#unedited or looked at more than once but whatever i can always do that later

[max-nico]

"What're you doing?" Tails asks, looking down at Amy, who's currently laying on the wood floor of Vanilla's home.

"I wanna get a whole bunch of hearts for a craft I'm doing, but I don't really know where I wanna get them from."

She neglects to say the craft is for the foxes older brother, but she's sure he'll come to that conclusion himself. Instead, Tails looks stunned, and a little fearful. His jaw is dropped and his eyes are wide as he stumbles back with a tiny screech.

"You're gonna rip people's hearts out?! For arts n crafts!?"

Amy laughs at the misunderstanding, maybe a little too hard, maybe it sounds a little deranged, maybe she made it sound that way on purpose to mess with him a little, maybe that makes her laugh harder. She laughs so hard her stomach starts to hurt.

"No, I need a heart that looks like this." She puts her hand into the shape and smiles at him. "See? Like a cartoon."

"Those are hands, not a cartoon."

"Well, yeah. But the shape my hands are in is called a heart."

Tails looks at Amy with a blank look. She feels like she's being accused of being stupid without any words being said.

"That's not what a heart looks like."

"Not a real one, it's a cartoon heart! Like… uhm… uh…" She trails off. Tails waits for her to explain patiently. Like he always does. "It's not like a real heart, it's like a symbol for things like uhm–love or closeness, but we just call it a heart. I… guess?"

"Oh. Okay. It's like fig-ur-a-tive or met-metaphorical?"

"Exactly."

Tails raises an eyebrow at her still heart shaped hands, then turns his head toward his swishing namesakes. They lift, and he copies the shape.

"Heart." He says.

Amy nods approvingly, "Heart."

A shitty drabble of a headcanon that Tails had a hard time understanding sarcasm and figurative language

Tails is like... 5 1/2 at the oldest lol. Woe, little guy be upon ye

[et6rnalsun]

PRANKING BOYFRIEND! MATT

your eyebrows were so close to touching the fucking ceiling as you raised them in skepticism, reading the comments written by little girls under some montages of your boyfriend hitting his brother. something like that seemed almost surreal to you, since at the beginning when you watched the unedited clip that nick had shown you, you’d just laughed like an idiot, finding it funny & just a familiar scene— unlike the fans who seemed to have taken it personally, maybe?

your manicured fingers scrolled through those comments, and you read and read until you lingered on one that stood out more than the others; babbling about how matt could perfectly be so violent and abusive in a relationship and towards his girlfriend, too. rolling your eyes, you fought the urge to answer her and simply turned off your phone, placing it next to you on the bed, matt’s one, you were lying on. the wheels in your head spun until they fabricated an idea that made you snap out of your rotting position, and you cleared your throat. “matt!” you called out in a loud voice, hoping he could hear you from downstairs.

you did it once, again, and then a third time—but to no avail. “come on,” you whined in a huff, taking the phone again as you went to emergency calls, “my love 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨⭐️” glowing red and first. you called his number, humming softly as the sound of the ringing vibrated in your ear where you had the screen resting.

when he answered, you smiled, your feet kicking at the sound of his soft and soothing voice, so tired from making dinner for you & his brothers. “matt, can you come up to your room please? i need to talk to you.” you already expected matt’s heartbeat and anxiety to be at a thousand at your statement. in fact, not even a minute later, he was already in the room as he approached after closing the door. “what is it, baby?” he asked you, tilting his head as he looked down at you. he stood over your prone form, and as he did, he placed his hands on the corners of your body, lowering his head slightly to kiss your lips as a sort of greeting. you wanted to give up on everything just because of the way his cold necklace was dangling on your neck, brushing against it.

dramatically, you pushed him away as you sat on the bed and looked at him with the most serious expression you could muster. “i’m for real, we need to talk”

matt frowned, sitting down next to you as he rested a hand on your knee — one way or another, he was always searching physical touch with you. it was melting your heart. “did i do somethin? tell me, honestly, i have no idea” he was in a state of mild panic, it was rare to see you so serious and offended by something. (even if it was all fake) “i didn’t like how you hit nick” these words made him roll his eyes in the sassiest way ever, and he raised a finger that you immediately slapped, continuing to talk. “i’m not kiddin’! what if you hit me like that too?” that was your joke; making him believe that you were seriously worried about something that in reality, you never could.

“you cant be serious”

“i am” you shrugged, looking at how his blue and pretty eyes widened.

silence filled the room for a moment, and he shook his head repeatedly as he took his hand off your knee. “how can you be serious, actually? that— that just means you don’t know shit about me,” his tone was hurt, and he moved to stand up as he looked ready to put an end to whatever that shit was.

but before he could get far, you stood up and practically jumped on his shoulders, your arms around his neck as you hugged him so tight, like he was about to disappear. “love, baby, light of my life, it was a joke,” you quickly told him, your head tilted so you could look directly at his face from your position. he was clearly confused as fuck. “i saw all this shit in the comments on a tiktok ‘bout you hittin nick and i wanted to do this. come on, forgive me,” you added, kissing his cheek lightly as an amused chuckled escaped your lips. and, you were fucked. from behind, he pushed you onto the bed before turning around and throwing himself on top of you, tickling you to death. “you havin fun playin with me like this, huh? really?” he said, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you squirm with the most beautiful laugh in the world. even if he should be angry and everything. “you are a bad person, fuck. the worst”

that said a lot about the kind of person your boyfriend was.

[i-write-sometimes-maybe]

Obsessed- Lady Lesso x EverReader!

Synopsis: Lesso has this thing, but no one knows. Not even you…

Word Count: 643

Warnings: Dark!Lesso, no smut, non-consensual stalking, readers gender isn’t mentioned. (Lmk if there’s anything else!)

A/n: (You can kinda see her tie pin in this gif, which is not mine btw) Okay, yes, this is short asf. I’m sorry! I really wanted to get something out while I’m working on this other smutshot (that includes working up the courage to do it too 😅) I figured something was better than nothing.? I legit have had this forsaken OneShot in the drafts at 5-6k words FOR A YEAR NOW GUYS. I’m trying! I want you guys to have it too. I’m also SO sorry to the few requests I’ve gotten, believe me I have seen them and I do plan on writing them! I’m just once again working two jobs and I’m also plainly in the dumps with writing motivation :/. I’m working on it 🫶🏻.

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Obsession. It's a funny thing really. It usually builds from innocence, a simple crush maybe.

But then, it spirals.

Though, the obsessor most times doesn't realize the extent of said obsession.

Leonora Lesso wouldn't necessarily deny the fact she obsessed, of course, unless, she was asked.

It wasn't her fault. It was yours.

Yeah, that's it. Your fault.

You.

You with your bright smiles and warm being.

It really should make the Never woman feel sick.

But she watches you with a subtle warm fuzzy feeling, like how she would think it would feel if you made her soul smile.

Watching you at meal times with Dovey, laughing at whatever the conversation was.

She found satisfaction in watching you, joy almost, watching you teach. The passion you held was quite similar to hers, though you were an Ever.

And even now, her watching you from behind your balcony door. Enjoying the feeling that fills her as she watches you undress from the day.

No, she wouldn't say she's obsessed. Enthralled, sure.

Enthralled at the possibility you could see her in the reflection of the mirror you were standing in. Enthralled by your possible reaction if she chooses to make herself known, or maybe, if you were to catch her.

She often wonders what your reaction would be.

After all, she does this almost nightly.

How you haven't seen her at least once in the fortnight, Lesso wasn't sure. But she loved to think of the idea that you were aware of her watching you, and you enjoyed it as much as she did.

She continues to wait in the shadows, watching how you don't skip a single part of your routine.

She'd come to learn that you liked everything in a certain way, down to your showers.

As you climbed under the covers, your nightly steps coming to end, she never strayed.

She usually liked to stay until she knew you were asleep, loving how peaceful you looked.

Normally, it was enough.

Being 20 feet from you, a glass door in the way, it was close enough.

Normally.

Well, who’s to say what’s normal and what’s not.

Once again, you were peacefully in your slumber while Lesso hadn’t moved a hair.

But she needed more.

She carefully took her tie pin from the knot that she frequently adorned, using it to swiftly pick the door you always made sure to lock.

The first step into the unfamiliar, yet very familiar, space was enthralling for her. Your true scent, unbothered and unedited, hitting her nostrils so strong to the point she’s sure she would’ve faltered if she cared to pay attention.

But as always, her attention was elsewhere.

Neither her heels or her cane made their signature click as she entered, the carpet working in her favor.

Slowly she walked up to your bed, standing at the end and getting lost in your serenity.

But as realization set, she decided she wanted to learn more. No, needed to learn more about you.

Her painted nails just barely scraped the surface of your duvet as she slowly moved onto your bedside table.

Noticing the new book you recently picked up, she made a mentally note to look into it later.

She never stayed in one spot for too long, too afraid it would bring her a welcoming she can’t ignore.

Her final spot was your vanity.

The very same one you sat yourself at just mere moments ago.

Sitting in the same spot as you previously had could’ve made her head spin, she had to know that her heart was pounding, if she paid any mind to it.

But her mind was elsewhere.

Her eyes and her mind were on you, just like before.

But sitting there, seeing you, smelling you, feeling you….

She couldn’t help but think, just how much fun she’d have with you.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @pebbleswritessometimes @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @sgelessoanddoveykissing @hxzxrdous

(Okay, I’m def missing people on this list and if you’re one of them please leave a comment! 🫶🏻🫶🏻)

Part 2 maybe??

[ellawrites-if]

SHARED DESIRES

This short (spicy-ish in a very vague, very gender-neutral (i hope) way) story was inspired by Newmann fanart I saw of Hermann and Newt sharing a dream of them kissing. The artist is @/dad-dumpster.

As always this is unedited and vaguely proofread, so any mistakes are my own. I’m pretty sure the tense changes like 8x but whatever.

Your lips crash against theirs, knocking the breath from their lungs.

That’s not unusual, although it’s usually because of your mere presence rather than your lips.

They kiss you back with a fierce hunger, with a need to wreck you, to consume you, to make you crave them as much as they crave you.

Your hands slide up their stomach and push, and they’re powerless to do anything but fall.

They hit their bed and you’re on them. Your teeth nipping at the skin of their neck and soothing the sting with your tongue. All they can do is pant and tip their head back for you. Their hands latch onto your hips and dig in. They’ll probably leave bruises, and that thought thrills them even more.

Your lips have reached their jaw, but it’s too much and not enough all at once, and they delight in your surprised yelp as they flip you onto your back.

They immediately latch onto your neck, paying you back with a love bite that you’ll struggle to cover up.

Your hands fumble with their trousers, pushing them down just enough to gain access to what you want. Your fingers explore and they moan, their voice echoing across the space.

You laugh, triumphantly, even as your pupils swallow the colour of your pretty eyes. It drives them crazy to see how affected you are by them.

They decide to return the favour, pulling your hands away from them, so they can tug your own trousers down and lay between your thighs. The only thought in their head is that they’d die here quite happily.

Their mouth descends onto you, and your hips jerk as your snarky words are cut off by a choked out moan. A bit of information to file away for later.

They want to make you feel good. Want to taste your desire on their tongue. Want to be the one you pleasure yourself to thoughts of. Want to be the only one you turn to when the need gets too much.

They’ll ingrain themselves on your soul if they have to.

You scream, your thighs tightening around their head and your hands yanking at their hair.

They’re in heaven.

It’s the only explanation.

-

Ciaran jolts awake, their heart thundering in their chest and their breathes coming out in harsh pants.

They wipe the sweat from their brow.

A dream.

The only explanation that actually makes sense.

They take a few gulps of their water from the glass they had left on night stand, and attempt to do what they always do when it comes to you.

They shove their feelings down into an abyss and pray that they never come crawling out.

Once they calm down enough to get back to sleep, they place their water back on their night stand, and flop onto their mattress. They hit their pillow a few times and force their eyes to close.

Ciaran is a master of burying their head in the sand by now. This is no different.

At least, it isn’t until the next morning when they spot you and you can’t look them in the eyes.

Ciaran raises an eyebrow at your behaviour as they sit opposite you.

“What’s up with you?” They ask, curious. “You dream about me or something?”

They don’t know why they asked you that, but your reaction makes them freeze up.

Did they send you their dream through the connection between your minds? Did you send them yours?

Or…did you share the dream? Your subconscious coming together with theirs in a mess of both of your desires.

They shake the thought away.

Breakfast, surrounded by some of the sharpest minds in the world, was not the place to be thinking about such things.

“Idiot, just eat your breakfast and stop being weird.”

That snaps you out of it.

Good.

Your nonsense should hopefully be able to stop them from launching over the table and kissing you senseless in front of everyone.

[xxaraaq]

𝙊𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩

masterlist

Sypnosis | Kyojuro is what they call a 'team player'. What would they do if they found out he was fucking his boss?

wc | 5.1k

cw | unprotected sex, office sex, power dynamic ig, cursing

Rengoku x black reader

A\N | I hope y'all enjoy, this is unedited btw.

If you asked anybody what kind employee Rengoku was, they would say nothing but the best about him. How he was the most understanding, reliable guy there was out there. And it’s true! He’s always there when someone needs him to be, helping them before they could even get a chance to ask. He was just the guy you came to with your problems. And he was proud to have that role. 

You, on the other hand, are not that person. As the building manager, you don’t hesitate to shoo anyone away if you think their question is even remotely a waste of your time. You wouldn’t call yourself cruel though, more like firm. You didn’t take bullshit, and that was one of the main reasons why your building was one the best in the chain. Everyone knew it, that’s why they kept their mouths shut when you ran things the way you did. You ruled with an iron first and high standards – which is why you still don’t understand why you would let him crack your facade the way he did.

He was only supposed to walk you to your car, a simple common courtesy. But then it escalated, and he ended up fucking you in the parking lot, making you scream his name so loud he had to cover your mouth as he gave you the best backshots of your life in the back of your Subaru Outback.

You didn’t fail to tell him that it was only a one-time thing – which was obviously a lie – but he just shook his head yes, knowing that you would be back for more soon enough as he waved you bye as you sped away.

Less than a week passed by before you demanded him to come to your office after his shift to clear up some mistakes he made on his paperwork. He walked with a bit more of a hop in his step than he usually did as he opened the door to your spacious office. He’s never gotten a good look at it, being able to count his fingers the amount of times he’s been you. “Close the door and lock it.” You say, not taking your eyes off your computer as you type away at whatever has your attention. “You called me here, boss?” He asks, coy tone lacing his voice. “Don’t talk like you’re a saint, it’s not very flattering on you.” You say, pushing away from your desk to stand. 

He can already feel his erection tighten against his pants, and it turns him on even more. Truth is, he’s wanted to fuck you since he his work day in the department. From the way your breasts would try to fight their would out of your button up to the your very presence commands everyone's attention when you, everything about you turned him on.

You loosened his tie once you got to him, hands practically moving on their own as you held eye contact. His hands came up to your waist, pulling you flush to his chest. “You gonna kiss me, pretty boy? Or are you gonna stare at me like some lost puppy?” Not one second later, his lips smash into yours as he backs you up against the oak desk. You moan into his mouth as he delves under your pencil skirt to stroke your clothed clit. You unbutton his shirt as he swipes whatever papers happen to be in his way onto the ground before hastily setting you on top of it. 

He wastes no time in pulling your skirt and stockings down, throwing them halfway across the room. He presses light kisses up along your thighs before spreading them apart to reveal your already soaking cunt. “Barely even touched you yet and you're already so wet.” He uttered, licking a straight line up your folds, eliciting a borderline desperate groan as you rested your weight on your elbows. He sucks and licks at your clit and folds as you push him head further into your now sopping pussy. You could cum right now at the sight of Rengoku holding you legs in the legs as he tongue fucks you. It brung out some deep part of you who loved to see a man on his knees to pleasure you. You thrusted upwards into his face as your core starts to tighten. “Fuckkkk, m’gonna cumm.” You whine, legs shaking against his frame. He pushes your legs to open them wider, pushing as he pulls your hips in the air. Your cum with fervor, hand coming up to massage your puffy nipples. “O-hhhh shitttt.” You wailed, eyes rolling back into your skull. He sucked and kissed until you pushed his head away in overstimulation. “It’s too much.” You writhe away from his grasp as he sets you back down. You’d almost forgotten what effects he had on your body, the overwhelming pleasure he so easily gives you. “I’m not done with you yet.” He says, licking you slick off his fingers and slick. “I’d hope not, I don’t think I could find another guy on such short notice.” You sarcastically responded, still catching your breath.

“Y’know, you and that smart mouth of yours are really gonna get you in trouble one day.” He mutters, leaving a trail of hickeys as he kisses down your neck. You sigh in content, letting your finger waft through his fiery locs as he unzips his pants. You were caught by surprise when he suddenly lifted you into the air as if you weighed a feather. “You're gonna be good and quiet for me right?” He asks, lining himself up to your entrance. You nod, and he tasks in disapproval. “M’ gonna have to hear you say it ok?” He says, teasing your slit with his leaky tip. “I’ll be quiet.” You whimper, clasping your arms around his neck as he thrusts up into you. He lets out a guttural groan as he bottoms out. You yelp at the sheer size of him. He bounces you up and down on his girth as you babble out in fucked out bliss. “So fuckin tight.” He says, eyes darkening in lust as he rutted into your swollen cunt. All you could do was hold on as he used your body like a fleshlight. “You gonna cum on my dick?” He asks, and you can sense something primal hidden behind his words. “Yesss, I want it s’badd.” You sob, crying out as he speeds up. “Nobody’s stoppin you, go ahead baby.” You obey his words, shock waves rolling down your body as you cum with shaking legs. 

He grunts, carnal desire ripping as he follows suit. He sloppily thrust up more to ride out both of your orgasms, before gently setting you down on your desk. “You ok?” He asks, pushing a hair out of your face. “Are you ok? A second ago you were fucking me like a madman.” You say, eyeing him up and down. He just laughs, which confuses you even more. “You got some problems.” You whisper under your breath, leaning back to assess your office. Stray papers everywhere, room smelling like sex, and desk disorganized. 

It was a mess, a mess you would a million time over, but still a mess nonetheless.

-Nene

[rattycattyfanfic]

hi rattycatty i’m a huge fan of your lynnmanda series and i have a prompt!

my vision: Amanda on her knees, Lynn standing above her. Lynn sets a piece of Amanda’s hair on fire with her cigarette and won’t let her put it out until she says so, and she’s also not allowed to look away. Mandy is squirming and whimpering but Lynn just smiles

this is the reason why Amanda chops all her hair off again

hi!! thank you so much <33

i think. my brain is broken, bc somehow, lynn burning amanda's hair feels....a little more cruel than i'm comfortable with, but ashing in her mouth? burning her tongue? fine. hot. degrading. it's not exactly what you prompted, but.....have this? could fit in bark like a god universe, but like, could also not. whatever.

lynnmanda, rated m, short, unedited, dont hit me, etc

tws: smoking, degradation, dom/sub (without sex), sadomasochism, putting a cig out on someone's tongue!

Amanda smokes still, now and again. She sneaks out for secret smoke breaks when the chaos of her brain gets too much, when her skin begins to itch with the urge to hurt herself. She microdoses self-destruction, huddles up in her hoodie and indulges in the old habit of smoking, and then sheds her hoodie, hides it at the very bottom of the laundry basket, and sprays herself down with deodorant to mask the reek of tobacco. She knows how to hide her habits. She’s well-versed in the art of sneaky cigarette breaks. 

Still, all her caution and wiliness can’t save her when she gets caught red-handed. Lynn finds her huddled out by the back fence where they put the bins out, cigarette between her shaking fingers, and she can’t do anything except blink owlishly. 

“Those things’ll kill you,” Lynn murmurs, wrapped in her robe. The corners of her eyes crinkle with concern. 

“Mhm,” Amanda hums. “I know,” she says, and pulls her hands up into her sleeves as if she can hide the smoke, pretend that she was never even here in the first place. “Lynn–”

“Give,” the doctor bites out between gritted teeth. She sticks a hand out, gestures for the cigarette. Amanda acquiesces, blinking. She knows Lynn had once smoked, wonders if she’s going to take a drag or if she’s going to throw it to the ground and stomp it out. It could go either way. Lynn always finds a way to surprise her, somehow. 

She does neither. Amanda hands the cigarette over, and Lynn takes it, pushes her gently down to her knees, down onto the rough of damp concrete paving slabs. “I want you around as long as possible,” Lynn says, soft, kind, toying idly with the cigarette between her fingers. Amanda gazes up, curious, scolded, willing to lose the brief rush of nicotine for the thrill of whatever is about to happen here.

The doctor places her fingers gently against the girl’s lower lip, pressing down. Soft in her silk gown and cotton pyjamas, but domineering all the same, commanding Amanda’s attention. “Open.” 

Amanda does. She parts her pink lips dumbly, her irritation over her interrupted smoke break fading fast, replaced with curious excitement. Lynn nods, pleased, and then hooks her fingers into her mouth, holding her open, wide. Amanda tries very hard not to drool down her chin and fails seconds later, saliva welling up and spilling over onto Lynn’s waiting fingers. 

“I don’t like the thought of losing you,” the doctor whispers. She eyes the cigarette, turns it over in her grip with a thoughtful look. “Especially not to fucking cigarettes. Dying of emphysema or lung cancer after all the shit we’ve survived.”

Amanda whines, tries to mumble a smart response, but she can’t with Lynn’s fingers in her mouth. She manages a muffled groan, wordless and pathetic, and then gives up. She curls a hand into a fist against the crotch of her cargo pants, pulsing hotly. 

“So pretty,” the doctor says to herself, cocking her head. And then she brings the cigarette closer, so it hovers an inch away from the girl’s mouth, and taps it once with her finger. The burnt end falls away, hot ash crumbling against Amanda’s tongue, bitter and burning. “I want you to quit.” 

It tastes fucking foul. Amanda jumps at the unexpected burn, her tongue twitching in her open mouth. She successfully curls her tongue and shakes the ash away, can’t spit with her mouth open but allows it to drool out around the corners of her mouth, disgusting and glistening. Lynn ashes the cigarette off once again into her mouth, and then presses the red hot tip against her wet tongue. It burns, sharp and stinging, and Amanda winces, jumps, whines. Her hips rock up into her fist. 

“Say it. Tell me you’ll quit,” Lynn growls, dark eyes shining in the grey winter daylight. She holds the cigarette staunch against her tongue, watching it smoulder against the soft vulnerability of her mouth, her pink tongue.

“I’ll–” Amanda mumbles, and then gives up. She bites down on the fingers in her mouth and wrenches herself free. “I’ll quit,” she manages the second time around, without fingers in her mouth. “I’ll fucking quit, fine.” She spits angrily, a mouthful of saliva and ash landing on Lynn’s pretty garden paving. 

Lynn pulls the cigarette away and discards it quickly, throwing the dead stub down into the gravel between the paving slabs. “Good,” she says sweetly. “Thank you,” she says, and sounds genuinely relieved. She strokes through dark hair tenderly, pushing a stray hair back between Amanda’s ear, and nods. “That’s all I wanted.” 

Amanda nods, head down, her mouth still full of the bitter taste of burnt tobacco and ash. Her heart thuds, not unpleasantly, and then Lynn is helping her up off the ground before her knees begin to ache. She kisses her, swiping her tongue over the sensitive burn left behind by the ash, soothing where she’d hurt, always tender after their moments of violence.

When she pulls away, she whispers, “I’ll help. Nicotine patches, gum, whatever you need. But I want you around, ok? I don’t want to lose you, Mandy, not now, not ever.”

Amanda nods again, blinking, and feels oddly touched. “Ok. Ok, sure,” she agrees, and thinks of Lynn picking up patches for her, helping wean her off nicotine. Maybe if she’d had someone like Lynn around when she was younger, she wouldn’t have fallen so far. Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve, whatever. It doesn’t matter now. She nods, peers up at Lynn in her robe, soft with concern, and promises, “I’ll quit.”

[queercontrarian]

my first azris fanfic ehehe

feels like it was just hours ago i told @iftheshoef1tz about this idea (because it was literally hours ago and i just wanted to contribute something to romance week. i know it's not technically meetcute day, but it's whatever day so i can do what i want). anyways, have the unedited first chapter of my modern azris agegap au snippet bundle - that's a lot of words. i'll shut up now. enjoy.

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

Azriel is already in pain when he wakes up, which is usually a bad omen. His knee feels tender, and he hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet. It doesn’t bode well for the day he has planned, and he wonders if he should just call Cassian and cancel their hike for today. 

With a sigh he forces himself to throw the warm blanket to the side and at least get his feet on the ground. One small step towards starting this day. A coffee would be nice, he thinks, but Nesta has been on his ass to limit his consumption, which is ironic because his sister-in-law drinks much more coffee than he ever has, but if he has one now he won’t allow himself to have one at Cassian’s house later, and he definitely needs that one to make it through the afternoon and the evening without prematurely passing out on his couch. 

With nothing else to do, Azriel stands and slowly makes his way to the kitchen, and yes, the knee is definitely going to cause problems. Once again he curses himself for deciding to walk home in the dark after getting shitfaced at Cassian’s and Nesta’s party, for not seeing that dumb root sticking from the ground and for getting his foot stuck under it. Most of all for having gotten to an age where the pain in his joints doesn’t disappear after a maximum of two days. He knows that he’s not twenty-five anymore, but it’s been more than a month since the party, and he can still feel it. Maybe someone should just shoot him, like a lame horse. 

Standing in the kitchen he stares at the coffee pot on the stove, a fancy little espresso maker Rhys got him for his fifty-third birthday, along with a trip to Italy. He realises he hasn’t left these woods since that trip, except for his weekly trip to get groceries at the town’s supermarket, and visiting Rhys and Cassian at their homes located around that same forest he lives in. He’s been moving around, contained to that twenty-five mile radius, for two years. 

On second thought, maybe he will have a coffee. While he reaches for the espresso box - another expensive gift from his friends - and both his knee and his shoulder pop this time, he remembers that he went to Greece for Feyre and Rhys’ wedding. That was last year, so he can still count that towards his “recently been active” list. Hanging out with family, travelling overseas. Suck on that, Cassian, he thinks. I’m going places, I’m not rotting away all alone in my cabin. I don’t need to “get out more”. I don’t need to “meet new people”. I’m perfectly fine where I am. 

Granted, he is alone right now - he takes his eyes off the stove to look towards the window where Mr. Goggles used to sit. The cat had already been old - and named, as Az always feels the need to stress - when Feyre had given him into Azriel’s care because there was no space for him in Rhysand’s house. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the room - Rhysand’s mansion has more rooms than the two of them can possibly know what to do with - Rhys is just very allergic to cats. So Az had taken the grumpy old furball in and they had lived together for nearly three years. Now Mr. Goggles sleeps in the earth below his favourite window sill, under a small bush of white pansies that Elain says remind her of the fur pattern on his face. Azriel wonders what flowers she’ll put on his grave when he dies. Will they bury him next to the window behind his favourite armchair too? He wants to be cremated, but he’d be fine with a cardboard urn like Mr. Goggles’ casket.

The whistling and clattering of the espresso maker pulls him out of his thoughts. It’s not all that bad. Sure, maybe retiring so early was a mistake - he doesn’t need the money, he just misses having something to do - but when Cassian and Rhys left he hadn’t felt like being the only one to stay behind. Maybe he underestimated just how empty his cabin would feel once he spent more than just the nights and weekends there, with his brothers spending the majority of their time with their wives, ten miles through the forest in the homes they’d built for themselves. He’s not lonely, he doesn’t need or want anyone else in his house, or his life for that matter. The area feels crowded enough with just Old Man Schmidt down the street. Maybe he’ll get another cat. Nesta has mentioned occasionally seeing one roaming about where her office is.

While he sips his coffee he’s still debating whether to call the hike off - his body tells him yes but his brain says if he mentions it to Cassian he’ll come to his house to inspect the old injury himself, and he hasn’t even told him he fell in the first place, and he will undoubtedly notice the pathetic state of Azriel’s house. Everything is reasonably tidy, but it’s painfully obvious no other human being has stepped through the door in months, maybe even a year. The last time he had people over was for Mr. Goggles’ funeral, for Christ’s sake. Azriel shifts his weight onto the damaged knee and immediately regrets it. He bites back a pained groan, letting his head fall back against the cabinet.

Cass would tell him to see a physician. Az hates going to the doctor, and not only for the usual reasons - he hadn’t gotten the memo that it was a bad idea to sleep with, have a messy entanglement and then ditch the only medical professional for nearly 200 miles. He’s not gotten a check-up in almost four years. Neither of his brothers knows that though, and he would rather die than tell them, both about the problem and the reason behind it. Fifty-five feels like the worst age to come out to your life-long best friends. 

Summer is already fading, but the sun is still warm on Azriel’s skin. He tilts his face up to the sky as he walks, before he quickly remembers he doesn’t want to sustain another injury and he concentrates on the dirt road under his feet again. He grits his teeth through the strain on his leg and keeps walking. 

The quickest path to Cassian’s house leads him from the treeline where his cabin is straight through the clearing past Old Man Schmidt’s property and through the woods. He’s walked this path a thousand times, but something is off today. Old Man Schmidt never has guests over, but this morning there’s a new car in his driveway. When Azriel crosses the street he realises it’s not just the new car, there’s a moving van as well, and parts of the garden are ripped open from construction, old furniture and materials, tools and workers all over the lawn. Az has always been curious, and he’s a little perturbed that he hasn’t noticed what has apparently been going on for a few days already. Has he really been that disconnected from his surroundings? He wanders off the path and up to the fence, leaning against the gate. He tells himself it looks at least a little cool but really he’s just trying to take the weight off his knee. He doesn’t recognise the licence plate on the car, and he tries to look around for Schmidt but he’s nowhere to be found. The last time they spoke he hadn’t mentioned anything about wanting to sell his house. Then again, the last time they spoke was six months ago. Maybe things have changed. 

“Can I help you?” Azriel turns his head so fast it almost gives him whiplash, his carefully combed hair immediately falling into his face, obstructing his view. He was so immersed in his snooping that he hadn't noticed the man stepping up to the fence. 

“Um, yeah. I’m looking for Schmidt? Boris Schmidt, he lives here,” he manages to say, buying himself a minimal amount of valuable time as he sizes the other man up. He seems to be in his late twenties or early thirties, tall and muscular with silky short hair that is so red Azriel wonders if it’s dyed. None of Feyre’s attempts to colour her hair have turned out this perfect though, so he thinks it just might be real, or done by a very, very pricey stylist. Everything about the stranger screams expensive, from his hair to his crisp white shirt and leather boots. He even smells like it, and Azriel is suddenly very aware that out of all the things he has on, only the shirt and the underwear have been washed in the last three days, and he can’t even remember the last time he put on cologne. 

“Mr. Schmidt doesn’t live here anymore. Hasn’t for over a month,” the stranger explains, and his voice is deep and smooth, feels like it wraps itself around Azriel, sliding through his ears and into his brain, muddling his thoughts.

“Oh,” is all he can get out. There’s a short pause where the stranger only stares at Az with his amber eyes, waiting for him to say something more.

Then he asks “Are you the neighbour?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “Yes I am. Are you moving in?” The stranger smiles, and good Lord above he is beautiful. Azriel swallows hard around the feeling suddenly bubbling up in his chest, through his throat and spilling into his mouth. He is too old to be reacting like this over a pretty boy.

“I am. Eris Vanserra,” the stranger introduces himself, reaching his hand over the gate. Azriel shakes it.

“Azriel,” he answers, then quickly adds, “Azriel Kantor.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Azriel nearly wishes Eris would stop talking because it is incredibly hard for him to concentrate on coming up with answers when his hand is burning where the man’s skin has touched his, and this is getting ridiculous. Just because he hasn’t gotten laid in one and a half years?

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says, and means it for once. “I, uh, I live right down there. Can’t miss it.” He vaguely gestures behind himself with the burned hand, trying to shake that feeling off. 

“Not like there’s many other houses around,” Eris replies smoothly, a faint smirk still on his lips, and Azriel has to pinch his arm to stop himself from staring. 

“Yes. Only me. But my friends live south from here right through the forest. I’m actually going to visit them-” He trails off, and unfortunately the other man picks it up right where he left it.

“Azriel,” he says, embarrassingly breathless from forcing out that one word. Way too late he realises that maybe it was intentional, maybe Eris would prefer not calling him by his first name, and not having Azriel call him by his in turn. He’s being awfully presumptuous. But Vanserra only hesitates for a moment before giving him another smile.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you." Eris is already stepping away from the fence. "I guess I’ll see you around, Mr. Kantor.”

“Azriel,” he repeats, slowly, savouring every letter. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.” He lets a few seconds pass by silently where neither of them move. Then he turns and leaves him standing at the gate, glued to the spot like an idiot.

“You too,” Az calls dumbly after him, too late and too slow. Eris doesn’t look back, only lifts his hand with the smallest hint of a wave, and Azriel quickly looks away and returns to the dirt path, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. 

Miles and hours later he can still hear the echo of his name from Eris’ lips in his mind when he raises his hand to ring Cassian’s doorbell. 

Maybe he’ll walk back later instead of having Cassian drop him off at home after the hike. His knee doesn’t seem that bad anymore.

[lavender-laudanum]

Lord Inquisitor Geth Trevelyan's Inner Circle: In His Own Words (File 4/12)

*After Geth Trevelyan's death in 9:45 Dragon in Minrathous, the former mighty Lord Inquisitor's journals were found amongst his possessions left behind at his home in Skyhold, deep within the Frostback Mountains. These journals, unedited, were brought into circulation with the help of the Viscount of Kirkwall, Varric Tethras, and by Trevelyan's husband, Dorian Pavus. Along with entries detailing his time leading the Inquisition and much of his life beforehand, which had been shrouded in near-complete secrecy until these documents' release, there were files on each of the members of his so-called "Inner Circle." These dossiers were put together as a standing testimony to Trevelyan's extremely candid personality and radical approach to leadership.*

VARRIC – The Storyteller

*The writing on the pages that describe Varric are, in particular, littered with notes in a multitude of hands, some in Trevelyan’s neat script, but most are not – they are the writings of Sera, The Iron Bull, even Cassandra’s and Solas’. It looks like a hodgepodge of notes, comments and even drawings, rather than the Lord Inquisitor’s personal journal. In its place in Tevinter, the document that holds Varric Tethras’ file is also riddled in much the same way; note after note after note, most in a hand of everyone’s – except Varric himself.*

I know what Varric would like me to write. The dramatic tale of the renowned storyteller himself; always quick to start a hand of Wicked Grace as he is to offer a drink and a quiet talk in a corner of Skyhold's main hall, and the first to offer an offhand comment or a laugh in the face of insanity. That is the Varric that he would like to be remembered as – but as a man who was forced to perform for others, once upon a time, Varric and I quickly came to a mutual understanding: We didn't have to pretend for each other. And so, respecting that, I will remember Varric as he was, as he is; not by the story he would write later.

It was Varric who showed me kindness first, in those earliest days of my time with the Inquisition. He would meet me at dusk and ensured I could sleep, and distracted people so I could eat, both without being watched. He also spoke to me, about anything and everything – I talked more to him in those first few days than I did to anyone else in the full year before. I was never comfortable with total silence myself, and Varric is the same; silence just doesn’t sit right, not when it can be filled.

Varric is also the one who brought a sense of realism to the sometimes-fantastical adventures of the Inquisition – on one memorable occasion he called Erimond a “tool,” in response to his evil machinations. But, beyond his quips, he often had a better grasp of things than he let on. For instance, one of the very first things he asked me at Haven, once we were alone, was if I thought of running. I hadn’t, of course, but he acknowledged something no one else had; that it was unlikely that whatever happened, it would be a miracle if I lived through it.

Looking back, that was an omen, though of what sort, to this very moment I don’t know.

Above all, there was a sadness in Varric, through the time I knew him. A lot of it had to do with Hawke, who is and remains his best friend. Of course, you can’t talk about either man without mentioning the other at least once – the two so desperately tied together that it was impossible to even think about them on their own. Varric had chosen to protect the one man who seemed to be unprotectable, somehow, to the point where his loyalty to the Inquisition, and thus to me, was called into question – though I did not allow it for long.

It's ironic, that the storyteller is one of the most difficult to write about – he eludes description, eludes stories of his own involvement, though without him the Inquisition surely wouldn’t have been what it ultimately became. It’s even more ironic that it was the Dwarf, above everyone else, who brought us our most human moments; moments that gave us some relief in the most damning of times. I will always remember those nights of Wicked Grace, those nights in front of a flickering fire surrounded by laughter, far longer than I’ll remember those cold ones I spent alone at a few of the Inquisition camps across Southern Thedas; a mercy of the kind I had never been freely given before.

That is how I choose to remember Varric. He may be flawed, but we are all flawed, we have all made our fair share of mistakes; we all, through either our own failures or through failure by complicity or ignorance, have regrets. But those aren’t what define us, and I hope our resident storyteller will believe that for himself one day.

Thanks, Varric.

[ice-connoisseur]

but there are much worse games to play

I’ve just re-read the Hunger Games for the first time in maybe fifteen years, and (mainly thanks to whoever has been reblogging Haymitch-and-Peeta gifs recently.  Was it @nire-the-mithridatist?  I feel like it was @nire-the-mithridatist) and maaan had I forgotten how heavy it gets.  I think in my head I’d equated it with Twilight and boy oh boy do I owe Suzanne Collins some apologies. 

Apparently my way of processing this was to spend the afternoon writing the first 1.2k of a GoT AU, because my default for writing anything these days appears to be a GoT AU, but anyway.  Not sure if there’ll be any more of this but I wanted to record the un-beta’d, unedited stream of thought that exists so far. 

Brienne Tarth wins the 59th Hunger Games and no one can work out what in hell to do with her afterwards.  Watching the confused consternation of the gamemakers is the most fun Jaime’s had in years.  He assumes they’ll never hear from her again; a tragic accident, perhaps, or maybe she’ll be one of the lucky ones, allowed to retreat to a quiet life of solitude and deep psychological trauma.  She’d certainly made no effort to hide her distain and derision for King’s Landing and everything it stood for, but she was ugly and awkward and a truly terrible public speaker; little risk, even uncontained.  She has no obvious pressure points, her only family an elderly father so plagued by ill-health that his imminent death is too much of an inevitability to ever be a threat, but it’s not really a surprise when no one seems to think it worth the admittedly considerable effort that would be required to kill her.

Jaime meets her just once, on the last night of her Victory Tour, the Red Keep lit up for the Victor’s Ball; she looks more uncomfortable and unsure in the middle of Kings Landing than she did at any point throughout the two and a half weeks she spent in the arena, and when they’re introduced she blushes an impressive shade of red and can’t lift her eyes higher than Jaime’s shoulder.  Jaime laughs; he can’t help it, it’s just so ridiculous, that this creature should be this year’s glorious victor.  It shows the Games for the farce that they are and there is nothing Jaime loves more.  She somehow flushes even more at his laugh but it does at last make her lift her eyes properly to stare at him directly.  They’re bluer than the seas around Casterly Rock, and filled with contempt.  

Neither of them speak and then Renly Baratheon is there, shouldering in to claim her for a dance because the idiot will do anything to draw attention, and Jaime assumes that’s it.  Sure enough she’s packed off back to Tarth the next morning, and Jaime doesn’t really think of her again until a year later when the lunatic actually comes back.  

Most of the mentors are based in the capital, tied there through threat or lack of options or, in a few, select, cases, actual desire to be there.  The ones who manage to leave intact are never stupid enough to risk returning.  Except Brienne Tarth does.  She doesn’t need to, the Stormlands aren’t frequent victors but they’ve had enough over the years to have a small pool of mentors to call upon, but she’s there. Every year for fourteen years, looming behind whatever pair of unfortunates have been picked out this time, and she’s terrible at it, she must be, she’s got no charisma, no charm, no guile. Whatever schmoozing needs doing, to gather the Stormlands tributes their favours and sponsorships, falls solely on Davos Seaworthy’s shoulders.  By the time the tributes are in the arena she has nothing to offer them, and it takes Jaime a few years to realise that by then she’s already given them everything she can.

In fourteen years the Stormlands only has one victor; in more than one year neither tribute lives past the initial bloodbath.  And yet Tarth stays in the Mentor’s viewing room, day in day out, from the first morning to whenever the final victor is plucked from the field.  Jaime’s not always there, he has his own tributes to watch out for, palms to grease and sponsors to sweettalk, but after the first couple of years he stops being surprised by her presence, whenever he returns.  She’s never friendly, sometimes she’s downright hostile, but she’s somehow easier company than the rest of the mentors, and it makes the whole thing one tiny iota more bearable, watching whatever atrocities are unfolding on screen with her arm pressed warm against his.  He has no idea what she does or where she goes for the rest of the time, but for two, three weeks a year she becomes the best friend he has.  

Her only victor is a scrawny 15-year-old who wins more by default than any significant skill on his part, when the main pack are taken out simultaneously by an earthquake and the remainder mostly pick each other off until there’s just Podrick Payne and Mandon Moore, a hulking brute from the Vale, left.  Jaime has to watch the replay four times before he fully understood what had happened; Moore’s mace, crashing into the ground where Pod had lay moment’s earlier, the sword the smaller boy had pulled from Moore’s own scabbard and plunged up through his ribs.  Jaime’s watched Brienne Tarth through eleven games by this point, not including her own, has watched her watch twenty-one of the children she’s escorted to King’s Landing fall in the arena in twenty-one different, equally horrible ways.  The moment the twenty-second grips on to the ladder up to the hovercraft is the only time he ever sees her cry.  

Three years later, Robb Stark and Talisa Maegyr are reaped for the North.  There’s murmurings, of course, but it’s not the first time a prominent family has contributed to the Games, and Jaime is rolled out once more as living proof of just how true that is.  It won’t be an accident, of course, Robb’s inclusion the year after his father’s fall from grace, but no one, not even Brienne Tarth, is stupid enough to say so out loud.  It’s a typical Tywin Lannister move, masterful and pointed and shrouded in plausible deniability, and it backfires magnificently.  

Jaime doesn’t buy the love story the two teenagers weave, not for one second, but he can’t deny they do a very good job of selling the lie.  King’s Landing is entranced; Tywin is furious.  When Robb Stark reaches into his belt and pulls out the little handful of berries Jaime can practically hear the vein’s popping in his father’s forehead from a whole building away.  It’s a tactical masterstroke.  And all across country, from Kings Landing to the Wall, people are suddenly sitting up and paying attention.  And, quietly, carefully, asking questions.

Their death, in a train crash during their victory tour, is not a surprise.   But, Jaime can’t help but think, alone in his room that night, it might have been the biggest mistake Tywin Lannister has ever made.  Alive they were young and beautiful and charismatic, sympathetic and obvious targets for any malcontents to rally to.  Dead they are martyrs, transcending mortality to a higher, untouchable plane.  It’s not open rebellion, not yet, but it’s there, simmering, months of discontent and unrest that occasionally spills over in brief, barely supressed bursts of violence. Jaime spends months travelling from region to region, subduing disquiet and parroting patriotic garbage.  

He's in the Riverlands when the Quarter Quell is announced.

On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of King’s Landing, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.  Where there is no living victor the tribute will instead be reaped from their siblings, or, failing that, their descendants.  

The next time he sees Brienne in person she’s four chariots behind him, absurdly tall next to Pod’s stocky frame. Her face is set, expressionless, but when her eyes meet his they are burning with fury. 

[sandinthemachine]

König x Ghost x Reader Headcanons (part 2!)

Part 1

Warnings: these are copied over from my 2am phone notes so let's say nsfw to be safe and also sleep deprived brain took the wheel here, I think a lot of these are just very mushy actually but also highly unedited I'll fix that later

-

Body Things

Simon has those little dimples on his lower back I just know it

König has a beauty mark above his left hip. You love kissing it, especially before going down on him, and Simon loves brushing his thumb over it when they're spooning or he's holding König's hips.

Simon has stretch marks. They flow over the edge of his chest into his arms and shoulders. There are a few on his legs and abdomen, too, and some across his ass. When he first joined the military he found the training and workouts to be exactly the outlet he needed, and he threw himself into them hard. He grew fast, and his body remembers that. He's not one for looking in the mirror much, but once you caught him after a shower drying himself off with a towel and his fingers lingered over the stripes a second longer than they did anywhere else. Now you take a moment to kiss them whenever you can. You could be lingering in bed placing gentle pecks along them or in the shower letting your lips linger there, feeling him relax under you.

König noticed you paying extra attention to Simon's stretch marks and began running his fingers over them absentmindedly whenever he holds Simon, sometimes even brushing his hands over where he knows they are when they sit together fully clothed. Simon knows you both pay special attention to them now, and although he might not ever be able to tell either of you, he feels his heart pumping just a little lighter and steadier in his chest whenever one of you does.

When König really grins it's lopsided, one side curling up much more than the other. You love it, and you love hearing the full-on maniacal belly-laugh that usually accompanies it. Simon's dry humor gets him the most, and once he's laughing he almost always gets you all going along with him.

König has a slightly crooked nose. He's not as subtle about his insecurities as Simon is, so you'll catch him staring at his reflection sometimes in a window or a mirror, just completely out of it. You like to sit and talk to him, check in on how he's doing and remind him how much you love all the things he hates. Simon is much less verbose about it. He'll walk right up and catch König's gaze, sometimes sliding his arm between him and whatever surface he's staring at. He then likes to smooth his hand or fingers over the mark or body part in question, punctuating the unspoken statement with a lingering kiss over it. Sometimes he'll just throw König over his shoulder and carry him away from the mirror, usually getting him to laugh a bit while he does.

Simon loves König's waist and neck. He also likes your shoulders and how nicely they fit into his hands when he's pulling you onto him. He likes how when he massages them for you your head lolls back into him and your body ragdolls.

König is a thigh man through and through, worshiping them on both of you. However, he's also very fond of Simon's ass. (Who wouldn't be)

Miscellaneous

Simon doesn't really openly preen at praise like König does but he still enjoys it even if he keeps his reactions to himself

One time while König was topping Simon he reached down and intertwined their hands and it was so unexpected Simon short-circuited on the inside not knowing how to react, but König thought he did something wrong because Simon just went still, processing it. He was able to convince König he was fine but hasn't worked up the courage to ask him to do it again yet.

When König is frustrated over something he tends to pace a lot, curling himself very deeply into his own head until he is barely aware of his surroundings. If you move a piece of furniture he'll probably run into it because he's not really seeing anything around him when he's like this. Simon tends to just step in front of him so he either stops or runs into him, and then takes him to go spar or work out and get all the nervous energy out. After he's calmed down and showered a bit, Simon is happy to hold him and listen if he wants to rant, but there's no pressure to speak. Simon isn't a man who feels the need to fill silence.

When you wake up from a nightmare König is really good at talking you down from it, settling you back into bed and bringing your breathing back down. Sometimes you're too worked up though and you can't hear him, your eyes fixated on the shadows that seem to flash around the corners, coming at you like bullets and bodies that keep you jerking and writhing even when you wake up.

Simon steps in for these moments, placing himself in front of you and holding your face a bit before maneuvering you to lay back into König's arms, letting your back rest against his chest. Simon then lays down in front of you, letting the comforting weight of his head and shoulders fall onto your lap and stomach as his eyes scan the room, keeping watch for you.

When the three of you are first getting used to sleeping together König always falls asleep with his limbs too tight around you both, pulling everything in close so he subconsciously knows he won't lose it while he's asleep.

Simon, on the other hand, tends to stay awake, listening for any sounds out of the ordinary and watching over you both.

Simon learns that when König has a bad dream he tends to twitch, his hands spasming, and that if Simon runs his own palms up and down König's arms he'll often settle again.

He learns your bad dreams come in the form of soft little sounds he can soothe by holding your face and whispering to you. He tells you all his softest secrets then, how he'll make sure you and König sleep perfectly right here where nothing can ever get through him to you. Some of his words filter into your dreams, but you have no way of knowing that's where they came from. König was awake to listen one night, the night Simon whispered to you how terrified he is of how much he cares for you both before letting a heavy silence fall over the room. König held him much tighter the next morning. He would never tell Simon why.

Simon sees how openly soft you and König are to each other early on and tries to learn from that, but he sometimes wonders what you both see in him as he fumbles through learning to show affection.

When König looks at you and sees you smile he tends to give in to a lot of the smaller thoughts in his head like kissing you, tickling you, or scooping you up. Simon's instinct is to tamp those thoughts down. With König it's even harder, Simon has a lot to work through and he's trying really hard, and König is a little nervous too, not knowing what Simon likes and not wanting to scare him away or make him shut down completely. Simon picks up on that discomfort and internalizes some of it at first even if he doesn't mean to.

Simon watches you two pepper each other with kisses and slowly starts to do that. He'll kiss you on top of your head and linger, smelling your shampoo instead of immediately pulling away. He'll kiss the back of König's hand and run his thumb along the veins there, feeling him start to soften. As Simon relaxes into the relationship he likes kissing whatever skin is available to him, sometimes pulling clothing aside to reveal a sliver of skin he can kiss and touch.

When you two start doing it to him this brooding old soldier really starts to melt and let himself enjoy them. He could be sitting next to König while he reads and he'll lift his hand from where it wraps around König's thigh, hovering in front of König's mouth until he gets the hint and kisses it. Once König gave in to an intrusive thought and sucked Simon's fingers into his mouth instead, poor man inhaled so fast he nearly burst a lung and it made the funniest noise. But later when Simon had König's legs pinned to his chest as he pressed into him, Simon shoved his fingers into König's mouth and groaned as he sucked them.

With you Simon tends to randomly turn and rest his chin on the crown of your head hoping you'll settle into him and start stroking his biceps or forearms, maybe even turn and give his chest a kiss.

König will beg for stuff like that too but he's much more up front with it, usually making some sound deep in his throat to get your attention, like a little rumble of frustration if he's staring at one of you and you're not getting the so very obvious hint that he wants a kiss.

König will drape himself over your laps like a cat.

Simon will glare at him but as soon as König grins he softens so quickly, that man will give this massive gremlin whatever he wants because of that smile

You tease Simon that he spoils König too much and he's becoming a brat (*wink wink*) but he ignores you you're gonna have to deal with that one yourself

König knows you won't tolerate it like Simon will so he uses that to his advantage when he wants to be dominated. Maybe you'll even get out that tasseled whip he loves to feel dragging over his back between lashes on his ass.

Often you help prep them for each other using the smaller strap-ons you own, and then you love holding their faces and telling them how good they're doing when they take it for real.

They are both chronic starers. When you guys get back from missions you make a point of washing each other to help relax and König has the habit of just laying his cheek on the side of the tub and watching you two.

Simon thinks he's more subtle about his staring. He's not. Although his grin is more subdued and tends to be just his lips curling up at the corners a bit.

-

Have another shitty meme to characterize my current state

[hyukabean]

txt’s love languages // giving and receiving

req — an irl friend wanted my opinion on this, so i thought why not make it a post lol

nana’s notes — just my opinion ofc!! feel free to leave your thoughts below ^^

warning(s) — none!

unedited.

choi yeonjun

giving: acts of service, gift giving

alright, i feel like this is kinda self explanatory tbh

jun is the embodiment of acts of service!! just look the todo ep 13, remember when kai fell? (i mean how could you forget-) and jun was laughing his ass off with everyone, and them immediately goes into hyung mode and says, “be careful”, cause there was a table behind him?

yeonjun teases people, a. LOT. but, he also cares equally as much! he may not verbalize it often, but he’ll definitely show you his love through his lil actions!

its the hand on your back to make sure you don’t bump yourself anywhere, or the non-sexual dominance like holding your hand when you cross the street, standing in front of you always, regardless of your height:<

gift giving is also quite clear! remember when he was buying perfume for gyu, and gyu had no idea? he’s the type of casually stroll buy and drop a gift into your lap, and say: “this reminded me of you”, or “bought this on my way here”, regardless of how expensive it might be

once again, he cares, but he doesn’t want to have to say it, so you gotta read between the lines a lil bit~

receiving: words of affirmation, physical affection

yeonjun is clearly a fan of words of affirmation, i mean come on~ have you see this man when he gets complimented on vlive? or when a member is complimenting someone he’s like??uh?? what about me??? hello?????

he may be super flirty, but he can tell genuine and fake compliments apart really well, so your words, provided you’re being truthful, really so mean a lot to him!

“who’s pretty? hmm? me? awww my baby thinks i’m handsome? cute~”, meanwhile he’s losing his shit on the inside-

same with physical affection, he wants love, but he doesn’t want to ask for it!! the amount of time be randomly hugs the members or cuddles with them? not a coincidence;)

back hug him a bit, or pinch his cheeks every once in a while! and if you’re feeling adventurous, kiss his neck or cheek and just dip;)) he’ll be like?? huh? “뭐야…”

now sit back and watch blush for a solid second before he fixes his composure to get you back:))…

choi soobin

giving: words of affirmation, quality time

words of affirmation is a big thing for soobs! soobin is a leader, when he talks, people listen. though he is quite shy, he often cheers on the members when they’re nervous and consoles them when they’re upset.

binnie also knows when to ask, and when not to; if your relationship is a bit new, it may take some time for him to pick up on your habits, but he becomes a pro sooner rather than later!

this means he is super aware! the second he sees you looking a little glum, he’d know something is up, instantly. “bun, is something up?”, he’d pout slightly, wondering who or what in this world would want to piss you off so badly!! “aww… c’mere bunny, let me compliment you a bit, hmm?”

soobin also enjoys spending quality time together with you! he’s obviously busy being an idol, but if anything, it makes the moments you share even more precious to him

like he said, he’ll take the back seat in a relationship and go along with whatever his s/o would want to do!

best believe that if you want to text? he’ll giggle into his pillow and rant to kai about how cute you are. you wanna call? okay, let him grab his headphones for ‘privacy’ (he’s goons share everything with kai anyways but yk-). you wanna meet up or cuddle? just lay down and listen to him slow breaths and soft little giggles!

receiving: words of affirmation

remember that idol house episode i referenced in my meet the members post? where soobin gets pouty cause no one was complimenting him? yeah okay case closed.

words of affirmation, mean a loooot to mr choi! the members have mentioned him reading fan comments in his free time, so i think enough said!

just grab his lil face, give him a lil kiss, and list all the things you love about him! “mhmm m-munny you’re maging me mlush!”, he’d stutter out, but like?? don’t stop obviously? duh????

soobin will light up when someone praises him, verbally expressing their feelings or thoughts truly foes mean a lot to him! he wouldn’t mind getting physical affection as a token of love, but saying to him? that’s a whole new level…

choi beomgyu

giving: quality time

beomgyu is surprisingly reserved, but he mainly shows his love through quality time.

watch any todo episode, any vlive, literally anything! gyu is always cracking jokes, trying to make sure everyone enjoyes themselves, truly the mood maker:))

he is super receptive, and though he may not always be able to express it in words, he will find a joke or funny remark to make anyone cheer up when they’re feeling down!

“hey! y/n!! look at me!!! heyyyy god gave you eyes so you could marvel at my face, so look at me already!”

during these times, he’ll do anything with you! you always get to hear his new releases first, you get to help him with his lyrics, or just lay in his arms and hear him ramble or sing

“y/n… if i was a worm-”, “gyu nO”, “Y/N WHAT IF”

receiving: words of affirmation

beomgyu loves to hear words of affirmation! just telling him “well done!” or “good job!” makes him go soft </3

beomgyu foes super quite if he sees that someone, especially members aren’t listening to him… don’t get me wrong! beomgyu knows damn well that he’s a catch, but… hewoudln’tmindhearingitfromtimetotime-

when he realizes just how much he likes you, he’s fucked. but then, when you tell him verbally how fucked you are for him? he’s gone. i’m taking tapioka eyes and all!!! wide eyed and so pure n soft

finally someone can reassure him in the right way! someone who will stick with him through thick and thin!

“do you like it?”, “it sounds wonderful gyu, thank you! nice to know i’ve got someone who’ll compose songs about me~ i’m so lucky to have you pretty boy”, cue eyes lighting up:(((

please do make sure you reassure him from time to time though… or else you’ll see him randomly pouting in the corner, crossing his arms slightly, thinking he had annoyed you or worse, upset you some how!!

“angel, is something up?”, “…you haven’t spoken to me today…….”, “gyu…….. i just aRRIVED”, “I DONT CARE DAMN IT”

kang taehyun

giving/receiving: acts of service

taehyun’s love language is the same, whether he’s giving or receiving! taehyun is a straightforward person, but he shows his love subtly!

after being together, even if its only for a short while! he picks up on the smallest details! how you like your coffee/tea, what time you shower, when you wake up/go sleep, mans a y/n-lexicon

he’ll cook for you, clean your desk, anything to help you out a bit! and his heart will flutter if you do the same!!

“oh? coffee? two sugars, no cream? you remembered!!”

also has a slight thing for gift giving, but in a service type of way? like, he’ll buy you certain items to life just a lil easier for you:)) “here’s the portable fan you wanted! and a cup that will keep your tea warm for extra long!”

huening kai

giving: physical touch, gift giving

hue. ning. kaiiiiii. the tummy patter, the cuddle bug, the most likely to hug you more than your own mother!!!!!! ofc his love language is gonna be physical touch, no duh???

we all know hyuka loves to rub and pat the members’ tummies and you’re no different! like soobin always says, you cant hate kai! you can’t ever say no to him!!

literally, you could be sitting down, tummy pats. drinking boba? tummy pats. menstrual pain/general aches? tummy pats. its fool proof okay??

he’ll also randomly grab your hand when he can’t pat your stomach! he’ll play with your fingers, hold them to his face, cuddle into you like he does with soob! the boys a walking fluff ball with so so much love to give!!

kai takes his skinship se!! ri!! ous!! ly!!!!! he’ll find the dumbest excuses at first, cause he’s sacred he’ll come off too clingy:(( “you smell nice…”, or “odi is looking at you funny, i think he’s gonna bite…”, “kai he’s in a cAGE-”

def a spoon. not a small spoon, or a bug spoon, just a spoon. cuz as long as he’s touching you, he’s okay!!

plz just pat his head, and listen n try not to go deaf to his laugh n soft giggles n aegyo:((((

hyuka would buy gifts from time to time, like plushies at crane games at the arcade/carnivals/etc, but really, he just wants them to make cuddling more enjoyable dkshsj- so gift giving ig? but not really~

receiving: physical touch

i feel like kai would love someone who can match his energy in terms of affection, hands down. physical touch = love in his eyes

HOWEVER!! i have an inclination that he would adore a tsundere partner even more! not necessarily in terms of personality, but more so someone who’s inexperienced or just too shy to admit they wanna cuddle n touch 24/7!!!

making them blush is the only thing on his mind, all hours of the day istg- and he’d such a tease too!!!: “oh? you wanna cuddle? no? then why are you leaning against me, hmm? huh, what’s that, could you speak up please? aww~~, since you asked so nicely!!”

he’d get such a kick put of watching them open up, and crave his touch slowly!!

but i do think he’d seriously struggle with someone who doesn’t like being touched fr. maybe if he likes them enough, he’ll stick around, but the chances are rather slim!

just please hug him, and kiss him, and call him ning ning!! this big boi will literally melt in your arms!!!

© hyukabean all rights reserved. - do not translate my work, claim it as your own, and/or repost on any platform

[cqsuanla]

conk

tags: sfw dark!nat/f!reader

summary: you strike back. accidentally.

note: please fictional bde gf kill the bug in my room. also take a shot every time u see the word spoon, also unedited

It’s Nat’s fault for being so quiet, you’ll think later. And it’s also her fault for abducting you and holding you captive in a house for an amount of time you can’t even really comprehend. Leaving you alone for an amount of time you pretend not to obsess over. Also, for returning from whatever Avengers bullshit two days earlier than she’d told you.

You’re doing the dishes, humming, hands pruned and slippery, when lean arms wind around your navel. You shriek and jerk back, jumping comically into the air. Your favourite mug goes careening into the wall, shattering on impact.

The force of your reaction shocks Nat enough to make her loosen her hold, gives you enough leeway to whirl around. But she has not given you enough time, clearly, to exercise higher brain function. Before you know it, you’re seizing a spoon from the sudsy basin of water in front of you and flinging it at your then-unknown assailant.

The spoon bonks her on the forehead and clatters loudly on the floor. Nat stares at you.

You gape, eyes wide.

The gravity of the situation dawns, stuns you, plants you to the spot. Terror kicks in. You hear a consistent rushing noise in your ears. It could also just be the faucet, still gushing water, and you’re suddenly envious of the water as the drain swallows it. You wish you could liquify yourself and disappear too.

A shard of mug slips belatedly off the wet counter and clanks into a plate left in the sink.

The noise jolts Nat into movement. She lifts her hand, disbelief abruptly washing across her face, and touches her fingertips to her now damp forehead. Lightly. Ghosting over where you’d struck her.

You swallow. “I-”

“You hit me.” She looks at her hand, looking like she still can’t believe it. Really sells that, because she presses her fingers to her head again and looks at you, and looks at her hand, and does it again once more. Then, looks at the floor. “With a spoon.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out.

You take a step forward, thinking of maybe bodily hurling yourself at her in an effort to convey your remorse, but she moves away with a startled blink in your direction. You freeze on instinct. She stops too, looking even more perplexed than before.

“It was an accident,” you say meekly, shrinking back into the sink. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry; you scared me. It was- I’m so sorry-”

“A spoon.” The word comes out kind of high, as if it’s a question even though you’re taking it as a statement—there’s no way you’re answering. No way you can produce words right now, to justify it convincingly to someone like Nat. She drops her hand, eying the offending object on the floor. “I’ve never been hit with a spoon before.”

Because you don’t really know what to do—except you kind of want to hunch around your knees and think very hard about travelling back in time to convince your parents to terminate a certain pregnancy—you slap your hand blindly behind you. The water turns off after too much fumbling.

Nat tilts her head, eyes darting to you. Her face smooths into something expressionless, tone deceptively conversational. “That was very ineffective. The spoon.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, chest tight. Moments from hyperventilating.

“So you’ve said.” And fuck, thank god, Nat’s lips twitch. They broaden into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Her emotions always feel delayed, like she has to consider whether to feel them first, or to express them, at least. Always so controlled. It makes everything feel like a game. A really fucked up, exhausting game of how fast can she induce Stockholm Syndrome. Or make you cry. She’s very, very good at winning games.

“I really didn’t mean to, Nat,” you say quietly, shame-faced, as that thought crosses your mind.

“Yes,” Nat says, unmoving still, smiling still, “I didn’t think you’d attempt murder with a spoon.”

“Can you- Can you please just…” You curl your soapy fingers into the front of your shirt, wishing she’d just close the distance and enthusiastically forgive you for accidental assault. “I thought you- You said on Thursday that- You’re early.”

This, not the flying metal cutlery, is what makes Nat narrow her eyes at you. She tilts her head the other way, appraising you.

Anticipating her thought process, you twist the fabric of your top in your fists, shifting your weight on your feet. Words blurt out, stunted, genuine: “I- I mean, I missed you. I love you. Sorry for, um- for throwing a- I missed you, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she deadpans. Pointedly, she scuffs the spoon on her way over to you. She moves a bit of your hair over your shoulder with the back of her hand, pleased when you shudder at her touch. “I could really feel it. Your affection.”

You’re so relieved that she’s not angry with you, you don’t even care that she’s mocking you. “I love you.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing her face into your cheek and finally leaning into your body. Automatically, you release your hands and brace them on her shoulders. She breathes softly, happily, into your flushed skin. “It’s shocking sometimes.”

“What,” you mutter into her hair, eyes closed, inhaling the faint smell of smoke lingering on her. You wonder how much fire was involved in her mission. She kisses the corner of your mouth and you think about the heat of her body instead.

Her lips quirk; you feel it. “Your love. It just really hits me sometimes.”

“…ugh.”

She squeezes your middle. “Like a spoon. To the face.”

“There’s a butter knife in the sink too,” you grumble, “since you’re so into feeling my feelings.”

“Just try it,” Nat says with a laugh, nuzzling at your neck. “But, careful, baby, I don’t think you’d survive if I decide you should feel my feelings.”

“No,” you murmur. “Don’t think I did.”

Nat grins and twines a hair around her finger. You prop your chin on her shoulder and you soak in her good mood, looking idly at a spoon.

[drewstcrkey]

Murder On My Mind : Rafe Cameron .

Summary : you and rafe have been dating for just over a year, although you were friends long beforehand. you show up to tanneyhill to apologize for insighting an argument a few nights before but what you overhear once there seems much more important than some teenage argument. Pairing : rafe cameron x kook!reader Warnings : swearing, mentions of murder Word Count : 1.9k A/N : okay hi guys! i'm back! i know i have requests in the inbox and a series to continue but i haven't written in a while? and well, i wanted to get the rust off with a quick little one shot. i know it's kind of bad and unedited but what comes next will be better i promise xx

You knew Sarah was on the cut with John B tonight, proving to be the best time to go and try to hash things out with her older brother. After all, you could only go so long without talking to the Cameron boy. He was your best friend and lover all in one. You'd always been known as a rather happy girl around the Outer Banks but when you were with Rafe you seemed to be happier than what many even presumed could be possible.

Grabbing you keys from the stand in the foyer you turned to your parents in the kitchen. "I'll be back in a little," you smiled, holding your keys up as you rushed to the door. Already slipping out of the grand plantation home before either one of them could attempt to protest.

Hopping in your white jeep wrangler, smiling to yourself as you revved the engine. The idea of seeing Rafe after a few days making you instantly question why you were even mad at him in the first place.

The Cameron's wasn't all that far from your residence, so the drive was short. Likely for the best, not allowing you time to grew nervous. Sure, you hadn't reached out to Rafe since the fight but neither did he. What if he didn't miss you like he missed you? You shook the thought away, already making your way towards the front door. Normally you would just walk into the house, Rafe and Sarah often doing the same when visiting you but tonight felt a little different. So you rung the doorbell, waiting anxiously with your fingers intertwined with one another. The door swung open revealing a skeptical looking Wheezie.

"Why-" before she could start her usual line of questioning, you cut her off, already looking past the younger girl.

"Is Rafe here?" You asked, already stepping into the house, as Wheezie side stepped to allow you in.

"Yeah, he's upstairs," she started, you were already making your way up the stairs in unison with her words.

"But i don't think-" she let her hands fall to her sides in defeat once she noticed you were already out of sight. "I don't think he can talk right now," she mumbled to herself, before making her way back over to the living room, to finish whatever showed she was invested in before your arrival.

You opened the door to your boyfriends room to just to find an empty room, your brows furrowing together in confusion. Did Wheezie lie to you? Before you could go confront Wheezie you heard shouting coming from down the hall.

"Ward?" You mumbled to yourself, walking over to the closed door. Ward's office on the other end.

"It was only a matter of time," the voice sounding much like Rose's. You put your ear closer to the door to get a more clear range of the twos conversation. You had always been a rather nosy girl, your parents always told you it'd get you into trouble sooner or later.

"Not now," Ward groans, clearly anxious.

"Then when, Ward? What if he does something like this again? I'm not going down for him. I won't lie for him," Rose's voice going up a few octaves. Your bloody boiling a bit at the way Rose spoke about Rafe. She'd never really liked Rafe, everyone knew that and because of how obvious she made her feeling for him you never really cared for the women.

"He's my son!" Ward shouted back.

"He murdered someone...not just anybody either," you immediately froze at Rose's words. There was no way. Yeah, you knew he had some demons much to your dismay if often resulted in him getting into fights but this?

"Y/N," you heard a husky voice coo from behind you. Quickly whipping around to find your boyfriend. The murderer, if you asked Rose.

"Rafe... hi," you choked out, running your hands through your hair as you tried to process what you just heard.

"What're you doing here, sweetheart," ruffling his wet hair with his towel as he motioned you to follow him into his room. You followed him, despite wanting to hear more of the conversation between Rose and Ward.

"Uh, i came to talk you," you told him, standing at the door to his room awkwardly. He looked at you confused, shaking his head with a slight smirk on his face. You normally made yourself comfortable on his bed within seconds of walking into the dimly lit room, so you statuesque stance was certainly abnormal.

"Talk to me about what?" Dropping his towel and tossing it into the laundry basket, grabbing the boxers the he likely laid out on his bed before hoping int the shower and pulling them on, not before you could get a couple moments in of gawking at the godly physique you often found yourself under.

"Like what you see?" he chuckled, peeking over at you, before slipping on sweatpants and a tan striped t-shirt.

Yes. You thought to yourself.

You gave him a small smile as he made his way over to you, his blue orbs searching yours.

"I've missed you," his voice was much more sentimental than it had been. His hand finding it usual place on your cheek. You leaned into his palm for a moment before Rose's words rang through your ears. He murdered someone. Gulping down what help like a golf ball, you pushed a smile onto your face.

"I missed you too, baby," it was the truth you did miss him, but these weren't necessarily the circumstances you expected to be having this conversation in. Standing face to face with the man you loved who may or may not have killed someone. Before you could say anything else, his lips collided with yours, a hungry kiss that you reciprocated. His arms wrapping around your waist as he lifted you up off the floor slightly.

He murdered someone. Sang in your ears once again.

"Stop," you mumbled into his lips, "stop, stop," you cried out, shoving him away from you. Rafe stumbled back, leaving a rather big space between the two of you. The look on his face flashed with annoyance, then sadness.

"Do you not want me to touch you or something?" He sighed, plopping down on the foot of his bed, shaking his head in frustration. "You can't still be mad at me..."

You didn't respond. You didn't know what to say. Part of you wanted to run out the front door, get in your car and go back home to your parents. Forget tonight ever even happened. If you were lucky, you'd wake up and realize it was all just a bad dream. Then before you could even realize what you were saying, your mouth was moving.

"Who was it?" Your voice was a bit stern. Something Rafe only really ever experienced with you at parties when you tried to pull him away from the white powder that often ruled his nights.

"What?" He looked at you confused, his face said it all, he didn't appreciate your accusatory tone.

"I heard Rose and Ward..." you breathed, "who was it Rafe?" His face dropped at the sound of your words. In an instant you regretted bringing it up, letting him know you knew.

"Y/N, i don't know what your talking about..." he was now standing, his head shaking slightly at you. He wanted to believe you were talking about something else, he was praying you were talking about something else.

"I think you do," you nodded, pools beginning to form in your eyes.

"Y/N..." his voice was low, as he slowly started toward you. Your body immediately taking a couple steps back, only for you to find yourself pushed up against the door.

"Rafe," your voice almost inaudible, as the tears finally rushed down your warm cheeks.

"Baby, listen to me," he pleaded, allowing a small amount of space between the two of you. Knowing putting his hands on you in this moment wouldn't get him any where.

"Did you do it?" you were able to choke out. Your eyes now searching his, they gave him away before he could so much as open his mouth.

"Oh my god," you breathed out, frantically grabbing at the door knob and slipping out of his room.

"Y/N!" Rafe called out, running after you, before you could so much as make your way down the stairs he wrapped you up in his arms hushing you until you brought you back into his room.

"Rafe let me the fuck go," you squirmed your way out of his grasp. Stumbling onto his bed, once his hands where off of you.

"Will you stop!" He shouted, running his hands through his already tousled hair. Trying to think. You just stayed where you were, tears still streaming as the boy you loved seemingly morphed into a monster right before your eyes.

"I didn't mean to," he said through gritted teeth. "I was trying to help my dad," he continued, "i saved him."

"Me," he said digging his finger into his chest.

"Rafe..." you mumbled, your eyes softening on the boy before you. He seemingly was shape shifting with every word that came out, now turning from a monster to the lost boy you often saw when he was being berated by his father.

"Y/N... i didn't mean to," he breathed out, tears welling up in his eyes.

You found yourself getting up from the stop you'd manage to find some sort of comfort in, making your way over to Rafe. Your hands holding his face in between them.

"Okay...okay, i'm listening," you breathed out the shock and fear that initially coursed through your body. If there was one thing the boy before you could do well was make you putty in his hands. This moment only proved that further. Any sane person would scream or call the cops, but instead you stood there ready to hear the boy you loved out.

"Come on," you dropped your hands from his face, not before thumbing away the tears that threatened to stain his now red cheeks. Taking his hands in yours as you pulled him over to his bed, the two of you sitting side by side as you waiting for him to explain the events that took place.

How the sheriff had a gun pointed at his dad. How he wanted her to make it to the hospital in time but she didn't. How he was just trying to help his dad get out of a bad situation. None of it was okay. That you were sure of, but there was one more thing you were sure as the boy now laid his head in your your hands massaging through his hair - you didn't want to see him go down for this.

"We'll figure this out," you mumbled, kissing his temple as your brain was finally able to process everything he'd just told you.

"We?" His eyes fixated on you now.

"You and me against the world, remember?" You reminded him, a comforting smile coming to your face.

"Y/N..." he shook his head slightly, not wanting you to have anything to do with this.

"Rafe, stop." You huffed, "i love you, this doesn't change that," you assured him.

He couldn't help but let a small smile come to his face at the sound of your words. No one had ever shown him this much love in his life. He was sure this would be the breaking point for you. It should've been and he knew that.

[floraltypes]

lots of innocent and not so innocent touches

With Dwayne Pride if you wright for him if you don't just Gibbs please <3

who - leroy jethro gibbs x reader

an - i’m sorry! i haven’t seen ncis new orleans, so i probably couldn’t write dwayne very well … hope this is okay, for some reason i had trouble writing it :/

please continue to send in asks !!

unedited :/

Blankets surrounded your body, your leg ontop of another while light snores left your mouth. Hair was messed up and a hand was slowly moving to stroke your cheek. The curtains allowed peaks of the sunlight to peak through in your bedroom. A man lying beside you in his sweatpants and old tee.

The grey haired, older, man kept his eyes on your peacefully sleeping face, truly enjoying whatever dream you were imagining. He made no move to remove your leg from the top of his, but did make a move to place his fingers above your face, lightly pushing some stray baby hairs away.

A part of him silently cursed to himself, wishing that he had learned how to work his phone better, then being able to snap a photo of this calming moment for his own purposes.

Gibbs wouldn’t admit it to you, but these moments were more important to him than working on a boat, or the thrill after finally catching a bastard. There was something so domestic, so calming, with these times spent together. Time for him to think to himself, and also have the one he loves so much be so close.

Time to think about the past, and wonder how he got lucky enough for it to land here. Though, he may have lost a lot, and they would never be forgotten, he was grateful for another opportunity at pure happiness.

But his time to enjoy the peacefulness soon ended with a ring of a cellphone, causing you to stir a bit in your sleep. You eventually opened your eyes, staring up at the man who now had the hand that was formally on your face, resting on your chest.

“What’s that?” You questioned, trying to sit up and rub your eyes. “Can you get it?”

“It’s your cellphone,” He answered, missing the warmth of your leg, now having it be moved to lay on the mattress itself.

“Mmk,” You mumbled, reaching over to your side table and grabbing it. Flipping the screen up, you moved it to your ear. “L/n,” You tried to make your morning voice sound more as your own.

“If it isn’t little Y/n!” A cheerful voice spoke loudly on the other line. “Ya miss me?”

“No. What do you need?” You rolled your eyes, getting off of the bed, Gibbs eyes traveling your body as you walked to your dresser, picking out a outfit. “Mhm, okay,” You nodded to yourself. “I’ll be there, text me the address. Oh. Never mind then. Bye.”

Gibbs got out of the bed, going to stand beside you. He silently observed as you rolled your eyes once again, opening another drawer, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, a small kiss on the inside of your neck.

“Who’s that?”

“A old coworker.” You opened your underwear drawer, picking a pair for the day.

“Purple,” Gibbs commented, as you dropped the blue pair back into the others, reaching for the one he chose.

“Gosh, it’s like we really are married,” You laughed to yourself, looking back at his straight face. “Sorry, you would know too much about that. But that’s not my point, there is a dead marine there and that means we’ve got work.”

“You didn’t seem to happy to hear from him,” Gibbs unwrapped his arms as you moved to your closet, picking out a dress shirt.

“I wasn’t. He’s annoying and almost cost me my job at the time. But, it’s our job, we have to go, so grab your clothes in the bottom drawers,” You turned around and pointed at the dresser that held some of his items, now finding what you needed and beginning to change.

———————-

“If you are all interested to know… I spent the morning watching a old TV show airing about a classic comedic couple who travels the world with their adopted son,” Tony announced to no one in particular, sitting at his desk as the others sat at theirs.

Ziva had her arms crossed, leaning back in her chair a bit. McGee sat in his, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his phone.

“What did you do this morning, McGee?” Ziva looked over to McGee, watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Trying to work on my new writing.. but for my character, uh, Miranda, I need a good backstory for her, people are really grasping onto her character from the former story. I’ve read some things saying they think she’ll get with Gibbs, I mean Libbs!”

“Interesting,” Ziva tsked. “I read the story and your Miranda character, who is obviously Y/n, and I don’t see it.”

“You know nothing about romance, Ziva,” Tony waltzed over, his own coffee in hand and his face near hers. “I think no one expects you to think about who would get together. But, no, I don’t see Gibbs getting with someone like L/n who is very, you know-”

“I’m what, DiNozzo?” You walked in, moving straight to your desk as you placed your bag down.

“Amazing! I meant, you’re so great that someone like Gib-” Tony looked at Ziva’s eyes widen. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

“Someone like me, now what’s that, DiNozzo?” Gibbs questioned.

“Uh-” Gibbs smacked the back of DiNozzos head, moving over to his own desk.

“Dead sailor, body is already getting examined by Ducky and some visitors are coming to drop off some of the evidence.” Gibbs informed everyone.

“They think this sailor had something to do with a past robbery and murder, a cold case,” You clarified.

“L/n!” A guy smiled widely, another girl following in pursuit behind him as he walked to you with his arms wide open. “It’s been too long,” He quickly hugged you, tightening his grip around your shoulders and moving his hands to cup your face. “You still look as beautiful as ever!”

“Y/n, is that your boyfriend?” Ziva inquired.

“He looks a little out of her leagu-” You shot DiNozzo a look. “Or not?”

“Ah no,” The man laughed. “Old coworkers, that is Lila and I’m Carson, nice to meet you guys.”

“If your old coworkers, you must have a ton of embarrassing stories about Y/n!” DiNozzo beamed, moving closer to Carson.

“Uh, a few,” He responded. “We only worked together for a year or two, some, but not a ton.”

“Some will do.”

“DiNozzo, we aren’t here to make friends we are here to solve a murder,” Gibbs shot him a look and hit the back of his head.

“Right, sorry, boss.” DiNozzo put his head down like a sad puppy dog and made his way back to his desk. The two visitors looked at the scene that had just happened oddly.

“We brought all of our evidence, not much, but something,” Lila announced, placing the box on the table now and taking some of it out. “Should we get started?”

“I’ll show you to Abby, she is our forensic analysts and will probably want to take a look at this stuff for herself,” McGee told Lila, putting the evidence back in the box and letting her grab it, soon walking towards the elevator.

“You think I could check out the body?” Carson asked you. “It might be good to see what he looked like more and talk with your doctor.”

“That makes sense, I’ll show you to him,” You smiled at your old coworker and took another way to Ducky’s area.

The both of you chatted on the way down, catching up with how things differ since you worked there and a bit about your new workplace here.

“I really thought you would be Jeremy, the one who called me. I was a bit worried,” You laughed, walking into Autopsy with Carson as Ducky moved near you.

“Hello, dear, who’s this?” Ducky questioned, Jimmy moved near his boss.

“Hey, Ducky, this is Carson. Carson, this is Doctor Mallard. He is a old coworker of mine, Ducky,” You told the older man. “That’s Jimmy, he is Ducky’s assistant.”

Ducky began to explain how the man had died, pointing out various things on the body and even putting in a few past experiences of his own into the conversation.

Soon the four of you had heard the doors open, turning around to catch the view of your boyfriend entering into the room and moving to stand right in between you and Carson.

“I just want to hear some of the explanation myself, you can continue, Ducky,” Gibbs commented, all of your eyes turning back onto Ducky who was back to talking.

You felt a warm, larger hand travel to the middle of your back, a thumb softly pressing into the fabric that covered your skin. You turned your head slightly to make eye contact with Gibbs, but he just continued to stare forward ignoring it.

It was like a goosebump went up your spine, yet it wasn’t not encouraged. It was a bit of a energetic feeling, so you rejoiced in the innocent touch, a sign he was there.

Eventually, Ducky was done with his long explanation and you were back to heading upstairs with Carson and Gibbs to do more research regarding the deadman and cold case.

“So, Y/n, I was thinking we could go out to lunch or something soon to really catch up, outside of work,” Carson mentioned while you three were on the elevator ride up.

You were surprised at his somewhat boldness to announce this in front of your boss (and boyfriend), but he was always a very open person, kind and open.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” You replied.

“We are busy most afternoons.” Gibbs added. “So, if you plan it at some ridiculous time don’t expect my agent to be able to make it.”

The doors soon chimed open and Carson quickly left, making a bee line straight to Lila. Gibbs let you leave first, placing another palm against your back to secretly lead you back to where the desks were, even though you knew where you were going.

———————

The rest of the day was spent with much more working diligently. You all had made some progress but not enough, and you could tell it was really getting to Gibbs. He dismissed everyone and told them to come back in the early hours in the morning.

Gibbs had told you that he was going to stay and work on this some more, so you told him you would stay as well and order some food. Once Carson had heard that, he decided that he would do the same.

A hour later, three burgers arrive and you hand them out to the two other men, soon taking a bite into yours. A bit of the condiment had spewed onto the corners of your mouth, but your hunger caught up with you, continuing to avoid the feeling for a moment and just eat.

Carson caught the look of your messiness, breaking off into a small laugh, and you joining, him then making a joke about how this used to be a regular for you. Gibbs got up from his seat with a napkin and bent over a bit to wipe it away from your mouth.

It was certainly a small gesture, but had caught you and Carson off guard, the both of you quieting. You just stared back at him while he continued to eat with a pride grin on his lips, looking over the papers.

It seemed like a blessing from the sky when Gibbs had finally connected the pieces. Everyone was called back in to look over what he found and to excite a plan on how to continue. You all were able to get the murderer into custody and with old evidence and Ducky’s help you were able to identify he was the killer. With Abby’s help you were able to put him at the scene where your old coworkers cold case took place.

It was a relieving feeling that the case was solved and over. It was easy to tell that your current coworkers were also happy with the fact that your old ones were leaving for good. Having unfamiliar people in a familiar place is always a weird feeling for everyone.

You watched as everyone packed up their things to head home from the tiring few days of work. Standing up, you grabbed your bag and moved to Gibbs desk, chatting with him until Carson came over.

“It was nice working with you again,” He commented, you turned around to face him.

“It was. We make a good team.”

“We really do. I was wondering about that, uh, date?”

“Hm,” That had slipped your mind, and almost did once more when you felt a brush of a hand against your bottom, turning around to make eyes at your boyfriend. “Sorry, I actually have a boyfriend. But if you mean the lunch date to catch up, then I’d love to.”

“The second one,” He nodded, his cheeks brightening a bit at the dejection but also confirmation.

“Great,” You grinned, writing down your phone number and handing it to him. “Talk soon, bye.”

“Goodbye.”

You watched as Carson entered the elevator and soon disappeared, the office area looking very empty with the lights darkened a bit and only you and Gibbs being in the area.

“Glad he’s gone,” Gibbs laughed.

“I figured,” You laughed alongside with him. “I could tell by your touchiness at work, are you trying to let everyone know?”

“If I was, I would do something bolder. Didn’t Ducky ever tell you I used to be like DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, that would be a interesting time to see.”

“I think if I was that same man, we might’ve had sex right o-”

“Let’s get home, now,” You both soon left the workplace, hand in hand, laughing along at stories of the younger Gibbs and his flirty persona.

[tanniefm]

nasty | jjk (m)

summary - you're needy at a party and no one can help you except your boyfriend jungkook.

pairing - jungkook x reader

genre - established relationship

word count - 2.4k

song inspo - nasty by ariana grande

warnings - unprotected sex (BOOO), dirty talk, daddy kink, brief breeding kink, slight voyeurism (you essentially ride his thigh in front of everyone), explicit language, praise kink, subspace, drug and alcohol use (weed), brief mention of vmin, i guess kook also falls into domspace too i mean y'all are high so

a/n - i'm sorry this took so long school's been kicking my ass bruh. this is also very unedited since i originally wrote this while horny like a month ago kanjwbw. anyways yeah enjoy! ps. i am very bad at endings and summaries sigh

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

“Pleaseeeee”

“Nope”

“But I need to so badly! Just please make me cum, Kook!”

“What did I say? Not ‘til later. At this rate I might not let you cum at all.” his words brought utter terror to your face. What did he mean not letting you cum at all? You've been so good all day! Just like he told you! This party fucking sucks anyway. As much as you love your friends coming over, there’s only so much you can handle before you start getting annoyed by their presence. Jungkook has been teasing you all day but the very peak of it was when he ate you out earlier like it was his last meal and at the very last second, decided to cease all contact from you and smile cockily. Asshole.

It doesn’t help that you've both been drinking and smoking a bit, so your horniness has only worsened since then. This mixed haze of being tipsy and high at the same time is just making you needier by the second. You’ve been clinging onto him and following him around your shared apartment the whole night while he laughed and chatted with your friends.

“You good, ____?” Jimin laughs. He out of everyone should know exactly how you feel, given him and Tae are constantly going at it, just like you and your beloved boyfriend.

You smile sarcastically, “Nah I’m perfectly fine, Minnie! Why do you ask?” you know exactly why he’s asking. You’re not really the best at hiding your emotions and your face says it all that you’d rather have everyone disappear immediately so you can fuck the shit out of the man you’re glaring at. He’s currently taking a few hits out of Hoseok’s “party bong” as he likes to call it. It looks very used and burnt out, you don’t know why he just won’t get a new one since you’re sure that’s some kind of safety hazard but whatever.

“No reason, just that you look like you wanna eat Jungkookie alive is all.” he smirks. You roll your eyes playfully and take another sip from whatever mixed drink Jungkook made you.

“He’s getting on my nerves.” you quip back. Jimin’s eyes crinkle as he laughs heartily. It seems like everyone finds your situation amusing but you. All you want is to have a proper orgasm! Is that so wrong! It feels like he’s punishing you and you haven’t even done anything! You go to sit on the couch with him, directly on his lap, while he watches Seokjin and Taehyung yell over Mario Kart. He automatically wraps his hands around your waist and smiles lazily.

“Heyy pretty girl.” he says gruffly. His voice always gets raspy when he smokes and your pussy throbs at his (and your) favorite pet name.

“Kookie,” you whine. “Please can we wrap this up and do something alone. Need you.” you start pouting in hopes he’ll finally cave. He chuckles and brushes a piece of hair from your face.

He leans in closely to whisper, “After they're done with this game, I promise I’ll take care of you, ok baby?” you look at him skeptically and hold up your pinky to ensure he means what he says. He giggles at your cuteness and wraps his long pinky around yours, kissing it to seal the deal. Your face immediately lights up at the prospect that you’ll finally get some dick. The more you think about it, the wetter you get. Maybe he’ll bring out the toys this time and use those on you. Maybe he’ll overstimulate you until you beg him to stop. Maybe he’ll let you take control since he’s been messing with you all evening anyway. The possibilities are endless and they cause you to squirm around on his lap. You quickly realize that your leggings are pretty thin however as you suddenly pause when you feel that your boyfriend is hard as a rock. Little did you know that he’s been suffering just as much as you have, he just likes to play with you a little to see how needy you could get. He can feel you throbbing through your leggings and it’s been driving him fucking crazy. He can’t wait for the guys to leave so he can fuck you in every room of this house.

He grips your hips tightly and gives you a warning look of “do that again and see what happens” you whimper and tuck your face in his neck. He smells so good. You can faintly smell the weed you two have been smoking but you can still smell his soft detergent and calming lavender he loves so much. You know his nose is sensitive so he only uses a small amount of cologne and it encapsulates him so perfectly. He pulls you closer and starts bouncing his knee slightly. Fuck. Now his thigh is consistently hitting your clit and your mind is getting fuzzier. The haze from earlier coupled with the fact that Jungkook is bouncing you like a baby is starting to make you whimper and moan a little louder than you’d like to. You know he’s fucking with you again. He loves seeing you like this. He leans down and reminds you Tae and Jin are almost done with their game and then you can moan and whine all you want. You nod hastily while you suck a mark into his neck to keep quiet. His knee keeps the same casual pace, as if your clit isn’t the main focal point of each bounce. He kisses the top of your head and laughs along at whatever the boys are arguing about as to not raise any suspicion. Although you’re pretty sure everyone can tell exactly what’s going on. The fact that everyone can clearly see you getting bounced on your boyfriend's lap is only getting you closer and closer. You bet you could cum like this.

“Ha ha! Fuck you, hyung! I told you I’d win!” Taehyung shouts jovially.

“Yeah whatever, brat! I’m definitely winning next time.” they both get up and stretch before informing both of you that they think they’ll call it a night. The rest of the boys agree and gather their stuff to head out. You hate to say it, but you couldn’t be happier that everyone’s finally leaving. Jungkook lifts you off his lap gently and to your horror, you can already see a damp spot forming on his sweats. He smirks and winks at you while he kindly escorts everyone out. Once the last person is gone and the door is closed and locked, he turns around and tells you to come here. You scamper over to him in a haste and attach your lips to his in an instant. He laughs at your neediness and backs you slowly to the couch. He sits down and puts you in his lap again while you both make out as if you’ve been deprived of each other. He grips your hips and grinds you against his erection that’s been straining against his pants for the better part of half an hour.

“My poor baby, was I too mean today?” he asks as he kisses down your neck and jaw.

“Mhm, I’ve been a good girl all day just like you said and you don’t even care.” you whine. He lifts his head and cups your face.

“Of course I care, baby. I’m so proud of you for being so good today. You want daddy to take care of you now, don’t you?” he says gently. It looks like you’re not the only one that fell into a bit of a headspace. You’re very aware that when Jungkook starts referring to himself as daddy that he’s already taken a dominant position. Meaning he’ll take very little shit from you. Not that you felt like being bratty today anyway. Good girls get rewarded and that’s exactly what you intend to receive. You nod and grind against him faster in hopes he’ll get the hint that you want him now. As always, he quickly understands and starts ridding himself of his shirt as you take off yours. Seeing all of his tattoos always does things to you. Especially the small bouquet of black roses he got for you. You still can’t believe he would get something so permanent on his body just for you but he was adamant that you were the love of his life. The memory made you emotional as you started to tear up slightly. You’re going to have to ask Hoseok what the hell was in that strain to make you so sensitive to literally everything. Jungkook stops unclipping your bra as soon as he sees your eyes well up.

His hands are right back to their position on your face. “Woah, what happened love? Are you ok?” you wipe your eyes and giggle bashfully and explain why you got so worked up. He smiled and kissed you softly.

“You know I love you, right? You’re so fucking cute. I love you so much.” he says as he leans his forehead on yours. Weed makes both of you so sappy. You can’t even find it in yourself to care as you bring him into another kiss. He continues to take off your bra and starts kneading your breasts in his hands. The action makes you whine and pull away from him.

“Daddy, I wanna cum now. Please?”

He chuckles and lifts you off of him to strip your leggings. His fingers trace over the damp spot of your panties and he pulls them back to see how wet they’ve gotten.

“My little girl completely soaked through these. Needy baby. If you wanted it so bad why couldn’t you just do it yourself, huh?”

“B-because I wanted to be good. M’ a good girl right?” his words confused you. Why would you take care of yourself when he does it so much better. Plus, wouldn’t he just punish you anyway?

“I know baby, you are a good girl. Besides, those tiny little fingers would just frustrate you wouldn't they? You need daddy to cum ‘cause my dumb babygirl can’t do anything by herself, can she?” his words make your lip tremble as you nod dumbly. He’s right! You couldn’t possibly do something like that by yourself. Only he can make you feel like this.

He smiles as you agree with no hesitation and pecks all around your face. This is your favorite place to be in. In his arms waiting for his instruction. Taking the lead is fun every once and awhile but being stupid and pliant is far more your speed. He makes you feel safe and adored. He makes you feel good.

His fingers swirl around your covered clit as you moan into his mouth. Your little noises and the feeling of his fingers getting slicker is making him painfully hard and he, too is getting impatient. He wiggles his hips and slides his sweats down to reveal to you that he’s been walking around with no underwear on. He’s been completely hard with no barrier other than his sweats. You feel like you could bust right then and there. As soon as you see his cock, you lick your hand and start stroking it slowly. Jungkook hisses and throws his head back.

“Little girl...don’t play with me right now…” you heed his warning and scramble to take off your panties so you can get him inside you as fast as possible. This is what you’ve been waiting for, and you’ll be damned if you fuck it up now. He steadies you as you prepare to sink down on him and he kisses you gently. The way he’s filling you is intoxicating.

“Fuck, this little cunt was made for me wasn’t it? My baby’s so perfect for me.” his words make you tremble. You both moan breathily once he’s bottomed out inside you. You grind back and forth slowly as you try to adjust to his length. Jungkook however, is just as impatient as you are. He halts your movements to grip your hips and lift you almost completely off of him and slam you back down. You gasp as he sets a pace for you quickly. Your walls clench as he groans out praises of how good you feel and how much he loves being with you like this. In his lap, bouncing on top of him, whining into his neck. He couldn't think of a better place to be. His hands slide down to your ass and grips it as he bounces you even faster. You moan loudly and bite on his shoulder in fear of getting another noise complaint from the neighbors.

“D-Daddy? M’ close. So so so so so close daddy please fuck!” your words are slurred since you literally cannot think properly. He laughs breathily. “I know baby, you feel so good. Fuck I wanna pump you full of my cum. Wanna get you pregnant.” his words only make you moan louder.

“Oh you like that? You like when I talk about filling your cute tummy with my cum? You want my babies, little girl? Hm?” your head bobs up and down as you nod. “Yeah- mm yeah want it so bad daddy please cum in me. I wanna have your babies please Kookie please. Wanna cum wanna cum wanna cum!” you whine. Seeing how absolutely wrecked you are is only getting Jungkook closer and closer. You look completely and utterly fucked out. If his baby wants his cum that's exactly what she'll get.

“Shh precious I’m almost there. Daddy's got you I promise. Rub your pretty clit for me, I wanna see my baby cum ok?” you immediately obey and spit on your fingers before shoving your hand between you two. You rub your swollen clit with quick flicks to get you to cum faster. You just wanna make Jungkook happy. You wanna be his good girl.

It didn't take long for your hand coupled with his cock pounding into your g-spot to get you to cum hard on him. Your limbs spasm and your vision goes white while you distantly hear Jungkook's moaned praises. He cums in you not long after with a whine and keeps thrusting a few times so you can milk him for all he's worth. You both pant heavily as his arms wrap around you tightly, wanting to be as close as possible. He pecks your head repeatedly and buries his face in your hair.

“I love you ____.” he sighs. You giggle and sleepily look up at him. “I love you more.”

[iheardarumorthings]

hi!i saw you're requests were open and that you write for our beloved kaz, so may i please have kaz brekker x fem!reader where they were together for a realy long time, but kaz leaves her because he thinks he's not good enough for her, but then after a while,(if you've read the books, then maybe after the events of crooked kingdom, but if you haven't, then anytime after is fine) he runs into her and manages to explain whatever happened. can it please have a happy ending?

thank you so much and im sorry if it's confusing<33

YAY! MY FIRST REQUEST!! Thank you so much for putting this in! I hope this is good enough, even though I kind of took it into another direction! thankyouthankyouthankyou <33 (also, it wasn't confusing at all, don't be sorry)

Warnings: Angst, kidnapping, mention of past trauma and abuse, cursing, unedited, maybe more. Not sure.

DIRTYHANDS DOESN’T BEG

He left in the middle of the night.

You didn’t know why; there was no note, no one last ‘I love you.’ There was just a curt nod; he didn’t even take off his gloves. He clenched his fists and nodded at you.

You had disregarded it- there were always nights like these. Nights where he couldn’t get into his bed put beside yours…and he had had a rough day. You knew he had a rough day. So, you left him alone, blowing him a kiss and turning out the light.

The next morning he was gone, and Jesper was standing there, red eyed, asking you if you would leave the Dregs… leave for good. You had asked where Kaz was; Jesper had only grit his teeth, told you that he didn’t know, then walked away.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but that was when you knew: Dirtyhands was untrustworthy. You only fell right into his trap.

~*~

You found the paper about a year later and laughed. There, right there on the front cover, was Kaz Brekker wanted for $30,000,000 kruge. Your other friends were there, too, if you could even call them that anymore.

But even as you were laughing, you felt as if it were a betrayal. To him. To what you had. Each laugh that ripped out of you put another tear through your lungs, blackened your heart a little more.

You snorted, shook your head, opened a book and buried your nose in the pages until you heard another customer walk in the bookshop.

~*~

Oh, how he had missed you. The color of your hair, the socks you would leave under the bed.

Your laugh. That sparkling smile that lit up your whole face- that genuine, perfect smile.

But, alas, he remembers, he had let you go… more like thrown you out on your ass.

He gripped the hand on his cane a little tighter, his gloves squeaking a little from the strain.

His gloves.

He had barely looked at his unclothed hands since he had shaken hands with Inej the day on the dock- a sign of friendship, trust and well wishes on her trek.

But you- he wanted so much more.

He wanted to hold your hands in his. He had already reached the step of touching your hair…but skin on skin? No, he had not.

“Boss,” he heard from the doorway. Kaz looked up from his desk and into the brown eyes that belonged to Jesper. “We have a problem. A big problem- like…bigger than my ass problem.”

~*~

It was dark. And cold. Cloth was tied tightly around your eyes and around your lips.

A shiver went down your spine- not the good kind.

“When do you think he’ll show up?” someone asked, their voice was raspy and deep. However, they sounded far away. It was a good bet they were outside whatever containment center you were in.

Another person laughed, “Oh, he’ll show up. He’ll show up to save her- and that’s when we get to kill him.”

Kill who?

Kaz? He wouldn’t save you. He doesn’t give a fraction of a shit about you.

Jesper? Maybe.

Even though the thought of possibly seeing Kaz made your heart beat just a little faster. a long-gone feeling fill your chest once more.

But nevermind that. You scraped your forehead along the wall to get a better look.

You were right. It was only you there. A smirk lit up your face, your (e/c) eyes gleaming in delight.

You slowly took the hands that were tied to the table in front of you and slid them into your pocket.

Number one rule when you were with the Dregs?

Respect the old man and Kaz.

Rule number two?

Always keep a weapon on you.

You always abided by Rule Number Two.

You put the blade between your teeth and began to carve. Carve like you’ve never carved before.

Then your hands were free.

You tore the cloth out of your mouth. You tried walking but found that your feet were bound as well.

So much for assessing the situation.

But, it didn’t matter much. You made quick work of your feet.

Now all you had to do was make quick work of whatever guards were stationed here and go get yourself a coffee for when you got home.

~*~

Kaz wanted to kill. Jesper had given him the news, but you weren’t there.

You weren’t in the warehouse. You weren’t there; the only thing that remained were many dead bodies and some cut-up rope.

You had left. You had taken his chance to kill them.

But that was fine.

He was fine with that.

What he wasn’t fine with was the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see you- not unless he sent someone to look, but the Wraith was gone. He had to find someone else to look for you.

He was tired of the separation.

So, he vowed, he would find you, and he’d grovel for every inch of forgiveness you’d give him.

~*~

It was an accident the day he’d found you. He was bored and needed something to do. So, he went to the nearest bookshop… and found it closed.

So he went to the next one, and then the one after that until he could find an open one.

The second he walked in he smelled (f/f) filling the room; he looked to the left and saw three cases full of them. He grimaced. It was supposed to be an in-and-out trip. He’d find you later, he needed a distraction for now.

Then he heard it. Saw it. Let it fill his senses again.

Your laugh. The hair that was still as alive as the last time he saw it.

The only thing that was different was the rope burns around your wrists that weren’t there when he last saw you.

You were reading a book, your favorite one actually. It must’ve been the page that (f/c) was murdering someone, or (f/c) delivering some quip that you loved.

“I’m coming down1” you shouted. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

You were standing at the top of the winding staircase that led to the loft upstairs. He could see you. You couldn’t see him. Maybe it was better this way, he thought.

But it was too late. You were already running down the stairs, hoping to make another sale. “I’m so sorry for the wai-”

Your face went three shades paler.

~*~

You didn’t know why he was here. You didn’t know how he found you either.

But, you remembered, Dirtyhands feeds off of others’ reactions to him… he wasn’t your childhood best friend that promised he’d never leave. He wasn’t your boyfriend who promised he’d never leave.

He was Dirtyhands.

“Hello, Mr. Brekker.”

“(Y/N),” he drawled.

“Can I help you with something?” you said, keeping your eyes innocent.

“How did you get those?” he asked, staring pointedly at your wrists.

You took them out of his view as a reflex, but said, “That’s not what I was referring to. Are you going to buy a book?”

“Who did that to you?”

“It’s none of your business, Mr. Brekker. Are you going to buy a book?”

“(Y/N), I didn’t want to leave.”

Your eyes went somehow colder, but something cracked inside of you, “Then why did you? You do nothing that isn’t weighed; you do nothing that you don’t want to do. What more is there to say. I wasn’t good enough? I wasn’t able to keep up with Dirtyhands? Is that it? You want to explain why?”

~*~

A part of him wished he couldn’t see through the facade, couldn’t see through the back- and-forth that your mind was going through.

A part of him wished he didn’t have to tell you why he left either.

“I wasn’t good enough.”

You halted. Your eyes filled with something… confused. You were confused.

Maybe that was good. You were intrigued. You’d listen… you’d always loved books that started in the middle.

“Yes you were. Yes you were and you know it,” you said, eyes no longer confused, but glazed over with tears. “You’re just saying that. You’re just saying th-”

“You were good. You were too good. And you’re right. So right. Did you know how long I had to think that out? How long I stayed awake in bed at night, looking at that… thing on you. The thing they did to you?”

~*~

You bristled. You remembered well.

“It was for your safety. It was because I couldn’t find it in myself to help pick up my pieces and bring myself to be good. That’s why I left, darling. I left because you were too good.”

Bullshit, the voice in your head hissed.

“But, I can work on that. I can work on that. I want you back. Please, please.”

Dirtyhands didn’t beg. This was Kaz Rietveld; the one who held you in his arms when you were twelve and sobbing with Jordie dead beside you. This was the one that stood there while healers patched up your shoulder after what they had done.

He hadn’t held your hand. But that was fine. You knew why.

“That doesn’t matter. You didn’t trust me enough to be safe and to help you through that. You didn’t trust me, Kaz.”

“I do trust you, (Y/N)-”

“But you didn’t. Not when it mattered.”

“Please.”

Dirtyhands doesn’t beg, another voice sounded in your head. The one you remember so well from your childhood.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

His face fell the slightest bit. But, he tried once more, “But we can work on that. I can work on that.”

Your answering smile was all he needed.