend had come sooner than Nova had expected, the tiring cases making the week fell shorter than 7 days. Much to the chagrin of her roommate, Nova spent the better part of an hour in the shower shaving everything but her head in an effort to look perfect. Earlier in the week she had managed to sneak away to a boutique, desperate for a new lingerie set. As she stared at the plethora of colors, Spencer’s voice echoed in her head, describing that males were more attracted to their mates in red which prompted her to purchase a maroon set. She thought about being ridiculous and cheesy by embroidering her own Redskins logo onto the hip, but decided against it seeing as neither she nor Spencer were big football fans. 

After blow drying her hair, she decided on straightening her locks as to prevent frizzing as much as she could throughout the evening. Her makeup came next, opting for a slightly more natural look for the night, noticing that Spencer seemed to like the bare faced version of Nova. 

Already wearing her new lingerie, Nova chose to wear a navy blue polka dotted dress, the extremely low cut neck flashing a decent amount of cleavage without giving away the surprise of her lingerie. The dress fell to the middle of her thighs and she paired the dress with a pair of black pumps and silver accessories, a black cardigan draped over her shoulders. Now she was all ready for a date she didn’t know if she wanted to go on. Her mind kept reeling for days about her stunt in the elevator. Although it was enjoyable for both parties, she still didn’t know if it was smart to pursue a relationship with a coworker, especially with how soon everything had happened. 

Wrapping her cardigan around her thumbs, Nova paced in her room, first date jitters causing her to gnaw at her crimson lips. Her worries were soon interrupted by a knock on the door, indicating that the man of the hour was just outside her apartment. With one final deep breath to settle her nerves, Nova grabbed her purse and opened the door, a very handsome Spencer waiting on the other side. She greeted him with a tight smile as she stepped into the hallway of her apartment building, locking the door behind her. 

“You look.... wow! Nova, you look great! Are you ready to go?” Nova nodded, untucking her thumbs from the cardigan. Spencer led her out of her apartment building and to his car and opening the passenger side door for her. Nova knew this date was important to Spencer due to his hatred of driving, especially through DC rush hour. She, however, still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was wrong. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Spencer asked, tapping Nova on her thigh. 

“Um, nothing important, Spencer. I guess I’m just excited,” Nova finalized her thoughts, the unsettled feeling in her stomach still making her nauseous. 

~~~~

Halfway through dinner, Nova and Spencer decided to sit in silence after having many a conversation fall short. Nova’s nerves had made her lose her appetite, so the burger, fries, and side salad sat relatively untouched. With a clatter of his fork against his plate, Spencer cleared his throat and attempted to make eye contact with the girl across from him. 

“Nova, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just not very hungry tonight, I guess.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Nova! Now tell me what’s wrong,” Spencer whisper-yelled, the irritation very prominent in his voice and eyes. 

“I just don’t think what we’ve been doing lately is... smart. I just started working with you guys and our first case, you fingered me on the jet!”

“I didn’t hear you complaining!”

“Excuse me, Spencer, I’m still talking! My mom always told me to never get involved with people I worked with, and after many failed attempts of aforementioned romance, I finally took her advice and swore to stay away from my coworkers. So this sudden attraction between the two of us threw me off. My anxiety levels have been off the charts thinking about what’s going to happen when and if we break up. I’ll have to quit my job and move to a different part of the country, Spencer.” Nova stopped talking before she choked, the tears in her eyes very prominent when she tried to meet Spencer’s gaze. 

Everything that she said suddenly made sense to Spencer: she was scared. 

“Nova, you have nothing to be afraid of, I promise. I’ll make you a deal: we go out for an undisclosed amount of time. If we break up, I give you full permission to find a taser and use it on me as many times as you want. Deal?” Nova chuckled and sniffed, nodding in agreement to Spencer’s deal. The pair continued to eat, Nova completely ravenous now that the nerves had settled. 

Spencer paid the bill like a gentleman once dinner was over, Nova’s leftover’s tucked safely under her arm as she was escorted back to the car. 

“So, do you want to go back home?” Spencer asked, fully prepared to let the night end right then and there. 

“No. My roommate has midterms to study for so I told her I’d stay out of her way as much as possible.” Nova admitted, not wanting the night to end just yet. 

“Then we’ll go back to my place. Is your roommate going for her Master’s too?”

“Doctorate in Philosophy. Poor girl won’t have a job after she graduates.” Spencer chuckled loudly before defending that philosophy was an acceptable major. The ride to Spencer’s place was fast due to a surprising lack of traffic for 9:30 at night. His apartment was on the third floor, which he explained had more to do with availability rather than the inevitability of hearing his neighbors stomp around above him. Spencer took Nova’s food out of her hands and left to his kitchen giving Nova the opportunity to snoop at his belongings. 

The whole room smelled like books, the multiple shelves almost overflowing with books covering every subject. 

“See anything interesting?” Spencer asked, wrapping his arms around Nova’s waist. 

“You’ve read all of these?” Nova asked, amazed at the impressive selection. 

“Yes, ma’am I have. But you didn’t answer my question: do you see anything you like?” Nova turned her attention back to the bookshelf, a very nice leather bound book catching her eye. 

“This one,” Nova replied, pulling the book off the shelf.

“Proust? Good choice, sweets.” Spencer kissed the top of Nova’s head as he snatched the book from her hands and led her to the couch, allowing her to to get comfortable before he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and opened the book. Spencer began reading one of the most complicated books in the world with such ease as if he’d read it a million times. The words flew out of his mouth with a soothing rhythm that it almost made Nova drowsy. As happy as she was, Nova still couldn’t shake the one question on her mind. 

“Spencer? What are we doing?” Nova asked, interrupting the 20 page sentence her date was reading. 

“We’re on a date, Nova.” Spencer finalized, closing the book on his thumb to remember his place. He glanced over at the girl in his arm and noticed her gnawing at her bottom lip. 

“You know that’s not what I mean. I’ve been on the team for three weeks now, Spencer, and we’ve done more in those three weeks than I’ve done in a three month relationship.... I’m just scared it’s going all too quickly and neither of us are going to be able to enjoy it.” 

“Come on.” Spencer stood from his place on the couch and helped Nova stand herself. He knew she was nervous, granted he knew this wasn’t her first time.

“What? Spencer I....” 

“I know, Nova. But you don’t have to be afraid, okay? I’ve got you.” He brought his lips to hers, the kiss a minor attempt to calm her down. Nova sunk into the kiss, her knees weak and head spinning. Spencer broke off the kiss and lead her to his room, Nova’s nerves twisted her stomach as she followed. Spencer kissed her once more as the door to his bedroom was pushed open and Nova was wrenched inside. Spencer was careful, gentle, as if his actions would cause Nova to shatter completely, He could feel her heart beating faster as he gently pushed her against the wall, his hands coming up to cup her face. 

“Spencer..” Nova whined as his lips moved to her neck, wet kisses making her weak in the knees. He started unbuttoning the top of her dress, the sides of it opening to reveal the maroon lace underneath. Spencer stifled a groan at the sight of what Nova had managed to hide during the entire date, blood rushing to his erection.

“For someone who was nervous three hours ago, you sure did come prepared.” Attempting to lighten the mood, Spencer joked as he lead Nova to the bed, pushing her to lay down on the pillows behind her. 

“Spencer-”

“Shh. Let me take care of you, Nova. I’ve got you.” After repeating himself, Spencer made his way down to Nova’s core, flipping the dress of her skirt up and growling at the sight of her matching panties. Kissing her knees, Spencer spread her legs open and settled between them. Nova tensed as Spencer peppered kisses on her thighs, making his way to her core. She choked on her breath as he placed a warm kiss to her panties, the warmth of his face making her want him more. 

Spencer pushed Nova’s underwear to the side and buried his face in her heat, the gasp she released sounding delicious to him. His tongue danced around her clit as his fingers itched to get inside her heat once again, the memory of her walls clenching around them hazy. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he admired how sweet she tasted, the sounds falling from her lips making her sound like an angel. Deciding she was ready enough, Spencer tested the waters by inserting one finger into her tight pussy, walls already clenching from the intrusion. 

“Fuck you’re so eager, aren’t you baby girl?” Nova whined and nodded, bucking her hips in a futile attempt to get more friction from Spencer. The man in question chuckled at how needy Nova was before coming up from his place and kissing her lips, taking the opportunity to slip another finger inside her. He slid his tongue into her mouth as she gasped, the feeling of Spencer’s fingers and mouth making her head spin. Spencer sped up his movements, his mouth muffling the noises Nova spilled into his mouth. 

“Spencer, please!” Nova whined. Spencer pecked her lips once again before he returned to his previous place, his lips immediately wrapping around her clit yet again. Nova moaned loudly, jumping at the feeling of pleasure. Her hands found a place in Spencer’s hair and tugged rather harshly which evoked a moan from Spencer, the vibrations against her clit causing her to buck her hips yet again. She was close and Spencer could feel it. He curved his fingers, easily accessing the spongy spot that caused Nova to practically scream. Her thighs shook and her toes curled, the grip on Spencer’s locks tightening. When her orgasm finally washed over her body, she froze, eyes rolling back into her head and jaw dropping into the perfect ‘O’ shape. Spencer didn’t ease up until she started pushing him away, her breath stuttering as she tried to catch it. 

Once she had calmed down enough, Spencer sat her up and removed her clothes, dress, shoes, and underwear scattered around the room haphazardly. As Spencer left the bed to get undressed himself, Nova attempted to follow him, determined to return the favor. 

“No. You get back up there, baby girl, this night is about you.” Spencer towered over her, his shirtless physique not comparing to the beauty of Nova’s naked form still on the bed. 

“But-”

“I said no, Nova. Now get back up there.” 

“How about you make me, Daddy?” Spencer growled and practically jumped out of his pants, a hand immediately wrapping around Nova’s throat. He pushed her back into the pillows, lips smashing against hers. The once romantic evening had turned into a night of intense passion, the pair not caring about the shift in emotions. Nova’s hand somehow wrapped around Spencer’s dick, the man above her hissing into her mouth. His grip on her neck tightened as he pulled away and kissed down her body. 

This was the first time he had seen Nova fully nude and he couldn’t get enough of the view: her naked body complimenting his bed perfectly, as if she was what his adult apartment was missing. Spencer didn’t realize that he was staring until Nova wrapped her arms around her breasts and stomach, the insecurities settling in her bones. 

“You’re beautiful, Nova. Please don’t hide from me, okay?” Spencer adjusted his stance, moving Nova’s hands from her body. Still feeling a little insecure, Nova reached up and kissed Spencer softly, the atmosphere once again shifting back to the romantic ease that it had started with. Spencer returned the kiss passionately, his hands trailing up her sides and settling on her breasts. She whined again, Spencer’s warm hands comforting her. 

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked as they both got situated. Nova’s legs spread by her own volition as she tried very hard to look anywhere than between Spencer’s legs. 

“Yeah, Spence. Please do something before I change my mind.” Spencer laughed at her eagerness. He swiped his hand through her folds, gathering some of her slick on his fingers, which caused her to moan, and pumped himself a couple times before lining himself up at her entrance. Watching her expressions, he slowly thrust himself forward, pausing a little when he heard Nova gasp. She met his line of sight and nodded, telling him to move. Spencer thrust again, sheathing himself inside her heat fully, the two of them moaning at the feeling. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.” Spencer groaned, moving his hips slightly. Nova moaned at the feeling of Spencer’s dick slipping in and out of her. 

“Spencer, please go faster.” Spencer obliged and picked up his pace, the fast movements eliciting loud moans to fall from Nova’s mouth. Spencer gazed affectionately at the girl below him, the view of his dick splitting her open turning him on even more than he already was. 

“You like that, baby? You like the feeling of Daddy’s cock deep inside you?” Spencer asked, wrapping his hand around her neck yet again. Nova’s eyes rolled into the back of her head in pleasure, a very loud moan spilling from her. He wrapped his lips around one of her nipples, biting lightly at the nub. 

“Yes, Daddy, please, more.” The hand that was on her hip traveled to her clit, his thumb rubbing as fast as his hips were going. The rest of his hand was spread across her stomach, the appendage moving slightly as he thrusted in and out of Nova’s glistening pussy. Her head was thrown back in pleasure, the sounds flowing freely making him go crazy. He left her nipples and pressed his lips to Nova’s, tongues dancing frantically. The pair separated but kept their foreheads together, the passion very obvious in both pairs of eyes. 

“Fuck, Nova, I’m close.” Spencer grunted, speeding up his ministrations yet again. 

“Me- fuck, yes! Right there, right there, right there! Fuck, Spencer!” Nova didn’t need to confirm that she was close as well, but Spencer took the note and kept hitting the right spot, going impossibly fast. He rubbed her clit, holding back as much as he could before he came. 

With a shout, Nova came, her powerful orgasm making her numb. She clenched her eyes shut, the fireworks exploding repeatedly as her body shook. She barely heard Spencer’s groan as he spilled his seed in her, hissing at how much her walls were clenching around him. He fell forward, resting his full weight on top of Nova’s body as they both came down from their most intense orgasms ever. 

“Holy...” Nova started, once again running her hands through his hair. Spencer chuckled and nuzzled further into Nova’s chest, never wanting to move. 

“Will you answer my question now, Spencer?” With a sigh, he shifted and held himself up with his forearms. His brown eyes, bore into hers as he tried to find the right words. 

“Nova, I don’t want this to be a one time thing. You don’t deserve to be used like that. You’ve held my attention since your first day at the BAU, so I figured I’d make a move before someone else did. I know everything we’ve done has been... unorthodox, but it’s just because I liked you so much. I promise from now on we will do the dating thing correctly; no sex until you say so. Nova, I know you’re scared, but I promise you’ll have nothing to fear while we’re together, okay?” Spencer’s eyes were wide as he pleaded for a second chance, a better chance. 

“Okay. I swear to God you make me regret this, I’ll do more than just use a taser on you.” Spencer and Nova chuckled, smiling into yet another kiss before settling into a more comfortable position, both of them hissing when Spencer pulled himself out of her heat. He stood from the bed in all his naked glory and left the bedroom, which of course confused Nova. When he returned, he had a glass of water and the abandoned Proust. He handed the glass to Nova, who gulped down a majority of it before settling back into Spencer’s arms as he picked up from where he left off. Soon, Nova fell asleep feeling safer than she’d ever had before and she wasn’t complaining about who held her close. 

Spencer kept reading long after Nova had fallen asleep, but he promised to catch her up the next morning. For now, she’d sleep in his arms, in his bed, in his apartment. And he wasn’t complaining at all. 

[shoyomeow]

ALMOST DOESN’T COUNT.

❀ characters : tooru oikawa x female reader 

❀ genre : angst? 

❀ wc: 1593

❀ inspired by : almost doesn’t count by brandy

❀ note : this is actually my first fic on tumblr so please be kind ahaha. 

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

He was late. Again. 

As you stared at the once warm hot chocolate you couldn’t help but mull over everything that had transpired in the past eleven months, almost twelve months. 

You had been friends with him long before you fell in love with the ambitious boy who only had volleyball in his mind. His so-called charms were not what had moved your heart, it was seeing that he was someone so passionate about something that he lived for it . Granted, you never cared for the game that your school was famed for. Volleyball was something you were forced to watch simply because your sibling had been the manager and there was no way in hell that your mother would let your sibling attend the games alone. 

You had received the warning first hand, ‘No matter what you do, do not fall for him. It will only end up hurting you.’ 

You had laughed at them then, retorting with a quip about how you would never fall in love with someone, especially in your final year of high school. 

(You wished you could go back in time and whack yourself with a hardback book, preferably a thick one.)

Three months into your newfound yet close friendship with him, you noticed a shift in things. 

The first one was a month and a half after you had become friends with him. You had found him in the gym well after everyone else had left, a consequence of you having to stay back for cleaning duty and not being able to say no to a teacher who needed help. If you didn’t know better you would’ve thought that he was dead, with him lying with his limbs extended and his eyes closed without moving at all. 

Safe to say, he wasn’t dead. At least not literally. 

It was just another day of the setter overworking himself without the strict and watchful gaze of Hajime Iwazumi. You almost reprimanded him for overexerting his knee which had already been acting up. But you didn’t, instead you opted for grabbing a cold drink from the vending machine and a fresh towel from the basket in front of the gym. 

He had looked at you oddly as you gave him the drink and wordlessly rolled up the towel to place it under his bad knee. By odd you meant he had looked at you with a smallest but most genuine smile that you had ever seen him have, a complete contrast to the ‘fan smile’ he kept plastered on the entire time. 

That was the first time your heart throbbed for the pretty brunet setter in a way that didn’t seem platonic at all but you ignored it as you made a quip about how annoying his smile was. 

The second one was three weeks after the towel incident. The way he interacted with you had changed. He had always been a person who adored kinship but it had increased exponentially with his hands lingering on your head for much longer than usual, and the way he rested his head on your shorter frame, barely pressing his lips to your hair. 

The way he made your heart throb was bordering on painful. 

Every time you saw him now your heart ached and it felt like there was something lodged in your throat. 

In hindsight, it might’ve been your instincts screaming at you to squash the feelings you held for him and move on before it was too late. 

The third (but not the final time) you noticed things had shifted was when Iwaizumi threw a pointed look at the brunet before making a poor excuse and dragging your sibling away to leave the two of you alone. You had found it weird but hadn’t said anything as you continued to walk alongside the brunet, his hands brushing against yours occasionally until they didn’t. He had asked you out right in the middle of the road, his voice and face confident but his fingers were digging into the thick fabric of his jersey as they always did when he was nervous. 

You had almost told him that you loved him right then and there but you reeled yourself in and opted for a simple ‘I like you too.’

❀

Things started shifting again four months after you started dating officially Neither of you had said those three words to each other, unlike a lot of other people their age who threw the words around as if they were speaking about the discounts at a grocery store. Both of you recognised the weight of the words that was something eighteen year olds shouldn’t have to bear so you opted for actions instead. 

But for some reason it was getting painful. 

For you, he wasn’t your first relationship. But he was your most meaningful one, so the feeling of inadequacy in their relationship was weighing on your mental health. Your thoughts were plagued with scenarios and negativity that you constantly tried to battle, more often than not, you were not the victor in that battle. 

There were so many times that you felt like he stayed with you simply because he thought he should. You were his partner right? His girlfriend? If he had no reason to dislike you then he also had no reason to break up with you. 

It had gotten to a point where you wished that the rift was caused by volleyball, did that make you a horrible person? Maybe. But it was better than realising that it was simply a case of you loving too much and him simply not loving enough. 

Your heart, mind and soul were taken over by the boy with shining eyes and a smile which only became more genuine in your presence. You had thought that it was because of the feelings he held for you, only to realise that it wasn’t love that made him smile like that, it was comfort. But you loved him, so when the urge to ignore your insecurities came for the sake of preserving the relationship you had with him, you didn’t fight it.

So here you are, three months of friendship and almost eight months of a relationship later, sitting in the same coffee shop where you had study dates with him and debated with him about who were better, aliens or robots, a crumpled paper with everything that you wanted to say to him laid in your lap as you waited for him. 

“Sorry I’m late, volleyball practice ran late.” he ran his dominant hand through his hair as he took a seat in front of you, “Have you ordered already?”

“It’s okay Tooru,” You smiled at him and for the first time you almost felt liberated, was it because of the decision you made or was it because you had finally processed and accepted everything? Maybe it was both but you weren’t going to complain, “Tooru.”

“Hm?” his eyes didn’t leave the menu that he had grabbed from the counter as he acknowledged you. 

“I love you.” You smiled and almost laughed when his head snapped up, but you weren’t done yet, “I am in love with you. I love the passion you hold for volleyball, and I love how you disguise your persona as a stupid and uncaring person when in reality you do things for the people you love without ever knowing that it was you who did it. I love the drive I see in you to fight for yourself and I love how you try to make it seem like you do everything effortlessly when you are the hardest working person I have ever come across. I just love you.”

He opened his mouth to speak, maybe even say the three words back but you didn’t want to find out. You were almost certain that your voice came out choked but you didn’t have it in yourself to care, “I love you but I can’t be with you anymore. I want to love myself as much as I love you Tooru, and I know that even now your heart is hesitating. Because I love you, I know that your heart doesn’t beat for me like mine does for you. And that is okay. But Tooru, I can’t keep on trying anymore and because I love you and I’m trying to grow to love myself, I’m breaking up with you. I don’t truly blame you for anything, while I wish I could say the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ I can’t.”

You smiled at him once again, forcing yourself to not shed the tears that had inevitably welled up in your eyes, “I love you Tooru and that is exactly why I’m saying goodbye.”

It was strategic planning on your part to carry money in the pocket of your jacket today instead of carrying a bag, it was also strategic planning that led you to choose the table closest to the exit as you got up and left the cafe. For now, you refused to cry. You will shed the tears that you needed to shed as soon as you reached the comfort of your own home, but for now you would wipe your eyes and walk strongly and proudly.

You fought the urge to look back and see if he was still seated there. 

Their love will always and forever be a case of almost. 

She almost stayed with him.

He almost fell in love with her.

They almost made it work.

But everybody knows, almost doesn’t count.