#yet in sitting here wondering if i should take a job. feeling so bad for lying in bed. feeling gross and disgusting just becuase im...

[sapphic-woes]

🙃 just a ramble;;;

[almostempty]

Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,  

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY  @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh) 

AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 4: The more you suffer

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe. 

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice. 

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question. 

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling. 

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes. 

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :) 

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no. 

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more 

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not. 

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response. 

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease. 

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door. 

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy. 

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud. 

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging. 

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible. 

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new. 

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right? 

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type. 

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach. 

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees. 

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason. 

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance. 

“Good.” 

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship. 

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor. 

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison. 

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter. 

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.  

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes. 

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire. 

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious? 

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.  

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks. 

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really? 

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date? 

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy. 

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here. 

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look. 

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different. 

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.  

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center. 

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly. 

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes! 

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot. 

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost. 

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt. 

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access. 

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed. 

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight. 

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.” 

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public. 

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade. 

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor. 

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.” 

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans. 

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.  

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air. 

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on. 

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide. 

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off. 

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot. 

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you. 

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far. 

“Here?” you ask him softly.  

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress. 

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you.  He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?” 

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking. 

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure. 

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release. 

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again. 

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours. 

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right. 

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin. 

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off. 

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.” 

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free. 

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you. 

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks. 

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle. 

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out. 

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue. 

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.” 

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth. 

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter. 

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause. 

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess. 

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?” 

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out. 

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door. 

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text. 

Joel: Miss me? 

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something. 

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark. 

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley. 

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.” 

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home. 

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space. 

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off. 

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you– 

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare. 

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat. 

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now. 

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him. 

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls. 

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin. 

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?” 

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose? 

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?” 

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed? 

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him. 

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed. 

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.” 

A tremor runs through your body. 

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in. 

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons. 

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you. 

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear. 

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.” 

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway. 

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers. 

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel. 

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw. 

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic. 

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street. 

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up. 

“What did you just say, Joel?” 

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you. 

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?” 

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you. 

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.” 

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.” 

“Baby–” 

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud. 

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention. 

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?” 

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue. 

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?” 

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore. 

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin. 

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?” 

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid. 

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.  

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel. 

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle. 

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides. 

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos. 

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.” 

“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you. 

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side. 

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?” 

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face. 

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–” 

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions. 

“Followed us?” you’re curious. 

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words. 

“An ex?” 

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.” 

“So he is dangerous?” 

“No.” Only to my self-respect. 

“You want me to take care of him?” 

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.” 

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time? 

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood. 

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet. 

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing. 

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman? 

Your face wrinkles in confusion. 

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number. 

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.” 

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod. 

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.” 

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does. 

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave. 

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress. 

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?” 

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes. 

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.” 

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard. 

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin. 

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you. 

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically. 

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks. 

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse. 

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer. 

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.  

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.  

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?” 

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away. 

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts. 

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t. 

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead. 

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder. 

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?” 

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you. 

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation. 

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.  

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath. 

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t. 

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap. 

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself. 

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head. 

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works. 

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more. 

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.” 

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you. 

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips. 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men? 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt. 

Oh. 

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more. 

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.” 

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity. 

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.” 

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face. 

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot. 

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders. 

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out. 

“Make me yours,” you incite. 

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed.  He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath. 

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck. 

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both. 

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up. 

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets. 

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing. 

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[meazalykov]

getting what she wants

lena oberdorf x reader

part four of five

summary: you wonder if she will take this as seriously as you will, since the unfortunate event will turn her life around

warnings: angst, acl injury

the atmosphere in washington, d.c. was buzzing, the crowd already filling up the stadium for the final friendly before the olympics. 

the last tune-up match. the send off. you should’ve been excited, but your mind wasn’t entirely focused on the game ahead.

your family was here, your non-soccer playing friends have called off from their jobs just to celebrate your achievements.

however, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, though you hadn’t put your finger on it yet.

emma had decided to rest you for the first half, opting to try out some new formations and lineups before the olympics. 

you were okay with it, knowing that your performance in new york had already solidified your spot in the starting lineup for the tournament. still, sitting on the bench with your legs jittering from the adrenaline that always hit just before a match wasn’t easy.

you sat between tierna and hal, the latter relatively new to the national team setup. hal’s wide eyes scanned the field, soaking it all in as she sat nervously beside you.

"y/n," she said, her voice soft, like she wasn’t sure if she should even speak to you. 

you turn your head to look at her, with a light smile letting her know that she can speak to you anytime. 

"i know you’re going through a hard time, according to the team. and i feel like you should hear this since we haven’t talked much but i’ve just... i’ve always admired you. as a midfielder, i mean. your control, your playmaking, it’s... i don’t know, you’re so goated."

you turned to her, surprised by the compliment. you hadn’t interacted with hal much since this was only her third call-up to the senior team. she was still finding her spot, but her genuine words made you smile, if only a little.

"thank you, you don’t understand how much that means to me right now" you replied, offering her a nod of acknowledgment. 

"you’ve been doing great too. i can’t wait to play with you more often."

hal gave a nervous smile, then added, "i know there’s been... a lot of drama lately. with carmine and everything. but i want you to know that i’d like to be your friend, no matter what. i don’t care about the rumors that might make you look bad or any of that stuff."

her words took you off guard, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. 

it wasn’t easy to open up to new people, especially after your ex ruined your trust for a temporary period, but hal’s sincerity was a breath of fresh air.

"i’d like that," you said, meaning it. 

"friends sound good."

the game started, and for the first half, you sat watching intently, analyzing the way emma was testing out the new players. 

mexico was tough, just as they had been in the gold cup back in february, but you knew that your team had enough firepower to break them down eventually.

at halftime, it was still 0-0, and you were itching to get on the field. 

emma must’ve sensed it, because in the 63rd minute, she called your name.

"y/n, you’re going in. i want you to play in your normal position, just like last game, prioritize the opportunity. stay in the line– i trust you."

you nodded, already mentally preparing yourself as you stripped off your warm-up gear and jogged to the sideline. 

when the whistle blew, you stepped onto the pitch replacing rose lavelle, ready to make an impact.

within minutes, you found your rhythm, linking up with mallory, lynn, and sophia effortlessly. you could feel the game starting to open up, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the breakthrough came.

and then, in the 78th minute, it did.

lynn made a run down the left wing, drawing two defenders toward her. you saw the space open up in the middle and called for the ball. 

she cut it back to you, and without hesitation, you took a touch, then drilled it into the bottom corner of the net.

the goalkeeper dives too late to save it.

the crowd erupted as you run to the corner to celebrate. you see your family and personal friends and give them a heart with your hands, happy to see them here.

your teammates swarming you. it wasn’t a hat trick like the last game, but it was your fourth goal in two games, and it felt good—really good.

after the final whistle, with a 1-0 victory secured, you headed back to the locker room. 

the energy was high, the team buzzing with excitement, but there was a heavy pit forming in your stomach. 

something didn't feel right before the game, and you couldn’t shake it.

as you sat on the bench, wiping the sweat and grass dirt from your face, lindsey walked over, her expression serious. she motioned for you to follow her, pulling you into one of the private areas of the locker room.

"hi?" you asked, sensing something was wrong.

is she confronting you about the drama? you weren’t sure. lindsey reassured you many times that everyone still loves you, so you hope there were no new problems now.

lindsey hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours before she spoke. 

"i didn’t want to tell you before the game, but... lena got injured in germany’s friendly against austria. it’s her knee. popp thinks it’s her acl."

your heart dropped into your stomach, the words hitting you like a freight train. 

"what?" your voice cracked, panic already rising in your chest.

"she’s in the hospital back in germany right now," lindsey continued softly. 

"i’m sorry, y/n."

you didn’t think twice. without another word, you grabbed your phone and hurried outside to find a quieter space. 

it was 11:30 p.m. in dc, which meant it was 5:30 am in germany. 

lena would still be awake, especially if she was in the hospital.

with shaky hands, you dialed her number. the phone rang twice before she picked up, her voice groggy but filled with pain.

"hey," lena murmured. 

"i was hoping you’d call. nice goal by the way, i saw it on tv."

"lena, i just found out," you said, your voice tight as you tried to hold back the wave of emotions crashing over you. 

"your acl? are you okay? i—i should’ve called sooner but i had that game—"

"i’m... i don’t know," lena admitted, her voice breaking slightly. 

"it hurts like hell, and i couldn’t sleep. i was supposed to start my first game with you at bayern after the summer, but now... now i don’t even know when i’ll be back."

your heart ached hearing the defeat in her voice. 

lena was one of the toughest people you knew, but this was breaking her.

"i’m so sorry," you whispered, your throat tight. 

"i’ll be there for you, okay? after the olympics, i’ll help you with your recovery. i’ll make time, i promise."

"you don’t have to do that," lena said quietly, though you could hear the gratitude in her tone. 

"i don’t want to be a burden on you. you have so much going on—" she switches to german. 

"lena," you cut her off, your voice firm. 

"you’re not a burden. you’re a priority. i want to help you. i’ll be there for you, whatever you need. i promise."

there was a long pause on the other end before lena spoke again. 

"thank you," she whispered. "i... i don’t know what i’d do without you right now."

you sat there, the weight of her words sinking in. the truth was, you didn’t know what you’d do without her either. 

shes been in contact with you everyday since that night. unless there were training or games, there wasn’t a single long-period where you weren’t texting about something– or anything.

despite everything—despite the complicated mess you’d been through with your ex, and the uncertainty that had surrounded your relationship with lena—you realized just how deep your feelings for her ran.

you weren’t official with lena. not yet. but the way your heart was breaking for her right now told you everything you needed to know.

after a long pause, lena spoke again, her voice softer now. 

"i’ll still make time for you, even with everything going on."

"no," you said firmly. "i’m going to be there for you, okay? i’ll help you recover. you won’t have to go through this alone."

"thank you," lena whispered again, her voice filled with emotion. 

you sat there, the phone still pressed to your ear, your mind racing. this wasn’t how you’d imagined things would go. 

lena was supposed to start fresh at bayern after the summer, and now... now everything had changed.

when you returned to the locker room, the news had already spread. the atmosphere was a mix of excitement from the win and the heaviness of what had just happened to lena. 

your teammates, especially the ones who knew her well like tierna, gave you sympathetic looks, but no one said much.

as the team prepared to leave for d.c., the weight of everything that had happened in the past few weeks hit you all at once. 

from the messy breakup with sloan to lena’s injury, it felt like everything was spinning out of control. 

and yet, despite it all, one thing became clear to you as you boarded the plane for the olympics: 

you wanted to be with lena. not just as a friend, not just as someone helping her recover, but you wanted to be hers. and her to be yours. 

the thing is– you weren’t sure how it would all work out with lena, but you knew one thing for sure: you were in too deep to turn back now. 

when all of this was over, you and lena could figure it out together. 

the olympics came and went in a blur, the pressure mounting as you advanced through the tournament. 

the uswnt played like machines under emma hayes, and before you knew it, you found yourself in the final against brazil, the stakes higher than ever.

the atmosphere at the olympic final against brazil was electric. you were in the 2020 olympics with the team, but winning bronze doesn’t compare to this.

you stood shoulder to shoulder with lindsey and sam, eyes fixed on the opponents you’ve had faced so many times before. 

brazil was known for their speed and creativeness, but you knew alyssa naeher was more than prepared to keep them at bay. 

today wasn’t just another game — it was the olympic final. and you were more determined than ever to bring home gold. just to prove to yourself that nothing could stop your game, not your cheating ex— nobody.

but as the national anthem played, you couldn’t help but think of lena. 

you hadn’t spoken to her much over the last few days, mostly because she was in the thick of her recovery then traveling to meet up with her national team. 

though, lena was in the audience. you knew that. lena visited her german teammates as they won the bronze medal match against spain. to say that you were happy for them would've been an understatement. 

now the germans were here before the ceremony, ready to watch you put on an outstanding performance for gold.

your heart ached when you thought of her, the injury that had thrown both of your worlds off course. 

she was supposed to be thriving, ready to become a star at bayern, and now she was sidelined for months.

but right now, you had a job to do.

the whistle blew, and the final kicked off.

brazil came out swinging, full of energy, and the first twenty minutes were a back-and-forth battle in the midfield. 

every time adriana or marta touched the ball, your heart skipped a beat, but you knew alyssa was solid in the back. 

the triple espresso were pushing the attack, but brazil’s defense was holding strong.

at around the 30-minute mark, you found yourself in space, sam coffey threading a pass your way. 

your first touch was sharp, pushing the ball ahead of you as you glanced up to see the keeper off her line. the triple espresso was blocked by defenders, so without a second thought, you wound up and took the shot from just outside the box, sending the ball curling toward the top corner.

the sound of the net rippling sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins, and the stadium exploded in celebration. 1-0. 

you threw your arms up, letting the emotion wash over you as your teammates rushed to engulf you in a hug.

something inside of you wanted to cry in joy– but you held it in. there was still work to be done, and brazil wasn’t going to back down easily.

the rest of the first half was intense. 

brazil pressed hard, but the u.s. defense, led by alyssa, naomi, emily, crystal, and tierna, stood strong. 

when brazil did manage to get a shot off, alyssa was there, calm and collected, making crucial saves to maintain the lead.

at halftime, the locker room was a mixture of adrenaline and focus. 

the 1-0 lead felt good, but you knew it wasn’t enough. brazil was dangerous, and if you let up for even a second, they’d capitalize.

emma gathered the team for a quick pep talk, her voice steady but full of fire. you listened, making sure that you put on the best performance of your career in this second half.

as the second half kicked off, you could feel the tension. 

brazil came out with renewed energy, and for the first 15 minutes, they pinned you back, testing alyssa with shots from distance. 

she held firm, pulling off save after save, keeping the clean sheet intact.

you cheered, externally or internally, everytime. 

in the 65th minute, emma made a tactical switch, bringing in fresh legs to maintain the pace. fortunately, you weren’t subbed out. 

the game shifted again, and you found yourself back in the attack. mallory broke down the wing, flying past her defender, and whipped in a cross toward the penalty spot.

you were already there, timing your run perfectly. the ball floated in, and without hesitating, you leapt into the air, connecting with the header. 

it wasn’t the hardest shot you’d ever taken, but it was placed perfectly, tucking into the bottom corner past brazil’s keeper.

2-0.

the stadium erupted, louder this time, the roar deafening as you run around the pitch with your arms up high. your  teammates chased then mobbed you once again. most teammates from the bench even jumping up to hug you in celebration. 

a two-goal lead in the olympic final. you could taste the gold now.

with brazil rattled, the game started to open up. there were more chances on both sides, but your defense was unbreakable. 

alyssa, naomi, and emily were locked in, keeping brazil at bay with every attack they mounted. it felt like nothing could get past them, and you could see the frustration building in the brazilian players.

as the clock ticked down, the final whistle was nearing, but you kept your foot on the gas. 

brazil was desperate, throwing numbers forward, and that left them exposed at the back.

in the 88th minute, you found yourself in possession again, just outside the box. 

sophia made a darting run to pull the defenders away, giving you just enough space to take a shot. you faked to your right, cutting back inside, and then unleashed a low, driven strike toward the far post.

the ball hit the bar, but trinity recovered it and tapped it behind the net. 

3-0. the gold was yours.

the crowd exploded in celebration as you dropped to your knees, overwhelmed with emotion. 

trinity laid on top of you, crying with you. 

your teammates swarmed you, hugging you, lifting you up, the joy infectious. you had done it. olympic champions.

as the final whistle blew, the team celebrated like there was no tomorrow, hugging, crying, laughing. 

you had your gold medal moment, standing on top of the world. 

your hands were on your face as your sobs came out uncontrollably. if you told yourself a month ago that you’d be this happy and relieved, you wouldn’t believe it. 

lindsey and tierna comforted you as you stood up to go to the locker room, getting ready to shower before the ceremony. 

as you had a moment to settle down, your thoughts drifted back to lena.

you hadn’t realized how deep your feelings for her had grown.

the fact that she was there, the fact that she was hundreds of feet away in the stadium, recovering from an injury that could derail her season instead of celebrating bronze with her team, weighed heavily on your heart.

later that night, after all the celebrations, after the medals had been handed out and the photos had been taken, you found a quiet moment to yourself. 

the weight of the gold medal around your neck was a reminder of everything you’d worked for, but the ache in your chest was for something, someone else.

you pulled out your phone, glancing at the time. 

lena was probably asleep by now after partying with her national team, but you couldn’t help it. you needed to talk to her.

you dialed her number, your heart pounding as the phone rang. after a few rings, she picked up, her voice groggy.

"hey," she mumbled. 

"you did it!" she cheered through her tired voice. 

"yeah," you whispered, your throat tight. 

"we won."

there was a long pause on the other end, and you could hear lena shift slightly, probably trying to get comfortable in her bed. 

you know that she is someone who sleeps on her stomach, so the brace might make it hard for her. 

"i’m so proud of you," she said softly.

"i wish you were here with me," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

"this doesn’t feel right without you, even if you do have a different nationality than me." you giggled.

"i wish i was there too," she replied, her voice filled with longing. 

"but... i’ll be here when you get back. we’ll figure everything out then. until then, please enjoy your win."

you smiled, tears stinging your eyes. "i’m coming home to you. as soon as all of this is done."

"i’ll be waiting," lena whispered.

as you hung up after the goodnights, the weight of everything hit you all at once. 

the olympics, the gold, lena’s injury, your breakup with sloan, the confusion about what you and lena really were—it was all so much. 

one thing was clear in your mind as you stared down at the gold medal around your neck: it didn’t matter what obstacles lay ahead now. 

you moved on from whatever was in the past and you were in this with lena now, for the long run.

part five, the final part, here

[ericsprincess]

wanna take a look inside you

nc-17, stalker!Jaemin, Jaemin/female reader, cunnilingus, crack

~~~

Your stalker really cares about you.

~~~

Why the fuck is it snowing again? Just why? you groan, as soon as you open your eyes and see all the fluffy snowflakes falling behind your window. 

You reluctantly roll out of your warm bed and start getting ready for the day. You should be rushing through your morning routine, since you have to get to work, but you’re almost deliberately slow. You’re just trying to delay the inevitable, which is having to shovel half a meter of snow out of your driveway and your car, and scrape off the ice from your car windows. You’re seriously considering calling in sick, just to not have to deal with standing outside in snow and fighting your flimsy plastic shovel and tiny ice scraper. 

You’re pouring yourself a cup of coffee when you stop at the sudden glimpse out of your kitchen window. What the hell. 

Your driveway is already nicely and precisely shoveled, with all the snow neatly piled up on one side. Not only that, your car is completely cleaned, covered with only a small layer of freshly fallen snow, indicating that whoever took mercy on you did it only a while ago. 

You sit down behind the table and absentmindedly scratch behind your dog's ears while chewing on toast. 

Maybe one of the neighbors did it? Or maybe there is some kind of a community service? Which is weird. You just moved into this area and by the looks of it you would expect to get your car stolen rather than cleaned. 

Hmm, you think. Maybe the neighborhood here isn’t that bad. 

(Narrator voice: It is actually that bad.)

~~~

Ironically, a few days later you do end up calling in sick. The cold winter weather got to you and after an evening of feeling like shit you woke up with fever, sore throat, and no will to live. 

You blindly feel around your bed to search for your phone, eventually finding it under your dog (Oof, move, you fat fuck), and call Jaemin from HR, in your office also known as Hot Jaemin from HR, to inform him that you’re taking a sick day. 

He picks up immediately after the first ring and with his completely pleasant, friendly, and only slightly creepy deep voice, he takes your note and wishes you to get well soon. He even asks if there are some work related heads up to pass to your coworkers, just like the nice and considerate guy he always is. If only every coworker was like Jaemin (nice, competent and hot), work would be much more bearable, you sigh. Sometimes he even sits down with you for lunch in the breakroom and offers you some home baked pastry while he talks about his cats. Really, just an overall nice guy. 

You finally hang up and burrow yourself back under the covers, when you notice the time on your phone. 6:58. Huh? I must be delirious, you think hazily, already drifting back to sleep. He’s not even supposed to be at work yet.  

~~~

When you finally emerge from your supposed delirium (also known as common flu) two days later, both of which you spent almost entirely just sleeping, you take a gloriously good hot shower and head to the kitchen, wondering what you will be able to scavenge from the fridge. 

Thankfully, it seems well stocked. So you quickly make a sandwich with some fresh ham and vegetables, scarf it down like a madwoman, after barely eating for two days and put the plate into the sink.

The dishes are also done. 

The house is actually pretty spotless, you squint as you look around. Even more than usual - no socks anywhere, no cups with forgotten tea. Dog looks fed and happy. 

The laundry machine beeps to announce that it’s finished. 

Wow, it must have been really bad, because I don’t remember doing any of that. Good job, sick me, you mentally pat yourself on your shoulder. 

~~~

You open the door to get out of your house for a nice walk and you stop dead in your tracks.

What the actual everloving fuck. 

Right in front of your doorstep there is a line of six mice, nicely ordered and completely dead, and you barely manage to prevent your dog from taking a good sniff. 

You retreat back to your house, pulling the dog with you and you lock all the locks on the door. 

You don’t even own a cat? 

~~~

You would swear the oil change light in your car was blinking for the past two months. Like, it had been mocking you and your procrastination. You felt bad about it, but ignored it, because who would want to deal with it unless you really have to? 

Well, it’s not blinking today. 

Which must mean only one thing - the light is broken now too. Which might also mean some electronic failure.

You frown. Karma for being lazy found you and there goes your free Saturday. 

And then it finds you again 2 hours later for being an idiot, when it turns out the oil does not need to be changed and the whole electronic system in your car is working alright. You made the mechanic check twice because you could swear you’re not making it all up, just to end up looking like a dumbass in front of the whole shop. 

You go home in shame and then you dig out the car manual you once threw into a cupboard and never read. 

~~~

Ugh, this guy again. You fight the urge to run, but he has already noticed you and you don’t want to look weak. Or afraid. But you are, a little. 

Walking on the same street, your creepy neighbor is approaching you from the opposite direction and you’re already bracing yourself. 

He never lets you go just with “Hello,” he always tries to flirt creepily and invite you for coffee, last time he even tried to grab your hand. You shudder at the memory. You hate these kinds of slimebags and their audacity. But you’re afraid he might snap if you really tell him off. 

So, you’re not sure what to do, you’re always just distantly polite and doing your best to not give him any signal that he might interpret as his attention being welcome. 

But you did start bringing pepper spray with you and going everywhere with your dog. Not like this fat fuck could ever protect your from anything, but still. For mental support. (But seriously, why is it getting so fat? You make a mental note to take him on longer walks, despite the shitty neighborhood.)

He’s getting closer and you’re already feeling the anxiety, when he swiftly crosses the road to get to the opposite side of the street. He walks faster. It’s like he’s avoiding you. Not only that, but he’s limping and his nose is bandaged as if it were broken. 

What could have happened to him? you wonder. Maybe he bothered the wrong girl and her boyfriend went to teach him to leave women alone, you chuckle. Who knows. 

~~~

You suddenly startle out of your sleep to the sound of breaking glass. It's a deep night but you are barely gathering your wits from being so crudely woken up, but you can hear a strange commotion from downstairs. 

Burglars, is your first thought. You’re shaking hard but you slowly and silently tiptoe to your closet to get a broom, the only weapon you can think of right now. A broom in one hand and your phone in the other, with the police dialed up, just waiting to press a call, you pad down the stairs to your living room where the sound came from. 

The lights are already on. And in there there is-

“Jaemin??? What are you doing here?” you scream. 

Right in the middle of your living room is Hot Jaemin from HR, disheveled and slightly out of breath, and just about to finish hog-tying a masked man. He pulls the rope tightly and kicks the man into the ribs for good measure. He stands up and turns to you with a bright and wide smile. 

“Y/N! Go to sleep, I got it!” he says happily and throws you a thumbs up. He ignores the question.

“B-But-” you take a step forward but Jaemin stops you. 

“Be careful, Y/N, there is glass. I threw a vase at him, that fucker really thought he can mess with me like that,” he snorts. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll clean it up and deal with this bag of dicks.” he urges you gently. 

“H-How are you going to deal with him?” you’re confused. Jaemin’s smile gets even wider. 

“I’ll deal with him, I have tools in my car. Don’t worry about it.” he brushes you off. 

“You know what, I’ll just call the police,” you wave your phone, barely out of shock from what just happened. 

“Okay,” Jaemin sighs with dramatic exasperation. “But it will take forever while you could have just left it to me and gone to sleep.”

You squint at him suspiciously and press the dial. 

~~~

“So, that would be all, Mrs. Y/L/N. We will contact you about the further proceedings,” the police officer clicks his pen off and gathers his papers. Your kitchen is still flashing red and blue from police cars parked outside. 

“Thank you, officer, I really appreciate it,” you beep back at him. This police thing turned out to be a lot more serious and lengthy than you expected.

“Don’t thank me, miss, you should thank your..uhhh…” he looks up at Jaemin, who is standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders. 

“Husband,” Jaemin offers, with his signature bright smile and you fight the urge to step on his foot. 

“Yeah, that. Anyways, if you have any questions, call us. Good night!” he salutes you with two fingers and brusquely walks out of your house. The cars leave one by one and then you’re alone. With Jaemin. 

You turn back to him. 

“I am not sure what to think about all of this, but thank you, I guess. But I have a lot of questions and I want answers to all of them,” you stick a finger right in the middle of his chest. 

“Okay, of course. Whatever you want, Y/N,” Jaemin offers. It’s the first time you see him look anything else but bright and cheerful. He looks almost unsure. 

“I’m now going to sleep and if I find out you’re still in this house, I’ll call the police again. On you.” you threaten. “You have 2 minutes to leave,” you add and pointedly look at the clock on your kitchen wall. 

“Oh, okay, let me just…” he gathers his rope that the cops left behind and his jacket and hurriedly slips on his shoes. He’s in the door in thirty seconds, waving at you. 

“See you at work!” he squeezes your hand briefly and runs out of your house. 

Why do I always attract these weirdos, you sigh and drag yourself upstairs to your bedroom. You fling yourself on the bed and you suddenly really feel how tired and exhausted you are from all the adrenaline. It would be really for the best to just sleep, you decide and crawl under the covers. 

But the sleep is not coming, you’re just thinking about everything that happened. You keep tossing and turning, ending up staring out into your bedroom window. 

Suddenly, a phone display lights up in the crown of a nearby tree. You decide to pointedly ignore it and you flip to the other side, turning your back to the window. You grab your dog, who’s been snoozing peacefully throughout the whole night and snuggle into his white fluffy fur to sleep. 

~~~

The next day at work you don’t waste any time. After throwing your bag at your desk you change direction right into the HR office. 

You don’t knock, just let yourself in, meeting Jaemin who is currently sitting behind his desk, unpacking his things for a day. He looks up at you, smiling. 

You cross your arms and point at the nametag on his desk that says “Na Jaemin, Head of HR” with your chin. 

“Ironic, huh?” 

“What’s ironic?” he straightens up, smile unwavering. 

“I can’t even report you, you asshole.” you frown. “And I don’t really want to go to the police because you did save my life.”

“Well that’s bad.“ he nods solemnly.

“It really is. So… Care to explain what you were doing at my house?” 

“Guarding you?” he answers like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wh-guarding?? From what?” you ask incredulously. Oh. “Okay don’t answer.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “You know that as a head of HR I have access to aaaaaaaaaalllll of your records, right?” he spins his pen between his fingers. “So I really couldn’t help but notice you moved into a really shitty location, Y/N. Really, there? I know how much you make, you don’t need to live there at all.”

“I’m saving money for my own house, okay?” you answer defensively. You couldn’t have possibly known it would be that bad. You thought that everyone was just exaggerating. “Why were you even keeping tabs on my address?” you ask him accusingly. 

Jaemin just keeps looking at you, smiling. It’s unnerving. Like a shark about to eat you, but with joy.

“...so you’re not gonna answer?” you frown. Of course. 

“I mean, isn’t that obvious?” he drawls, tilting his head as if he were mocking you. And you think it should be obvious, but at the same time, you never know what’s going on in Jaemin’s head. 

You sigh. “You know, next time JUST ASK ME OUT YOU MORON!” 

“Oh, yeah, I could have done that…” he startles with realization. “I guess I was too preoccupied.”

“With what? Figuring out my daily patterns? Putting a GPS tracker on my car?”

“How did you find that?” he asks surprisingly, pulling up his phone to check. 

You close your eyes and breathe deeply. Come on, you have dealt with worse. And he’s really hot *and* whipped, even though he has a particular way about it. And he saved your life. You could have a use for him. 

“Drive me home.”

“Sure,” he gets up immediately, picking up his jacket. 

“You’re not even gonna question me wanting to leave work just like that?” 

“Who do you think is processing your attendance records?” he winks at you and leads you out of his office to the parking lot with a hand on your waist 

~~~

“By the way, you didn’t answer.” you say while fighting with the seatbelt while Jaemin starts the car. “What were you doing at my house?”

“Uh. Is this now the time to tell you I’ve been sleeping in front of your bedroom door for the past few weeks?”

You can literally taste the headache coming. 

“I don’t think there is ever a good time for that.”

~~~

You open the door to your house and let both you and Jaemin in. Your dog comes running to welcome you and you’re not even surprised that it actually ignores you in favor of running into Jaemin,  who doesn’t wait to start playing with him, laughing and telling him what a good boy he is. 

More like a traitor. You frown at Jaemin pulling out a treat out of his jeans pocket and your dog chasing it hungrily as Jaemin teases him. Sold me for a piece of snack. 

“Let’s go upstairs before I change my mind.”

“Sure,” smiles Jaemin and stands up, suddenly taking a hold of you and picking you up over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. 

“Hey! Put me down!” you yell at him, grabbing his ass and squeezing it. “I will fucking bite you!”

“Leave that for later…” he drawls in his creepy flirty voice as he walks up the stairs. He takes you to your bedroom and gently lowers you down on your bed. 

You really like the view from under him. He leans down to kiss your neck.

“Hey Jaemin..” you begin. 

“Hmmm?” he mumbles, continuing to kiss and lick your neck while his hands are working on taking your clothes off. 

“While you were sleeping outside my bedroom…Heards anything weird?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Pretty sure I heard my name at least once,” he bites into your collarbone. He takes off your shirt and pinches off the hooks of your bra in a second and you help take it off you. 

“And you still didn’t think of asking me out?” you ask disbelievingly. He pulls back a little and you get distracted by his shoulders. You start unbuttoning his shirt, just to reveal his beautiful full chest and muscular arms. Nice.

“You said Doyoung’s name once too.” he shrugs. He doesn't really meet your eyes.

“Oh yeah, Doyoungie from accounting…Haven’t seen him in a while, I wonder how he's doing…”

“He asked for a transfer. Doesn’t matter. Let’s not talk about him,” says Jaemin once again back to his bright smile and leans down to you, now fully committed to undressing you as soon as possible. He pulls off your pants together with your panties and lets his shirt slide off his body as well. 

“What are you gonna do?” you ask, while he shifts down your body. You instinctively spread your legs.

“Apologize,” he says while looking into your eyes and straight up dives into your pussy. 

You can tell he’s really sorry. He’s putting all the enthusiasm into eating you out, trying really hard to figure out what makes you tick and then applying it tenfold. You can feel him smile the moment you start making sounds.

You can feel yourself being close to coming and you try to tell him by pulling his hair, but in the end it doesn’t matter. He knows it already and he continues to flick his tongue over your clit even as you come, holding you by your thighs firmly so you don’t move too much to slip out of his hold. Once your orgasm starts to fade, he eases up a little, switching to slower, gentle licks with flat tongue, while you catch your breath, but in a minute, he’s back at it, relentlessly stimulating you as if you didn’t even have a choice about whether you want another round or not. 

You can only applaud his skill and stamina and let him make you come, with absolutely no guidance, for the second time, barely a couple minutes after the first one. 

While you’re coming down from your orgasm, feeling all liquid and brainless, Jaemin disentangles himself from your legs and crawls up the bed to drag you into his arms.

You turn to kiss him when you realize he hasn’t even taken off his jeans yet. You slide your hand to rub over his hard cock a little and he sighs and nuzzles into your neck. “Do you want…” you start.

“No. I haven’t deserved it yet,” he breathes out. “I’m already close though…” He looks like he’s fighting himself on that.

“Oh really?” you grin, and rise up to look better at his flushed face. “Well then get back to work?” you pull him by his (insanely attractive) sex hair. He whines, you don’t know if it's from pain or arousal, but it doesn’t matter.

“I’m going to sit on your face now, okay?” you whisper to him. 

“Uhhhh uhhh,” he closes his eyes. 

“Great. If you come, this one doesn’t count,” you laugh, and swing one leg over his leg to kneel over him.

~~~

You’re lying in your bed, sweaty and tired and almost falling asleep in Jaemin arms, when you suddenly remember. 

“Hey, actually...what about the mice?” 

He turns and smiles at you with a full Cheshire cat smile. Way too many teeth.

"Well..."

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Halloooo angel - For requests I was wondering if you could write crew!reader who has an anxiety attack in the green room where the band is. They’re at the venue, and she spots her ex in the crowd. All the boys happen to be there and doing whatever they can think of to try and help calm her down. You know, Jolly being a dad, both the Nicks being soft lil beans, Noah going from “should we kick him out” to “he’s a fan of the band? how mad would he be if he thought you were dating the lead singer?” and poking the bear

Hey! Thank You for the request! This was an interesting one to sit down and write! It took a little longer than I expected! I hope you like it!

Any and all feedback is appreciated! Enjoy!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Check out my other writing here: MASTERLIST

Little White Lies

Y/N rushed down the hallway backstage frantically trying to follow the signs that Matt had hung that morning directing where the various rooms were located inside tonight's venue. She mentally begged her legs to move faster as she began to feel the familiar tightness in her chest take over.

She had been the bass tech for Bad Omens for a little over two years at this point. Meaning she was charged with making sure everything with Nicholas’ collection of instruments were cared for and ready to go the second he needed to walk on stage. She had just finished up her final pre-show check when she decided to take a quick peek at the house before the support band started their set. 

As she scanned the crowd she felt like the oxygen was sucked from her lungs when her eyes fell on a familiar face standing amongst the other guests in the VIP section. 

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. She mentally cursed. How is he here? Why is he here? 

Jared, her ex-boyfriend, was at a Bad Omens show and standing next to him was the same girl that Y/N found him in bed with on the day she came home from tour the year prior. Almost four years of her life had been wasted on this asshole that, come to find out, had been cheating on her for over a year and a half. 

He then had the audacity to try and gaslight and manipulate her into thinking that the cheating was somehow all her fault because she was gone on tour all the time. She wishes she could say it hadn’t worked, but it did and at her lowest point she had considered giving up on her dream job entirely. The mental and emotional manipulation affected her for a long time after the breakup. She had felt like her entire world was crumbling around her and thankfully her touring family stepped up to rally around her when she needed it most. 

Alana and the boys helped her move out of the house she and Jared had shared and Matt even flew in from Texas to help Noah, Jesse, and Jolly get her set up in a house that was for rent only a few doors down the street from their own. She cut off all contact with Jared and hadn’t seen him since the day he dared to show his face while they were packing the last of her things.

He promised to keep his distance while she moved out but then showed up anyway and stirred shit up with the boys. Which resulted in Alana and Noah having to physically hold Jolly back and keep him from trying to take a swing at Jared’s smug face before he finally walked out of the door and out of Y/N’s life for good. Or so she thought. 

When she found the door labeled “Bad Omens Dressing Room” she quickly slipped inside and nearly collapsed onto the couch. All commotion in the room ground to a halt as the boys looked at the panicked expression etched across their friend’s face as she struggled to control her breathing. Nicholas quickly recognized what was happening and crossed the room, kneeled on the floor in front of her and grabbed her hands within his own. 

“Hey…Hey, Y/N…look at me.” He said with a soft yet firm voice and Y/N looked up, connecting Y/E/C eyes with the familiar bright hue of her friend’s.

“There we go. I need you to try and take a deep breath and tell me five things you can see,” he said, “can you do that for me?” 

She nodded, taking a shaky breath, before listing out things she saw scattered around the green room. 

Jolly’s guitar. A case of water. A ski mask. Folio’s drum pad. Noah’s laptop. 

“Good. Good,” Nicholas responded. “Now four things you can feel.”

She took another breath. Each one feeling slightly more steady than the last. 

Nicholas’ hands. Her AAA crew card on the lanyard around her neck. The cold water bottle Folio had pressed to the back of her neck. The radio attached to her hip that looped across the back of her shoulders. 

“Good,” he continued. “Three things you can hear.”

The music from the bluetooth speaker on the table. The support band playing their set. Matt’s voice on the crew radio. 

“Two things you can smell.”

Cigarettes and Cologne. 

“One thing you can taste” 

Spearmint toothpaste. 

“Better?” He asked. She replied with a nod.

“What happened?” he inquired. “You haven’t had a panic attack like that in a while.” 

She proceeded to tell them about her spotting Jared in the crowd, who he was with, and the section where he was standing. 

They were not only pissed off about him daring to show his face at one of their shows. They were trying to figure out why he was even here to begin with. He never showed any interest in the band or attending one of their shows while he and Y/N were together. So why now was he suddenly a Bad Omens fan?

Jolly being Jolly wanted to tell Ash to have security kick him out of the venue, VIP or no VIP, and Noah initially agreed with him until a new idea came to mind. 

“Wait, he’s VIP. Which means he’ll probably be at that weird meet and greet thing the venue wants us to do after the show…” He stated. “Why don’t we have some fun with this asshole?”

“I don’t know Noah, I don’t think he’s worth all this.” Y/N said. Not wanting the guys to waste their time or energy on Jared of all people. 

“Oh no no no, this piece of shit has the audacity to show up at one of our shows after what he did to you?” Noah replied. “We’re going to at least make him squirm in the process.” 

“Okay, so, what’s your plan then?” Y/n questioned with a defeated sigh.  

He paused. Pondering. 

“How pissed do you think he’d be if he thought you were dating one of us now?” Noah suggested. A humorous glint in his eye. 

“Oh, he’d probably be furious.” She replied nonchalantly, before also pausing, a grin started to form on her face. “Say more…”

Noah continued and explained the rest of his master plan and how to execute it. 

Y/N was intrigued and a little worried about whether she would be able to pull it off or not. Noah was one of her best friends and someone she definitely felt very comfortable around so he was the natural choice in being her fake boyfriend. 

After the show Y/N started her regular post show duties breaking down her work space and packing up the bases, guitars, pedals, along with all the miscellaneous pieces and parts into their respective road cases for the rest of the crew to load onto one of the massive trailers the band now used. She had just gotten that done and the cases rolled out to the loading dock, when she heard Noah call her name and motion for her to join him. 

As she made her way toward him, she acted oblivious to the fact that Jared and his friend were standing at the back of the small group of people waiting to talk to the band. But judging by the burning stare she felt hitting her back, he definitely noticed her. 

Noah held out his arm toward her after they bid the most recent person goodbye. While the guys chatted with the next person, he pulled her into his side and planted a tender kiss on her temple. 

He leaned his mouth toward her ear and whispered, “They looking at us?” 

“Yep” she said with a nod, faking a giggle at a non-existent joke, before looking up at him with a grin. 

His brown eyes glowed, even in his tired state, as he stared down at her. They stood there for a few beats, just staring at each other, smiling like idiots before Noah started tickling her side. She quickly tried to squirm away but he pulled her even closer.  

“I think that should do it.” He said, pulling her into a full hug before placing one final kiss on her forehead, “We can handle the rest, go do what you need to do for load out.” 

He gave her one more quick squeeze before she slipped out of his arms and walked back toward the stage to help the guys finish packing up. Smile still plastered on her face. 

Noah turned to the next group of people to meet the band, but not without catching a glimpse of Jared standing at the back. Anger building in his expression, his little friend standing there completely oblivious. 

When the fan they were chatting with turned their attention more toward one of the other band members. Noah took the opportunity to make eye contact with Jared who was fuming. The expression on Noah’s face grew more serious as he held their stare. It said, I remember you, I remember what you did, and you will never come near her again. Almost daring him to try something. His face sent a very clear message to the unwanted VIP. 

She’s mine, Bitch.

[lovexjoe]

In Love With A Stripper Part 2

warning: alcohol, mention of death and language

Armando pulls the car to the back, taking in her attire: he smiles on the inside. She looks beautiful like this, not that bullshit she’s forced to wear. He gets out and opens the door for her. Thanking him, she mentally gives out one more prayer that this man isn’t going to kill her and hops in.

She was shocked cause she could never imagine being in a car like this, it would take her a lifetime to even buy this. The ride was silent, as she looks out the window taking in the scenery of Mexicos city lights. She’s been here on this side of town before with Andres, but she just couldn’t remember exactly. His right hand reaches for hers, she could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. His hand much larger than hers, engulfed her small one with warmth. She intertwine their fingers together and he rubs her hand with his thumb.

She’s really in the car with a drug dealer who could potentially make her disappear off the face of the earth. Yet she felt the most safest in his presence. The car pulls into a gated mansion, he spoke to the gate to confirm his ID and they headed inside.

“Do you trust me?” He looks over at her and she looks back not saying a word. Just looking at him with those doe eyes. She gives his hand a squeeze confirm that she’s okay but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer so easily. He hands his key off to a guard, opening her door for her and leading the way up the stairs. This is where he lives?! Why not just stop drug dealing and retire? He is set for fucking life. This could have potentially been her life with Andres if he was connected with the right people. She pushes the thought away cause it’ll only sour the mood.

They entered his bedroom and it was exactly the way she thought it was gonna be. Crispy clean and all black. There wasn’t a single spect of color in this room: dark and depressing. They sit outside on his balcony enjoying the city lights as they pour up a drink. He breaks the silence first.

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name…..Luna.” She takes a sip of her drink. The mixture of rum and coke easing her nerves.

“Nah that’s not you mami. The real you.” He turns his body to her, giving her all his attention. Her eyes could easily captivate someone yet here she was feeling hot and shy under his gaze.

“Xiomara…” she sips her drink again, numbing her nerves.

“Es bonita, mami” he says giving her a smile, first one of the night and it took all her suspicions away.

“He smiles! So you’re not gonna kill me, thank god!” She puts her hand on her heart and lets out a joking breath. For the first time in a long time he lets out an honest laugh. He’s never brought anyone back home, he’s always had his fun outside and returned to his empty room. But her, for some reason he wants to do things to her but he wanted more. But he can’t want more. This was for one night he reminded himself.

“Tell me about yourself” She takes in his question, wondering if she should be an open book or pick out things that were true and fill the rest in with white lies. She probably wasn’t going to see him ever again so why not?

“I came here two years ago with my boyfriend, he was a drug dealer. I didn’t know much but he had food on the table and we were gonna build a life here. He got killed during a deal gone bad and I-I had to verify the body at the scene because his mom couldn’t go….” She takes another sip. The alcohol causing her mouth to vent all the feelings she’s been holding in for a year now.

“A month after Andres passing I found out I was pregnant. It would have probably been smarter to just not continue with the pregnancy but he’s the last thing I have letting me know that Andres was real. Things have been hard so I strip to save pay the bills and my day job helps me save” Armando’s jaw clenched at the mention of her late boyfriend’s name.

“I’m sorry that you’re going through this.”

“Don’t do that….dont pity me. It sucks but there’s someone out there having it much worse than me.” He nods his head raising his glass to cheers to that.

“Tell me about you….or whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Just one night right? He wasn’t going to see her again and it’s not like anyone would believe her anyway.

“My mom’s in prison right now. She gave birth to me in prison, I was raised there till I was 6 and then they sent me off with someone to the cartel. Here I am….” He sighs and gulps the rest of his drink.

“See? I told you somebody else has it worse than me. Thank you for that.” Laughter filled the room, she notices the crinkle in his eyes when he smiles. He looked much younger when he let some happiness enter his empty heart.

“Armando? Why am I here? If you wanted to have sex…we cou-“

She stops talking when he stands up pulling her close, his hand caressing her cheek. She doesn’t know what he wants. He knows what he wants but he’s not going to admit because it’s insane. They just met.

“I can tell that this isn’t something you do. And after hearing what you been through…I want you but I’m not touching you until you beg me to….” The way he’s looking at her like he wants to devour her, she so badly wants to give in. He picks her up and carries her to his bed. She sits at the edge of his bed while he picks out some clothes for her.

Yes Armando Aretas a fucking cartel is picking out clothes for a stripper he’s beyond fond of. Boy would his mom be having a fit if she could see this. She changes in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror and smiling. He’s definitely not what she thought he would be. She leans her head down to the black shirt, taking in his divine scent. Once she reenters the room, Tom and Jerry reruns were on the tv and he looked too cute under the covers.

Shirtless…..

How was she going to control herself? She had to or else she would look to easy. She can’t and she won’t!

She got in bed, keeping a certain distance between them. His hand trailing across her exposed skin on her inner thigh. She looked better in his clothing than he did.

“I don’t bite mami, come here” he pulls her close, his hand slipping under the shirt and resting on her stomach. He places a kiss on her temple as they both watched the tv till they fell asleep.

~~~~~~~

The sun creeps through his window, causing Xio to walk up in bed alone. The tv still running some outdated cartoons. Her bedside had roses and a letter.

“I had some business to take care of. There’s a driver and duffel bag waiting for you. I will see you soon - Love Armando”

She heads into the restroom and where she had a brand new toothbrush and a toiletry bag filled with products: expensive ones too waiting for her. This man really had everything accessible for him. She started to wonder how many girls he did this for. Looking at her phone, she realizes she doesn’t have time to wait around as she needs to grab Ricky from his grandma’s. She hurries up changing into her clothes from last night and heading downstairs. Did she keep his shirt? Yup, something to remember him in case she doesn’t hear from him again.

The driver hands her the small duffel bag and she gets into the car and giving him directions to her house. Reminiscing about the little commentary they had while watching looney tunes. How it felt being held by him all night. This was it for them. She doesn’t think he’ll reach out. He knows where she works but….maybe she’s just overthinking.

Andres’ mom sent her a message letting her know that she will stay with Ricky today if she wanted some time to herself. She sighs with relief, she could use a few hours to rejuvenate since she’s teaching again tomorrow. As the driver drops her off, she strolls inside and setting the bag down. She took a look inside and

Wow….she had enough money to stop stripping for a while….

The bag had a small pocket on the side so she decided to open it and what she noticed wasn’t something she was happy about.

She lets out a cry….

She pulls out Andres cross necklace …..

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95 @cardi-bre91

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Epilogue

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 13k

(CW: SMUT 18+, face sitting, cunnilingus, overstimulation, blow jobs, fingering, unprotected p in v, some cute role playing, Astarion really likes the sound of his own voice)

Summary:

You feel Astarion’s hand move, his thumb running along the length of your palm up to brush against the ring on his finger. 

“We met at my ball. A year ago, tonight.”

Though the beat of your heart is missing and it no longer flutters away inside your chest, a familiar warmth spreads through your veins all the same. 

“Happy anniversary,” you say and you feel a goofy smile spreading across your face.

“Not yet, my love,” Astarion says, but he smiles just as wide. “Not for another two days.”

Read on ao3 here

You could watch Astarion sleep forever. His mouth hangs open slightly and his gentle breathing mixes with the sound of waves. His face is so soft when he’s asleep and with the sun shining off his hair, he can only be described as angelic. 

The two of you are still on the beach, laying on the blanket spread out over the rock. Your feet are tangled with Astarion’s as you curl on your side to watch him doze. Touching. Always touching. The thought makes you smile.

When he wakes up, his long, pale lashes blink open slowly and his arms reach out to pull you tighter against him. You shower his face with kisses and he basks in your affection. 

By the late afternoon, the two of you decide to finally head back to the cottage. There had been a tentative plan for your first day in the sun which most certainly did involve you and Astarion making love on the beach, but which did not account for how long that would take. You probably should have woken Astarion up if you wanted to stick to the schedule, but he was sleeping so peacefully beside you and it seemed like a crime to disturb him. 

And besides, it’s not like the two of you were in a rush- being immortal meant there would be endless time for you both to explore the abilities that Mephistopheles had returned to you.

As you watch Astarion lazily pull on his trousers and shrug back on his shirt, you can’t help but think that he can be a little right sometimes- it is rather devastating to lose sight of his perfect body.

After watching him dress, you push yourself up from sitting on the rock, sliding your chemise and your loosened corset over your head. 

“Help, please,” you say, turning your back to Astarion so he can help lace up your corset. 

“Now, why would I do that? Helping you back in your clothes doesn’t benefit me in the slightest.”

“Astarion,” you whip around to face him with narrowed eyes. “If you aren’t going to help me, then you’re the one that’s going up to the house to fetch Shadowheart because there is no way I am walking back up there with my corset in hand like some kind of cheap harlot. And you know Shadowheart is going to be exceptionally ill-tempered if you bother her since I gave her the day off.”

You watch as he weighs out which option he finds more annoying in his head. 

“Turn around,” he grumbles. He drops a kiss to your shoulder and sighs. “You know, I have a love-hate relationship with this thing. I can’t deny that it makes your breasts look wonderful, but if you’re wearing it, that means I can’t actually see them, which is a travesty.”

“Poor Astarion,” you tease. “For he cannot always be touching his wife’s perfect breasts.”

“No,” he teases back, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Sometimes, I have to touch her cunt instead.”

“You’re too clever for your own good.” You playfully shove his head off your shoulder and he laughs, hands finally moving to help with your corset.

You know he does a purposefully bad job lacing it up. It doesn’t bother you too much because you also know that Astarion would likely be encouraging you to shed the offending garment from your body almost immediately upon your return to the house.

You reward him for his troubles with a peck on the cheek. Astarion seemingly deems it not enough payment for his efforts because he grabs your hips and dips you back into a bruising kiss that leaves you a bit weak in the knees. After a few more kisses, the two of you take your time walking back up to the cottage, your entwined fingers swinging loosely between you. 

When you enter, there’s a lavish spread of food in the kitchen- meats and cheeses and fancy chocolate desserts. The two of you had told the kitchen staff to make everything but evidently you had underestimated how much everything there was. 

When you sneak a peek at Astarion’s face, he looks a bit too overwhelmed by all the choices so you take over, instructing the kitchen staff to bring wine and to load a tray full of berries and sweet little tarts and the fancy chocolate desserts and deliver it all to your and Astarion’s bedroom. You aren’t sure why, but you have the sneaking suspicion that Astarion has a bit of a sweet tooth. 

When the staff ask what to do with the rest of the food, you tell them to throw a feast of their own tonight. 

And as you expected, the moment the door is shut to the bedroom, Astarion is pulling his shirt back off and helping you strip back out of your clothes to pull you onto the bed with him. 

As the two of you lounge on the bed together, you press different fruits to Astarion’s lips for him to taste. It hadn’t been that long since you’d eaten, but watching Astarion was something special. The way his eyes closed in pleasure. The way he would let out a little moan when he tasted something he really liked. The way he would lean over to lick the up the juices that ran down your arm when you fed him a particularly juicy strawberry. 

Eventually, you both grow bored of the food and the tray lays discarded on the other side of the room. The two of you curl into one another, sated and content.

Astarion’s hand rests on your stomach and you absentmindedly roll his wedding ring around his finger as you watch the curtains swaying in the breeze. The sun dips back down over the horizon. 

Astarion knocks his head lightly against yours to guide your attention back to him. 

“It’s been a year now, you know.”

You turn your head to look at him quizzically. “A year?”

You aren’t even sure you know the date, let alone why it holds any special significance outside the fact that it was your first day in the sunlight. You had unfortunately lost track of time in your haze of being a newborn vampire.

You feel Astarion’s hand move, his thumb running along the length of your palm up to brush against the ring on his finger. 

“We met at my ball. A year ago, tonight.”

Though the beat of your heart is missing and it no longer flutters away inside your chest, a familiar warmth spreads through your veins all the same. 

“Happy anniversary,” you say and you feel a goofy smile spreading across your face.

“Not yet, my love,” Astarion says, but he smiles just as wide. “Not for another two days.”

You roll your eyes affectionately but the two of you continue smiling at one another until Astarion leans over to kiss you. The sweet press of his lips against yours deepens as his tongue slides into your mouth. You whine when he pulls away.

“Always so needy, always so desperate for me,” Astarion murmurs.

You huff out a laugh and stretch lazily, playfully elbowing him. “Keep talking like that and I’ll rescind the comment I was going to make that I like you better now than I did at this time last year.”

Astarion simply smiles at your insincere taunt and props his head up on his hand, looking down on you with the hungry eyes of a predator playing with its food. 

“I don’t know, I found it rather amusing when you held that butter knife up to my throat.”

“That’s just because you thought I didn’t know how to use it. You know better now.”

He gives you a condescending, arrogant smile. “It’s cute that you still think you can get the upper hand on me.”

And because you like nothing more in this world than proving people wrong, you reach out, quickly wrapping a leg around Astarion’s hip and pressing on his shoulders to push him backward so you are sitting on top of him, straddling him. You catch his hands with yours, lovingly threading your fingers together before you wrench his hands over his head. 

He doesn’t even try to fight back, which is boring.

“Still don’t think I have the upper hand?” you ask.

“No, I know you don’t.” Astarion’s arms flex underneath yours, pushing back against your hold. There’s a hidden strength there.

“And yet, I’m the one who came out on top.” 

You squeeze his hands to accentuate your point, a silent reminder that he is the one at your mercy right now. 

“Cute,” Astarion says and you shoot him a glare. 

And then, with the graceful elegance of a cat, Astarion manages to flip the two of you so that he is the one pinning you down on the bed. 

“But just know, darling, the only reason you were there is because I adore having you on top of me.” 

You test his hold on your arms but he’s stronger than he looks and your hands are locked in an iron vice.

“Fine, you win,” you admit reluctantly.

“And what do I get as my prize?” Astarion’s got a mischievous little gleam in his eye that spells trouble.

“What do you want?”

He drags his nose down your throat, inhaling your scent. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to ask for a bite. A silly request considering you had never refused him in the past. But Astarion simply retraces his path up your neck, gliding his tongue along your skin.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps, tongue skimming the shell of your ear. “Let me watch.”

Astarion rolls off you, sprawling among the pillows on the bed. His gaze trails along your body like a caress. Down the curve of your shoulder, over the valley of your breasts. Perfect, he had called them earlier. His eyes continue lower, staring expectantly at the juncture of your thighs.

“Well,” Astarion says impatiently. “I’m waiting.”

Beneath his cocky veneer, you recognize that this is Astarion asking your permission, presenting you with the opportunity to deny him. But what idiotic person would ever do that? Who wouldn’t allow the moon and stars to worship them? 

You sit yourself up to lean back against the wall of pillows on the bed and you spread your legs open before him. Astarion inches closer ever so slightly, staring at you with the same awed fascination of a man looking upon the divine.

You really put on a show for him, too- taking the time to let your hands wander your skin. His tongue darts out, wetting his perfect red lips, almost as if he is already fantasizing about the taste of you on his tongue.

When your hand finally makes contact with your cunt, you move your fingers in the way that you have taught yourself over the years, chasing after climax in moments of pent up frustration. Straightforward. To the point.

“No, slow down,” Astarion instructs. “I want to watch you struggle. Only when you have reached the heights of your desperation, only when you have gone delirious with need, only when you beg for it, will I grant you the release you so desire.”

You slow your movements. It’s a poor imitation of what you know Astarion is capable of- all clumsy where his hands are deft, all amateur where he is pure grace. 

“Tell me how it feels,” he orders, propping himself up to move closer to you. 

“Good,” you tell him, honestly. Because it does feel good. Just not as good as you know it could.

Astarion’s eyes narrow when he senses your hesitance. “What else?”

“Not the same as yours…” you confess in a whisper and you feel your skin flushing with heat. “Gods, the things you can do with your hands could bring the world to ruin.”

“Would you like that?” Astarion’s fingers stroke along your ankle, sending streaks of pleasure curling up around your legs, straight to your aching clit, which you roll slippery circles against with your fingers. “Would you like for me to bring you the world, bloody and bruised in my hands, and present it to you as a token of my love?”

You aren’t entirely sure whether Astarion genuinely means this or if this is a role he is adopting for this moment. All you know is that the desperate whine that forces its way from your chest is agonizingly real. 

“You liked that, did you, pet?” Astarion chuckles, all dark and deep and sending a chill down your spine. “You want to hear how I’d burn the world for you? How I’d take the charred remains and mold it in your shape?” His thumb traces little circles around your ankle bone. “I would have blotted out the sun for you. I would have made it rain death and darkness and chaos if we had not found our cure. I would have drowned the world in corruption and laid the soaking remains at your feet.”

And you know he’s not lying- that in another life, all these words are true. It shouldn’t turn you on. It does anyway. 

Astarion’s hands burn where they brush your calf. He touches you possessively, as if your body was simply an extension of his own.

And if he will not touch you where you need him the most, you will let yourself drown in his voice. You will let his words caress your skin where his hands will not. You will hear more of how this man you love would destroy the world, if only you asked.

“More,” you plead with him and he grins arrogantly.

He speaks with a newfound confidence, fingers running up and down your calf, but never any higher. 

“Just think of what we’re going to do to them, my beloved. All those fools… They think they know what true power looks like, but we’ll show them. We’ll rule from the shadows. And you, my queen, only need to point. I shall be your weapon. I shall be the one to enact your ruthless judgment upon the world.”

Astarion is relishing in the sound of his own voice, as well. His other hand falls down to languidly stroke his cock. There’s a lovely bead of moisture at the tip and your mouth waters, you want nothing more than to lean over and take him in your mouth, to let his hands thread in your hair as he guides your mouth along his hard length…

Astarion gently nips at your thigh, drawing your attention back to him. 

“And do you know how I plan to begin my crusade?” he asks, but doesn’t give you any time to answer. “I’ll start with all those men. Anyone who ever looked at you as less than the goddess you are. Any of them who spoke- No, dared to even think of you in a degrading, vulgar manner. Any of them who merely wasted your time by boring you with their presence.” 

Astarion’s hand curls around your knee, slender fingers brushing the sensitive skin along the back and making you shiver. He wrenches your leg open wider, giving himself a better view of the way your fingers slide along your cunt. 

His gaze stays transfixed on your cunt as he speaks. “I’ll kill them all.”

You shouldn’t want that but oh, you do. That bloodthirsty, hungry part of you wants nothing more than to watch Astarion rip those men limb from limb, to watch him bathe himself in their blood and allow you to lick it clean from his skin afterward. 

You reward Astarion by sinking one of your fingers into yourself and his mouth hangs open in awe. Slowly, his head has moved closer to you and your obscene wetness makes you acutely aware of each panting breath he releases. His grip tightens desperately around your knee, as if he is having to clutch onto you to hold himself back from reaching out to touch you. 

You move your finger slowly, letting the palm of your heel continue to graze against your aching clit. It’s not enough. It’s not Astarion- you aren’t full enough, your fingers don’t curl and hit that spot Astarion always manages to find.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” Astarion whispers in breathless praise and you feel the way your cunt tightens around your finger. You know that if he was buried deep inside you, that would have made him moan and his hips would stutter before he rutted into you even faster, even harder.

“What did I ever do before you?” He turns his head, kissing the inside of your thigh. “Do you have any idea how it feels to gaze upon perfection?”

Yes, you think. You know that feeling intimately as perfection is gazing up at you right now, his head resting in your lap as his blood-red eyes devour you. 

His voice is low and dark. “For months, I kept myself away from you, spent my time longing and pining and waiting for you to return to my arms. For months, all I had to sustain myself on was the memories of your silken skin. Of the pool of nectar hidden between your thighs. Of the noises you make. Oh,” Astarion cries out and his hand picks up speed where it strokes his cock. “Those pretty noises. I missed those the most.”

You make one such noise now- a desperate, gasping moan.

Astarion’s eyes are ruthless when they dart up to your face. “If you ever left me-”

“Never,” you cut him off.

You’ll speak with him about that insecurity later- assuage him and assure him until every doubt has been killed from his mind. But not now. Now is the time to feed into this wonderful power fantasy the two of you are discovering together. 

You let out another sound, a pitiful whine, annoyed that your hands have brought you teetering so close to the precipice of bliss with no hope of falling over it.

“Do you need me that badly, pet?” Astarion chides, his hand mercifully moving higher up your leg, closer, so close, almost right there, nearly at the spot you need him to touch you. He stops. You nearly sob.  

“I wouldn’t have let you leave me anyway,” he hisses, fingers digging into the flesh of your hip so hard that you worry it would leave bruises if you were still human. And thank the gods you aren’t if it means Astarion can clutch at you with such desperate abandon with little to no consequences to you. “Besides, if you had, I would have followed you. Anywhere you went, to the ends of the earth. Understand?”

You nod.

You know there is a metaphorical truth to his words. If you wanted, Astarion would have let you leave. But his heart would have followed after you. Just as surely as yours would have stayed with him. 

“You have to say it if you want me to touch you.” You feel Astarion smirking where his mouth rests against your thigh. He has enjoyed this- has enjoyed watching you back yourself into a corner. Now, it was time for him to pounce. 

“I understand.”

Astarion descends with the ferocity of a man whose very last shred of control was hanging on by a thread. He sucks your fingers into his mouth, messy and ravenous, as if he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of your arousal. His own hand quickly takes over, slipping a finger inside you and curling it so good. Your hands claw desperately at the sheets. 

You come almost immediately. After so much build up, it was little wonder it would happen so quickly. What is a wonder is that Astarion immediately pulls his hand and mouth away from you rather than driving you repeatedly to the brink of madness like you had expected. 

For lack of a better term, the whole thing is anticlimactic.

Astarion, seemingly sensing your disappointment, reclines back on the pillows behind him.

“Well, come on, then.” He gives your ass an affectionate pat, silently instructing you to move on top of him. “I’ve given you one. You’ll have to work for the rest of them.”

You crawl over to him, moving to sling your leg around his hips, wanting nothing more than to grind yourself against his cock and guide him into you.

“Not there, pet,” he catches your leg, reflexes still somehow lightning quick even when you know he has to be distracted by how hard he is. 

“Sit on my face,” Astarion says, using his grip on your leg to pull your knee up by his shoulder. 

And out of everything that has happened today- from making a deal with an archdevil to watching a breathtaking sunrise to discovering Astarion has a penchant for blackberries- this request is what has shocked you the most.

 “But what about you?”

Astarion laughs, his soft fingers stroking along the back of your leg. “My motivations are not selfless, if that’s what concerns you, little flower. Your cunt is my favorite meal. I need to spend time appreciating it with these new taste buds. And besides, this bed is just so comfortable. You’ll forgive me if I want to lay back and relax while I feast for once.”

“But I want you to feel good, too,” you pout.

“I assure you, I do.” Astarion tugs more insistently on your hip and you move, knees framing either side of his head. 

“You can stop whenever you want.”

“I know, my love,” Astarion’s face softens and he catches your left hand, bringing it to his lips so he can press a kiss to your knuckles, right under your wedding ring. “Now, as much as I appreciate you checking in with me, you’re keeping me from my plans of drowning between your thighs.”

His arms, soft and surprisingly strong, wrap around your hips and pull you down. His nose brushes along the thatch of hair on your pubic bone before he continues to move it lower. And for a moment, the two of you sit like that, with you shivering in anticipation and Astarion simply breathing against your cunt. 

And then, his mouth is on you and there’s lightning running through your veins. He presses an open mouthed kiss to your cunt before his tongue flattens and he licks.

You feel his strangled groan reverberating in your own bones as he continues lapping. His nose brushes against your clit and you have to reach out one of your hands to steady yourself on the headboard. Your other hand winds its way into Astarion’s hair, tugging at the white curls whenever he does something especially wonderful. Which is… pretty much always. 

When the gods made Astarion, they surely started with his tongue. 

The whole time, his hands stroke and knead along the flesh of your thighs and ass, guiding you to start rolling your hips. It has his nose moving against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars and gasping for air.

Astarion leads to climax again. And again. And again.

Astarion plays your body like it is a violin and he is your virtuoso. He plucks and pulls at the strings, creating a symphony of music that threatens to overwhelm you. Your thighs ache and burn and still you continue rolling your hips against his face. Still, he continues to lap at your cunt with the fervor of a dying man.

At some point, you have transcended your corporeal form. Nothing else exists but these waves of pleasure- constant, unending.

Surely, the ringing you hear in your ears is some form of holy communion. Surely, the gods in the heavens have finally noticed Astarion missing from their ranks and have come to summon him home.

Your grip in his hair slackens. Your head bows in reverence.

It takes you far too long to register that Astarion’s mouth is no longer upon you.

“There you are,” He says, voice a low rasp. “You were missing from me for a moment.”

His beauty is stunning. His chin is glistening, his lips are red and swollen, his white curls are messy and wild. And best of all, he’s got that pretty, pink blush on his cheeks.

Astarion’s hands continue rubbing soothingly along your thighs, anchoring you back to your body.

“Too much, too good,” you slur out. 

Your whole body feels all delightfully fuzzy and light as air. 

Astarion slides out from underneath your legs and gathers you in his arms. You’re sure that you are very moldable and easy to move around right now since you think you might have turned into liquid.

You feel Astarion lips brush against your forehead as he wraps his arms tighter around you. Faintly, you register him praising how good you did, how you listened so well, how you gifted him with yet another lovely moment to cherish forever. The whole time, his fingers knead gently into your muscles, easing away the dull aching in your hips. You simply sigh and curl further into him.  

“We should have a ball,” you say, tracing your fingers in little heart shapes over his chest. “To celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Our anniversary.”

Astarion’s lips press against your forehead. “We’ll have as many balls as you want. Gods, you can have whatever you want, you only need to say the word and I’ll get it for you. Or, well- I’ll have someone else get it for you, more likely.”

You giggle. “What about a kiss?”

“Hm, I think I can handle that by myself.”

—-----------------

FOUR YEARS LATER

The dress you're wearing tonight truly is breathtaking. In the past, the price of the red silk alone would have nearly made your jaw drop, but you had gotten used to prices like that after years of Astarion waving them away like they were nothing. 

‘What’s the point of money if you aren’t going to spend it,’ Astarion had said. 

After the dressmaker had finished construction, Astarion had spent weeks embroidering the material. The front of the gown only hinted at the masterful craftsmanship- just a delicate chain of flowers along your waist, but the long train which followed you was decadent to the extreme. The lovely red had been nearly covered in the shimmery gold thread, a garden following behind you. 

Astarion had said it was some of his best work to date and had praised you as his muse. 

And the past few months, you had gotten to enjoy a lot of time watching him as the two of you sat out in the gardens in the sunlight, entranced by how his fingers were able to move the tiny silver needle so easily, spinning gold seemingly out of thin air. He never pricked himself, like you and the roses. 

And of course, Astarion had insisted that the two of you matched. His waistcoat was the same blood red fabric covered in flowers that he had embroidered.

Astarion had even humored you by letting you sew some little stars onto the inner lining of his waistcoat, right over his unbeating heart. He had feigned that he had been doing you some big favor, allowing you to put your mark on his body, but you caught how his eyes went a little misty when he saw your work.

“You look wonderful, darling,” Astarion slides up behind you as stand before the mirror, attempting to clasp the ruby necklace behind your neck. His hands meet your own and he deftly clasps the chain into place before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

Your reflection grins back at him.

“We can see our reflections and still, the mirror doesn’t do you justice,” Astarion says, nose trailing over your collarbone to the juncture of your neck where he always likes to bite down. He surprises you by redirecting instead, coming up to whisper huskily in your ear, “The way this fabric hugs your body, the way the silk brings out the red in your eyes, the way the diamonds in your hair shine like stars in the night sky, those are all things too lovely to be captured by a simple pane of glass.”

You turn your head toward him and Astarion lips move closer and closer to yours with each word until they are just a hair’s breadth away. The anticipation is killing you, but you hold steady, daring him to meet you. 

He brings his hand up to gently cradle the back of your head-

“Don’t mess up her hair!” Shadowheart yells from across the room, where she’s fiddling with all the leftover hairpins. She huffs quietly to herself, “I spent forever on that.”

You and Astarion are shocked out of your trance, his hand immediately dropping away from your hair. Astarion is so startled by her presence that his cool facade even slips for a moment as he mutters out a quiet ‘sorry.’

“What’s she still doing here?” He whispers to you just loud enough that you know Shadowheart can hear and roll her eyes. 

You use the opportunity to slip out of his arms and continue getting ready.

“I asked her to stay,” you tell him, pulling the gloves up your arms. You watch the twin marks on your wrist disappear as you slide on the silken white fabric. “I don’t trust myself around you and I’m determined to get down to the ball on time this year.”

You hold out your wrist so Astarion can clasp the slippery little buttons along the side. He just stares at you for a moment, giving you a look like ‘you know this kind of task is beneath me’ and you jut your wrist at him a bit more insistently and he rolls his eyes as he grabs your arm. 

“I assure you, little flower,” Astarion says as he buttons your glove, placing a delicate kiss to your wrist before he moves on to the other. “You would have made it to the ball on time.”

“That’s what you said last year. And then we ended up being an hour late.”

No, if you were allowed to be alone with Astarion, he would surely have already bent you over your vanity by now and your throat would be decorated by a necklace of his bite marks. And as beautiful as blood and jewels go together, it would have certainly distracted from the ornate ruby necklace Astarion had given you as a fifth anniversary present.

Five years. Has it really been that long already? Or have you simply been too happy to notice the time passing?

“I don’t recall hearing any complaints from you last year, my love. In fact, I do believe you said ‘more’ quite a few times,” Astarion’s hand drops and rests heavily on your hip. “And besides, who cares what those idiots think?”

“We have to at least pretend to care about propriety, darling,” you remind Astarion and he rolls his eyes. You know he’s going to say something like ‘fuck propriety, let the world know how a true man satisfies his wife,’ so you gently rearrange the folds of his cravat as you speak, “There’s going to be a lot of important people here tonight. We need to uphold their high opinion of us if we hope to continue to use them.”

“I love the way you think,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye, pulling you back into his arms. 

Shadowheart loudly clears her throat and Astarion glares at her but steps away from you.

“Don’t be upset, husband, there’s still plenty of time to let you plant your seed in my garden tonight,” you say, giving Astarion a big wink at your double entendre.

He looks mortified for a moment before he’s practically falling over in laughter. “Be honest, little flower, how long have you been waiting to use that line?”

“It just came to me.”

Astarion tilts your chin up, a devilish smirk on his beautiful face. “That won’t be the only thing coming in you tonight.”

“You two are strange and… off-putting.” Shadowheart has a look of disgust on her face that has you burying your head in Astarion’s chest to laugh.

“Speaking of strange, Lae’zel is going to be here tonight. I’m sure she’d love it if you made an appearance downstairs long enough for her to ask you for a dance,” Astarion says and Shadowheart’s face turns bright red as she tries to excuse herself from the room as quickly as possible. 

“Look at what you did!” You cry out. “You chased off a perfectly good Shadowheart!” 

“Yes, but now I can finally do this.”

Astarion leans down to kiss you, careful to keep his hands resting on your hips and far away from your ornate hairstyle. You sigh happily against his lips and he presses a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth before he pulls away.

“You ready?” he asks, holding his arm out to you. 

You tuck yourself into his side and the two of you make your way down to the party.

Of course, because this is a ball hosted by Astarion, there’s a big fanfare at your entrance as your names are announced. The two of you descend down the stairs with the grace and elegance that only two vampires can possess. When you reach the ballroom, people are swarming the two of you immediately, begging to speak with you and offer their congratulations on your anniversary. 

The gentry were practically throwing themselves at your feet and what were you supposed to do? Stop them? No, not when it was so much more fun to encourage them. 

You and Astarion make your initial rounds, but your eyes continue scanning the crowds. You hope your father comes again this year. It always fills you with glee, the fact that he shows up every year and is forced to celebrate your anniversary with Astarion. Forced to watch you be happy and in love and thriving. That he continues to grow old and wither away while you and Astarion retain your youthful glows. 

You spot him over by the wine and you’re filled with the wicked thought that maybe one year, you would kill him, make it look like a drunken old fool had stumbled out into the woods and been attacked by an animal. 

Astarion’s hand comes to the small of your back. Touching. Always touching. His breath whispers against your ear, “Oh, I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that glare. Tell me, wife, who do you want me to kill for you tonight?”

“No one,” you think for a moment. “Yet.”

A sly grin spreads across your husband’s face. “Only speak the words and it shall be done. I am yours to command.”

“Oh, I know you are, pet,” you tease him, trying to sound like him. You even give him a little pat on the cheek for added effect. Astarions bares his fangs playfully at you.

“Come dance with me, I’m bored,” you tug on his hand.

You let Astarion wrap you in his arms and spin you around the dancefloor.

“Should I be hurt that you aren’t tripping over your feet at the sight of me anymore, little flower?”

“No, I just have expensive tastes now,” you giggle. “I fear I’m growing too used to awe-inspiring beauties such as yours.”

Astarion’s hand moves down your back, just a bit too low to be acceptable. “Sounds like you’re getting too spoiled.”

“I’m not the one to blame for that problem, star. Not when you insist on buying me far too many lavish gifts.”

“You might be right,” Astarion agrees with a chuckle. “I just can’t help myself. My gifts always look so beautiful on you and your face always lights up so bright. It’s addictive, your smile.”

You smile brightly up at him and Astarion looks upon you with adoration. 

“Pardon the intrusion,” Wyll interrupts with a friendly hand on Astarion’s shoulder. “But I believe I was promised a dance?”

He bows elegantly and extends his hand out.

“Wyll!” You cry out happily. “You know that I always save a dance for you!”

“Who said I was asking you?” Wyll playfully holds his hand out to Astarion, who feigns a delighted shock. “Lord Ancunin, if I may.”

“Cute,” you say, looking between the two of them and pouting. “But you can dance with Astarion later. Right now, it’s my turn.”

They both laugh. 

“Have fun.” Astarion drops a kiss on your cheek and passes you off to Wyll. “I’ll go speak with Lord Idril about our stance on the upcoming council vote. He’s the last person we need to sway.”

The upcoming vote was about providing relief to farmers after a particularly long and harsh winter. You and Astarion really did try to use your influence for good from time to time honestly.

The two of you simply had your own methods for doing good that others might qualify as ‘morally questionable’ and ‘deeply manipulative.’ 

Astarion glides away with a charming smile on his face, waving at adoring nobles as he passes by like he’s the king himself.

“I can’t even imagine the size of his ego by the end of the night,” Wyll says.

You don’t mind too much, Astarion with an ego in public turned into a mouthy Astarion in the bedroom later. The ego boost of the ball was most certainly worth it if you were the one to reap the rewards at the end of the night. 

But you’re fairly certain that Wyll doesn’t want to hear about your methods for taming a wild Astarion so you turn the conversation back to him with a friendly smile.

“How have you been?” you ask as the two of you begin to step in time to the music. 

“Can’t complain. Karlach and I have been traveling along the Sword Coast, as of late.”

“Ah, yes, the formidable Blade of Frontiers,” you tease but you catch the way Wyll’s chest puffs out proudly at the nickname. “That’s what they’re calling you now, right? I’ve been keeping up with your adventures through Volo’s books.”

Wyll rolls his eyes. “Volo… If I fought half as many battles half as valiantly as he writes, I’d wholly be dead.” 

You laugh. Volo was always known for his exaggerations, but you had been so proud when he decided to start following Karlach and Wyll since it kept you up to date on their valiant adventures.

“It’s good storytelling. His books are always best-sellers for a reason,” you say with a shrug. “And besides, I quite like to imagine you and Karlach out there slaying dragons and hunting down devils.”

Wyll laughs, “Yes, devils have become a bit of a speciality of ours.”

“Where’s she at by the way? I haven’t seen her yet this evening.” 

“She’s here, but she’s doing her own dancing,” Wyll grins when he speaks of Karlach and you wonder if his smile is a bit too affectionate to be considered friendly. “She doesn’t like all the stuffy rich-people small talk.”

“Gods, and who could blame her?” You groan when you and Wyll hear the couple next to you discussing how they think you and Astarion sourced the shrimp. “They seem to be exceptionally dull this evening.”

The two of you giggle together and Wyll spins you in a delightful twirl.

“So,” he asks when he brings you back from the twirl, “How are the renovations on the Szarr palace going?”

“Ancunin palace,” you correct him. 

In the interests of venturing into the political landscape of Baldur’s Gate, you and Astarion had decided to renovate the old Szarr palace to use as a secondary base. It had been sitting vacant in the years since Astarion had left and a couple bands of rogues and thieves managed to find their way inside, tearing the place apart. 

A part of you was almost glad when you and Astarion had discovered the disrepair- it felt like poetic symbolism of how his life as a spawn was dead and behind him and that now, he could build something beautiful in its place. 

You and Astarion had spent a long time hiring new staff to work at the palace and even longer working on plans for the renovations. Astarion leaned toward opulence and grandeur in all areas of life, so his ideas were rather… ambitious. It had taken a while to find guild artisans who met his high standards of craftsmanship (and that’s not even mentioning the headache of how few people specialize in gold metalwork, which Astarion would still complain about at length when the mood struck him). 

But aside from your husband’s expensive tastes, the whole process had been mostly fun. The two of you had spent many afternoons laying out in the gardens, swapping fantasies of how you pictured each room in the palace looking. It felt like the two of you were building a home together.

A very expensive, very gold home, but a home, nonetheless. 

Your visits to the palace were still infrequent, however. Astarion still had nightmares and episodes that always seemed to get worse after a visit. You hated to see him in pain and you knew he was frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t simply will himself out of those moments. 

You both knew it would still take time. Luckily, time was the one thing the two of you had in abundance. 

“It’s been slow progress,” you answer Wyll. “There’s lots of memories there, so I think it will take us a while. Though, we are planning another trip to the city soon. How’s your father doing?”

“He’s well,” Wyll smiles and you know he is grateful you asked. Both he and his father adored talking about one another. It was wonderful to see a family with that much love, even as the two of them attempted to navigate past their previous differences.

Astarion had told you about Wyll’s complicated relationship with his father soon after you had met him. Since you and Astarion were beginning to make a name for yourselves in Baldur’s Gate and Wyll’s father was the Duke of the city, it only made sense to introduce yourselves. It didn’t hurt that Duke Ravengard was surprisingly refreshing company in a city full of pompous nobles. 

“He’s sorry he couldn’t make it tonight but he wanted me to extend an invitation for you and Astarion to dine with him again next time you visit Baldur’s Gate,” Wyll says. “Father said that he’d be sure to buy more wine this time so Astarion doesn’t bleed him dry again.”

“I do apologize, bleeding people dry is a particularly nasty habit of mine,” Astarion interrupts.

You know your face lights up when you see him, even if you have only been parted for a few short dances.

“If you’ll excuse me, Wyll.” Astarion’s hand rests on your lower back and you lean into his side instinctually. “I think I’d like another dance with my wife.”

“Of course,” Wyll smiles at the two of you. “And congratulations on your anniversary.” He leans in to whisper conspiratorially to you, but loud enough that Astarion can overhear. “Somehow, you’ve made Astarion considerably less insufferable to be around. We all owe you our thanks for that.”

“I’m not insufferable,” Astarion pouts, pulling your body against his far tighter than most of the other married couples dancing together. 

“No, darling,” you reassure him. “Not unless your feet are cold.”

He was a particular sort of monster when he was cold. It was lucky that you knew a few good ways to warm him back up. 

“Little minx.” He pinches your hip affectionately. “You’re far too much trouble. I’m not sure why I bother to keep you around.”

“Cause you love me.” You move your hand up from his shoulder to cradle the back of his head, stroking your thumb along the sharp line of his jaw.

Astarion’s eyes soften. “I do, don’t I?”

He looks so handsome, you think to yourself. The red in his waistcoat really does bring out the shade of his eyes and when he’s staring at you like this, his heart nearly bleeds out of them. You let your hand drop from Astarion’s face when it is time for Astarion to twirl you in the dance. He pulls you back into him, your back against his chest.

“Got the vote by the way,” his voice is a whisper in your ear. 

He means to disguise his true intentions of political scheming as a loving husband whispering words of affection in his wife’s ear. And he really did whisper in your ear often enough that his actions hardly turned any eyes. 

“Turns out Idril really doesn’t want his wife to find out about the bastards he’s left around the Lower City. Thanks for that bit of gossip by the way.” Astarion twirls you out again and you miss the cool line of his body pressed against your back. 

You give him one of your ‘I told you so’ smiles. “I knew that damned sewing circle would feed me something good eventually. It’s all about playing the long game for you and I.”

“Be honest, darling,” Astarion smirks, “you really just like taking credit for my embroidery, don’t you?”

He’s only partially right. You mostly like showing off his work because you’re proud to have such a talented husband. It’s a very small part of you that does enjoy passing it off as your own since your own attempts at needlework were typically abysmal. 

You laugh. “Oh, don’t pretend you aren’t listening through the walls as they praise your work.”

“Do you really think so little of me as to believe I need the approval of a group of old married hags?” Astarion gasps in faux offense. You giggle and he drops the act to laugh along with you. “Did you enjoy your dance with Wyll?”

“I did. Wyll’s an excellent dancer,” you answer. And then, because you can’t resist teasing Astarion, you add, “Some might say he’s better than you.”

“Oh, really?” Astarion raises his eyebrows. 

“Some might. But not me.”

Astarion looks so pleased with himself, like he could exist off your praise alone. 

“It’s all about the right partner,” he says, repeating one of your favorite phrases back to you.

“And I’m lucky that I found mine.” 

The smile he gives you is radiant. 

Over his shoulder, you catch sight of Gale, trying to get Astarion’s attention. “Looks like Gale is here with your little snack.”

You give both Gale and the woman standing next to him a friendly wave. Now that you are a more experienced vampire, you have better control over your bloodlust and so, about a year ago you had started feeding from the townspeople that you and Astarion payed. It has allowed you to develop tenuous friendships with a few of them. 

But tonight, the two of you had a plan. This snack was for Astarion alone.

Astarion kisses you in a way that is far too scandalous for public eyes. Over the years, that kind of behavior has come to be expected from the two of you, so people simply avert their gazes. And anyone that is staring at you in shock, you simply ignore, choosing instead to enjoy the way Astarion’s fingers curl underneath your chin to tilt your face up to his and the way his lips slide sweetly against yours.

“See you in a few minutes,” he murmurs before he’s walking over to Gale. 

You mingle a while longer before you leisurely make your way out to the gardens, following Astarion. The warm summer night doesn’t feel quite as hot against your skin as it did when you were human. It’s easy to find Astarion now. You know the path in the garden and, more than that, you can smell him. You can practically taste the sharp metallic sting in the air from the woman he’s drinking. 

But it’s not your job to find him easily tonight so you wander, slipping your gloves down your arms and discarding them on a bench to be picked up later as you let your hands brush along the delicate rose petals. You need to make Astarion a new bouquet soon, you think absentmindedly, the one currently in his study was starting to droop.

Eventually, you round the corner to the spot where you know Astarion will be.

He has the woman in his arms, his mouth on her throat. You think back to that first night you saw him, when your heart had shuddered with fear and dread and beneath that, some carnal desire that you couldn’t yet name. You make sure to step loudly so Astarion will hear you but deep down, you know he is just as aware of you as you are of him, even if he is a bit distracted by feeding right now. 

His eyes tear up to look at you, all crimson red and blood dripping down his chin. The shiver that runs down your spine is caused by elation rather than terror, like all those years ago. Looking at him, you cannot help but be filled with love and warmth.

Astarion practically drops the other woman to the ground as he moves to chase after you.

You laugh, a twinkling, sparkly thing that belongs like a star in the night sky, and you have to stop yourself from practically skipping with delight back up to the manor. You remind yourself that you’re supposed to be acting scared as you sneak a peek at Astarion over your shoulder. 

He catches your wrist in his grasp just when you’re about to slip inside and he drags you to that familiar closet. It’s cozy and it’s dark and there’s not much room inside unless Astarion’s body is pressed tightly against your own. His arm presses deliciously against your throat to pin you in place.

His eyes are ravenous as they flit across your face. “Tell me, sweet flower, what’s an innocent thing like you doing out in the gardens all by herself at this time of night?”

“My husband left me all alone,” you say demurely, looking up at Astarion from underneath your lashes.

“He must be a stupid man, indeed, if he ever dared to leave a treasure as precious as you unaccompanied.”

“Yes, he’s very stupid,” you say, poking at his ribs. It’s just so hard to resist teasing him when he presents you with so many wonderful opportunities. 

Astarion rolls his eyes, moving his arm from your neck to rest his hand on the wall, next to your head. “Well, that’s not fun, pet. That’s just being mean.”

“I’m playing along! Like you told me. It just gets too self-referential and confusing if I think about it for too long, star. Somehow you’re both my husband and the seductive vampire that lures me into dark corners.” You whine, your hand moving to squeeze his ass and pull him closer to you. “Just tell me pretty things and fuck me, please.”

Astarion’s hand cups your cheek. “I do that all the time, my love. I was trying to make tonight memorable.”

“Every day with you is memorable in its own way, even without the role playing,” you promise him. You nuzzle into Astarion’s hand and his thumb strokes softly along your cheekbone. 

“You’re sweet,” Astarion says and his face melts into a soft smile. 

“I think I just need more rules about what I’m supposed to say. I’m not you- I can’t just whip up seductive lines full of dirty innuendos at the drop of a hat.”

Astarion laughs. “I am rather gifted at that, aren’t I? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I can take you upstairs and make love to you like I normally do if you’d prefer.”

It’s a tempting offer. Astarion making love to you was likely one of your favorite activities. You liked it almost as much as when Astarion went on a bit of a power trip and whispered lovely, depraved things to you while he fucked you like you were his entire reason for existing, which was exactly what he was offering you tonight.

Besides, when Astarion had brought up this idea, he had been so excited to try it out, so excited to recreate the night you first met in a space where the two of you could act on all the perverse desires you had been holding back. 

And you truly loved seeing Astarion enjoying and having fun with intimacy, watching his comfort zone expand with time and listening to the new desires he whispered that he wanted to try. 

Sometimes, he didn’t end up liking the outcome nearly as much as the idea. There had been that… unfortunate time where Astarion’s hands had only been bound to the bedposts for a few minutes before he was already pulling himself free from the loose restraints, pleading with you that he was sorry. You had simply wrapped your arms around him and held him against your chest, reminding him that he never needed to apologize for setting boundaries. 

No, from then on, restraints were saved solely for you. 

“No, let me try again.” You drop your hand from his ass and smile sweetly up at him. “Can we go back to the beginning, please?”

Astarion presses a quick peck on your lips. “Just follow my lead. I’ll make it easy for you.”

He takes a moment to compose himself before he’s pressing his arm against your throat again, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes. It sends an immediate spark of arousal straight to your cunt.

“Tell me, sweet flower, what’s an innocent thing like you doing out in the gardens all by herself at this time of night?”

You look at him with your best impression of wide, scared eyes, like you are a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. You speak, voice barely a whisper, “Chasing after monsters, it seems.”

“A monster?” Astarion laughs, all dark and condescending. “Is that what you think you saw?”

He presses his leg between yours, pinning you to the wall with the full weight of his body and your cunt is aching and it would be easy, so, so easy, to just grind yourself down against his thigh. 

“I don’t know what I saw,” you say and your voice comes out surprisingly breathy and naive. You tilt your head up a bit to look at Astarion, exposing more of your neck and your hand clings desperately to the hem of his coat, pulling him tighter against you. “All I know is that you’re simply too beautiful to be human.”

And in another life, perhaps these are the exact words that you would have said to Astarion in that closet when you first met. Perhaps if you had put up less of a fight or been brave enough to say what you were truly thinking, you would have confessed how you thought he was a beam of moonlight come to life, how you thought that there was no way that the perfect man in front of you could exist because he had to be the embodiment of all your childhood fantasies.

“And yet, I was not the most beautiful person in that garden tonight.” His voice is smooth and silky and feels like a caress on your skin. 

His arm flexes where it sits across your neck and his fingers brush along your collarbone, just the hint of a touch. You roll your hips down upon Astarion’s leg and apparently he’s feeling benevolent tonight because he pushes his thigh into you a little bit harder and it provides just the amount of friction you need. 

“Yes, the woman you were with was very pretty.”

It’s a bit too boring if you just feed Astarion compliments. He deserves to do some work here, too.  

“Don’t go chasing after compliments. It’s unbecoming of you.” Astarion’s arm presses harder into your throat and he narrows his eyes at you. You don’t even need to breathe but the slight impact on your airflow has you feeling dizzy. Or maybe that’s just Astarion’s scent, all bergamot and rosemary and the hint of blood on his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur and you both know that you don’t mean it because your hips don’t even stutter where they grind against Astarion’s leg. 

“You already know that I meant you,” he continues, ignoring your insincere apology. “All those roses, all those flowers, and they looked pale and lifeless compared to you.”

His voice is low and hungry in your ear. He licks along the shell of it before he whispers, “Don’t all the great poets compare cunts to flowers? I fear they’d run out of words if they ever saw yours. I’d have to kill them all, obviously, but at least they would gaze upon perfection before they died.”

Yeah, that line was a little too ‘your husband’ Astarion and less ‘vampire cornering you in a dark room’ Astarion. It sends a victorious trill singing in your veins because you know he’s fighting just as hard as you to keep himself composed. 

Astarion takes a shuddering breath and corrects himself. “It’s truly a shame that I’m going to have to kill you.” 

“No, please. Perhaps I can find some way to convince you that I’m worth keeping alive.” 

You really play it up, too- pouting your lips, looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, tilting your chin up to expose your neck just so. Astarion loved to spoil you normally, but he was always so especially susceptible to your begging.

Astarion releases his arm from where it had been pressed against your neck, tracing one of his fingers down his favorite artery. You can feel Astarion’s cock where it presses into your stomach, hard and heavy. 

And although his body betrays his desires, Astarion manages to keep his voice flat and unimpressed when he speaks, like this negotiation is beneath him. “I already have more than enough blood, my sweet treat. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more creative about what you can offer me.”

“I’ve been told that I have a very talented mouth. Let me show you. Maybe that will change your mind.”

And thank the gods Astarion released his arm from your neck because now you have more freedom to move. He moans when you catch one of his earlobes between your teeth and his hand comes back up, wrapping gently around your throat and pushing you away from him. 

Gods, you can only imagine how wonderful his hand looks wrapped around your throat, accentuated by the lovely ruby necklace he had given you. Maybe you would have to ask him to do it again later in front of a mirror, so you could actually see it. 

“Hm, you’re a clever one, aren’t you?” Astarion asks. He shifts his hand so his thumb presses heavily against your bottom lip. His eyes feel like they’re burning into you. “Go on, then, show me.”

You part your lips, letting his thumb slide into your mouth. You suck on it greedily, letting your tongue swirl around it teasingly in that same way you know he always likes around the head of his cock in a silent promise of what is to come. You can feel Astarion’s hips grinding subtly against you as he watches your lewd display and it makes your cunt move so wonderfully against his leg.

“Very well, pet, you’ve proven your point.” His breathing is ragged as he slips his thumb out of your mouth. He leaves a wet trail as he slides it along your chin, all the way down your throat. “Now it’s time for you to really convince me.”

Astarion’s hands fall down to your hips and he pulls you with him, moving until his back is against the wall and your body is leaning into him. His mouth grazes yours as he purrs, “Your lips are going to look so pretty wrapped around my cock.”

He continues to trail teasing almost-kisses along the length of your neck before he bites down. You gasp at the shock of cold, but his mouth retracts from your skin almost immediately. You whine in protest- the bite was too quick, you didn’t even get to really enjoy it.

“On your knees, darling,” he commands, voice all deep and heavy with desire. 

You obediently sink down to your knees in front of Astarion and look up at him as one of your hands reaches out to run along the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers. Your touches are light and fleeting and his hips jolt involuntarily as he tries to press himself harder into your hand.

You’re the one on your knees for him and yet you are the one who will control his pleasure. What a lovely dynamic.

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you ask, acting timid as you fiddle with the fastenings on his pants. 

“I don’t know,” Astarion’s eyes glint dangerously in the darkness. “Perhaps a little death is in order tonight.”

It’s a cheesy double entendre but he sells it with the way he’s looking down on you like he can’t wait to devour you. You feel electric, like all your veins in your body are sending molten fire straight to your cunt. 

You make quick work of the fastenings on Astarion’s pants and he helps you push them down enough to free his cock. He hisses when your hand wraps around his length. 

It’s up to you now, whether you want this to be quick and messy or whether you want to drag this out so long that Astarion is crying and begging to come. Or maybe a mix of both? You’ll see where the mood takes you, you decide, as you lean forward to kiss the base of Astarion’s cock. 

You trace a line of teasing kisses along the whole length and when you reach the head of his cock, you let your tongue slip out to run along the slit. Astarion groans, his fingers threading into your hair as a silent request to finally take him in your mouth. You ignore him, content to trace another line of kisses back down his cock. 

“Right now, I’m leaning toward killing you,” Astarion says and you can’t help but laugh. You apologize by licking a stripe along the underside of his cock before sucking the tip into the soft, wet heat of mouth.

“Gods, your mouth,” Astarion groans. 

You hum in response and Astarion’s hips give a little buck. You take the cue and begin bobbing your head slowly, swirling your tongue around his tip a few times in between each drag of your mouth up and down his cock. You’re trying to take your time, you want Astarion to enjoy this as long as possible, want to make this moment good and special for him.  

You take more and more of his cock into your mouth as you move, hollowing your cheeks and bringing your hand up to assist where you’re unable to fit him in your mouth. Quickly, too quickly for what you have planned tonight, you’re able to get a good rhythm going and Astarion’s cock pulses in your mouth in response as he lets out a long string of curses.

Because you are a bit selfish and you don’t want this to end just yet, you pull your mouth off Astarion with a gentle pop. You keep pumping your hand up and down at a slow pace- enough to feel good, but not enough for him to come. Not yet. 

With Astarion’s fingers still loosely threaded in your hair, you sneak a peek up at him. He’s breathtakingly gorgeous, of course. His head tilts back against the wall, eyes closed in rapture, and his beautiful pink lips are slightly parted as soft gasps and breaths escape his mouth. 

Gods, you want nothing more than to bite him, to taste his little snack from earlier for yourself. 

You grab his wrist with your other hand, bringing it toward your mouth. Pushing up his sleeve, you run your nose along the veins in his wrist. 

“Let me taste you,” you plead. And then because you know Astarion is weak for you, especially when you’re on your knees for him, you add a breathy, “please.”

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes and his voice is so deliciously condescending when he says, “Only since you asked so nicely. Drink up, pet.”

With his permission given, you sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his wrist. It tastes divine. You let your tongue lick away the blood until his wounds have closed and then you set back to work on his cock with a renewed vigor. 

When you take him back in your mouth, you lift your hand up to pat on Astarion’s thigh three times, the signal between the two of you that it was okay for him to start moving however he wanted.

His fingers curl in your hair a bit more insistently as he starts guiding your motions and you relax your jaw, letting him fuck into your mouth as he chases after his orgasm. You wish you could get to your cunt more easily around the skirts of this heavy ball gown because you’re practically aching with need. 

“That’s- fuck, so good, my love,” Astarion pants out. 

His hips quicken and you know he’s close so you move one of your hands to cup his balls and you feel them tightening beneath your fingers. 

“Fuck, I’m going to-” Astarion gasps. “That okay?”

And it would make you smile, if your mouth wasn’t currently otherwise occupied. It was sweet, how even in the heat of the moment, Astarion still found the time to check in with you. Even now, after years of assuring him that was unnecessary. 

You pat on his leg thigh again, another okay, and it only takes a few more thrusts before his cock is twitching and he’s coming in your mouth. 

When you finish swallowing, Astarion is guiding you to stand again, pressing his mouth to yours in a messy kiss. Gods, are you ever grateful that Astarion is not shy. It certainly helped you over the initial awkwardness you felt at moments like this very quickly. 

Astarion groans into your mouth as he tastes himself. The metallic tang of the woman’s blood still remains faintly on his own lips. You find yourself fighting against Astarion as you both try desperately to chase after the taste in the other’s mouth. 

Between your messy kisses, Astarion ungracefully works to bunch the gorgeous fabric of your dress up to your hips, shifting again to push you against the wall. 

“Hold,” Astarion instructs you, passing your bunched up skirts off to you. You collect them in your arms and hold them up around your waist. His lips slide slowly and deliciously against yours before he murmurs, “I can smell you. I can practically taste in the air how wet you are. And we don’t want you making a mess out of your pretty dress, now do we? I imagine someone worked very hard on that.”

Astarion’s leg presses against you and for a moment, you wonder if that was his hidden plan for the night all along- if he was going to make you rut against his leg in the dark closet, guiding you to ecstasy with just the sound of his voice. You start rolling your hips again and the relief you feel at finally giving your cunt some attention nearly makes you sob.

“Now, now, pet,” Astarion tuts. “I know your cunt is just aching for me, but now is the time for patience. If you can wait just a little longer, I promise to reward you handsomely.”

And oh, how you adored being rewarded by Astarion. It usually involved at least a few orgasms that left your legs shaking and your mind spinning. Astarion accentuates his words by kicking your legs a bit wider apart with one of his own feet. His hand moves down between your body, fingers brushing against your cunt.

“Just like I expected, you’re practically dripping. You like sucking my cock that much, don’t you?”

Your eyes fall closed as you let yourself drown in the soft strokes of Astarion’s fingers along your folds. It feels like you might very well burn alive.

Astarion’s other hand gently weaves through your hair. You’re sure the rubies that Shadowheart spent hours weaving into your hair have long since been scattered across the floor. You can’t bring yourself to even begin to care. 

“Answer me when I speak to you, pet,” he commands in that wonderful low voice. 

It’s accompanied by a sharp tug on the roots of your hair that have you offering up your neck to Astarion. His mouth dips down to suck at your throat and you mewl in delight when he finds a particularly sensitive spot. 

“You know I love your cock,” you tell him. 

You’d add how much you love the rest of him, too, but that doesn’t seem to fit the mood right now. No, you’d save that for later tonight while you rode him, forbidding his hands from roaming your body. With his hands tightly gripping the sheets, you would shower him in praise and be those lovely, pathetic whimpers he made as he fought to keep his hands off you. 

Astarion hums, tilting your chin up to press another deep, slow kiss to your lips. “And you know I adore your mouth.”

His hand keeps moving in maddening, feather-light patterns along your cunt, occasionally moving up to brush against your clit before his fingers are darting away again. It seems Astarion has not finished having his fun with you tonight. 

He speaks against your lips, “You look so pretty on your knees for me. I’d keep you there forever, pet, but I think I’d grow tired of not being able to properly kiss you.”

And if anyone else said that line, you’d be rolling your eyes and grimacing about how corny it was. But this is Astarion and he commits and says it in the low, hungry voice that has your toes curling and heat pooling in your cunt.

His mouth is hovering just centimeters away from yours. You can feel each panting breath on your lips. You move forward to kiss him, but Astarion tugs on your hair again, keeping you just a hair's breadth away from what you want. 

Trying to outsmart Astarion, you use your free arm that is not holding your skirts to pull him down by his cravat and seal his lips against yours. He actually seems rather glad that you managed to work around his grip in your hair as he hums happily into the kiss. 

And either Astarion is extra observant tonight or you’re just being extra obvious about the way you chase after the taste of blood in his mouth.  

“She tasted divine,” Astarion says, his thumb making a slow circle around your clit before it’s gone again. “But I doubt you want to hear about that, do you, pet? No, I think you’d much rather hear about how she paled in comparison to you.”

He dips just the tip of one of his fingers inside you before pulling it out again almost immediately.

“She was nothing. They’re all nothing,” Astarion hisses. Gods, how did that even manage to sound attractive coming from him? “No one else has ever made me feel as good as you.”

For a moment, his pure, unadulterated love breaks through on his face and your chest burns with love- you know how devoted he is to you, you know how much he adores you. 

For a moment, it is just the two of you in a little bubble of love. And then Astarion finally, mercifully pushes a finger into you, working it in and out so agonizingly slow. You whimper and Astarion smiles wickedly down at you. 

“They all bow to us, you know?” Astarion asks, knowing you are in no state to answer. “They bow to me. To you.”

You pull his lips down to yours again and slip your tongue in his mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing- he knows this line of speaking always works you into a state of frenzy. And you know that arrogant side of him enjoys the sound of his voice just as much as you do. 

It had been so easy, too, to work the nobles onto your side, to start poisoning their minds with your and Astarion’s ideas. A few carefully placed smiles, a few favors promised and repaid, a few veiled threats. The two of you worked together so easily- Astarion charmed and you schemed. 

Astarion chuckles, slipping another finger into you and curling them in a way that makes you unsteady on your feet. He seems perfectly content to keep his other hand threaded in your hair, delivering your mouth to his whenever he wants a kiss. 

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, pet? You like thinking about them on their knees for you, just like you were for me a few moments ago.” The heel of his palm brushes against your clit. “Do you want to hear more? Do you want to hear about how even the sun herself bows her head in deference to your light and beauty? About how even I bow down to you, surrendering myself to you in worship?”

“Show me, then,” you pant out, pulling on the back of his neck to press his forehead against yours. “Show me how you intend to worship me.”

That has Astarion cursing under his breath and reaching down to give his cock a few pumps before he’s pushing into you, already hard again. 

The fullness and the stretch of him finally inside you soothes the ache that had been plaguing you all night. And when he moves, you can’t help the barrage of moans and gasps that fall from your lips.

“Quiet, little flower. We don’t want everyone to hear, do we?” Astarion asks, bringing his fingers up to your mouth. They’re still wet with your arousal and you follow his silent cue, sucking them into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he purrs and it sends a spark straight to your cunt. You feel yourself tighten around his cock and Astarion groans in response, his hips thrusting into you with even more desperation. 

The thought of who’s the one being loud now? passes through your mind as Astarion groans and tells you how good you feel. And then, because deep down, you’re a little bit vindictive, you let one of your fangs scratch along the skin of Astarion’s fingers in your mouth. You greedily lick up the blood, enjoying the way it mixes with the taste of your wetness on your tongue. 

What was it that Astarion always called the combination of your blood and your cunt? The nectar of the gods? He might be onto something there. 

Astarion’s eyes lock in on you with a single-minded focus before he’s wrenching his fingers from your mouth, capturing your lips with his own. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and bites down, lapping up the blood until your wound closes.

“I love you,” you whisper when he pulls away.

His cock pulses inside you and his hips stutter a bit before he can recover his rhythm. You would never get tired of that- of reminding Astarion of how deeply you loved him and watching how he never failed to viscerally react to those words. 

“Love you, too,” Astarion says, pressing a peck to your cheek. You can feel him smiling against your skin. It’s a total contradiction to the obscene way his cock drives into you.

You grab Astarion’s hand from where it had been gently cupping your face and drag it down between your bodies. 

“Need your hands.”

“I know just what you need,” he assures as his magical fingers begin circling your clit. 

There’s that lovely heat building low in your stomach, rising into a great inferno that surrounds you. And with Astarion’s whispered promises of how he loves you, how good you feel, how you shine brighter than the sun, you come. 

Astarion fucks you through your orgasm before his fingers fall away from your sensitive clit and his hips continue to drive into you as he chases after his own high.

“Come for me,” you tell him, half a command and half a begged request. “Want to feel you inside me.”

Astarion’s forehead rests against yours as he comes.

He keeps you pressed to the wall with the full weight of his body for a few moments longer as the two of you fight to steady your breathing. 

Frankly, it’s a miracle that you managed to hold up your dress the whole time. You had been so worried about damaging the lovely needlework that Astarion had spent so long embroidering that you had kept the fabric clenched to your stomach in an iron-vice the whole time. 

Astarion ensures you are steady on your feet before he shuffles around the closet in search of a rag to wipe between your legs. He finds one and helps you to clean up before throwing it in a bucket with the other dirty rags. You finally release your skirts and flex the muscles in your aching arm as you lean back against the wall, grabbing Astarion’s wrist to pull him back toward you. 

“I love you.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he pulls you into a hug. “I love you, too, now and forever.”

“‘Til death do us part,” you tease, because the idea of death to a vampire seems nothing more than a joke. 

Astarion laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And even after then.”

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

Notes:

Me? Ending a fic on the title? It's almost like I planned that from the beginning... This chapter could alternatively be called 'I let Astarion have a delusions of grandeur as a treat for working on himself.' He's still the Astarion we know and love and of course he's still a little bit evil, but now he's got a wife to help him channel all that energy in healthier ways!

Wow, I can't believe this story is over and this is my final note. I'm getting a bit teary eyed as I write this. Know that I will never be able to fully express my appreciation to everyone who has read/liked/commented on this story. This whole experience has been so much more fun that I ever could have imagined and I have all of you to thank for that!!!

As always, hugest thank you to my beta-writer (and real life friend) AliensNSuch on ao3. She has put up with my insane text rants about obscure details and she has logged many, many hours editing this thing and hyping me up over the parts I hate. I owe her a lifetime of boba for her service!

I've also got some plans for a new fic that I'm gonna start. I'll have a follow up post on my blog talking about my plans if anyone is interested in that. I'm not quite done with Astarion yet!

Thanks again. I love you all!

Taglist: @ayselluna@idkbrodontaskme@maruichio@fanfic-share@the-littlest-bruja@asterordinary@divineknightmare@fandomarchiveilyd

[russellsppttemplates]

Trust me (Lance Stroll)

Lance's recovery plan after his mountain biking accident leaves you even more concerned

Note: english is not my first language. Here's another piece to help complete my mission of including Lance pieces in my masterlist!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: Lance's mountain biking accident, mentions of hospital setting and recovery

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?", Lance asked one last time, checking if he had everything they would need, "I have some stuff from work to do, and besides, mountain biking isn't really my thing", you shrugged, not feeling too bad that you were missing the activity.

"Alright then, if you need anything, just call me, okay?", your boyfriend noted, kissing your forehead before he walked out of the door, "be safe, guys!", you yelled before the door closed.

Through the wonders of remote work and your job, you found a way of spending some of Lance's time off the races with him, and when he suggested that you should join for him trip to Spain before the season began, you only had to arrange a few things around to be able to join him.

It was supposed to, despite the fact that you were still working, a relaxing time and a needed change of scenery. And was it a change of scenery indeed when you got a call saying that Lance had been injured and was being taken to the hospital by the emergency team. You packed all the documents you could think of and made your way to the hospital, thumbs fiddling with one another since you had yet to understand the extent of your boyfriend's injuries.

Sitting in the waiting room, your foot tapped o the clean grey floor, your eyes moving to the double doors everytime a health professional walked out, hoping they would come looking for you and take to see your boyfriend with an update on his health status. His trainer was with him and he had been the one to text you briefly about what had happened and the hospital he had been taken to, but once they went into the examination room, he had grown quiet and his messages had ceased, until a brief one stating that someone would be coming to bring you in as Lance had finished his medical exams.

A young doctor came to you, presenting himself and explaining to you a brief outline of what happened, as far as he was aware, and what the medical team had been doing given the concerns and problems that arised. While you were not a medical expert, Grey's Anatomy was your comfort show and the amount of exams and the words you recognised meant that your boyfriend had been way more serious than you had hoped.

Entering the room, your eyes flew immediately to Lance, seeing his bandaged up wrists and some of the same material around on his right toes, "hey, you", he said, eyes droopy from what you can imagine was a mix of medication for the pain and also from the steong lights and the fuss around him, "hello, my love", you said, looking at the nurse taking notes on her iPad in a way to ask for his permission to approach your boyfriend, "how are you feeling?", you asked, him, your hand touching his cheek softly, afraid of touching somewhere where it would cause more damage.

"I'm a bit uncomfortable from the pain, but it's manageable", he smiled a tight lipped one, looking at the doctos who were discussing some of the films and scan images, "it seems that Lance has a fracture and displacement in his right wrist, a fracture in his left wrist. We also see what looks to be a partial fracture in his left hand", the doctor said, showing the scans, "and another fracture in the big toe on his right foot", he finished.

"And is there a plan for it?", Lance asked, "the season is starting in two weeks", Lance noted.

"You said testing is next week? So from the 23 to the 25?", the doctor asked, "yes, and the first race is on the 5th", he trainer added, looking at the calendar on his phone.

The doctor was silent for a bit before he excused himself, looking at the scans and discussing a few points with his colleagues while you looked at Lance, sensing his mind was filling with negative thoughts and pressures about his recovery already, "I can only imagine how scary this is, but you'll be alright, okay? We'll do everything we can to get you better as soon as possible", you tried your best to reassure him despite the heavy feeling in your chest.

"Our opinion, and this comes from having participated in many cases where the injuries were sinilar", Dr. Javier Mir explained, "is that the timeline for testing is, unfortunately, not enough for everything to heal like we would like", he stated, "and, realistically, I would count that you miss the first few races", he finished.

After informing that they were going to have a meeting to discuss the surgical plans, Lance's trainer left to call the Aston Martin health professionals to catch them up with the situation, leaving you and Lance alone in the hospital room, "are you feeling any pain? I'm sure we can get the nurse to kick these up", you pointed to the IV bag next to you, "I'm good, I just feel a little pressure on my wrists, nothing more", he tried his best to smile, wanting to see you ease too, "I'm sorry this happened, my love", you tempted, seeing him pucker his lips and welcoming his to touch your own lips, craddling his face and taking the opportunity to scratch his cheeks, thumbs rubbing the skin.

The next day began with Lance getting ready to go up to surgery on his right wrist, "I'll be here when you wake up", you smiled, kissing his forehead before they wheeled him up, "try and get some sleep, yes, darling? I know you haven't slept all that well", he winked, "I love you".

While Lance was in surgery, you kept texting his family, trying your best to be a calming and sure figure and also answering their questions and updating them on how everything was going, "is he okay? Given everything, that is...", Chloe said during the videocall, "he's handling it, I guess. He's obviously disappointed that this has happened, and that this has happened so close to the beggining of the season", you offered, "but he's keeping to himself?", your boyfriend's sister completed, "yes, I think. You know how he is. He's shared some of his thoughts but he's trying to stay as positive as he can be, and everyone here is on the same page, too. They've been very reassuring and hopeful", you smiled, your attention caught by the surgeon you recognised from Lance's team, "I'll text you the news, okay? Dr. Mir is here", you bid Chloe goodbye, ending the call and getting up.

"Miss Y/N, we just finished your boyfriend's surgery, and I'm glad to say it was successful", he smiled, seeing your relief, "my colleagues have lifted the anesthesia and they're taking him up to his room, you can join him as soon as you like", he finished, accompanying you to the lifts to take you up as well.

Thanking Dr. Mir, you texted everyone that had kindly asked you to know when the surgical intervention had finished, reaching the room as soon as you sent the last text, knocking on the door to see a young doctor type on her iPad, "Hi, you must be Y/N, right?", she asked and you nodded, "he's still a bit loopy and sleepy from the medication, but he asked for you just now", she smiled sweetly, taking note of some of the numbers on the screen before saying, "Dr. Mir will come back once he's done with the op notes to inform you, but so far, everything is going well and like it should".

Lance moved in the bed, opening his eyes at the noise, you presumed, "hey", you whispered, brushing the hairs on his forehead, "how are you feeling, bub?", you smiled, seeing his brown orbs look back at you, "I'm tired, but otherwise good", he mumbled as he tried his best to kiss the part of your hand closest to his lips before he was interrupted by his surgeon walking in.

"Hi Lance, glad to see you're doing well. The surgery went as it was supposed to, and I think, if you work hard, you'll be back for Jeddah. Bahrain, maybe, I don't want to be too optimistic, but it would be doable", he smiled, explaining the next few steps.

"Unfortunately, the fractures in your left hand and wrist, and also your toe for thay matter, aren’t suitable for fixation, so we'll have to go about it on a more conservative approach to heal those other injuries", he explained, gathering Lance's trainer while they all discussed recovery plans, your hand sitting on his leg while they spoke.

While you were in hospital, things had been as good as they could be: the medical staff had been amazing with everything, caring for Lance and teaching you the smaller things you could do at home in terms of dressing the area and helping it heal faster, even if it was something simple as holding his hand and twisting it like you're dancing.

The first few days at home, and even though Henry was with Lance for a good part of the day for all the different approaches to improve the mobility on his hands and wrists, "I need to shower", Lance gulped, "and while it is usually different when I say this, I really need your help", he smiled shyly, getting up and approaching you so you could both head to the bathroom.

When you were back in the bedroom, with Lance already tucked into bed with his medication already taken just watching you get ready for bed yourself while you tidied the room, "Y/N", Lance called, grabbing your attention while you put the dirty clothes on the hamper, "are you okay? Do you need me to move the pillows? Do you have an itch somewhere?", you urged to his side, ready to help, "None of that, no. I'm perfectly content and comfortable, and that is because of you. Thank you", he chuckled, "I don't think that there are any words or expressions that I could use to show my appreciation and gratitude for you", he beamed, "I'm even more in awe of you. You have been here everytime I've needed you, even if it's just a mundane task that my wrists don't allow me to do. You're always there cheering me on whenever a session doesn't go well and there to congratulate me and celebrate with me whenever it goes well", he smiled.

Sitting next to him on the bed, careful of his wirst, and kissed his lips, "we always said we would be here for eachother, right? Besides, I enjoy caring for you", you cuddled him, helping him to lay on top of your chest while you put something on the TV, your hand landing on his torso.

.

While you couldn't go to Lance's appointment as you had work responsibilities, you were eager to see him arrive back home

"I was speaking to the team today, and Dr. Mir also gave his opinion, and they think I can race this weekend in Bahrain, things are really looking up", and that was enough for your nervousness to come back.

"And do you feel ready to go? I mean, you're still doing ice after every session, the bruises are still there too", you tried to reason, knowing from previous days that it was nearly to no use. It wasn't the first time his medical team had forwarded the option, and while it was a good sign that his recovery was going well, it still concerned you that it would be too painful for him.

"I'm more than ready, I miss driving. Tomorrow I'm driving on the simulator to see if I can handle it", he smiled as he took a water bottle out of the fridge, his smile fading when he saw the crease between your eyebrows, "I have everyone looking at every movement I do and how I do it, my love. I'll be fine", he attempted to soothe your worries, kissing your forehead, "do you want help with dinner?", he wondered looking at the pots, "I can stir this!", he cheerfully suggested, pointing the wooden spoon at you and managing to make a grin break on your lips, nudging his side while you joined him at the stove.

.

Seeing Lance need help to get out of the car made your fears even clearer, "I don't like this", you mumbled, feeling Claire-Anne's hand on your back, "me neither, sweetheart", she mumbled back. Sighing, you realised that you were not the only one filled with worry. While Lawrence, Lance himself and everyone on the team said he would be okay, you couldn't help but let your thoughts travel to a dangerous place. What if something went wrong? What if he crashed and he couldn't get out of the car safely? The questions plagued you to the point where you excused yourself, smiling and thanking all of the Aston Martin team members you passed until you reached Lance's driver's room, closing the door before you sat down, waiting for him to come back from the interviews.

It didn't take long before he was back, seeing Henry walk in with bags of ice on his hands, "Hi Y/N", he smiled, setting the bags on top of a box before he exited, "Lance will be here shortly". When Lance arrived, he kept talking about how it felt to finally be in the car, "it's incredible. The team back at the factory built an amazing car this year, it's a pleasure to drive! I- Hey, everything alright?", he questioned as he fastened the ice bags around his wrists, "I'm happy that you're happy, Lance, don't get me wrong. But, is it safe for you? And I'm asking genuinely and I want an honest answer", you finally let out.

Sitting next to you, Lance placed his hand on your thigh, "it's medically safe. Does it hurt? Yes, but not to the point where it will take me out of doing it", he stated, "I'm worried for you, I mean, you couldn't even turn the wheel around with both of your hands, I saw it on the onboard", you spoke your point, "I promise I'll be careful, okay? I understand your worry, and I appreciate it. I'm sorry it causes you this much distress, but I promise you I'll say it whenever it's not okay, yes?", he held his pinky out, making you nudge it slightly, "C'mon, my love, give me a real pinky promise!", he teased you, lacing his finger with yours with some applied strength.

.

The cars were on track getting ready for the formation lap when you were walking bag to the garage, bumping into Mick on the way, "Y/N! I haven't seen you in a while, how are you?", he greeted you with a kiss on each cheek, "Hi Mick!", you greeted him back, "how have you been? We've been dealing with the whole wrist situation", you shrugged your shoulders, "I've been good, change of scenery for the season, but it has been a big opportunity to learn and it's only the start. I've heard, Lance's keeping you on your toes, hm?", he giggled.

"Yes, a lot. I trust him and the team, you know? But I can't help feeling nervous. These past two weeks have been the craziest in my life, I think", you smiled, "but it's all in good efforts, I think, the car looks promising. I think Sebastian's legacy is doing some magic", you finished, "if he says he's good, trust him, yeah? I'll see you around, Y/N", the German driver smiled, patting your arm as he left the green coloured garage.

Picking up your headset, you sat next to Lance's mother, getting ready to watch the race while you crossed your fingers for everything to go well, "this is even more stressful", the older woman confessed, "if he says he's good, we should trust him", you repeated Mick's words like a mantra, earning her nod as she squeezed your hand on top of the small table like compartment.

With Fernando finishing on the podium and Lance finishing in 6th place, there were many reasons to celebrate, "above all of this", you gestured to the celebrations that were being held by the team dinner party, "is that you're safe and sound, here with me", you smiled, kissing your boyfriend's lips, "I told you to trust me, didn't I? And it was fine", he mused, "you should have seen her during the race, though. There was a time I felt she would make them stop it all just to go and give you an ice pack", Claire-Anne mentioned, smiling at her son's happy relationship.

[tumbleweed-run]

In the Light of Day

Kinktober 2023 Day 31 Free for all

“Are you sure this is how you want to fully test this?” Tav sounds as nervous as Astarion feels. 

Astarion does a much better job of hiding his nerves, though. He looks down at the gold band on his finger, glinting in the light as he flexes his hand. “It’s not like we don’t know it works,” he reasons.

“Yes, but that was through the windows. Maybe it doesn’t work as well in direct sunlight,” Tav looks nearly panicked. 

Astarion can’t have them both stressed, so he steps into her space and grabs her arms. “Pet,” he says sharply, and her mouth slams shut, “we know it works.”

They do. He’s spent the better part of the last three days standing in front of uncovered windows in the tower, unsinged. He just hadn’t been bold enough to step outside just yet. The memory of that day on the docks in Baldur’s Gate lingers like a bad taste in the back of his mouth. Every time he’d considered even stepping out onto the terrace Gale loves so much he would feel dizzy. But he can’t bear keeping himself locked up any longer. Astarion decided today would be the day he was going out. 

His hand hesitates on the door despite all his reassurances to Tav. 

Just because Astarion believes the ring and its protection works doesn’t mean he didn’t take precautions. His face is truly the only part of his skin exposed. Should something go wrong, it would be easy enough to flip up his hood for protection until he was safely back inside. When he finally brings himself to push open the door and walk out into the street, he’s easily the most overdressed person out there. 

His eyes slide shut as the full force of the sun beats down on him, and he waits. Nothing happens. Tav breathes a sigh of relief next to him. 

“See,” Astarion turns his head towards her, eyes opening, “it works fine out here, too.”

Tav nods, a small smile finally breaking out across her lips. “Thank the gods,” she breathes.

“Let’s keep that sentiment to ourselves,” he says with a wry smile, “lest our wizard get any more ideas.”

She laughs and grabs his hand, “we should get going if we’re going to find him by noon.”

Gale had disappeared not long after sunrise. He’d left them a map to somewhere outside of the city and told them to be at that spot by noon. Astarion wondered if the air of intrigue was to act as a further lure to get him out of the tower for the first time. He wasn’t about to tell the other man that it worked. 

As they traveled towards their secret destination, it was clear that this was turning out to be the first summerlike day they’d experienced since winter had slunk off. Astarion was a fan of the heat, his body rarely feeling this kind of warmth, but even he’d taken the cloak off by the time they’d reached the city gate. There were beads of sweat along the back of Tav’s neck that Astarion spent most of their journey distracted by. 

It wasn’t hard to follow Gale’s directions, which led them to a small clearing in a wood not too far south of the city. The wizard was sitting, leaning up against the trunk of a tree with a book in hand as they approached. 

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d be eating alone,” Gale announced when they got to the edge of the clearing. 

“Please,” Astarion sniffed, “we’re not even late.”

Gale stood and approached them. If Astarion had need for breath, his would have caught when the damn wizard stepped out of the shade. He’d forgotten how the man looked in the sun, and this was even worse. Perhaps without the orb eating him alive, the man appeared even more golden than he had while they traveled. Gale looked radiant with the sun, its rays highlighting both the silver and honey-gold strands of his hair. He would have made a glorious god if their paths had turned that way. Not that Astarion would ever reveal that thought to anyone. 

“I’m starved,” Tav announces, pulling Astarion from his thoughts. 

Gale grins, “well then, you are quite lucky to know a wizard both talented with magic and food. It’s all being kept fresh with ice.”

They sat on a blanket in the sun, eating far too much food. Gale had been prepared for an army, it seemed. There was even a bottle filled with blood for Astarion, but he took small bites of everything. It was something he often did to feel included in mealtimes. At home, he’d sit with his goblet of blood, the origins of which he’d never gotten around to asking about, and taste a little of everything Gale and Tav ate. The food would never satiate his hunger. Sometimes, it seemed to make it worse, but he’d found he enjoyed eating in the company of others. 

Once he’d grown bored of food, long before the other two did, Astarion laid back on the blanket, basking in the sun. It felt different from when he’d had the tadpole. He saw the sun's lights and was able to revel in its warmth, but something was missing. Likely whatever it was that the ring was protecting him from, an invisible shield along his skin. He could live with that, a tiny missing piece, in return for the joys of being a daywalker once more. 

“You are a filthy romantic,” he announces suddenly, turning to level his gaze at Gale.

Gale pauses midchew of something with an eyebrow raised. 

“A picnic in the woods,” Astarion clarifies, earning him an eye roll from the wizard. 

Tav leans over him, blocking the sun from his face. “You’re enjoying it, though.”

Astarion doesn’t answer except to pull her down to him. She ends up lying across his chest, and he feels her stiffen for a moment. He knows why, they all do, but he won't allow it to ruin their day. So instead, he turns to his side so Tav’s lying next to him pulled tight against his body. She smells like the sun and her hair is warm to the touch. He buries his face in her neck and inhales. 

She laughs, “I thought you were full.”

“I have no plans to eat you,” Astarion assures her even as he lets his fangs scrape across her skin, no doubt also tangling in her hair. 

Tav shivers. 

“Unless you wish me to,” he adds, hooking one leg over the top of hers and pulling her even closer. Tav squirms a little, no doubt feeling the stirring of his cock against her thighs. 

Behind her, Gale clears his throat. 

“I think the wizard is jealous,” Astarion says loud enough for the other man to hear. 

“I think,” Gale says with a touch of indignity, “that the wizard wants to remind you he is also here.”

Tav giggles but pushes against him to roll away. Astarion lets her. He watches as she crawls over to Gale, sitting in his lap before pressing a kiss against the wizard’s lips. Gale pulls her closer until she’s straddling his waist, deepening the kiss. He reaches down to grasp his cock through his pants as Tav starts rocking against Gale. 

Astarion lazily palms himself as he half watches them. His eyes slip shut after a moment, and he turns his head back to the sun, enjoying the way the rays beat white against his eyelids. He groans as he hears sweet little sounds escaping Tav’s lips, still muffled against Gale’s. He’s torn between wanting to join them and laying like this in the sun. 

It’s a soft, slick sound that makes up his mind for him. Turning again, he sees that Gale has worked Tav’s pants down under her ass, and his hand has disappeared between them. Astarion watches the pale swell of flesh roll, no doubt in response to fingers buried within her, and is overwhelmed with the desire to bite her there, hard enough she’ll scar. While it’s unlikely Tav will tell him no, he swallows that down for another moment. Right now, he’s going to commit the way they look in the sunlight to memory. He hopes to see them like this a million more times, but he needs to remember today.

“Astarion,” Tav calls to him, voice inching near a whine.

He grins, rises up onto his knees, and moves to her. Once his front is flush against her back, Astarion trails a kiss against her neck. “Is the wizard not enough for you, darling,” he teases. 

Tav cries out. No doubt Gale has retaliated with his fingers to the barb. Astarion grins. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gale tells him almost casually despite what he continues to do to Tav. 

Astarion grins at the man over Tav’s shoulder. “But you love me that way,” it’s half a statement, half a challenge. 

Gale sighs. “Of course I do,” he sounds resigned to the fact. 

There’s a swell of giddiness in Astarion’s chest at the wizard’s affirmation. It seems to grow larger in the light until he can no longer repress the certainly appalling grin that’s broken across his face. Gale returns the look with a stupidly brilliant smile, one so bright that Astarion reburries his face into Tav’s neck.

He reaches around the front of Tav until his hand finds where Gale’s fingers are slowly moving in and out of her cunt. Astarion rubs gently against her clit until she’s whimpering, hips chasing after both of their touches in stuttered movements. 

“You make such pretty sounds,” he purrs against Tav’s skin. He feels, rather than sees, her skin grow hotter with a flush. 

Astarion allows his fingers to drop lower, and slowly he presses one into her, sliding it between the two fingers Gale is using. He allows the wizard to control the way they move, his position too awkward to take control. Tav moans and her thighs spread almost impossibly wider in an effort to accommodate the three fingers now inside of her. Astarion can feel her cunt growing wetter with each second. No longer is it just his fingers coated but a good part of his hand as well. 

When he pulls his hand away from her, Tav whimpers but it’s quickly swallowed by a moan. Astarion had little doubt the wizard has replaced his finger with another of his own. Astarion holds out his hand to Gale, who leans forward just enough so he can like a stripe up his palm. He grinds his cock against Tav’s ass as Gale eagerly cleans her from Astarion’s hand. Before he finishes, Gale presses a soft kiss against the golden band.

He grips onto Tav’s hips and lifts her slightly, away from Gale’s fingers. “Let’s take these off,” he says as an explanation. Gale is the one who ends up pulling them down completely. Tav just barely helps by moving her legs. Astarion scrapes his teeth against her neck in retribution before moving back off of Gale, standing. 

Gale quickly flips them so that Tav is pinned beneath him on the blanket, her head resting just before Astarion’s feet. She grins up at him and asks, “Are you fucking me?”

Astarion shakes his head, “I thought we were rewarding the wizard’s brilliance? Let’s let him have you today.”

Gale doesn’t need to be told anything further and makes short work of his own pants before dropping down to hover back over Tav. Astarion circles around behind them but stays standing until Gale’s pressing into Tav. Her eyes roll back and then close, which is when Astarion finally drops to his knees. 

He holds only Gale’s hips as the man begins lazily thrusting into Tav. After a moment, he moves his hold until he gripping the wizard’s ass, pulling him apart lightly. Gale’s rhythm suffers just a little when Astarion does this. He grins to himself about this. Then, without so much as a whisper of warning, Astarion leans down and presses his tongue against the ring of muscle. 

“Ah,” Gale yelps in surprise. He would have collapsed forward if it weren't for Astarion holding him in place. 

“No?” He asks, allowing the breath of his words to ghost across the flesh. 

“Just surprised,” Gale clarifies with barely enough time before Astarion returns to what he’d been doing. 

The wizard tries valiantly to keep thrusting into Tav, but around the time Astarion presses his tongue just inside, he all but freezes. Astarion allows himself to be sloppy as he fucks Gale with his tongue, the wizard doesn’t seem to mind judging from his moans and the way his hips try and push back against him. Astarion keeps him held in place. 

“Astarion, if I can’t watch, could I at least get fucked?” Tav asks in a voice Astarion knows is accompanied by a pout. 

“Fine,” Astarion relents and sits up. He quickly undoes the ties of his own pants and shoves them down just below his cock. 

“Are you coherent enough?” He teases, leaning forward so his hand is probably within Gale’s eyesight. 

The words are muttered spitefully, and the oil appears, even if it’s a little more than usual. Astarion quickly slicks it against his cock before swiping the excess down the cleft of Gale’s ass. He presses in with little warning, moving slow, yet relentlessly until he bottoms out. It takes a few shallow thrusts into the wizard before he begins moving again. Tav sighs happily on the ground, one leg raising up until Astarion takes hold of it, allowing Gale to thrust into her deeper. 

It’s not quick or frenzied as they fuck. Gale’s hips are rolling languidly, forward into Tav and then back against Astarion. The only noises for a while are each of their pants and the sound of the trees rustling overhead with a breeze that doesn’t reach them. Astarion allows his eyes to slide shut, again tilting his head towards the sun. It feels like his whole body is glowing in the light, the warmth growing low in his belly, each thrust of his hips making him grow brighter. This is something he’s never experienced and something he swears he will a hundred times more. 

Astarion’s orgasm takes him by surprise. His body folds over Gale as he comes, hips pinning the other man motionless again. Gale doesn’t complain, only grinds back against Astarion. Astarion pulls out of the wizard but keeps his face buried against his back. It’s not terribly comfortable as Gale begins to move, his own hand holding up Tav’s leg now, but Astarion remains anyway. He reaches around and lazily swipes his thumb against Tav’s clit until she cries out, thighs clamping tightly against Gale. The wizard comes not long after. Astarion feels the other man’s release roll through the muscles of his back. 

“You seem happy,” Tav says tentatively a few moments later as they’re lying side by side on the picnic blanket.

Astarion opens his eyes and looks over at her, and then at Gale, who’s resting his head on her stomach. 

“I am,” he says truthfully. 

[sugarlywhispers]

g.satoru + reader that traveled dimensions

☆–ANGST, dimension traveler!reader, mentions of injuries and monsters/curses that eat people (lol i don't know how else to explain it), maybe a bit of fluff (? honestly, it's mostly angst).

☆–a.n; i was not able to finish the next chapter of KOI NO YOKAN cuz i'm a bit stuck, so it'll take a bit longer for that. as an apology, here is my first Gojo Satoru angst </3 lol take into consideration that i haven't read the manga, i only watched the anime, so sorry if it's not as accurate.✌🏼🤍

It's a Spring night, almost 11pm. You stand on the balcony, admiring the amazing view before your eyes. A beautiful forest that adorns around Jujutsu Tech, like a protection barrier that alienates the old school from the rest of the world, and beyond that, the city lights that illuminates the night. The soft breeze makes your hair float a bit and the fresh air makes you take a deep breath, enjoying the slight smell of damp grass and flowers. You couldn't sleep. And neither could him. How could you, after a day as stressful as it had been.

You look up at the night sky. For some reason, the city lights do not interfere in the amazing clear and full of stars sky above you. You wonder if it is some kind of energy that allows that.

It's so beautiful, you have never seen a sky as gorgeous as this one. The smile that spreads throughout your face is impossible to hold back.

"It's a beautiful night, right?" It's a rhetorical question you just ask to create a kind environment between you two.

Gojo Satoru accompanies you on the balcony, but different from you, he's not looking in the direction of the city. He's looking your way, his back towards the rest of the outside world, just leaning on the wall at the edge of the balcony right next to you. He's almost sitting on it, one of his long legs crossed over the other; one of his hands supports a bit of his weight over the space of the wall that functions as a railing, his other hand is stretched on his side, dangling the sunglasses he always wear when he does not have his blindfold over his eyes. You can feel them over you, following your every move.

It's been like that since what happened the day before.

Yesterday started quite normally. Even though you lived at the school –mostly for protection, there were still questions as to how you traveled through dimensions and landed on a world that to you it just existed in a manga and an anime. Gojo thought that the question should be directed as to who made you travel dimensions– you worked in the city of Tokyo, a very mundane job at a coffee shop compared to what the rest of the people you lived with did for a living.

Talking about it, you are able to see them–the curses. Why? You don't know. You don't have an ounce of cursed energy to fight them, but you can see them. And they are the ugliest and terrifying creatures you have ever seen. You remember the first time you saw one, the shock made you almost climb Gojo's tall body for protection, because he was right next to you when it happened. He had laughed so hard at you, you tried to punch him on the ribs. Unable to, thanks to his infinity cursed energy. It's a weird sensation, the space between him and his energy made tingles ran through your body. Pleasantly, because he wasn't in a fighting and protective mood against you.

Back to yesterday, it had been a normal day. Until the midday sun was almost completely covered by something so big in the sky it darkened the whole city. You knew it then. Something bad was going to happen.

And it did. Curses ran freely around the city center, very close to where your work place was. It was chaos. People getting killed and devoured by this creatures in the most grotesque ways. You have never seen anything like this, not even in your worst nightmare. Yet there you were, a baseball bat on your hands trying to land a hit on the medium to big, disgustingly ugly curse that had followed you, trapped in an alley with your coworker–a young girl, barely over her teenage phase, who was in her first year of college, screaming in fear and hiding behind you. You knew it was futile, a waste of time and strength. You could do nothing against this creature. So you yelled at her to run far and fast as you would try to distract it. You succeeded, but you didn't count on losing your bat as the curse ate it. Now you were screwed.

It's mouth stank of blood and dirt and something smoky you could not –nor wanted to– decipher what it was, but it was nauseating. When it swallowed you whole, you thought this was it; this was how you would die. Disintegrated inside a curse's stomach to nothing but mere liquid and…nothing. What a bitch of a luck.

So many things you regretted at that moment. Especially the things you didn't do or didn't say. Towards a certain someone.

Gojo Satoru.

You wondered where was he. Probably battling some other strong curse, the biggest and most dangerous from them all. He'll also probably–no, you were sure he would win.

And where were you? Inside of the stupidest curses of them all, judging by all the meaningless things this fucking creature ate apart from you. How pathetic.

You didn't know how many hours passed but you started feeling dizzy, weak and the stomach liquid of this curse was starting to burn your skin as it began to fill more and more the space. You were about to pass out when suddenly, the smocky, repulsive odor  was replace by lightness… and the distinctive eyes of Gojo Satoru. A crazed expression on his face, like a madman possessed and ready for revenge.

You said his name, a faint murmur filled with content and relief, before letting yourself go to that darkness that was pulling your mind.

When you woke up at the next day, he was there. Gojo sat on a chair right next to your bed, his big and warm hand covering your bandaged one resting at the side of your body. He was wide awake, his beautiful and profound eyes looking at you. His other hand caressed the top of your head, as softly as he was able to, trying, afraid to touch any part of you that might hurt.

You smiled, "Hi."

"Hi," Gojo smiled back.

There was no need to say anything else. You both knew.

And since that moment, he hasn't left your side. You go to the kitchen, he's right behind you. You go to the living room area, he makes a few more steps passing you to open the big, old wooden door for you. You wanted to take some air out on the balcony, he's right there too.

Like now, like he's been all day.

When you talk about how beautiful the night is, Gojo Satoru doesn't look up at the sky. You can feel his eyes on you, so when you look back down, you're not surprise to collide with his. They look like they always do. Light blue mixed with tones of blue and purple and white and sparkles of the musky universe in them. It's so unique, you feel enraptured, completely spellbound by its shades. It's like watching the whole beauty of the universe in them. Beautiful doesn't even make them justice.

And those same eyes, that belong to this man right next to you, are the one who say, "You are beautiful."

The blush on your cheeks is inevitable, but it mixes with some of the reddish in your skin thanks to the burns. You break the spell looking down on your hands, which are bandaged and a reminder.

"I– "

"NO," you interrupt him, voice firm and looking back at him, who now has an expression of surprise and concern. You shake your head, "Just… Don't say it…" Your eyes close as your words end in a whisper.

You know what he's about to say. You can feel it. You have been able to feel it since a while ago. Because you feel it too.

You like each other. 

Damn, you have liked him since he was only a manga character to you. How or why does he like you? You don't know. But there is something you do know…

You are not for him.

You aren't suppose to be here in the first place. You somehow believe that this world is real, that you traveled dimensions, simply because the pain you felt landing here was too great to fake it. Too real for your mind to just imagine it. But that's it.

You don't have any special talent to actually help or deserve being here. You don't have any reason to be here. You are as commonly mortal as you had always been, in exception to seeing curses. But here, there are normal humans who can see them too. You're not special.

And what happened yesterday only proves how weak you are.

You can't be with someone as strong as Gojo Satoru. He doesn't deserve it.

You suddenly feel something press against your forehead, and you know it's his when his breath collides with yours, his nose caressing yours delicately.

"Why?" He simply asks in a whisper.

You can't tell him what you actually think, it won't work. Gojo Satoru is known for being the kind of man who doesn't take a no for an answer if he doesn't have all the details. So you use logic. Cruel and horrible logic.

"I'm not supposed to be here," you begin, and he takes a deep breath in, ready to start to contradict you and protest. But you pull back a bit so you can talk looking at him in the eyes. "Satoru," his whole face shows how his name on your voice makes him melt a bit, falling more towards you. As if a magnet is pulling him towards you and he's not putting any force against it.

You want to melt in his embrace too, but you can't.

"We don't know how much time I'll be here. It could be years, or months, or weeks… Even days, hours…"

He shakes his head, his eyes clear in denial as his arms surround your waist, pulling you to him. But you're already so close to each other, you just take a step closer to be standing in between his now opened legs as he sits on the railing. Your hands lay on his biceps and your fingers pull the cloth of his jacket, in a desperate attempt you ground yourself and not give into him. He's making it so difficult as his hands caress your back.

You gulp when the intention is clear as water in his eyes. He wants to kiss you.

"I can't promise you anything…"

"I don't want promises. I want you."

Tingles ran through your body at his confession. And you want to cry. You want to drown in your tears and die so you don't have to say what you're about to.

"You know that if I have the chance, a minuscule opportunity to go back, I will take it. I have to," he cuts with the intense stare between your eyes and looks down, clearly hurt by your words. But you need him to understand. You grab his face between your hands, thumbs caressing the smooth skin of his cheeks and he leans into them, furrowing and arms tightening around your waist. Not wanting to let go.

Gojo opens his eyes again, and the pain in them is enough to break your heart in thousands of pieces inside your chest.

"Wouldn't you want to go back to your loved ones? Your friends? The ones you consider family?" He sighs, because even though he doesn't answer, it's a clear yes.

Tears slide down your cheeks, and Gojo hates them. Hates seeing you cry, in pain.

You don't say anything else. Simply connect your foreheads once more, indulging yourselves one more moment of closeness, of caresses that spoke volumes of how much you both wanted to be together.

After minutes like that, you finally move apart, and he closes his eyes. He doesn't want to watch you walk away from him, slide away from in between his finger like dropplets of water. He doesn't want to see your heart broken through your eyes.

And Gojo Satoru feels like crying when he feels your lips press against his forehead before you finally walk away.

He doesn't open his eyes, but he hears you. He hears you stroll as fast as you could towards your room, where you finally let your sobs free out of your chest.

Satoru finally looks up to the night sky, filled with shining stars that decorate the view beautifully and as he has never seen before. Maybe it's because there's been a massive clean of curses yesterday.

But it's not as pretty as you are. There will never be anything more gorgeous than you to him.

But Gojo Satoru coincides, "It is a beautiful night," a traitorous tear slides down his cheek. "As beautiful as you are."

[enchantedflameandflower]

Vincent Stevens x reader fic Part 2! by @kus-babygirl

mood board by @kus-babygirl

Vincent x reader multi-part romance! This was all entirely written by @kus-babygirl and her idea as well. I’ve done all the editing and added some bits here and there and she’s asked me to post for her. If you leave a comment make sure to tag @kus-babygirl!

tag list: @jynx15 @karlurbanism

(Part 1)

Part 2

The blare of your alarm wakes you early the next morning, reverberating loudly off the walls of your small apartment. You groan a little before switching it off and sit up in bed, instantly remembering what happened the night before with your new boss, Vincent Stevens. 

"Fuck," you groan to yourself. You hope you still have a job when you go in today. 

After grabbing a scolding shower to wake yourself up and getting dressed in a white blouse, black trousers and a blazer, you grab yourself a quick cereal bar to eat in the car. You check the time, 7:30, and pull on your sneakers. The heels last night killed your feet so you ware going for comfort today. You grab your phone and bag and make your way of out the apartment, locking it up. 

As you make your way out, you quickly say hi to Oliver, the doorman at your building. He is a good guy and always looks out for you. You rush to your car, and on the way to your new work building, you stop at a bakery that is about 8 minutes away and grab two coffees and a mixed tray of bagels, which consists of plain, cinnamon and raisin, blueberry, and poppyseed bagels. 

You get back to your car with your goodies, and make your way to your new office. Once there you find a parking space and head inside, stopping by the front desk to tell them you’re the new receptionist for Vincent Stevens. The woman gives a look of surprise and disbelief, probably because of the thought you would actually want to work under him. Secretly you can"t blame her. There’s probably many women that would refuse to work with him.

But you’re ready to look past the affairs because there might actually be a reason why he did it, bad marriage or something else. You can’t look past the murder accusation, though, if you found out that is true, but all the evidence seemed to suggest he was definitely set up.

The woman quickly composes herself before directing you towards his office, while also giving you a pass key for the building and your new login information for the computer. You smile politely, thanking her before making your way up to his office. 

When you arrive at the office, you put your stuff down on the empty desk, before walking over to Vincent’s door and knocking. You get no answer, so you figure he hasn’t arrived yet and you settle at the desk, logging into your computer while making a list of things you want to get for your office, if you are allowed to decorate it. 

Not even 10 minutes later, Vincent walks in with a border collie beside him. He startles when he sees you sitting there, shocked that you still wanted to work for him after last night. "Hey," he says, looking at you nervously. 

You lift your head up and smile slightly when you see him. "Hello, Mr. Stevens," you say, getting up and grabbing a coffee and the bagels, and offering them to him.

He looks at you curiously, obviously wondering why you would get all this stuff. 

"It’s a peace offering,” you explain quickly. “I wanted to apologize for what I said last night. I’m not going to make any excuses, but I was a tiny bit drunk. That still doesn’t excuse what I said, and I shouldn’t have said it to you, knowing you were my new boss. I’m kind of buttering you up to keep my job,” you admit. 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head while taking the coffee and a poppyseed bagel. "Please call me, Vincent. Mr Stevens makes me feel old. And don’t worry, sweetheart, your job is safe. I should be the one apologizing after flirting with you like that. I guess after all of the aff-" 

"I know what you mean," you interrupt, blushing at the nickname, but knowing he probably doesn"t want to talk about the affairs and everything else with you.

You put the tray back on your desk before looking at him, and his dog comes over and starts sniffing at you.

"That’s Finn, my dog. He comes to work with me, because I don’t want to leave him alone at home. I hope you’re okay with dogs," he says, looking at Finn, 

You smile, kneeling down and giving Finn some love. "I love dogs," you happily smile. 

"That’s good, he will take any amount of that," he chuckles, watching you. 

After a few minutes of petting Finn, you stand up, grabbing your coffee and taking a few sips of it. 

"You got your pass key and log-in information alright?" he asks. 

You nod, "Yeah, I did, thank you. What would you like me to do today?" 

"Just basically take my calls and set up meetings for me. Write appointments down, the usual stuff." He smiles, making his way towards his office with Finn in tow and taking a cinnamon and raisin bagel on the way. 

"Okay, that I can do," you smile back from behind your desk. 

After taking calls all day and scheduling meetings, it’s time to finally go home. 

Vincent walks you down to your car, waving goodbye when you leave the car park. You go into your apartment and crash on the sofa, feeling absolutely exhausted from the day. You can’t help but smile realising you might have a small little crush on your boss, but you decide to bury it deep, not wanting to ruin the friendship that is slowly starting to form.

[fruitylo0pz]

Secretary (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x fem!Secretary!Reader

Warnings: Smut, some fluff towards the end, 18+, NSFW, dom!Larissa, fingering, slapping, degrading, strap-on, cunnilingus, slight dumbification?

A/N: Well, soft Larissa is here to stay it seems. I’m not sure if this is the beginning of a series yet, but we’ll see.

Word count: ~2.4k

_____

You had been her secretary for three months now, and you could not take your mind off of her. You did however consider yourself professional, and you would never act on it. And besides, what would she want from an inexperienced and shy girl like you? You were always thorough with your work, and made sure to be in control of everything. She was intimidating, but never unpleasant or mean and she had always treated you with respect and kindness. She just had an extremely dominating presence and it didn't help that she was so tall, although that made her even more attractive. It was the end of your workday when you suddenly remembered that you had forgotten to write down a message from an important call that came yesterday. You had no idea how or what to tell her, but you knew you had to. 

You knocked on her door, and you could feel your insides trembling with fear and you were so nervous you thought you were going to pass out. “Come in.” her sweet voice always gave you butterflies, but you were too nervous to even notice them.

You entered and walked over to your desk. You were paralysed. You found yourself looking down, hands in front of you.

“Y/N, what is it?” you looked up and felt like combusting “Ms. Weems, I- I am so sorry, but I need to notify you about something. Yesterday, you got an important phone call and I forgot to write down the message. I am so terribly sorry, I-” she got up and walked over to you, and cupped your chin “Y/N, it’s not the end of the world. Most of these callers claim to be important, but usually they think far too highly of themselves. Please don’t feel bad.” it felt like the weight of a mountain was lifted from your shoulders “thank you, ms. Weems. I have written down the message here along with the name and the number. Again, I am sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

Larissa lifted your chin up with a gentle gesture “Y/N, you do a wonderful job. You’re the best and most thorough secretary I have ever had, and you never make mistakes.” you could have sworn that you caught her eyeing you up up and down, but you knew she would never and quickly dismissed the thought. “Would you like to stay for a cup of tea, Y/N? I know it’s late, but I never got the chance to talk to you and I would love to get to know you better.” she looked at you with a gentle smile and you blushed “Thank you, ms. Weems. I would like that.” she gestured for you to sit down on the large leather sofa in her office while she went and prepared two cups of tea “Please, call me Larissa. You’re not at work now and you don’t have to be so formal.” her curves looked even more heavenly in the dim lights. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes were locked when she turned around and she must have caught you.

You quickly looked down and started fiddling your fingers. She slowly walked towards you and put the cups down before she cupped your chin again, forcing you to look at her. She had a sly grin on her face “do I make you nervous, Y/N?” you gulped and could feel your cheeks burning “I- I am so sorry. M-maybe I should leave.” her hand was still cupping your chin when she sat down next to you “not so fast, Y/N. You really think I don’t notice you staring? The looks you give me when I walk past you?” your cheeks were on fire again and you couldn't speak “Y/N, I asked you a question. Be a good girl and answer me. And be honest.” you melted at her calling you a good girl.

Your panties were damp, and you knew she wouldn’t let it go until you gave her an answer. “Ms. We- I mean, Larissa… I find you very attractive. I don’t mean to stare, and I am sorry. I know it’s unprofessional, and I know I shouldn’t do it. I just think you’re so beautiful. There.” she smiled and moved her hand to your thigh. You twitched at the sensation a simple touch from her could give you. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, just between the two of us. I have desired you ever since you started working for me. Your polite and obedient nature has awakened something in me, and your staring has confirmed that I believe you feel the same. Am I right?” Larissa Weems? Larissa Weems wants you? You must have been dreaming. “Y-yes, Larissa. Like I said, I would have never acted on it. You’re my boss. And I have no experience, so I don’t think I would be of any interest to you.” you looked down, feeling embarrassed about your confession.

“I am your boss, but you’re not at work right now. And if you can be an obedient and good girl, I can give you experience.” she moved closer, and let her hand slide further up your thigh. Not a lot, but enough to make your breathing go slightly harder. “Can you do that for me, Y/N? Hm?” she put two fingers under your chin and you looked at her and nodded “yes, Larissa. I can be a good girl for you.” she leaned in to kiss you, and it felt like your entire body was burning. She used her tongue to part your lips and you followed her every move, figuring it was best to let her take the lead.

She let her hand slide up your waist “So polite. And I do need to say this first. If you feel uncomfortable or want me to stop, say “red” and I will stop what I’m doing right away, okay?” you nodded. She smiled and looked at you “May I undress you, Y/N?” her lips had moved to your neck and your breathing was even heavier “Please, Larissa. I want you to use me.” she chuckled while she started to unbutton your shirt. Her pupils were blown with desire and lust for you “such a desperate slut, are you? Hm?” the name calling made you whimper “y-yes, Larissa. I am your desperate slut.” she smiled while pulling off your shirt “oh, and you already know who you belong to. Good. I was afraid I would have to teach you that. Come, let’s continue this in my bedroom” she pulled off your skirt before she grabbed your hand and led you through the door. 

She undressed herself before you, and you were mesmerised. She was wearing a white lingerie set and you could not believe the fact that Larissa Weems was undressing herself in front of you. She sat down next to you on the bed, and gently pushed you down before spreading your legs. You blushed and she kissed your neck again, before her hand slid underneath you and unclasped your bra. She threw it away before her hand found your breast and pinched your nipple, a moan eliciting your lips “good. I want to hear you, Y/N.” she kissed her way down to your breast and let her tongue flick your nipple, making you moan even louder. She started sucking, biting and licking it while her hand slid down your body again until they found your now soaked panties “oh, wow. You’re a dirty little whore, aren’t you?” the new name made you quiver “Y-yes Larissa, I am your dirty little whore” you were surprised at your own response. You had never been in a situation like this with anyone, but you really wanted to do whatever she said. 

Larissa bit your neck, leaving a red mark. “I gotta make sure to mark you so you don’t forget who you belong to then. I’m glad I caught you staring, because I am going to make sure to fuck you dumb, my desperate whore.” your legs parted more as an automatic response to her words. Fuck, she made you feel so dirty and filthy and you loved every second of it. She pulled down your panties and let her hand find its way to your dripping wet cunt again. Her skilled fingers started rubbing your clit, and you felt like you would come right away.

“Are you ready for me, darling? Are you ready for me to fuck you?” you gasped as her fingers traced your entrance “please fuck me, Larissa. Please let me feel you” she smiled and let her fingers slip inside, making your back arch and you moaned out loud. She started off slow and hard and the feeling of her long fingers deep inside you made you dizzy and hungry for more. She added a third finger and you shivered from the combination of slight pain and immense pleasure. “Oh- oh god, Larissa. Fuck me harder.” she stopped and pulled out her fingers, before grabbing your chin.

She hissed and gave you a stern look. “Are you already forgetting your place? You’re my whore and my toy, you don't tell me what to do. You’re not in charge here. Turn over and get on your fucking knees. And you will call me mistress.” you nodded as you turned over and kneeled. She grabbed your hair and pushed your upper body down on the bed before spanking you hard. The burning sensation lingered, but led to a new wave of lust pouring down your thighs “oh, you really love being my little whore, don’t you? Stay right there.” She got up and walked over to a drawer. She pulled out a harness with a large strap and you whimpered. It was intimidating, but oh so thrilling.

“I said I was going to fuck you dumb, and I will. Are you ready for me, whore?” she rubbed your clit with the tip and you moaned “please, mistress. Please fuck me. I’m ready for you.” she slowly pushed it in, stretching you out as you gasped and grabbed the sheets. She pulled it almost all the way out before it slid back in, letting you adjust to the size. “You’re taking me so well, Y/N.” she grabbed your hips and started fucking you deeper and you were whimpering desperately with almost every thrust.

She chuckled before pulling out and turning you over. You immediately spread your legs for her, moaning and writhing from pure lust. She pulled you towards her and the strap slipped right in. She immediately started thrusting deep and hard, making you almost reach the top straight away. Your breathing became more erratic and she could tell how close you were “cum for me, whore.” She fucked you even deeper, harder and faster while her nails dug into your thighs. The words along with the deep thrusts were all you needed and you came as your back arched and you screamed out. She pulled out, and you were still shivering. She kissed you and let you calm down.

“Now it’s your turn to make your mistress feel good, slut.” she grabbed you by the hair and guided you down between her legs, and pushed you closer to her soaked cunt. The scent of her arousal made you desperate as your tongue reached her clit. You had never done this before, but her response and immediate moans assured you that you were doing something right. Her taste was intoxicating and it was the sweetest nectar you had ever had, making you feel hungry for her. “You’re doing so well for your mistress.” her hand was still in your hair, pulling you closer.

Your tongue was switching between circles and steady movements up and down her swollen bud. “Oh yes, just like that. Oh, you’re my good whore. You're going to make your mistress cum…” her breathing became shallow, and she moaned and gasped while your tongue went faster until she tipped over the edge, trembling and twitching underneath you. “Oh, Y/N. I have never felt this good before. Thank you.” her voice was soft and genuine, making you blush. “Thank you, mistress. It felt amazing.” she chuckled and sat up before kissing you.

“You don’t have to call me that now, darling. Would you do me the honour and stay the night? It’s getting far too late, and I don’t want you driving back alone at this hour.” the thought alone made you grin and blush again “I would really like that, Larissa. Thank you so much.” she kissed you again before getting up. She went to get you a glass of water before getting back in bed with you, pulling the covers over you.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Do you need anything? Was it too much for you? Please, let me hear your thoughts so I know I wasn’t too rough.” you smiled gently and chuckled lightly “it was perfect, Larissa. I loved every second of it, and you weren't too rough. Thank you so much for this. I didn’t think you would feel this way about me, and I hope I did okay.” she gently brushed your cheek “Y/N, you did more than okay. I mean that. Now, I know it’s Saturday tomorrow and that you have the day off and you might not want to spend it with me, but I hope you will at least consider staying for breakfast?” she looked at you with an anticipating look. You grinned and nodded, thinking about how you'd gladly stay all day but didn't want to seem desperate. 

“Good, I’m happy to hear that. I am so sorry, but I might fall asleep soon, darling. And that is not because you bore me, quite the contrary. But you did wear me out, though.” she laughed lightly and you smiled “I’m about to fall asleep myself, Larissa. I am exhausted.” you giggled and blushed at the thought of what you were just doing with the goddess next to you. You crawled closer and she wrapped her arms tighter around you. “I could stay like this forever, my beautiful girl.” her voice was sleepy, but the words made you melt. You drifted off to sleep, hoping this would be the first of many nights spent in her arms.

[kfkr1ze]

[002-A06] Anemic Killer Horseshoe Crab～Night before the Counterattack～

Summary — ✈︎ Kaede visits the Lion Theater to watch the movie that Akuta produced by himself. When he enters the theater, though, he finds Akuta sitting there with a gloomy expression on his face.

Characters— ✈︎ Akuta

Location: Lion Theater

Kaede: Excuse me…

(This place is the Lion Theater, isn’t it?

I guess it hasn’t started yet. No one seems to be hereーー)

Akuta: ……

Kaede: Hee!

Akuta: …… Ah, it’s… Sensei?

Kaede: That scared me… Just what on earth is on your head…?

Akuta: I’m, the demonic, horseshoe crab. This whole world, I’ll curse it.

Kaede: I-I see… That’s a pretty unique way of talking…

Akuta: …… 

Kaede: Umm… I came to watch the thing on this tissue…

Akuta: Human, if you, want tissues…

There’s, still some, in that, mountain over there.

Kaede: (That box is filled to the brim with tissues…!

He definitely ordered the wrong amount…!)

Akuta: Go ahead, and take, as many, as you like.

Kaede: Don’t be so hasty! You can still use them for the next screening! You should save them for later!

Akuta: …… 

Kaede: (He has such a gloomy expression… It’s hard to see him like this, especially based on how he was before… I feel so bad for him.)

Is it fine if I sit next to you?

Akuta: Do what… you please…

Kaede: Thanks.

… They’re still doing screenings here, huh?

I thought this place was abandoned a long time ago.

Akuta: They’re not, it’s my, playground, that I sneak into…

Kaede: But isn’t the screening…?

Akuta: I rented, the projector… Got a bunch, of part time jobs… like, demolition, shopping for women, walking dogs, and stuff.

Kaede: I see… You worked really hard for this day huh.

But I don’t think it’s good to sneak in here though.

Akuta: …… 

Kaede: (He’s shaking his sword tail sadly…

I wonder if I could do anything to cheer him up)

Let’s wait a bit longer.

Someone else might show up after all.

Akuta: … Mm, nah it’s fine.

My ass is starting to hurt… Ahaha.

Kaede: ……

Akuta: Y’know.

In the past, this place used to be where entertainment began in HAMA.

Kaede: … Yeah. I heard something like that. 

Akuta: I wish I could’ve filled it with a lotta people again.

If only I were a more famous, a galactic filmmakerーー

If only I was the type of human… that could have an influence on people more.

Kaede: … Akuta-kun…

Don’t stay stuff like that, cheer upーー

Akuta: Then… I’d be so popular I could die… And I’d be swarmed by a loootta women…!

I wanna play tag shirtless on the moon～～～！

And I’d eat lots of mochi with Bunny-chan and Bunny-kun～～！

And then, we’d build a huge 365LDK [1] house up there, and we’d have a drinking party where we’d drink a lotta shots～～！

Kaede: Akuta-kun.

Akuta: Yup!

Kaede: Since I’m here, I wanted to watch the movie that was going to be shown. Is everything ready?

Akuta: ーーOf… Course!

Everything’s all set!

I’ll get everything started real quickly…!

Akuta: Hey hey, look look, this is a real projector! Isn’t it SUPER cool～～～!?

It’s so incredible. It has the weight from all these years… and the brightness is completely next level!

Didya know? When you’re talking about projectors, they project the film directly onto the screen. Directly! Isn’t that cool? It’s not data at all!

The colors from the film are projected exactly as they were from recording! 

It’s the real colors, not ones from an electric signal , y’know?

That’s why! I put a lotta effort into making the visuals look good!

Now then, now then… Take a look!

“Mysterious! The Anemic Horseshoe’s Counterattack!”

Jessica [2]: “NOOOOOOOOOO!”

Philip: “What’s wrong!? I heard a scream just nowーー Nee-san!?

What’s wrong Nee-san!?”

“NEE-SAAAAAAAAAAAAN!”

Dr. Henry: “Yet again, there’s another dead body just like this…”

“The only common thread between them was that they were struck in the head with a terrifyingly sharp blade.”

“It’s almost like… they were stabbed with the tail sword of a horseshoe crab.”

Demonic Horseshoe Crab: “Guh… GUYAAAAAAAH!”

Dr. Henry: The demon is scared!? Just what on earth could scareーー”

“It can’t be… The syringe!?”

“I see… After having your blood taken for medical reasons for tens of thousands of years… You must’ve grown to resent humans.”

“I pity you, demon.”

“Butーー … This is goodbye.”

Akuta: Whatdya think!?

Kaede: … Um… It was very innovative… Like it’s Avant Garde… Or like a roller coaster.

It was unprecedented… It was…

… It was a bit incoherent.

(Ah. I said it…)

Akuta: OH, incoherent! Yayyy〜 I’m happy〜! WOOO〜!

Kaede: (Wah, I’m relieved… Even though I accidentally said what was on my mind, I’m glad you don’t seem to be hurt…)

( … But really, everyone…)

( Really, could they not have come to watch even just a little bit?)

……

( I need to calm down… I’m sure that Akuta-kun is a hundred times more frustrated than I am)

(Today, this kid was both the star of the film and the director. I didn’t really get the message, but it was a great film in my opinion.)

(I’ll just return home today without showing him the proposal. I wouldn’t wanna spoil the mood.)

Then, it’s about time I go.

Akuta: Stoーp.

Kaede: Eh?

Akuta: Didn’t you come here to finish talking about that thing?

Kaede: No, but…

Akuta: Let’s hear it. …As a thank you gift for watching.

Location: Cafe 369

Akuta: D-Delicious… Meat buns are SERIOUSLY delicious～～～～！

Heyhey! Is it okay if I get 20 more!?

Kaede: Yeah, get as many as you want.

Akuta: YAYYY! Thanks! You’re like a god, Sensei!

Munch munch, it’s too gooood!!

Kaede: (He told me he’d hear me out, but ended up asking me to get him something to eat instead…)

( I can’t believe he spent all the earnings he got from those part time jobs on equipment, costumes, and those tissues… He hasn't had a proper meal in days.)

Are you gonna be able to fill up on those meat buns?

Akuta: I will I will! They’re super tasty and big, and they’re fluffy and dense! It’s like eating a proper meal!

Kaede: I’m glad then… But what about your family? You didn’t say anything?

Akuta: Nah. I’m pretty much the only one there.

Kaede: … I see.

(Maybe he has a complicated family situation…)

Okay then, feel free to eat as much as you want.

Akuta: Thanks!

Kaede: Then you can just listen to me while you’re eating.

So the plan isーー

We have decided that the members of the Community Revitalization Club will participate in a study tour as candidates for Ward Mayors.

During this training, they will experience work that a Ward Mayor typically does, and thus gain a deeper understanding of the job.

By the end, they will be graded based on their performance and contribution to the missions assigned on site.

If you pass this test, you will be officially appointed as a Ward Mayor…

That’s how the plan goes.

Kaede: This is the plan and the parental consent form…

Akuta: I didn’t get it at all. It’s stupidly difficult.

Kaede: To make it a bit more understandable… Oh I got it.

Akuta–kun, you want to be a more popular person right?

Akuta: Eh, that’s what you’re saying…?

Kaede: Yes it is. Listen closely, Akuta-kun.

First up, I think that using videos as an expression is a great way to boost tourism.

Also, by having a lot of people watch the video, many more people will start to get interested in Akuta-kun’s work. You’d gain people who look forward to what you want to put out!

Akuta: ……

Kaede: What’s more, being a high school student as the Ward Mayor is sure to give you more attention at school too.

Andーー

The tissues that Akuta-kun worked so hard to make ended up getting treated so poorly.

Even though they were at a party, it was so carelessーー

Akuta: ……

Kaede: The people who let the equipment Akuta-kun spent all his money on go to wasteーー

I think we should make them look back on this day and regret not coming!

Akuta: ーーHaha!

Sensei, somehow you ended more fired up than I was～～!

Suddenly, you looked all fired up like a punk, it was crazyy! 

You’re more interesting than I thought～～～!

Kaede: S-Sorry. I got heated without realizing.

Akuta: Nah. Thank you for that.

Kaede: ……

Akuta: Alright… Let’s do thisss!!

For the sake of movies! And to be more popular～～～！

The others are being kinda reluctant too aren’t they?

I’ll find a way to get them to agree, so it’s all good!

I’ll get them to go on that study tour thingy!

Leave it to me!

Kaede: T-That’s reassuring, thanks.

But tomorrow is summer break, isn’t it? Do you have their contact information?

Akuta: ‘Course I do!

Kaede: ( I see, so they stay in touch with each other.)

(At school they didn’t seem to be all that close at school when I saw them though. 

They had a strange distance between them.)

Previous — ✈︎ Masterlist — ✈︎ Next

Notes — ✈︎

And LDK stands for "Living Dining Kitchen" Typically you'd say like 1LDK or 2LDK for a one or two bedroom house respectively. 365LDK is . a 365 bedroom house.

For the film, every character is voiced by Akuta.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 19 - Seaside]

Warnings: big sad, but it’s a little tinier already, the fighting continues, fears of abandonment & so much guilt, OC does way too much overthinking, Yoongi has done no wrong, I tried to sprinkle some good moments in between for damage control hahahelp, this is a healthy balance of hurt and comfort

Wordcount: 11.9k

a/n: i hope that there isn’t too much happening, but i thought that we all want them to make up as soon as possible. originally this chapter was supposed to be three individual chapters fjadsf it’s better that way i think

Yoongi isn’t with you when you wake the next morning. His clothes are gone. The only thing greeting you is the little leaf he picked for you last night. You sit up and reach for it, cradling the little bowl of water in which he put it. The sunlight is breaking in the water, casting figures of lights on the edges of the bowl in golden colours. On the parts where the leaf prevents the light from shining a small black dot is painted on the edge.

“Fuck”, you press out under your breath, lowering the bowl to your lap.

You don’t feel better. You feel awful. The sleep should have helped you, but it didn’t. All it did was stop the pain for a few hours. It is back again, now that you are alone and Yoongi is gone.

You wonder if he has already left. If he has taken Jungkook and the others and left you in this tiny single person bed. You wouldn’t even be angry at him if he did. You would deserve it.

You can’t believe that he still took care of you last night. After all the shit you did. The guilt you feel because of it makes you sick to the stomach. Yoongi shouldn’t have had to take care of you. He should have left you to cry and not given a shit. 

You hear a knock on your door.

You lift your head, but can’t call out to whoever is knocking.

The door opens regardless.

Hoseok steps in.

“Goddamn”, he says, “that room smells like me after watching too many sad movies. Get some fresh air ___, you’re literally reeking of sadness.”

He opens the window for you, pulling the seethrough curtains to the side to let in even more sunlight. He turns to you, studying you from head to toe.

“What’s that you’re holding?” he asks.

“Leaf. Yoongi gave it to me last night.”

“He did? Wah Yoongi’s such a romantic”, he says and chuckles.

When you don’t laugh with him, he stops, furrowing his brows.

“Is it bad that he did?” he asks.

He closes the distance between the bed and him and sits down on the edge of it.

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know.”

“I’m sure he did it to make up for the fight you were having”, Hoseok says and places his hand on your knee.

“But it’s not his job. I ruined everything, not he.”

“Tzt __”, Hoseok says and clicks his tongue. He gives your knee a soft squeeze, “don’t say that. You guys are having a fight, but that doesn’t mean that you ruined everything. Every couple fights. Hell, you should have witnessed all the fights I had with Annelise. They were brutal and yet we still made up.”

“You did? So why’s she not with you then?”

“That is because she went rouge and killed fifty people on our holiday in Vienna. I didn’t wanna be with someone like her after that.”

“Fuck”, you press out, “I ruined everything.”

“Okay, I’m realising that I said something wrong here”, he murmurs, pinching his brows in worry.

“Hobi”, you press out, “Hobi, all of this is such a mess and, and it’s my fault. Tae’s still missing because of me. He thinks that I lied to him about Jimin. And, and Yoongi is mad at me. And it’s my fault.”

“Okay, okay hey”, he says, holding you by your shoulders, “calm down ___. It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“No, it’s not. Hey”, he cups your cheeks, wipes your tears away, “come downstairs with me. They’re back. All of them.”

“What do you mean?” you sniffle.

“Taehyung’s back and Yoongi too. Seokjin, Emma and Kook are having breakfast with them right this moment.”

“Really?”

“Yes, so come downstairs.”

You shake your head, “I can’t.”

“Of course you can”, Hoseok gives you a sweet smile.

“No, they are all mad at me. I, I can’t bear being in a room with them. It hurts so much.”

“That’s not true. We’re not mad at you. Not me or Jin or Kook or Emma”, he speaks softly, giving your cheek a soft pinch, “come downstairs. I’m sure it’ll be good for you to eat something.”

“Fine”, you give in, “but you are not leaving my side.”

Hoseok chuckles, “of course not, I’ll stick with you.”

He hooks arms with you, leading you out of your tiny room.

The air is tense. It has been tense even before you entered the room. You inch closer to Hoseok in instinct.

Nobody is talking.

Seokjin looks relieved to see you and Hoseok.

Emma isn’t in the room, but judging by her missing coffee mug she fled to the vending machine.

Jungkook looks uncomfortable by the silence, fumbling with his cutlery.

Yoongi is sitting at one side of the table. Taehyung is sitting at the other.

Neither one of them have food in front of them. Or even a beverage. They are simply staring at each other with their arms crossed in front of their chests.

Jimin is nowhere to be seen.

“Jesus, the mood in here is worse than in a funeral home”, Hoseok tries to diffuse the situation, “I thought that you guys would find at least something to talk about in the time I was gone.”

Seokjin and Jungkook look at you.

“Look who decided to join us”, Hoseok says and points at you.

“Hey ___”, Seokjin greets you, giving you a quick smile. It said I am so glad that you are here, but I am also deeply uncomfortable by the tension so I’m trying not to act too happy in order to minimise damage.

“Good morning ___”, Jungkook sounds a little less tense, standing up from his chair, “are you planning on getting some tea?”

“Uh...sure?”

“Great, I’ll join you. I need more coffee.”

Seokjin stands up as well, “me too. I need coffee too.”

They both abandon their filled cups by the table, basically dragging you and Hoseok out of them room.

“I am telling you”, Seokjin says, “I would rather sit in a box full of scorpions than this room.”

“Seriously”, Jungkook agrees, “you can basically cut the air.”

“Is it that bad?” you ask them.

“Oh it’s bad. They’re not violent, but I think if you weren’t in the picture, they would have both already ripped each other apart. And not in a sexy kind of way”, Jungkook says.

“Fuck”, you lower your head, “I never should have come down.”

“Huh?”

Seokjin and Jungkook look at Hoseok with confusion.

“She thinks that it’s all her fault”, he explains.

“What? No, it’s not”, Jungkook says instantly.

“I agree. It’s not your fault”, Seokjin says.

“No. No, it is. Tae thinks that I lied to him about Jimin and Yoongi won’t ever forgive me.”

“Then tell him what really happened. This will change his mind.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Seokjin says.

“Because I can’t.”

“Why not? It’s not your fault.”

“I’m so scared. I can’t take another day like yesterday”, you choke out and bite down a sob.

“Hey”, Hoseok says, taking your hand, “don’t cry, sweets.”

“Hobi, I can’t take another day”, you choke out, hiding your eyes behind your hand, “I wanna keep crying, everything hurts so much.”

“I know, but it’s going to be okay. You’ve got us”, he whispers, “do you want to be hugged?”

“Yes please, I’m so sad”, you confess and just like yesterday, your friends spring into action, taking you into the tightest and most loving group hug ever. Just like always when one of you is sad. Just like always. You will lean on each other and hug it out until it hurts only half as much. Just like always. Emma joins in too, even if she doesn’t quite understand what the hug was for. You catch her up on it and soon after she hugged you lovingly, telling you that you weren’t alone.

You left for the dining room once you calmed down enough, still feeling terribly nervous but not so alone anymore. You want to tell Yoongi. They managed to convince you that telling him the truth will make everything easier again. You agreed in the end.

The air was as tense as it was when you left. The silence is still deafening.

You sit down on the empty chair next to Jungkook, leg bouncing up and down nervously. So Jungkook touches your hand under the table, intertwining his fingers with you. The bouncing stops.

“Good morning”, you whisper, feeling courageous now that Jungkook is holding your hand.

Taehyung sneaks a glance at you and looks away again. Yoongi does the same, giving you a nod of his head at least.

“Ho-how are you guys?”

“Murderous”, Yoongi grumbles.

“Homicidal”, Taehyung counters.

“Geez guys”, Hoseok laughs awkwardly, “what are we? Edgelords? Come on, lighten up a little.”

“Tch”, Yoongi scoffs.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, tongue in cheek and arms crossed in front of his chest.

“___ has something to tell you”, Seokjin says, placing his hand on your shoulder encouragingly.

They both look at you. Taehyung looks angry. Yoongi looks curious.

“I uhm…” you falter.                                        

“Go on, tell them”, Seokjin whispers.

“It’s about, uhm…” you lift your eyes as someone next to Taehyung pulled a chair out.

Jimin. He plops down on the chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His eyes are focused on you with such intensity you wonder if he is aware that you wanted to expose him.

“Doesn’t really matter”, you say, “sorry, I forgot what I wanted to say.”

“___”, Seokjin sounds disappointed, but you only have to sneak one look at him and he understands. You can’t do this with Jimin present. It takes way too much courage. He nods his head in understanding, caressing your shoulder, “it was just a stupid joke we thought of in the kitchen to lighten the mood.”

“Yeah, exactly”, Hoseok says, “guys, why is it bad to eat clocks?”

“Does it matter?” Yoongi grumbles, “we don’t have time for silly jokes. Eat up, we’ll leave afterwards.”

“Because it’s time consuming”, Hoseok says quietly, painting a faint smile to Jimin’s lips.

“Funny.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just told you?” Yoongi hisses, looking at Jimin.

“I already ate, chill out. Tell your human to eat faster, not me.”

You lower your head to the empty table.

“I’m not hungry. We can leave if you want to “, you whisper.

“Are you sure? You didn’t eat a thing”, Jungkook asks with concern in his voice.

You nod your head, “I’m not hungry.”

“We’ll just get something on the way, yeah?”

“Mh-hm yeah.”

“Good. Let’s go”, Yoongi says, getting up from his chair, “we’ll leave in ten. So get your shit down to the cars”, he says, strutting out of the room afterwards.

“He’s such a cunt”, Jimin says.

“Says the biggest cunt of them all”, Seokjin throws back.

“Excuse me?”

“We know what you did to ___”, Seokjin hisses, “I’d sleep with your eyes open if I were you, I can’t guarantee that I won’t lose my wooden stake in your chest.”

“Yeah seriously”, Hoseok agrees, talking with his cheeks covered in black veins and his eyes glowing ruby. The anger is imminent on his face, “I’ve got lots of practice with killing vampires these days, I’m happy to flex these skills on you.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and gets up, “yawn”, he says, leaving the room afterwards.

“Come back you asshole! I will actually kill-“ Seokjin screams, but gets stopped by Emma.

“Calm down, my moon. He is not worth it”, she says, smoothing her fingers through his hair.

“I hate this guy. He was better off dead.”

“I know, we all think the same.”

“Tzt”, Taehyung scoffs, calling all of your attention. He stands up, sending Emma a dark look, “not all of us”, he says.

“Why did you even come back then?” Seokjin throws back.

The look Taehyung sneaks at you doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone here. He looks away again and leaves without saying anything.

You left to pack your stuff afterwards, feeling worse than you did this morning. You really ruined everything. Holy shit, you feel terrible.

Knock. Knock.

You turn at the door you left open.

Yoongi is in the doorway.

“I left to eat this morning”, he says.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Mhm”, he nods his head, eyes drifting to the leaf in your hair. He points it at, “looks good.”

You touch it, feeling your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you”, you whisper, eyes running over his face. Is it really not as bad you think it is? Was Hoseok right? “hey uhm, do we have time to, uhm, should we talk about it?”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, releasing it through his nose.

“Can it wait? The others are waiting downstairs.”

“Yes of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Are you done packing?” he asks.

“Yeah. I just have to carry them downstairs.”

He walks to you, taking the suitcases out of your hand.

“Oh? Thanks.”

“Mhm”, he nods his head and turns, leaving the room.

You jog after him, keeping your distance because you have no idea what you can or can’t do.

“Kook and Hobi agreed to take the car with the two cunts”, he tells you dryly, “I want you to drive with me.”

“Yes, of course. It’s better for space too”, you say, meaning it more than one way.

He nods his head, not saying anything more.

The others are already outside, loading the cars. No words are spoken, but the tense air speaks a thousand words. You all enter the cars without saying anything, except for Yoongi who stays to walk over to Taehyung’s car. The latter rolls his window down, staring at the Creator with dark eyes.

“That’s the address. We’ll meet there”, Yoongi grumbles, stuffing a piece of paper into Taehyung’s hand.

“Thanks”, Taehyung hisses, ripping it out of Yoongi’s hand. He rolls the window up afterwards, driving off without making sure Yoongi is far enough away from the car.

“So where are we going?” Emma asks once Yoongi has claimed the driver’s seat and started the car.

“An old acquaintance of mine”, Yoongi answers her, driving off, “Meredith, she hates Namjoon as much as we do.”

“Is she like us?”

“No, she’s a witch.”

“I never liked witches. They’re always plotting something.”

“We can trust her. She helped me countless times already.”

“Does she know that we are coming?” Seokjin asks.

“Yes, she invited us.”

“How long are we going to drive?”

“Half a day.”

“That’s so long”, Seokjin says and groans.

“Let’s take a nap, my moon”, Emma says and afterwards their conversation drowns out as Yoongi turns on the music.

He stops after two hours of driving and having snuck too many glances at you. Seokjin and Emma are sleeping deeply on the backseat, holding each other.

“Why are we stopping?” you ask him.

“Lock the car, I need to do something”, he says, leaving you in your confusion afterwards. He disappears inside a bakery and for the next ten minutes you are left wondering what the hell he needs to do in a bakery.

“Are we there?” Seokjin woke up during the waiting time, now looking at you with puffy eyes.

“No, he needed to do something and now he disappeared in a bakery.”

“Is he meeting someone?”

“I have no idea.”

“How long did we drive already?”

“Two hours.”

“Well, that’s just way too short. Did you tell him about Jimin?”

You shake your head.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared. I don’t want to cause a fight again. Not when we’re locked in here for ten more hours.”

Seokjin places his hand on your shoulder.

“He needs to know. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know, just please give me time to find the right moment.”

“Of course. I’m sorry for being pushy.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for being there for me.”

“Of course, that’s what family is for.”

“And for not telling it for me.”

“Hey, that’s a given. You have to do this, it’s not my job to do it for you.”

“Thank you”, you hold his hand, “you’re like my only light right now.”

Seokjin chuckles, “you old sap. Look, Yoongi’s coming back.”

He is carrying a big paper bag and a paper cup.

“Did he buy coffee?”

“I don’t know.”

Yoongi gets back inside.

“Did you meet someone?” Seokjin asks.

“No”, Yoongi answers him, placing the bag on your lap and handing you the cup. The paper is warmed by whatever is inside. It doesn’t smell like coffee, making you wonder what he got. You smell it again. The scent reminds you of a really good chai latte.

He starts the car and drives off.

Curiously, you open the bag. Two croissants, a wrapped tomato mozzarella sandwich and a blueberry muffin.

“I don’t understand. Why did you get food?” you say.

“You shouldn’t skip breakfast”, he says dryly, eyes focused on the road.

“Oh”, you let out, heart skipping a beat, “thank you.”

“Mhm”, he hums, placing his hand on your thigh to give it a soft squeeze. It doesn’t last long, not even a second and he has it already pulled back again.

The rest of the drive doesn’t feel as tense anymore. It seems that distance to the people, who truly anger him, does Yoongi well. When the seventh hour of the drive starts, he tells the group all about how he and Meredith met.

They met back in 1790, which alerted great confusion with the rest of the group until Yoongi explained to you that the magic Meredith uses is far from the magic, which was allowed and that it prolonged her life unnaturally. He said that exactly this kind of magic will finally give you the advantage point you needed over Namjoon.

Once the eighth hour hit, you catch him drumming his fingers to the music every now and then. At some point he even moved his fingers as if he was playing the piano. You didn’t call him out on it, but you liked watching him.

By the ninth hour, the scenery had changed drastically, passing you by in streaks of red dirt, white stone and scrubby trees. You really loved the view and so you spent most of the time looking outside. Emma and Seokjin played a game on the backseat. It involved way too many rules and was entirely silly. If they saw a tree with three branches on the right they had to hit each other on the arm. If a rock looked like a face they could pinch each other. A yellow car meant flicking the other’s forehead. And all in all, it meant lots of giggles from the backseat.

“Tree!” you joined them at some point, reaching over to hit Yoongi’s arm.

He snuck a glance at you, but didn’t react. You spent the next minutes overthinking everything you did and worrying that Yoongi will never forgive you, until suddenly you felt the impact of a hand on your arm and you could listen to Yoongi mumble, “tree.”

Your worries stopped then and for the rest of the ninth hour, your little group played this silly game while outside the scenery passed by.

By the time the tenth hour struck, you felt sleepy and so you fell asleep with your head leaned against the window and your knees turned to Yoongi.  Yoongi snuck a glance at the backseat then, because it had gotten terribly quiet, and he realised that Seokjin and Emma had fallen asleep as well. They hugged each other.

Yoongi turns off the music and takes off his jacket, draping it over your lap. He keeps his hand on your thigh for a while, counting the headlights passing by. He is glad to have you in the car with him. He would have never forgiven you, had you decided to drive with Taehyung. Warmth places itself over his hand and for a second Yoongi panics.

He turns his head, realising that you are still sleeping and that you merely reached for his hand in your sleep.

He looks back at the road, squeezing your hand.

“Fuck”, he presses out quietly enough not wake anyone, “why did you have to do this, ___?”

The next time you open your eyes is when you are being carried. Your comfort scent surrounds you, gravel crunches under someone’s feet. You lift your head from the chest you had it rested against previously.

“Yoongi?” you say, voice heavy in sleep, “where are we?”

“We’re here”, he speaks softly, “go back to sleep, it’s late.”

You rest your head back against his chest, but keep your eyes open. You can’t fall asleep again, not when you have to treasure the current moment here in Yoongi’s arms with the cicadas singing far away and his scent in your nose.

“Hyung”, Jungkook’s voice is instantly recognisable, “finally you guys are here. We were wondering what took you so long. Meredith’s not here tonight, but the witches told us to get comfortable. The others are already in the rooms. I reserved the best one for us.” His steps on the gravel come closer. “What’s wrong with her?”

You lift your head in order not to worry him.

“Oh? Hey ___”, he greets you, sneaking a glance at Yoongi, “are you guys good again?”

With bated breath you look up at Yoongi, waiting for his answer.

“She’s tired”, Yoongi answers him, “get her stuff and bring it to her room.”

“On it”, Jungkook says and disappears behind Yoongi’s back.

Yoongi looks down at you, locking eyes with you for just a second. It is enough to tell you that there is still a lot to fix, but that at least he wasn’t fuming in anger anymore.

You rest your head on his chest and close your eyes. You won’t open them until Yoongi sets you down on your bed and slips his arms from you.

Your eyes meet.

“Thank you for carrying me”, you say shyly.

“Mhm”, Yoongi nods his head.

“That’s uhm”, you begin, looking around the room. Small with lavender walls and a big queen sized bed which fills up almost the entire room. The duvet covers are fluffy and smell like laundry detergent. The furniture seems old, carrying marks of much use on their surfaces, “it’s quite cozy here.”

“Yeah.”

“Will you stay here?”

“No.”

“Oh, uhm.”

Tension fills the air and thankfully for your heart, Jungkook enters the room just this moment.

“How was your drive?” he asks.

“Good. We played some games”, you answer him, trying your hardest to make your voice sound normal.

“That sounds nice. Our drive was awful. I was happy when I finally got out and could go the other way”, he says, placing your suitcases on top of the chaise lounge. He claps into his hands and sighs contently, “there we go, all done.”

“Thank you, Kook.”              

“No worries”, he gives you a grin, “are you guys sleeping here?” he asks, looking around the room, “cozy.”

“I’m staying with you. She can sleep alone”, Yoongi says, making you lower your head.

Jungkook, who notices, laughs awkwardly.

“Yeah sure, uh sure. I’ll be downstairs then uhm, sleep well ___”, he says, fleeing the scene as quickly as possible.

The door falls closed.

You are alone with Yoongi.

With a racing heart, you look at him. He is studying your features, eyes weary in nervousness yet lips turned into a frown.

Is this your moment? Will you finally be able to talk it out with him?

You take a deep breath, readying yourself to speak. Yoongi however interrupts you before you can.

“Okay. Good night”, he says, turning his back to you to leave the room.

“Yoongi wait”, you say, hurrying to him and placing your hands over his, “don’t go yet.”

He looks at your hands resting there atop of his', clutching the doorknob tighter. 

“I want to tell you again that I’m sorry”, you say, “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

Yoongi looks at your face, “I know”, he says.

“I understand that you’re still angry at me.”

“I’m not angry at you. I’m disappointed.”

“Oh.”

You slip your hand from him, feeling sick in guilt. Having him be disappointed in you feels worse than him being angry at you. You understand him, you really do, but still it hurts so much to know.

“Please let me be alone”, he says quietly, “I can’t talk about it yet.”

You want to say that you understand, but you can’t make a sound. This feels as if he is breaking up with you.

“Do you want to leave me?” you ask quietly.

“No. I just need time for myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh my god, ___”, he blurts out, “I’m trying.”

You fall silent, gawking at him with big eyes.

“I keep going back and forth. Keep going back and forth between wanting to be close to you like I’m a stupid fucking addict because, because fucking avoiding you hurts me. Like fuck, I’m so fucking dumb”, he spits, twisting his hand on his own hair, “but then when I’m close to you, all I think about is what you did and getting so fucking upset that I can’t bear to even look at you. Fuck.”

He drops his hand from his hair, gripping his own neck in an almost painful grasp. As if he needed something to hold on. He can’t look at you as he speaks.

“My biggest nightmare is to have to watch you bleed out”, he says, eyes filling with tears.

“Yoongi”, you whimper, trying to reach for him but he flees.

“To watch you bleed out and to know that the only way to save you is to feed you my blood. That’s my biggest nightmare. That I have to curse you with my hell, just so I wouldn’t lose you. And you made me experience it”, he says, throwing his hand over his mouth in order not to sob. He prances up and down, squeezing his own cheeks. “I’m so hurt that I can’t breathe”, he squeaks out.

“Yoongi, I’m sorry”, you croak out and he ends up squeezing his eyes shut. You watch it happening with a breaking heart.

For just a moment you think that he will lose control, but he doesn’t in the end. Like he taught himself over decades and decades, Yoongi gains back control. His eyes flit to you. They are still teary, but are filled with anger.

“I’ve been trying so hard to show you that I won’t fucking leave you even after what you did. But fuck, I need some time to be able to look at you again without wanting to…be…angry. So give me a fucking break. I need some time.”

He meets your eyes, gulping upon seeing the fear in them. He can smell it too, could do so the entire day, you are soaked in anxiety. True and painful anxiety.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that…” he exhales and puts tenderness into his voice, “I’m doing all I can emotionally do right now to assure you that I won’t leave you. I can’t do much more and I don’t want to stay because I know that if I did, I’d say things that I would regret. So please give me some time.”

“I understand that”, you take a step back, “I’m sorry for being pushy.”

“Thank you for understanding”, he says and turns to leave. 

“Yoongi wait.”

He turns with an exasperated gasp. Fuck, you did it again. You were clingy. 

“Sorry I was…just…forget it, I wanted to keep you here again. Just go. I’m sorry, I won’t keep you.”

“Thanks”, he says and turns away, “sleep well.”

“You too.” 

You watch him leave with a lump in your throat and your heart aching. You want to run after him, hold him and beg him to stay. But you shouldn’t. Yoongi needs his freedom right now. He needs you to understand, just as much as you are asking him to understand your actions. And you do understand, you really do. It is just so hard to watch someone you love so very much leave you with so much disappointment in their chests. 

“Fuck”, you press out once the door fell closed, squeezing your eyes shut in order not to cry miserably.

You just hope that he comes back soon. Please, don’t let this situation be too long.

You wake with the sun. The sound of cicadas and the ocean greets you. Seagulls and gentle waves. It would be such a beautiful thing to wake up to if your situation wasn’t so fucked up.

You peel yourself out of bed with heavy limbs, dragging yourself to the window to open it. The salt is heavy in the air, mixing with the scent of pines and the lavender which seems to grow in the garden which the window overlooks. Olive trees and old fruit trees grow in the garden alongside roses, vegetables and the already mentioned lavender. There is an earthen path winding its way through the garden, ending by a stone wall and a gate. There was a small beach behind the wall just close enough that you could see the waves crush the shore. The gate is currently open, allowing whoever wanted to visit the beach to reach it easily. It seems that Taehyung and Jimin took said opportunity. You can watch them climb over the dark rocks, both of them not wearing much more than bathing shorts and sunglasses. They are talking to each other.

This right here would feel like you entered paradise if everything wasn’t still as twisted as it was. You break away from the window with a sad sigh, deciding that you should look for the others before you fall into total despair.

The house of the witches turns out to have two floors. Your room was located upstairs. The interior of your room continues outside. Colourful walls, old and well loved furniture and the most beautiful handmade decorations greet you as you wander through the hallways in search of the stairs.

You get stopped before you could find them by a woman leaving one of the rooms. She stops and looks at you.

“Hello”, you say shyly, running your eyes up and down her body. Her skin was tanned from the sun, her hair was dark and reached her down to her waist. A long scarf holds it out of her face. Green fabrics were draped over her body as a dress and a necklace made with dried flowers adorned her neck.

“Hello”, she says and smiles, “are you one of our guests?”

“Yes. I’m ___.”

“Nice to meet you ___, I’m Jelena.”

“Nice to meet you, Jelena”, you say.

“Were you on your way downstairs?”

“Yes, but I don’t know where to go.”

“Follow me.”

You jog to catch up with her, walking by her side. She has a bounce in her steps and even with a relaxed expression she is smiling.

“You aren’t like our other guests are you?” she asks you.

“No. I’m human.”

“Human”, she studies your face intently, “human, I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Are you a witch?”

“Yes, we are all witches here.”

“That’s really cool. Yoongi told me that you can help us with Namjoon.”

“At least we will try”, she says and laughs, “right down here”, she says and jogs down the stairs. Her naked feet make a soft sound on the stone, your own feet accompany the sound a little slower. You try not to run down unknown stairs, especially not with Yoongi’s blood still in your system. If you slipped and died only to come back a cursed vampire, Yoongi would never forgive himself.

“You have a very nice house”, you tell her once downstairs.

Bundles of herbs and flowers hang from the hand railings of the second floor balconies. Some seem to be freshly picked while others were in different stages of drying. Slices of oranges and apples dried right alongside them, mixing with the salty scent of the ocean.

“Thank you so much. We love it here a lot. Yoongi told me that you like to grow your own plants.”

“He told you that?”

“Yes. He made it sound as if you knew a lot.”

“Oh”, your cheeks feel on fire instantly. He talked about you to them. “I, I guess. I still have a lot to learn though.”

“One can’t learn enough, isn’t that right?”

“Yes. Totally. I think it’s fun to learn new stuff.”

“I agree. Now just through that door. Your friends must be eating breakfast if I’m not mistaken. They woke not that long ago. Except for your friends by the beach, they have been awake since sunrise”, she says, leading you through a kitchen.

The walls were made out of yellow painted stone with the ceilings rounded and decorated with more drying plants. A wooden oven was built right into the walls and the work counters were covered in glasses filled with what you assume to be magical potions. Two women were hurrying through the kitchen, slowing down when they notice your presence.

“Hello”, you greet them both.

“Hello”, they greet you.

“___, Suzy and Dragana. Suzy, Dragana this is ___”, Jelena introduces you to each other.

“Nice to meet you. You have such a beautiful home.”

“Thank you, we hope that you have a lovely time here”, Dragana says with a smile.

“I am sure that we will. Thank you for housing us.”

Suzy gives you a smile and then the loudly bubbling potion on the fire rips her attention from you. “Oh dear, oh dear that would have been a disaster”, she babbles to herself, stirring the red liquid vigorously.

“What happened?” Dragana asks her and then their conversation drowns out in your ears as Jelena continues her walk and you follow her.

“Is Suzy making potions?” you ask her.

“In a way. She is making tomato sauce, but her recipe tastes so good that it could be considered magic”, she says and snickers because of her joke.

“I see. I’m sorry for asking. I don’t really know how being a witch works. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

“Don’t worry, we are not shy to answer questions. So ask whatever you want to ask”, she assures you.

“Thank you.”

You have to walk under a tunnel of grapes and then a spacious sitting area reveals itself to your eyes. There are a total amount of eight tables scattered around the paved terrace and beds of lavender frame it. The tables, except for one, are unoccupied. Your friends sit by the occupied table, each wearing the darkest sunglasses imaginable.

They turn their heads to you. Hoseok lifts his hand and waves at you with squeaky sound effects and a bright grin. His bubbly greeting makes you feel better. His good mood is always so contagious.

“Good morning, guys”, you greet them.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Seokjin asks you.

“I guess. And you?”

They tell you that they all slept well, except for Jungkook who spent the night talking with Yoongi. There is no sight of the latter. Jelena tells you that it is probably because he is in the shed with Meredith and then she says her goodbye as she herself needs to go to the shed.

“What shed is she talking about?” you ask them, sitting down on the chair Jungkook pulls out for you.

He sits down next to you once he made sure that you are comfortable.

“Apparently the witches have a shed where they make all the magical stuff that could be dangerous. Just in case it goes wrong, the whole house doesn’t burn down”, Hoseok explains.

“I see. That makes sense. So what is Yoongi doing there?”

“Helping them build the device which will help us capture Namjoon.”

“Oh? That sounds good. I didn’t even know that he knew how to do that.”

“Right? We were really surprised as well, but apparently he is really knowledgeable in magic.”

“Really? Thank you”, you thank Jungkook for preparing tea and continue talking, “he knows so much about everything. He is so cool.”

“Waah look at her. She’s totally into him”, Hoseok teases.

“Yeah obviously, he’s my boyfriend”, you throw back with faux annoyance in your voice.

Hoseok snickers. Seokjin does too.

You share a few moments of silence with each other. You fill your plate with the most delicious looking breakfast ever while the others busy themselves with finishing their own servings.

Seokjin sighs loudly and leans back in his chair, presenting his face to the sun.

“It’s beautiful here isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s so nice”, Jungkook agrees, “I love the seaside so much.”

“Same.”

“Did you guys visit the beach already?” you ask them.

“Not yet. It’s occupied”, Seokjin says, “there would be a murder if I went down there now.”

Jungkook chuckles lazily and Emma smirks in agreement.

You know what he meant by that, feeling some of your morning sadness return.

“It’s all so twisted, isn’t it?” you ask them.

They look at you, then exchange a glance. Jungkook reaches out, rubbing your arm.

“Don’t be too sad, I promise you that it’s not as terrible as you think it is.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know.”

“I do. I talked to Yoongi and he just needs some time.”

“I know, but I’m so scared he’ll decide that he wants to break up.”

“He won’t. Trust me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

Jungkook doesn’t lie. Not to you at least. And especially not about something like that. So to hear his reassuring words lessens a little bit of that pressure on your chest.

“Thank you”, you whisper, “I really want to go to him and apologise a million times, but I know that I shouldn’t.”

“I’m sure that he appreciates it a lot”, Hoseok says, “I think it’s really great of you that you respect his wish. It shows that you care a lot for him.”

“I do. I care so much.”

Hoseok smiles, “and I am sure that he knows that as well. Right Kookie?”

“He does. Although I hope that you guys talk soon. I can’t bear to watch you guys fight”, he says and pouts, “it’s like watching my parents fight.”

He cracks you up.

“Don’t call us your parents. We fucked multiple times, it makes it weird”, you say in a laugh.

“True. Sorry”, Jungkook says, flustering.

“I mean in a sense you can still be his Mommy and Daddy, it’s just the different type” Hoseok says, earning himself a slap on his arm by Seokjin.

“Why does your mind seriously always go there? You are such a perv”, he says while Hoseok laughs loudly.

Jungkook sneaks a shy glance at you, you do the same. You end up laughing as well.

“You’re so dumb sometimes, Hobi”, you say.

“I can’t argue with that”, Hoseok jokes, sending you some finger guns with a cute sound effect. He is so adorable.

The rest of breakfast feels nice. Conversation is mostly about how awesome this place is and your plans on going to the beach later. You clean up once breakfast is finished. Suzy and Dragana are still in the kitchen, telling you to put the dirty dishes in the sink because they will take care of it later. You go your separate ways, but decide to meet up once you are all washed up.

Hoseok knocks on your door when you are in the middle of putting on your shirt.

“Come in”, you call out, tugging it into your shorts.

“Are you naked? I hope you aren’t. I’m not looking”, he says, entering the room with his eyes covered.

“You can look. I wouldn’t have told you to come in otherwise.”

“Ah yeah, right”, Hoseok drops his hand, running his eyes up and down your body, “nice fit. I like the colours.”

“You do? Thank you. I feel like I have no clothes with me. I’ve been wearing the same bra for four days now.”

“Hey we’re on the road, you’re allowed to circle your outfits.”

“And yet I’ve never seen you wear the same outfit twice.”

“That’s because I have too many clothes with me”, he says and pulls a pose, “I have a reputation to keep up.”

You snicker, “of course you do. You look very handsome, Hobi. I like the fit.”

“Thank you, thank you”, he says and offers you his arm to hold, “let’s find the others, me lady.”

You hook arms with him, snickering because he is so funny.

You plan to go into the village together. Dragana told you that it offers an amazing market and a beautiful port to hang out at. So you want to check it out with the others.

Seokjin and Emma are waiting in the garden with a matching outfit. Jungkook is on his knees trying to take the perfect picture for them.

You and Hoseok wait by the sidelines until they are finished.

“Now take one of us”, Hoseok says, dragging you in front of the camera, “Kookie, take one of us”, he says and hugs you sideways, throwing one of his legs around you as well.

It makes you laugh. The shutter clicks, capturing the moment for all eternity.

“That picture is so pretty, wow both your smiles are so pretty”, Jungkook gasps, beaming at you.

Hoseok releases you and stretches his arms out, “go to her, I’ll take a pic of you guys.”

“Really?” Jungkook gasps, gazing at you.

“Come here, Kookie.”

He skips to you and places himself right beside you, grinning at the camera as big as he can.

“That’s perfect. You guys look so cute together”, Hoseok says, pulling the weirdest poses on the ground to truly capture your best sides, “now one where you’re hugging. Come on, give me that emotion.”

Jungkook hesitates in shyness and so you end up hugging his waist. He squeaks quietly, tensing up.

“Relax, you look like you don’t wanna be with her.”

“Sorry uhm sorry”, Jungkook stutters and finally wraps his arms around you, resting his cheek against your head.

“Yes! Cute! Oh you guys are so cute”, Hoseok exclaims, capturing the moment with perfection.

Jungkook breaks away from you afterwards instantly, keeping his eyes lowered shyly.

“I think that was really nice”, he says.

“I think so too”, you say.

Jungkook giggles and moves in, pressing a surprise kiss to your cheek. It paints heat to your face instantly, heart fluttering in your chest.

“You look really pretty”, he says.

“Thank you Kookie, you are so pretty too”, you whisper, looking into his sparkling eyes.

“You guys! You are so cute together. Look at that”, Hoseok says, showing you the secret picture he just took of the moment. Jungkook looks totally smitten for you while you are spilling over with fondness.

“I love those pictures. Please send them to me, I need to have them”, you gush.

“Me too please. I wanna put it as my lock screen”, Jungkook says, holding your hand tightly now that the nice pictures gave him a confidence boost.

“Of course, I’ll do it right away”, Hoseok says, opening Seokjin’s chats without asking.

“Hey. Don’t read my chats, they are private”, Seokjin complains, snatching his phone out of Hoseok’s hand, “I’ll send them to them.”

“Sorry”, Hoseok apologises.

You thank Seokjin once you receive the pictures. You also suggest saying your goodbye to Yoongi and the witches before you leave and they agree.

The doors to the shed are open. Chatter is lively. There are five witches with Yoongi. The latter is leaning over a table, having shrugged off his shirt and only working in a tanktop because of the immense heat in here. He was explaining something to Jelena but stops when he senses your presence.

“How are you guys doing? Any progress?” Hoseok asks.

“Lots. Thanks to Yoongi”, the witch next to the latter says, eyes flitting to you, “you must be ___. Yoongi told us a lot about you. Nice to meet you, I’m Meredith.”

“Nice to meet you too”, you say, glancing at Yoongi who is already busying himself with talking to Jelena. There is barely any distance between them and she keeps looking at his lips.

Meredith closes the distance between you and her.

“I am happy to have you as my guests. I hope that you are enjoying your stay here.”

“We are. You have such a lovely home. I really love your garden.”

“Thank you, this is very sweet”, she smiles, “you look dressed up. Are you planning to go somewhere?”

“Yes. We want to visit the market Dragana told us about.”

Yoongi lifts his head.

“Ah the market”, Meredith’s eyes light up, “you will love it a lot. It offers many useful things. We like to get our milk and eggs there.”

“I can imagine. It must be so nice to live such a life.”

“It is. I wouldn’t exchange it for any other life.”

Yoongi appears next to Meredith.

“You are leaving?” he asks.

“Yes. Why? Do you want to come with us?” Hoseok asks.

“I can’t. We have to fix up the device.”

“Yeah sure. Should we get you something from the market?”

“I don’t want you to leave”, Yoongi ignores Hoseok to address you instead.

“Mhm?”

Meredith excuses herself, hurrying back to the other witches in order not to eavesdrop on a clearly private conversation.

“I can’t hear if something happens when you’re at the market. I want you to stay on the grounds today.”

“Okay? Yes, sure. I understand. I’ll stay here.”

“Thank you”, he says, nodding his head, “you’ll be rid of it tomorrow.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

“Mhm.”

And with that he turns his back to you and walks back to the witches. You leave the shed, knowing that he won’t want to have any more conversation with you. The others follow you.

“What was that about? Are we not going to the market?” Hoseok asks.

“You guys can still go, but I guess I’ll stay here today.”

“Then we won’t go either. We won’t leave you here alone.”

“No please, I don’t want you guys to miss out on it.”

“We won’t. We can go another day”, Emma assures you.

“Hell yeah we can. Let’s make a nice day here”, Hoseok says, draping his arm over your shoulder, “should we go to the beach instead? Swim a little? I bet the water’s nice.”

“I’d love that. Thanks guys, I’m happy that you aren’t going without me.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s either all of us or none of us. I just don’t get why he wants you to stay here.”

“I guess he is scared that something could happen to me now that I have his blood in my system.”

“I forgot that already."

You sigh loudly, “this is all my fault.”

“Please don’t start again ___, it’s not”, Seokjin says.

“No, but what if Jimin’s right? What if I actually begged him to drink my blood? What if I forced him to feed me his blood? I can’t remember doing it, but is he right? What if I forced him?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Taehyung told me that Jimin said that I initiated the thing in the club. What if I did? What if Jimin controlled my mind to think that he was the villain so I don’t have to live with the guilt? What if I was too drunk and remembered it wrongly?”

“You are seriously saying the stupidest stuff sometimes. Jimin said that to Taehyung to shift blame. All he wanted to do was to look good in Taehyung’s eyes”. Seokjin says, furrowing his brows so intensely deep creases form on his forehead.

“I don’t know anymore. It’s driving me fucking insane”, you choke out and touch your own head.

“How would that even work? Why would Jimin control your mind to forget shit like that? Please think for a moment, ___”, Seokjin says in a stern voice.

“Hey, don’t be so harsh to her”, Emma says.

“No, I’m pissed off”, Seokjin says, “stop trying to blame yourself. Yeah you fucked up when you gave Tae your blood, yeah maybe fucking Jimin wasn’t the best idea, but fucking hell stop trying to blame yourself for shit you didn’t even do and which couldn’t have happened logistically. Sorry if that sounded harsh, but it’s the truth.”

You glance at Seokjin. He was frowning at first, but softens his gaze when he sees the sadness in your eyes. He steps closer.

“Hey”, he says, caressing your cheek, “I am here for you, you know? I just don’t want you to hurt yourself by feeling guilty over stuff which never happened. It’s unfair to yourself, please treat yourself gently not with so much unnecessary hate.”

“I know”, you whisper, “I don’t know what else to say. I’m just…tired. Really fucking tired.”

Seokjin sneaks a glance at the others. They think the same he does. They close the distance between you and them and hug you, sharing comfort that way.

“Then it’s seriously best that we stay here. We should relax and take it easy. We can have a nice day at the beach and stop thinking about stuff which never happened, yeah?” Emma says.

“We can eat snacks and play games and nap in the shade”, Hoseok says, “that sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

“It does”, Jungkook says, rubbing your back, “and you have to swim with me, ___. You can even hang onto me, I’ll do all the moving.”

“Do I have to? The water’s so cold.”

“I’ll keep you warm, promise.”

“Fine”, you give up with a huff of air, “thank you guys, I know I’m a lot.”

“___, treat yourself gently”, Seokjin warns, giving you a soft squeeze.

“I’m sorry, yeah. Thank you for being there for me, guys”, you correct yourself and it felt good to do. It felt really fucking good not to put yourself down for once.

The day at the beach turns out to be way more fun than any day at the market could have ever been. Jungkook manages to get you into the water with him and eventhough you squeaked about the temperature at first, you had a great time with him. Hoseok joined you the second time you went for a swim and this time around, he was the one squeaking about the cold temperatures. Seokjin and Emma joined you for your third round. Jungkook proceeded to chase Seokjin with some algae while the latter called him a punk and screeched for Emma’s help. Emma merely laughed and continued chatting with you and Hoseok. You have lunch in the garden with the witches. After lunch you spend the time in the gardens, playing badminton and a round of soccer where Jungkook gets way too competitive and proceeds to call Seokjin a cheater for winning. It was hilarious to watch because Seokjin kept teasing him while Jungkook acted like the sorest yet cutest loser. By sunset hours, you fled back inside, helping the witches cook dinner and chatting about life here. Apparently the coast and its surrounding mountains were covered in little villages and estates such as the coven’s estate. There was a big community of witches, vampires and humans living together in peaceful synergy. The vampires along this coast are on a diet consisting of animal blood and blood bags and as a thank you the humans and witches here willingly donated a few bags of blood per month to help them out. Even the wolves living here get along with the vampires and just next month there will be the first human-wolf wedding between two of the villagers. The entire coastline and mountain is invited to the wedding and the witches look forward to it with great excitement. They will be responsible for the fireworks. All of magical nature of course without any harm to the environment.

You eat dinner outside with the crickets accompanying you and great laughter hanging in the air.

Taehyung and Jimin aren’t present for any of it.

Neither is Yoongi.

The feeling of their absence finally comes back to you once you are in bed all alone and with nothing to stop your bad thoughts from coming back. You had a good day, but how good was it really when everything was still so ruined? You try to fall asleep with that thought but can’t in the end. You text Hoseok, asking him to come to your room. 

He is by your door five minutes later, knocking gently. 

“Come in.”

He enters the room. A white flowy t-shirt and blue striped boxer briefs adorn his body. His hair is let down and his skin glowy from his excessive skincare routine.

“Hey there”, he says, “are you okay? Why did you text me?”

“Hobi, can you stay here tonight? I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Yeah of course, what’s up? Wanna talk about it?” he asks as he hurries to your bed. He steps out of his fluffy slippers and crawls under the blanket with you. 

“It’s just the same thing over and over again. I feel like all of this is my fault and I’m angry at myself and fucking sad because Yoongi and Tae are upset with me.”

“Yeah, I get you”, Hoseok caresses your hand softly, “tomorrow’s going to be a new day and won’t hurt as much anymore.”

“I don’t think it will. I feel so broken.”

“I get it”, he gives you a sorry smile, “do you want to hug?”

You nod your head. 

“Com’ere”, Hoseok says, closing the distance between you and him to cradle you against his chest. His body feels warm for a change, courtesy of the witches giving them their blood earlier today. He smells good. Fresh, warm and manly. He always smells so heavenly. Hoseok runs his fingers up and down the back of your head, resting his other arm around your waist. 

“You know”, he begins, “I suck at words, so sorry if my advice sucks, but I think you should listen to what Seokjin said today. Jimin lied to get out of the mess.” 

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re wearing your magic ring and Jimin’s really unpredictable. Of course he bit you and force fed you, it fits his character.”

“Yeah, I know. I think that I said those things because I just want to make sense of everything.”

“Yeah I get it. You can rant to me if you want to, I can listen really well.”

“No, I don’t want to talk. I just wanna be held and fall asleep. I’m so bloody tired of being awake.”

“Okay, I can do that too”, Hoseok says and shifts his head into a position which would allow him to kiss your forehead. He hesitates, looking at you with weary eyes.

You crane your neck, locking eyes with him.

“What?” you ask him.

“I just wanted to give you a kiss, but I don’t know if that’s good with you”, he says.

“Yeah”, you say, returning to your previous position, “it’s okay.”

“Nice”, Hoseok says and finally kisses your forehead, listening to the deep exhale of relief you do because of it. He pulls you closer afterwards, drawing nonsense patterns on your back.

“Thank you, Hobi”, you whisper, closing your eyes as you hide away in the comfort of his chest, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, ___”, Hoseok whispers, allowing his eyes to fall close.

You fall asleep in his arms minutes later, while Hoseok still stays awake for a little, listening to your calm heartbeat and slow breathing.

 Hoseok is gone when you wake the next morning, but he left a note on the pillow for you which tells you that he had to leave early because he promised Seokjin and Jungkook to go for a run together. You didn’t mind that you woke up without him. Being held tonight felt healing to your broken heart.

Like yesterday you open the windows, looking at the beach. It was empty today. The garden was empty as well. You woke earlier than you did yesterday. You offered the witches your help when you ran in on them making breakfast, but they declined you and told you to take a walk because the weather was amazing. You did so barefooted just as Jelena suggested, enjoying the warm temperature of the ground under your toes.

You stop when you are by the fountain just at the west end of the garden. Yoongi is sitting on its edge.

He turns, sensing your presence like he always does.

“Sorry. I didn’t notice you here. I swear I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy”, you say.

“It’s fine”, he says, running his eyes up and down your body.

“Sorry again. I’ll leave you to your sitting. It’s so nice here, isn’t it?”

“It is”, Yoongi lifts his hand and points at the mountain. It is so close to the house that it almost takes up all of your vision, “how far do you think you can see from there?”

“I don’t know. Probably really far.”

You shimmy from one foot to the other, fumbling with your fingers. Yoongi turns away from you and pats the spot next to him. You hurry to him instantly, sitting down with a racing heart.

“The sun rises behind that mountain. I watched it happening.”

“You did? You must have been awake really early then.”

“I never fell asleep.”

“I see.”

“My blood’s outta your system.”

“I know.”

“You can go to the market today.”

“I know. Do you want to come with us?”

“No. I want to stay here.”

“Okay. I respect that.”

Yoongi sneaks a glance at you.

“I do”, you insist.

“Mhm”, he looks at the mountain.

You do the same. You really want to bring up what Jimin did and you want to apologise again and tell him how awful you feel, but you know better than to do that. Yoongi may sit with you right now, but this is not your invitation to start the conversation. So you try to make small talk, hoping that you are allowed to do so.

“You told the witches that I like gardening.”

“I did.”

“Did you tell them more about me?”

He glances at you.

“Sorry. I know it doesn’t have to interest me”, you backtrack now that you realised how self absorbed that sounded. You however just wanted to know whether or not it is safe to say that he is your partner.

“They know that we’re together if that’s what you wanted to know”, Yoongi says.

“I did.”

“Mhm.”

You glance at his face. He is sloughing which he never does and his eyes look so fallen in and puffy. Has he been crying?

“Yoongi, I’m-”

“If you’re gonna apologise again, I’m getting up”, he interrupts you.

“I was, I just- fuck sorry, I won’t do it”, you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything and touches the side of his neck in soothing.

“You uhm”, you begin because you are fucking greedy for conversation. Not because of selfish reasons, but because you are scared that if you shared silence he would realise how little he actually cared for you and then you would lose him, “are you having neck problems?”

“It’s just tense, it’s fine.”

“I could massage it for you if you want to.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Okay, sorry yeah. Uhm…are you going to fix up the device again?”

“Yes.”

“That’s cool. Are you far already?”

“No.”

“I see. I bet you’ll make lots of progress today.”

“We’ll see”, he says dryly and takes out something from his pocket. He opens his palm, revealing a delicate ring to you. It was made out of gold and had a blue crystal in the middle. “I had Meredith enchant it. Wear it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not wearing your ring anymore.”

You glance at your empty finger. You were too preoccupied with everything happening that you hadn’t even noticed. Holy fuck.

“Thank you”, you whisper and accept the ring. His fingertips brush your skin when he places it into your palm. The simple touch leaves you aching because of how much you miss him.

Yoongi eyes your hand as you slip the ring on. It is too big for your finger at first, but shrinks to perfect size once you slipped it on. It is so comfortable that you don’t feel it.

“Huh?” you let out. That didn’t happen with the other ring.

“It’s made for you”, he says, “only you can wear it, it won’t slip off and only you can decide when to take it off. Give me your hand.”

You present your hand to him. Yoongi wraps his fingers around the ring and tugs strong enough that you have to follow the movement with your arm. The ring doesn’t budge one bit.

Yoongi releases the ring.

“You try”, he says.

“O-okay”, you say and put your fingers on the ring. The ring grows again, allowing you to slide it off easily, “holy fuck.”

“Yeah. Nobody can fuck with you anymore, unless you allow it.”

“I won’t allow it anymore”, you say, slipping the ring back on, “unless it’s you.”

Yoongi glances at your face, hiding the surprise with a blink of his eyes. He doesn’t say anything and looks back at the mountain.

“Thank you”, you say, “for looking out for me.”

“I said that I would keep you safe, didn’t I?”

“You did and I don’t take it for granted. So thank you.”

“Mhm”, Yoongi hums and places his hand on the stone next to yours.

You tense up when you feel his pinkie finger brush against yours. Once. It was probably a mistake. Twice. You glance at your hands with bated breath. Yoongi runs his pinkie down again. Holy shit, he is doing it on purpose. Feeling encouraged and with a racing heart, you reach out and hook your pinkie with his’.

He doesn’t show a change in posture, nor a change in expression, merely his pinkie closing around yours lets you know that he wanted this to happen.

And you feel close to passing out. Your heart tells you to break into tears and to fall around his neck and never let him go again. Your brain tells you to speak your truth and apologise a million more times. Your body is too weak and overwhelmed by this simple show of affection to act on any of those things. You are paralysed, left to stare at the mountain with a racing heart whilst wishing for time to never pass.

Yoongi turns, making you turn as well. You turn just in time to watch the others push and pull each other as they are trying to flee before you could notice them. You hear Hoseok whisper something along the lines of “they’re talking guys, let’s piss off.”

“We know that you’re here”, Yoongi says.

They stop, gawking at you with widened eyes.

“Oh guys? Oh hey wow you are here?? We didn’t even notice you here”, Hoseok lies, laughing nervously.

“You’re a shit liar, Hoba”, Yoongi says dryly.

“Ah yeah. Hah”, Hoseok touches the side of his neck.

“We didn’t want to disturb you”, Jungkook says.

“It’s okay. I’m leaving anyways”, Yoongi says, standing up, “have fun at the market today”, he says, strutting away with his hands hidden in his pockets.

You ache. You weren’t ready to let go yet.

The others wait until he is far away enough, hurrying to you quickly.

“And? Are you guys good again?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t talk about that.”

“So he doesn’t know about Jimin?” Seokjin asks.

“I just…didn’t think it was the right time.”

“Oh ___.”

“Please don’t be angry at me. I just don’t want to pressure him into having to talk to me. We, we hooked pinkies and, and it felt so nice that I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You hooked pinkies? That’s so romantic”, Jungkook gasps.

“I didn’t wanna ruin that”, you whisper, looking at Seokjin.

Seokjin sighs in defeat, “I get it. Fine, I won’t say something again.”

“Thank you.”

“Should we get breakfast and then go to the market? I bet it’s better than to sit here and be sad, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

The market turns out to be as lovely as Jelena described it. You buy lots of delicious food and share it by the port whilst talking about Hoseok’s time with Annelise. She was a sweet woman until she went off the rails. Hoseok was angry at her for the longest of times, but isn’t these days. He wishes for her recovery and hopes that she will find happiness. He then proceeded to joke way too much, which let all of you know that he was embarrassed about being too emotional. You didn’t call him out and laughed at his silly jokes. On your way back to the house, you stumbled upon a bookshop and you insisted on visiting it. You came out of it with three new books, planning on reading them once you are home.

You return to the house in the late hours of the evening. You went sightseeing to a nearby mountain village, walking up small windy roads for way too many hours. The view was totally worth it. As was the incredible food you ate at a small restaurant up there. The owner instantly knew that your friends were vampires, welcoming them with a glass of blood on the house. The owner turned out to be a werewolf called Petar who is running the restaurant with his wife and son. He chatted about life here, resting his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder the entire time whilst rubbing his own belly mindlessly. Jungkook was nervous at first, but relaxes once he realises that he meant no harm in it and that this is simply how Petar the werewolf tells his stories. Petar called life here peaceful. He said that he spent many years in the big cities and that he hated the fighting between the different groups and so he moved here to find peace. He loved life here and he loved that the communities lived together in harmony. He hopes that the generations coming after him will have the same simple yet harmonious life as he and his wife had. Petar then proceeded to dish out the most incredible lobster you have ever eaten and sent you on your journey back home with a bottle of his daughter’s homebrewed Rakija.

Emma and Seokjin disappear in their room once home and won’t be seen for the rest of the evening. Yes, Hoseok made a horny comment before they left and Seokjin did slap his arm in punishment while Emma rolled her eyes fondly. Hoseok soon disappeared in his room as well and he won’t be seen for the rest of the evening.

Jungkook stays with you, offering his thigh for your head to rest upon as you read while he scrolled through his phone.

“You’re back.”

You and Jungkook lift your heads simultaneously. Yoongi is standing in the doorway.

“We are.”

“Good.”

“Do you want to sit with us?” Jungkook asks.

Yoongi sneaks a glance at you. You sneak a glance at Yoongi. Jungkook almost wants to yell because you both look so desperate for each other.

“I’m still busy”, Yoongi says and Jungkook swears he almost called him an idiot. He is yearning for you and yet he doesn’t want to accept it. Oh Jungkook is so angry at his stubbornness. He should get his head out of his butt and talk to you.

“That’s okay. You work so hard”, you say and Jungkook swears he almost called you an idiot. Your scent is soaked in yearning and yet you pretend that you are okay with giving him his space. Oh Jungkook is so angry at your good will. You should be disrespectful just once and kiss Yoongi until he feels dizzy.

Stupid fight! Jungkook hates this so much!

“Thanks”, Yoongi says, “sleep tight you two.”

“You too.”

Yoongi leaves. You settle against Jungkook. And Jungkook almost throws something. If this tiptoeing around each other continues, this stupid fight will last forever. Jungkook forces himself not to huff out air in frustration. He has to do something. He can’t watch idly by.

“Hey ___, I think I’m gonna go to sleep now. I’m really tired.”

“Oh? So soon already?”

“Sorry, the day was really long.”

“Oh yeah sure”, you sit up, “sleep tight, sweets.”

Jungkook kisses your cheek, “you too, baby.”

And with that he leaves, deciding to use the entire night to come up with a plan on how to get you and Yoongi to talk to each other.

You proceed to fall asleep on the couch twenty minutes later with the book in your hands, sleeping for a good two hours before you wake again to the sound of your phone.

“Urgh god. I fell asleep”, you groan, sitting up and reaching for your phone.

Kookie is calling

You pick up immediately.

“Hey Kookie, what’s up? Why are you calling me in the same house?”

“___ can you please help me?” his voice sounds strained as if he was in pain.

You jerk up in alarm, dropping the book on the floor without caring.

“What happened? Where are you? Are you okay?” your voice is raised in worry.

“No. I, I need your help, please. It hurts so much, m-my head.”

“Holy fuck”, you jump to your feet, running out of the room even if you have no idea where to go, “where are you? I’m coming.”

“The, the….”, his voice is slow, weak, “the attic room…help me…please…”

“I’m coming, Kookie. Hold on, okay? I’m coming.”

“Thank…you”, Jungkook whispers and then the line cuts.

You drop your phone on a random dresser, running through the house. You take two steps at a time, jump over folds in the carpets, dodge pieces of furniture. Your heart is pounding, but you don’t care. Jungkook is in pain and you need to get to him.

The stairs to the attic room croak under your aggressive steps, but you barely even hear the sound. The door is so in reach. Leaned closed, it lets out the shine of a weak light source. You throw it open. Candles are scattered in the room, illuminating your way.

“Jungkook?!” you call out, “I’m here! Where are you?”

Silence answers you.

“Please say something! Where are you?”

You have reached the end of the room. There is a huge round window in front of you, its glass is tinted in colours of reds and greens, showcasing a rose bush. There is a mattress in front of it with dozens of throw pillows on it. Pink rose petals and violet lavender buds are scattered over the sheets. But no Jungkook.

“Where are you? Kookie?”

You twist and turn. He isn’t here. Where is he?

“Jungkookie!” someone else calls out his name, stumbling through the threshold, “I’m here, hyungie’s here!”

You feel nervous instantly.

Yoongi stops, staring at you with widened eyes.

[fruitsoxs]

Hello! I like your writing a lot and i was wondering if you'd do wolfwood x gn-reader, and the reader has a flirty and vulgar way of joking. I'm curious how would he react to that kind of chaotic person who likes to taunt and tease

I got a little bit nsfw with this haha-- a little full on smut drabble included so-

warnings: !nsfw minors dni! smut, swearing, make outs, blow jobs, face fucking wolfwood gets a bit rough, it's gender neutral but he does call you "angel" (my dyslexic ass is praying i managed to not put a single "angle" in there)

Okay I really do believe he’d probably think you are hilarious. He’d probably  immediately connect with you. 

You take his jokes, and then you tease him back?? Wowie he’s already in love lol

But here’s the kicker- I think eventually  he’d dish out more than he could take

Especially if he starts falling for you along the way

Like he’d say a whittle inappropriate joke and you would try and up him

And then this man would fold

Red face

Unable to talk

Completely and totally flustered 

One time you make a joke about him using something else for his oral fixation and he straight up walks away

He doesn’t talk to you until the next day

You think it’s pretty funny actually - so you decide to start seeing how far you can take it before he snaps

NSFW part below the cut!

Imagine one day you say something and he finally just explodes

Like you make a job about him fucking your sins away and you thinks it’s all witty because he’s a priest

But he literally is like “You know what?? I think I will-” And bam he’s got you bent over screaming his name lol

It’s a particularly hot afternoon, and in order to keep group morale up everyone has decided to make a little stop to drink some cool water. Maybe even eat some food if money will allow it. You’re pretty thankful. One more moment in that damn car and you’re sure you’d burst - it’s WAY too hot with both Vash and Wolfwood on either side of you like that.

It takes only a couple minutes for your dark haired friend to saunter up to you and sit down, throwing his arm on the seat behind you. Not close enough to touch you, but close enough that you can almost smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes. He’s, thankfully, curbed the habit of smoking inside. With a sucker popped in between his lips, he lets out a small sigh.

He doesn’t like sitting still, you know that. He hates when the group decides to take breaks like this. If it were up to him, you all would be moving non-stop into the dead of night. Thankfully, it’s not. So he’ll just have to live.

“Feeling restless?” You ask, knowing the answer already.

“What do you think, angel?” he sighs again, his voice slightly horse.

You smile softly at the nickname, a bit unsure why he calls you that still. He told you once before that it all started when he saw your worried face after he was hit by a car.  He said you looked innocent, and pure. He’d find out minutes later that you definitely weren’t- yet the nickname still rolls off his tongue like it belongs there.

“Why do you call me that?” you ask, looking up at him. “You know why.” His answer is simple. He looks down at you with a raised eyebrow, craning his neck. He’s too tall.

“Yeah I know why you started calling me that- but why still call me that?” you clarify rolling your eyes. He knew what you meant, he’s just being difficult. “I’m not really the most holy individual.’ You point out. He laughs and shakes his head. “Trust me I know.” He mumbles, that smirk still present on his lips as he looks forward. “You’re the biggest sinner I know.” he jokes. He really walks into this one. He should know, with how much he jokes about being a priest, that this joke was always in the back of your brain. Always waiting for the right moment. Yet here he is, giving you the perfect opening. It’s almost like he’s begging for it.

“Oh? Am I a bad girl, father? Should I get on my knees and confess my sins?” You ask with a sneer. He freezes immediately. “Are you gonna punish me?” You go on, leaning in close. Man, this is a gold mine. You’d probably keep going too, if he doesn’t stand up and yank you out of your chair.

You let out a small yelp as he starts pulling you along, through the room, and into a little storage place that is probably only for employees. He throws you in, softly of course, and you stumble forward slightly. “What hell are you-” You’re interrupted by the door locking as he turns to you, shrugging the Punisher off his shoulder. He leans the giant cross against the wall, and sighs.

“You’ve got the naughtiest mouth angel, I can’t fucking stand it anymore.” He curses sauntering up next to you. “All you do is tease me, and yeah it can be pretty funny. Then you go off and say shit like that- and you have no idea what it does to me.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “And you know what? Maybe it is about time you get punished.”

A few moments later and his lips are on yours. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, open mouthed and messy. The sucker that was dangling from his lips falls against the dirty ground. You can’t help but moan into the kiss, as he devours you like you’re the last meal he’ll ever eat. His tongue invades your lips, and roams around every inch of your mouth. He drinks in your taste, and when he pulls away he’s got this shit eating grin that stretches across his lips.

“What do you think, angel?” He whispers, his hand sliding to the back of your head. 

Like you even have to think about this- Wolfwood is quite literally the hottest man you have ever been given the privilege to meet. Plus he’s endearing, and sweet when he wants to be. Plus that kiss was just about the most amazing thing you’ve ever experienced.

“I have been pretty naughty.” Is your answer.

His grin widens, and his fingers dip into your scalp, pulling your hair so your head tilts back. You gasp, and he takes that as an opportunity to slip his tongue back into your mouth. You’re not sure if it’s even really a kiss at this point, but if the noises that leave your throat are anything to go off of, you really don’t mind.

After a while he pulls away, his cheeks red. “Are you gonna make good on your promise and get on your knees, angel?” he whispers, lips dangerously close to your ear. Your cheeks instantly heat up. You just now notice something hard pressed up against your thigh, and you wonder how easy it was for him to so worked up on your teasing alone. 

You bend at the knees, and slowly fall to the ground. The floor is a bit sticky, but whatever. You have bigger things to deal with right now. And with the way he’s gripping your hair, you’re not sure if you can stop yourself from what’s to come.

He grunts as you slide your fingers into the waistline of his pants, and drag them down. His black boxers are already dripping with precum  from just the thought of what's to come. It makes your mouth water.

You press your lips against the fabric, and he growls softly. You take the hint, and slowly rid him of the undergarments. His dick flies free and you have to pinch the skin on your legs to keep from freaking out.

He’s big. Thick. Uncut and freaking beautiful.

“Like what you see, angel?” He asks, pressing your face forward. You nod, and reach a hand out, delicately tracing your fingers along the shaft. His hips jerk forward slightly, but he’s quick to let you know who’s in charge by pulling on your hair. You moan and lean forward, placing your tongue towards the middle, and licking a line up to the head. You look up at him, eyes wide, before quickly wrapping your mouth around the tip.

“God-’ He mumbles softly. “So perfect. Those lips are so Goddamn perfect angel.” He groans. You can tell he’s holding himself back, so you slide your head down and take in bit by bit slowly. He grunts and moans softly, clutching onto you for dear life. 

“Just like that angel, take it all in. You’re doing such a good job.” His praise ignites a fire in you, and you let out a soft whimper. The vibrations against his dick make the man freeze for a minute. He’s getting closer to losing control. But he wants you to take your time before he face fucks the life out of you.

“You like that angel? Like when I praise you?”

You try your best to nod, lips still wrapped around his cock. He gets the idea, and lets out a soft chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He mumbles, and his touch feels a bit softer for a second.

You continue on your journey of giving him the best blowjob of his life, licking and sucking as you see fit. One hand wrapped around the bottom of his dick, moving in unison with your head. You find the courage to finally slide it all the way into the back of your throat.  A cry escapes your mouth, followed by a gag, and tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes. The moment you deepthroat him, his hands grip the back of your head, and keep you there for a few seconds. 

“Fuck- angel-” He grunts before releasing you. You slide your mouth off of him for a second. “I can’t hold myself back. You feel too good- can I fuck your pretty face angel? That okay?” He asks, his hand dropping to your chin for a second. You nod, and he smiles.

And then, he grips your hair so tight you might scream. Before you can even make a sound, his dick is in your throat again, as he slams his hips against your face at a dead pace. It’s rough, but not aggressive enough to make you uncomfortable. And the noises he makes are insanely hot.

You can’t help but choke and moan as his dick slides into your mouth. You try your best to move your tongue around it, but it’s hard to think straight. You’re almost drunk on his cock.

“Fuck- you’re being so good for me angel.” He coos. His soft voice is a pleasant counter to his rough grip on your hair. 

Finally, his movements begin to get a bit clumsier, and you can tell he’s close. “Angel, shit, I’m close.” He grunts. “You gonna swallow every last drop? Gonna let my cum clean your filthy mouth, angel?” You cry out a yes against his cock, nails digging into his thighs.

That’s all it takes for him to unload into you, letting out one final curse as his seed drips down your throat. He keeps your head pressed against the bottom of his dick until you’ve swallowed the last of it. He lets go of your head, and you fall backwards, knees starting to hurt.

After a few seconds, once his pants are back on, he wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls you back up softly. He lets you lean against him as you get your strength back in your legs, and kisses the top of your head softly. His arm is around your waist, his touch now soft and loving. 

“You okay, angel?” he asks, his mouth presses against the top of your head. “Of course.” You hum, and lean into his embrace.

[annaraebananawriter]

Going Back the Way We’ve Come

Yelllow there everyone! I actually hadn’t planned on writing anythin g for the Dream Tournament, but here we are. I saw ‘angst potential’ and was drawn in like a moth. 

Now, while not the best thing ever, I had fun writing this. I hope you have just as much fun reading it.

The Dream Tournament was hosted by @nashdoesstuff, so be sure to go and give them some love. They did a wonderful job and it was very fun! 

Happy reading!!

Fandom: Undertale/UTMV

Characters: (Original) Dream (Who belongs to Joku), (One Small Dream) Nightmare, (One Small Dream) Dream (Who belong to @calcium-cat) and mentioned Ink (Who belongs to Comyet), mentioned Bad Sanses, and mentioned Blue (Who belongs to P0pcornPr1nce)

Warnings: No major ones that I can think of. Let me know!

Summary: “It’s the finale of the Dream Tournament. OSD!Nightmare has finally caught up to his brother. He just wants to go home, but OSD!Dream wants to finish something first. While wiating, Nightmare has a conversation with OG!Dream. (UTMV, OSD!Nightmare Sans Centric)”

Word Count: 3273

~oOo~

Nightmare gazed up at the tree, black apples on one side and golden apples on the other, both glistening in the sun. Around him, there was grass and flowers and trees, much like how there was in his childhood before the villagers arrived.

Of course…when he finally catches up, they’re back at the beginning.

How symbolic.

Gritting his teeth, he moved forward. If he found Dream soon, then they could leave without lingering; the sooner they left all of this in the past, the better. He had never wanted to come back here for as long as he lived. It felt like a nightmare to be here. He wanted to leave before he was forced to talk with the ‘original’ Dream. Depending on when he was from, it might not be too bad, but if he was from any time after the Apple Incident…

Well. They just better get home fast.

“…and then Nighty found me and re-reassued me and it was all good again.” Dream’s voice faded in, and he found himself relaxing. At least this should be the last dimension they arrive at. They can go home now.

Good. He needed a nap.

“Reassured.” A smoother, deeper voice said, making Nightmare freeze. He knew that voice like the back of his hand. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah. Nighty’s the best brother ever.”

A laugh. “I’m sure he is.”

Swallowing, he chose to ignore all the complicated feelings assigned to that voice and pressed on. He arrived at the tree and stepped around it until he encountered two figures sitting by the base of it. One young, one older.

One was his Dream. He recognized him anywhere.

The other…

Inhaling, Nightmare called, “Dream?”

Both figures looked up, but his gaze was fixed on his brother. Dream blinked, something in his hands, and then beamed.

“Nightmare!” He ran up to him, then paused a foot away. “Wait. You are my Nightmare, right?”

Laughing a bit, he knelt. “Yes, I am.”

“Nighty!” Dream exclaimed again, hugging him.

He hugged back, letting himself soak it in. Once Dream let go, he kept him close, looking him over. “Are you alright?”

Dream nodded. “Mmhmm! I’m good. And I’ve made lots of new friends, all versions of me. One was a giant mermaid. Did you see? I hope you got to meet him. He was really cool. Then there was a couple that were goopy like you are, which was also pretty cool.” Taking a breath, he pointed behind him. “And then there’s him, who’s like, the original? I think? That’s what the others called him, anyway. And we’ve been making flower crowns and talking and…”

As Dream continued his tale, Nightmare looked at the other skeleton in this world. He had wanted to just keep ignoring him until they left, but he could only ignore being stared at for so long. When he turned, the other immediately looked away, in hopes of not being caught, fiddling with his flower crown.

There he was. He looked just like Dream had before the suppressor malfunctioned, clothes and all. And yet, at the same time, he looked different. Most of it wasn’t physical, invisible things he could swear weren’t there before. Or maybe it had just been too long since he saw his brother like this. This version had the crown and cape, but his movements were quieter, trained to be blending in. He had scars across what looked like every surface of visible bone, light shadows underneath his eyes. His aura was muted, though he couldn’t tell if that was this Dream’s doing or this worlds.

Seeing him again this way brought back some shadows of the anger he had. They were only wisps of emotions, things he hadn’t had time to resolve. They wanted him to do something, to finally fulfill his word from what felt like years ago, way back in the cell.

But Nightmare pushed them away. This is not his brother, he reminded himself. He looks the same and acts the same, but he’s different. He is different. This is the original. This is not his brother and he will not treat him as such.

Perhaps they should go home now.

He cleared his throat. “Dream.”

His brother cut himself off. “Yeah?”

“Are you ready to go home?”

“Uh.” Dream turned and looked around the world as he thought. “I think so…wait. Wait!” As Nightmare waited, he ran back to where he was sitting, picked up his crown, and came back. He was frowning. “I never made you a flower crown. I was going to once I got done my current one, which is for Orie, but I’m still slow at making them so it’s taking a bit and then you got here and I got distracted.” He looked up, pleading. “Can we go home after I make your crown?”

Nightmare inhaled. He wanted to say no. He really wanted to just be home already. “I’m not sure—”

“Orie won’t mind.” Dream turned to the other Dream—Orie? Short for Original? It was…creative, that’s for sure. “Can we stay for a little bit?”

Orie looked up, blinked, and smiled. “Of course. Though, you may need to pick some more flowers. I’m afraid I used quite a bit with mine.” He did sound genuine, lifting his crown to show him.

“That’s okay. Your crown is amazing. Use all the flowers you need.” Dream reassured, happy. He handed his crown to Nightmare. “I’ll be right back.” Before he could protest, his brother ran towards the flowers across the field.

Huffing, he crossed his arms, tentacles flicking in annoyance.

“You are welcome to take a seat.” The other Dream—Orie—said, sounding hesitant. “It might be a bit before he’s back.”

He refused to look at him. “We aren’t staying long. Once his crown is finished, we’ll be out of your hair.”

Orie laughed. “I have no hair for you to get out of anyway. And I really don’t mind. You can stay for as long as you need, or want. It’s nice to have some company.”

Nightmare wavered before sighing. He sat down, one arm braced on his knee.

“The villagers…?”

“They don’t exist in this place. I don’t think this world is even my home. I’m not sure about yours. My mother was cut down during…well, you know what I mean. I think this place is a mix of both our homes, in hopes of making us both comfortable.” Falling silent, he grabbed a flower and weaved it into his crown, voice lowering. “And if the villagers had existed here, I don’t think I would like to talk to them that much.”

“Aren’t they your friends?” Nightmare wasn’t able to cut all of the bitterness out of his voice.

“They were. Remember, even though I may look like him, I am not your brother. I am a version of him, as you are a version of my brother. Your Dream mentioned a tournament of Nightmare’s, similar to this one. I’m sure you already know that. My story is different than yours is, no matter how similar they may be in text.”

Nightmare said nothing back, just watched his brother pick flowers and get distracted by something, crouching down to poke at it—an insect, probably.

“If I may?” Orie started. When Nightmare hummed, he continued, “Why is your brother a child? He gave a brief explanation, but I feel there’s more to it.” Nightmare was silent for long enough that he added, “You do not have to tell me if you do not want to.”

A beat passed.

Then, Nightmare closed his eyes. “No, it’s fine.” He sighed again, leaning back. “You’re right. There is more to it. I captured him as an adult and held him in a cell for a bit. My plan was to get a magic suppressor from Sci and have Dream drink it. It would make it so he couldn’t use his magic. Couldn’t escape. Couldn’t…fight back. I was going to torture him and make him pay for what he did to me.”

Remembering who he was saying this to, he shifted uncomfortably. Orie made no move to tell him to stop. He looked away anyway, gazing at his brother. “It didn’t go as planned.”

“Turned him into a child.”

“Yes. And he’s been living with us ever since.” Now it was his turn to hesitate. “There…I did ask Sci to make an antidote, but…”

“You are having doubts about using it, turning him back.” Orie finished for him. It seems that, different version or not, Dream always knew what he was thinking.

And he was usually right.

Nightmare quieted.

Orie followed.

From across the field, bright laughter sounded.

Orie shifted. “Nightmare,” he said. Nightmare twitched at the sound of his name, half turning. He couldn’t make himself go all the way. A hand fell onto his shoulder, and Orie continued when he made no move to shove him off. “While I cannot speak for your brother, both versions of him, as we are different people, I am still a version of him, as he is a version of me. Don’t take my words now as cement, but…I can take a guess and say that I believe your brother—the adult Dream—he would be absolutely elated to be given a second chance with you.”

Confused, Nightmare met his eyes, making Orie smile. “As said. Different worlds, maybe, but we are still versions of the same soul. It’s only a guess. But from my memories and feelings, and taking what you and the little Dream have shared with me, I believe your brother would not mind being with you again. Sure, maybe he doesn’t remember all of the hardships you put each other through, and maybe that would be a bittersweet thing, he is with you again. You are brothers again. I think that is all that would really matter to him.” His smile widened, turning into something with an emotion he couldn’t name right now. “It’s a wish fulfilled, I’m sure.”

It's a wish fulfilled.

Was that really true? Could it be true? His brother as he existed as an adult was no longer able to talk for himself. He had no way of knowing for sure. But Orie said it with such conviction, that he wanted to believe it. That if he could ask him, his brother would want to stay with him as a child, even with no memory of the past to understand how they got here. They were together again, after all—that should be the only thing that mattered.

Something in him settled. He would still take the words with a hint of doubt, but he would take them in nonetheless. He would remember them.

It’s a wish fulfilled—then he will make sure it stays that way.

“Dream said you were the original.” Nightmare tilted his head, thinking back. “In my tournament, I don’t think there was an original. There was ‘Corrupted’ and ‘Passive’, but that’s as close as it came.”

Orie hummed. “I see. Well. I suppose one of those could be my brother, or maybe both are the same person from different times. If I had to guess, I’d say corrupted stands a better chance at being the Nightmare from my world, as I look the way I do now.” He smiled again, sadder. Yearning for something. “I would’ve loved to see Passive, however, even for a second.”

Nightmare gazed at him, frowning. “You are more melancholy than my Dream was.”

Orie didn’t seem surprised. “Am I?”

“Yes. Your world…what is different, exactly?”

“Hm. Besides the obvious,” Orie said, gesturing to his Dream across the field, “not much, I think. But there are some key differences. For one, my brother would never care for me as you have for your brother should the same things happen.”

Nightmare blinked. “I doubt that. I never realized how much I cared until this happened. I’m sure your brother would realize the same thing I did.”

Orie’s smile wavered. “While a lovely thought, I doubt it.”

“I insist. It’s as you said, right? Versions of the same soul. I—”

“Would you have killed him?”

The question was delivered calmly.

Nightmare felt it pierce his soul. “…what?”

“If the suppressor had worked as intended, would you have only hurt your brother? Or would you have killed him?”

“I—Wh—”

“Would you have killed your brother?” Orie asked again, looking him in the eye. “When he was magicless and bound, would you taunt him and kill him? Would you look him in the eyes and say that his sins are far too great to apologize for? That the only way he can ever atone for them is to let you kill him.”

Orie sounded like…like he was repeating something he had heard countless times.

Nightmare stared.

Though his eyes were still on him, still on his rough smile and pained eyes—though he still saw all of it, he was no longer focused on it. He gazed through it all, turning back his memories until he was standing in the cell he held Dream in before he was turned into a child when he was sneering down at him and his pleading and his apologies.

When he was at his angriest, convinced hurting his brother was the only way to make him understand how little anything he could say would change anything, would he have gone the extra mile and actually killed him? Would he have thought that torture was too kind? Would he have dusted Dream and left him there in his cell forever, denying him a peaceful rest? If he could go back, knowing the suppressor would not work as intended, would he have eventually crossed the line?

It felt unthinkable, and yet…if the Dream next to him was the original, and if his brother hated so much as to wish death onto him, then what did that mean for Nightmare? Was the same hate there, buried deep inside him, so far that he did not yet realize it?

What would happen should he realize it? Would he…

But Dream, his Dream…

Short of breath, he looked away. He searched the field around him, each second of emptiness making his soul pound quicker, until he found the yellow cape and golden crown of his brother, chasing an insect with a bunch of flowers in his hands. Relieved, he relaxed, taking in the sight of him laughing like it was the last sign of water in an otherwise dry desert.

Feeling eyes on him, Dream looked up and waved.

He smiled to himself, waving back.

Once his brother turned back to his flowers, his smile wavered, Orie’s questions coming back to him. Feeling sick, he looked down, clenching his hands.

It was a horrifying thought, his brother dying. Even more so to imagine it as his little brother—his Dream, the one just across the field and so happy, the one it felt like he had only just gotten back—as the one lying down, wounds littering his body, slowly dusting as he gazed up at him with betrayal and hurt and forgiving in his eyes. He wanted to lock these images away, and deny they would ever happen, but how could he be sure?

If the original version of him wanted his brother dead, what did that mean for him?

No. No.

He refused to believe he would ever harm his brother. Not his version. He could never, would rather harm himself than ever give into those urges. And he knows his boys would kill him themselves or die trying than let him kill his brother. Nightmare, as himself, would never kill his brother. It was a disgusting thought to even ponder.

Sensing his conviction, Orie smiled, not saddened or envious. He nodded, brushing his fingers over his shoulder. “Then it is as I know.”

Nightmare felt sorrow as he looked at him. Maybe not his brother, maybe different stories of the same soul, but they still knew each other. He still hated the thought of a version of him ever wanting to kill their brother. He opened his mouth to say something, anything—apologize. “I—”

Orie shook his head, shushing him. “Do not apologize for the actions of another. You do not influence my brother.” Hardening, he continued, serious, “And my brother does not influence you.”

It was reassuring.

Nightmare nodded. Orie nodded back, smile returning.

He still felt responsible, wanting to give words of encouragement as Orie did for him, but he could see his counsel was not wanted. It made sense, too. If he continued to insist this Dream’s brother still cared for him, that meant opening wounds that took years to close, giving a hope that was carefully shelved new fuel. Orie has had years to understand is his brother might still care for him or not. He cannot, should not, influence that. In Orie’s words: while a lovely thought to think otherwise, he should not force his feelings onto a version of him he did not know.

But…while he could not encourage, perhaps he could…

Carefully, Nightmare reached out and brought Orie into a hug.

Orie twitched in surprise, stiff. He wondered how long it had been since he had hugged his Nightmare. It was a heartbreaking thing to think about. Orie melted into him quickly, hugging back tightly, desperately. He let him, knowing he needed it far more than Nightmare wanted it. Pulling back, he didn’t say anything as Orie Dream wiped his eyes, sniffing.

“Thank you,” Orie whispered.

Nightmare smiled. “Of course.” He didn’t say, it’s what brothers do, but he had a feeling Orie heard it anyway, the way he laughed.

“I’m back!”

They both jumped as his Dream appeared, dropping his collection between them. He sat down and start picking through them. It was…a lot of flowers. All shades of purple and blue, with some white and black and yellow ones thrown in. Nightmare frowned. Maybe too many for one flower crown.

“That’s a lot of flowers.” Nightmare said, silently asking Dream why he got so many.

“I don’t think you need that many,” Orie added, picking up one of the purple ones—a coneflower, if Nightmare remembered correctly.

“Oh, no. I don’t.” Dream said, grinning. “But I picked some for you, too.”

Orie’s sockets widened in surprise. “I’ve already finished mine.”

“I know. It looks really good. But I figured that since I’m making one for my Nightmare, you can make one for yours, too!”

Nightmare twitched.

Orie twirled the flower in his hand. “I don’t think I should…” He seemed hesitant to say why he shouldn’t.

“But it’s like you said, right? Flower crowns don’t have to be perfect because they aren’t meant to be perfect. They are built with your hands and woven with all the care you have for the person you’re making them for. You push your love into the flowers and the person will always know you are with them when they wear it.” Dream tilted his head, curious. “Why shouldn’t you make one for your brother?”

It was an innocent question.

Nightmare joined his brother in gazing at Orie. The Dream was quiet as he gazed at his flower. Then, he smiled, looking content.

“Yes…” he said, looking up. “Why shouldn’t I?”

When they finally went home, both Dreams had one flower crown from each other. And Nightmare left with two—one from his brother, and one as a gift from Orie, who knew he would appreciate it far more than his own brother would.