#something quick to dip my toes back in... it's been years since I drew them :')

[telpelote]

you know, the way you turn into animals and stuff is really cool

[subspencer]

the to-do list

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried that she’s not adventurous enough in bed. So, she makes a secret checklist of things to try with Spencer. Based on this request.

Category: Smut, 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings/Includes: switch!Spencer, (sort of?) corruption kink, exhibitionism, mile high club, brief description of oral, unprotected sex, creampie, brief mentions of other stuff but no descriptions

Word Count: 3k

Spencer’s girlfriend has a secret checklist. It could be called a bucket list, of some sort, but really all of the items on it pertain to sexual acts to perform with Spencer, on Spencer, or in front of Spencer. So checklist is a more appropriate term.

The list came into existence after a girl’s night game of Never Have I Ever, in which she discovered there was an embarrassing number of things she’d never done. Some of them seemed nearly impossible to have gone twenty-something years without doing, especially when in a committed relationship. That was made abundantly clear to her when the girls pointed it out, teasing her — and by association, Spencer — for being more than vanilla.

There was no real reason she hadn’t tried those certain things — she wasn’t adverse to the idea of most of them at all. Really, it was just that she never bothered to dip her toes beyond what was familiar.

When Emily, Penelope, and Tara had nearly all ten of their fingers down after a couple rounds, she finally realized she might’ve been coming up short in the sex department. She figured it was about time to find out what she’s missing, so she made a list of everything she needed to try. And one by one, she and Spencer checked the items off.

One of the more simple things on the list, and perhaps her favorite, was giving her first blowjob. It wasn’t something she felt compelled to try with any of the guys she’s been with before, and Spencer, though he was very curious about it, was too much of a gentleman to ask for one.

So when she asked him to sit on the edge of his bed and dropped to her knees in front of him, he didn’t stop to ask questions. His mind went blank the second her fingers undid his zipper. It was Spencer’s first, too, and his fingers knotted in her hair as she took him in as deep as she could, hollowing her cheeks around his cock and swirling her tongue as her head bobbed up and down. Spencer always made pretty sounds in bed, but in this instance she envied his memory because she wished she could replay his moans and gasps from that first blowjob all over again in her mind.

Another favorite was allowing the favor to be reciprocated until completion. She figured she might just be someone who couldn’t get off from oral, because though she always welcomed Spencer to go down, she got impatient every time and pulled his head up by his hair, demanding him to fuck her already. Spencer was one to oblige every request, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t overjoyed when one time she never stopped him short.

There were no interruptions, no hands shoving his face away from its rightful place against her, just increasing moans and shaking legs as Spencer was encouraged to give more. She can still remember the half-moon shapes his nails left on her thighs from where he had to grip them so tightly as she rode out her high. And she definitely remembers the almost feral look in his eyes after, because since that first time he insists on doing it again nearly every day.

There were more or less a dozen other items that slowly but surely got ticked off the list.

Handcuffs in the bedroom — fun, but perhaps better saved for special occasions. Or if Spencer was being extra good and deserved a treat.

Various new positions — a reminder to stretch more. And that sixty-nine is not as easy as it sounds on paper.

She let Spencer put a blindfold on her — it was decided they both prefer it more when the blindfold is on him. It keeps him guessing.

Spanking — both of them like this one, either giving or receiving. Surprisingly, she thinks she might like receiving it a little more, and Spencer is always excited to give.

Shower sex — a bit of a logistical nightmare, yet still a weekly staple. It’s slippery, yes, but it’s also relaxing and intimate. And Spencer just enjoys putting his hands on her wet, soapy body.

Sending dirty texts — great, but Spencer prefers taking nude polaroids of her instead. He keeps a few in his wallet for easy access. And because he knows Garcia can’t hack his wallet and find them.

And there were more items that went in the same tune until there was just one left. The one she was most nervous to attempt.

She wondered if joining the mile high club was better or worse if it was on the BAU jet. They’d have ample opportunities to do it, but they’d also be surrounded by their colleagues, and there is no coming back from getting caught.

But the main challenge was convincing Spencer to do it in the first place.

The initial plan of attack was to drop some “subtle” hints. She brought it up for the first time one night in their shared hotel room, right after Spencer fucked her against the bathroom counter, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“We could totally do that in the jet bathroom.”

“Yeah, I guess the basics are the same. Cramped space and a ledge to lean on.” Spencer was completely aloof as he picked up the scattered articles of clothing from the floor, rattling off about the size and dimensions of the airplane bathroom and missing the entire point of the comment.

She mentioned it again a little later, hoping the repetition may help him catch the drift.

“What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?” she asked, completely catching him off guard as he ate a breakfast of frosted flakes in his kitchen.

“Um.. I don’t know? You tell me,” he shrugged, knowing that whatever the craziest place was, it was definitely with her.

“What about doing it on the jet?” It couldn’t get more obvious.

“We haven’t done that, silly. OH! I’m gonna say it was in my car,” he nodded with a wide grin, confident in his answer that unfortunately brushed past the proposition far too quickly.

It was time to change methods.

The new plan was to see if she could get him turned on enough on the jet to motivate him to do something about it right then and there. It seemed easy enough.

She sat next to him on the small couch, as she always did, and cuddled up to his side as he read his book.

Once everyone was distracted, she snaked a hand onto his thigh, allowing it to rest there long enough for Spencer to get over his initial shock and relax into her touch. As soon as he let his guard down, she moved her hand up another inch or two, watching him squirm again as he fought his mind from wandering. She repeated that cycle every five minutes until it drove him insane, his willpower diminishing in tandem with the proximity of her hand.

When everyone finally fell asleep, she craned her head to press small kisses on his neck, alternating between quick pecks and lingering ones, sucking warm and wet little flecks onto his skin that drew soft sighs without fail.

“What are you doing?” his breath was raspy and low as he muttered into her ear.

“Nothing.” She kept her tone innocent and sweet as she continued to sprinkle the teasing kisses across the column of his throat.

Her hand finally found its way directly on top of the bulge straining against his slacks and gave it a gentle squeeze. Spencer grinded himself into her palm, desperate to feel some friction, his jaw slacked and pupils wide. She dragged a thumb across his length, stopping to rub slow circles over the sensitive tip, drawing out a wet spot at the front of his trousers.

But even with his skin flushed red and his cock leaking and half-near orgasm, Spencer still found the restraint to stop her from jerking him off right on the jet and ripped her hand away, placing it in her lap as if the action could permanently force her to keep her hands to herself.

“I can’t go to the crime scene with cum in my pants,” he hissed, squeezing her wrist tighter.

She smirked at the opportunity, wrapping her warm lips around his ear lobe and tugging with her teeth before whispering with hot breath. “Then put it in me.”

For a second she saw him consider it. His eyes had a dark cast, gaze flickering between her eyes and lips as he swallowed the thick lump in his throat. But then Emily woke up and it was yet another failed attempt.

She resigned to the fact that it just wouldn’t happen, and that the item might remain unchecked on the secret list. So she cleared the idea from her mind, not wanting to keep pushing Spencer toward something he clearly didn’t have an interest in, or to keep embarrassing herself by trying.

And then a couple weeks later, as the team wrapped another case up, she came back to their hotel room to find Spencer sitting on the bed, facing away from the door.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted. When Spencer didn’t respond, she crawled onto the bed behind him, placing both hands on his shoulders and attacking the side of his face with kisses, giggling into his messy curls. “I said hey.”

Still nothing. Her eyes followed his line of sight down to his hands and went wide with realization.

“Spencer, where did you get that!?” She tried to snatch the crumpled piece of paper from him, but he was too quick to pull it away.

“I was looking for gum in your purse,” he explained, reading the sheet over again in complete amusement, “but I found something better.”

Spencer was much too excited about it, bordering on smug, and she rolled off the bed away from him in annoyance.

“Is this what I think it is?” She remained silent, suddenly feeling very insecure about the note. “Did you... did you make a list of things to do in bed?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s so stupid.”

“Hey, who said it’s stupid?” He tugged on her fingers, pulling her back onto the bed next to him. “I just wanna know where it came from.”

“Well... when I went out with the girls, we started talking about all the things we’ve done…” she paused to see if Spencer could guess where this was going, and of course he didn’t, “... in bed. And I hadn’t even done half of what they have, so I wrote some of them down. I — I wanted to try them with you.”

“So you… you’ve never done these with anyone else?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he pieced the puzzle together. He looked down again at the discarded sheet laying on pillows, his pride swelling at how long the list was. “I’m the first?”

She nodded in assent and no sooner was Spencer pushing her back flat against the mattress, settling his body on top of hers.

“God, that’s so hot,” he spoke into her neck as he sucked purple bruises into it, allowing his hands to roam freely under her shirt. His nimble fingers made quick work of her bra clasp, pulling the hem of the top up to attach his lips to her exposed nipple. He rolled the other in his fingers, tugging gently as she arched into his touch, rolling her hips up to grind against his. He groaned and pushed back, nestling himself perfectly between her legs.

Suddenly his motions halted and he popped his head up, looking at her with wide eyes and freshly ruffled hair. “We haven’t finished the list yet!”

“I — I didn’t think you were interested in the last one.”

“If my girlfriend makes a list of ways she wants to fuck me, I’m interested.”

A devilish grin took over her face. “Well, we fly home tomorrow.”

And true to the plan, they arrived on the jet the next day with at least a vague sense of strategy: wait until everyone is asleep then go at it in the bathroom. It wasn’t the most elaborate of plans, but there wasn’t much else to think of.

Except for the possibility that the others might not go to sleep.

The flight was already halfway through its journey and everyone was still wide awake, and Spencer was growing incredibly impatient. Perhaps even more than his girlfriend, now that he knew this would be part of a long list of things he got to be her first for.

That fact seemed to encourage him, the thrill of forever being her first at something. Never mind that she’d be his firsts, too.

Spencer’s not stupid, he knows that bending her over the bathroom counter while everyone is awake to hear it is a horrible idea. But his willpower doesn’t extend far enough to stop him from dropping his hand to her exposed knee, rubbing it softly just to be able to touch her. It seemed innocent enough in case anyone might see.

He kept his eyes on the open book he was pretending to read as his fingers traced the inside of her thigh, pushing up the hem of her skirt ever so slightly.

He inched his hand up and slowly spread his long fingers apart until they covered the length of her inner thigh. The tips stopping just below her cunt, delicately tracing lines back and forth parallel to the seam of her underwear.

And she quickly discovers there’s no taste worse than your own medicine. There was gentle brushes and concealed touches, all the things that she did to him. But where Spencer would’ve stopped her teasing before it got too far, she wouldn’t have done the same.

She covered up his hands by bringing her own down to her lap, silently encouraging him to continue unseen.

Spencer looked down at her through his thick lashes, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. Looking for more confirmation that she wanted this. The answer came in the form of her shifting subtly down the seat, pressing her clothed pussy firmly against his hand.

His cock twitched against the confines of his slacks when he felt the damp patch on the fabric. His knuckles brushed against her clit and her knees clamped shut, holding him in place as she brought her lips close to his ear to let him hear her soft whines.

He has to put his book over his lap to cover how hard he is, and it almost makes him regret starting this game. Almost.

Because just as she starts desperately grinding against his hand, squirming for more friction, he notices that everyone’s asleep. And then it’s a race to the bathroom, Spencer positioning her directly in front of him to cover his bulge as they stand up.

Their mouths are on each other before the door even closes, her hands wasting little time in going for his zipper. Both desperate to have each other after all the anticipation. She immediately perched herself on the countertop, spreading her legs wide so Spencer could fit in between them, just like in that hotel room. A confused whine fell from her mouth when he lifted her off from the ledge, interrupting her plan.

“No. Like this,” he growled, turning her around and pushing her hips against the edge of the counter, bending her over it. She muttered a “Fuck,” under her breath as he pressed his cock against her backside, knowing he preferred this angle because he could get deeper.

His lips trailed down her neck as he tugged the skirt up to her hips and pulled her panties to the side, running his cock along her folds to gather the wetness that had been pooling there.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”

He quickly inserted his thumb into her mouth to stop any sounds from escaping before lining himself up. Her moans vibrated against the digit as he slowly pushed in, stretching her out and letting her adjust before starting to move. Slowly and deliberately, at first, then quickly gaining speed.

She pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts until he pinned them against the ledge with his own, holding them still so he could set his pace faster.

The hand that was resting on her waist came up to her chest, groping at the flesh over her blouse. Her spine arched into his palm, bending forward to give him more leverage to get deeper to that spot inside her repeatedly.

He alternated between a few quick thrusts followed by a deep one, holding himself there for a moment before repeating.

Her cunt tightened around him as he held still against her, applying firm pressure to her spot with the head of his cock.

“Fuck, do that again, please,” he grunted against her neck, pushing his hips into her ass with bruising force to get impossibly closer. A loud whine nearly escaped her lips as he did so, the motion sending her over the edge.

She sucked harder around his thumb, using it to keep her cries at bay as she reached her climax. Her walls fluttered around him as she did, giving him exactly what he needed.

“Remember what you said before, baby?” he hummed in her ear, “Do you still want me to cum inside you?”

“Please.”

Immediately his thrusts became erratic, hips snapping forward a handful of times before he spilled into her in hot spurts, biting down on her shoulder to stifle his moan as he came.

Still heaving from the comedown, he pulled her panties back on, using the fabric to keep his cum from spilling out.

She turned to feverishly attach her lips to his, panting into the open mouthed kiss. When they finally broke apart, both looked completely wrecked with swollen lips, flushed skin, bruised necks. Still, they tried their best to fix themselves, straightening out their rustled clothes and smoothing knotted hair.

Before Spencer turned the door handle, he pulled her side into him, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “We should make another list.”

.

.

.

taglist: @suburban--gothic @ssa-sarahsunshine @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @ssa-m-187 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @s1utformgg @you-sunshine @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies

[xenia-cenia]

Xiao x Fem!Reader - Fall

A/N-I’m back and finally writing the scene I’ve planned for him for weeks, shoutout to riko on youtube for making genshin playlists which are carrying my motivation

You guys: please xenia make the characters have happier backstories

Me: haha traumatic childhoods go brrrr

Trigger/Content Warnings: implied suicidal thoughts, spider mention, kidnapping, trauma, death of minor characters 

Word Count: 1,669

Request: No

Summary: flying love confession but more dramatic this time

Stars fell from the sky and landed in his palm. His eyes glimmered in the infinite darkness. How long has he been in this void, the only light being the falling stars? The only sound being death thralls and screams for help?

Xiao was tired.

He wanted to be better, but he was tired.

Stars fell from the sky and struck through his ribs. They ripped his heart in two and pierced his lungs. Xiao was tired.

Xiao was tired.

He wanted to shut his eyes and see all of his friends again, to apologize to the lives he stole and hold himself tightly. He wanted to save himself. He wanted to be better.

Xiao wanted to sleep.

Stars fall from the sky and land in his hand. For the first time in centuries, he holds them to his eye and gazes into their lives. It was to satisfy his curiosity. A quick peek into them, then he’ll never look again. He promised himself this a million times.

Stars fall from the sky and show him something beautiful. Lights, cheers, and smiles. Xiao was tired. Xiao wanted to be better. Xiao wanted to be in the stars. He wanted to hold the stars and keep them safe.

Stars fall from his hands and shatter against the ground.

Xiao was tired.

“XIAO!” A panicked voice drew Xiao from his thoughts. How long has he been standing at this balcony? The sun had long since set. He gave himself half a second to think it over before grabbing his polearm and heading to the scared person.

He burst through the door, heavy breaths filling his chest as he surveyed the room. “(Y/N)?” Xiao called into the seemingly empty room.

“X-Xiao!” Your muffled voice came from under a blanket. You flipped the sheets down and looked at him with the biggest puppy eyes he’d ever seen, “There’s a... a spider.”

His shoulders relaxed and he sighed, “Where?” With a shaky finger, you pointed on the ground by Xiao's foot. Without a second of hesitation, he stomped on it and turned to leave, “Mortals fear the most common of things...”

“Wait!” You called. “Xiao!”

“What is it now?”

“I’m kinda freaked out...” You twiddled your thumbs over the blanket, “Can I sit with you on the balcony?”

Xiao grunted in response, stepping out of the way and holding the door open for you with an expectant yet frustrated look on his face. “I don’t want to talk.”

“That’s fine.” You nervously smiled and followed him onto the balcony. He walked to the edge and leaned on the railing, his eyes slightly widening as he gazed at the stars.

You followed loosely behind, always being sure to keep distance, and looked at the pools of water below Wangshu Inn. Twirls of water lapping against the shores, flickering flames fading into the sand, a serene peacefulness as you gazed into a world you’d never know.

Cool winds grazed your face, you shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Stop.”

“What?” You opened your eyes when you heard Xiao's stern voice, his eyes were half-closed with a glint of anger, it wasn’t until you felt the railing biting into your ribs that you knew what was happening.

“If you keep leaning like that, you’ll fall. And you can’t rely on me to catch you.”

You straightened your posture and sighed, “I’m sorry, I-”

He grunted and turned back to the stars. With a slight tilt of your head, you could almost imagine how many stars the adepti has seen through his life. Hundreds? Thousands? Did they shine brilliantly in his memory, or were they dimmed like todays were?

“Do you think the stars listen?” You asked without thinking.

He left his hand on the railing and turned to you, confusion lacing his expression, “What are you talking about?”

You paid his silent judgment no mind and continued, “The stars. Do you think they hear us? When we wish and cry and pray, do they listen?”

“The stars don’t listen, adepti do.”

A sad smile flickered on your lips as you reached your fingers towards the stars, “You’ve always been so hard to talk to, Xiao.”

“Don’t talk like you know me.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just want to blabber, honestly. Do you mind listening?”

He grunted softly, “Mortals and their...” he sighed, “Fine.”

You gripped the railing and took a deep breath, “When I was a kid, I was always terrified of the adepti.” You laughed uncomfortably as Xiao stiffened, “I know it’s not... well, it’s not what you really want to hear, is it? I wouldn’t want to hear that. But, I remember I was, ahhh, 12? 13? I was young. I was very young when it happened.”

Xiao turned away from you, his fingers digging into his arms as he bit his lip.

“I was taken hostage. I don’t remember most of it. But, I... I remember when they took me.” Your voice quivered, “They killed my parents in front of me. It was my fault, y’know. My parents were already unconscious and if I came willingly, they would have survived. I have no family left, and part of me is thankful. I don’t think I could look any of them in the eyes and explain what happened that night. How their baby girl killed them.”

“Did you turn the blade on them?”

“Xiao, I-”

“Did you turn the blade on them? If not, it wasn’t your fault. You said yourself, you were a child. Would you blame a child for the failings of adults?”

“...no.”

“Then why are you blaming yourself?”

You sighed, “Xiao, you’re a... you’re a really nice guy.”

He flinched, “You should sleep. Mortals have weaker bodies.”

“O... okay. Goodnight, Xiao.” You called after him as he walked away. After he left your eyesight, you looked back towards the water, sighed, and went to bed.

You spent hours tossing and turning in your bed. In frustration, you leaped out of bed and walked down Wangshu Inn, stopping only at the shoreline so you could dip your toes in the water and relax.

With the splashing waves and your pounding heart, you couldn’t hear the footsteps crunch on the sand behind you. You hadn’t had the time to process what was happening until you felt yourself lose consciousness.

Dripping water.

Flickering candles.

Harsh wind.

You opened your bleary eyes and pulled yourself up. Where were you? What happened? The room you woke up in was small, with one bed, a door, and a window. With shaky steps, you walked to the door and pulled.

A sharp blast of electricity ran through your palms, you recoiled in pain and took a step backward as tears began to blot your vision. With an angry growl, you glared at the door and stumbled over to the window.

You felt your eyes widen as you looked down. Miles of bricks and dirt leading to ground you couldn’t see.

The door behind you opened, you spun and saw a woman with white hair and piercing blue eyes. She looked you up and down, her eyes scanning you in a way that gave you chills, and smiled sweetly.

“Welcome, dear.”

“Wh...what?”

“Do you know how hard you are to track down? Years and you seem to escape our grasp each time. It’s quite tiring, dear, I was just about ready to give up.”

“Years?” You echoed in a breathy voice.

“Years.” She confirmed. “Truly, I don’t know why we keep going after you. But the Princess gets what she wants. Ah, how she’s wanted you to join us for years.”

“What Princess?”

“Oh.” Her eyes flared, “The Princess of the Abyss.”

“I-I have no idea...”

“What I’m talking about? They never do.” She stalked towards you, “Even now, I can sense the power inside of you.”

You pressed yourself against the window and felt your heart rate increase.

“I wonder what lies below your skin. What oozes from your veins.” She hummed, her voice low as she spoke, “I’d love to see.”

“I...” Your throat was dry as you attempted to reply. She stepped towards you, her arms on either side of your head, a polite smile on her lips. “I don’t...”

“It’s quite beautiful outside, isn’t it?” She pointed behind you and gazed at the night sky. “I’ve always thought the night was a bit boring, however, tonight seems to shine.” She leaned down and whispered into your ear, “I wonder if your fear is what makes them so brilliant?”

“Th... them?”

She laughed suddenly and loudly as she pulled away, “Oh, the stars of course!”

“The stars...” your voice fell quiet.

The woman crossed the room and smiled at you, “Well, darling, you should rest. You have a very busy day tomorrow.” She grabbed the door and grinned as electricity pulsed through her skin, a bounce in her step as she opened the door and left you alone.

You turned towards the window and took a deep breath. You pulled yourself onto the ledge and stood up. Slowly and shakily, you turned to face the window, clasped your hands in front of your chest, and let yourself fall.

“Xiao,” you whispered as you fell. “I hope you were lying.”

Stars fall from the sky and grab his attention. He breaks into a sprint and is long gone before anyone can recognize what happened.

Xiao was tired.

Xiao wanted to be faster, but he was tired.

Stars fall from the sky and cry.

Stars fall from the sky and talk to him on his lonely nights.

Stars fall from the sky and smile.

Stars fall from the sky and trust him.

Stars fall from the sky and call him good.

Xiao was tired.

Xiao wanted to save the stars. Xiao wanted to be better than he ever was.

Stars fall from the sky and Xiao hears himself scream.

Stars fall from the sky and he prays that he’s fast enough.

Stars fall from the sky and he takes heavy breaths.

Stars fall from the sky and land in his arms.

Xiao was fast enough.

“You idiot.” He growled as he landed, his hands curling around you, “What happened?!”

You laughed nervously and threw your arms around him in a tight hug. “You caught me.”

“It’s my duty.” He hadn’t realized he was hugging you back until his hands connected with the soft clothes you were wearing. “I’ll...” he stopped himself. Was he really about to say that? No. 

You pulled away from the hug and swiped your thumb under his eyes, “Please, don’t cry.” You spoke in a trembling voice.

“What? I’m not-” he shifted your weight to one arm and felt his eyes. “Oh.”

As Xiao gazes into your smile, his heart rate settles and he couldn’t deny the sense of calm. “I’ll always catch you if you fall.”

Stars landed in his arms and blush.

Stars landed in his arms and say ‘I love you.’

Xiao was awake.

Xiao was fast enough.

Xiao was good enough.

Xiao was enough.

Xiao smiled softly, “Mortals... always so dramatic.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, “I could get used to it.”

[secondhand-trash]

How Do You Love

A/N: I got my laptop and I can finally write this out. I've been thinking about this non-stop since a few weeks ago when it got so cold all of a sudden and it has been agony to hold onto it but it’s here! 

Description: You had found it hard to believe that someone could love you despite your flaws, but how could you not believe someone like him?

Pairing: Kita Shinsuke x f!reader

Warning: mentions of being insecure, fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, bath tub sex

Word count: 3054

-

The yellow glow of the heater graced upon your skin gently, but it was not enough to stop you from curling yourself tighter as you uncrossed your bare legs to let the limb that was starting to go numb lay on top of the other. You pulled the large towel, the only thing to shield you from the chill that was already starting to invade the closed windows of your bathroom, closer around your frame before you let out a shaky whine.

“It’s starting to get cold, Shinsuke.”

The man in question turned to look at you, diverting his gaze away from the facet and the half-filled tub. With his shirt rolled up to his elbows, his arm was hanging loosely on the white rim, fingers dipping into the water to test its warmth. The top few buttons of his collar were undone casually, the fading tan line around his arm left from the summer sun leading into the deeper ends of the opened collar had your legs that were overlapping on each other pushing your hips back subconsciously.

The sound of his hand pulling out of the water, flicking his wrist to get rid of the lingering droplets had you sit just a little straighter but it did not compare to the tingling fuzz slowly expanding from your chest down your spine when he let out a soft hum, the choppy pieces of his bang just falling above his eyebrows.

“Just a little longer, my love.”

You still felt a strong wave of heat burning across your face every time he spoke to you like that, like you could ask him for anything and he would give it to you.

There was a time when you would act out of your place deliberately to see how he would react, some sort of twisted desire to seek proof that he valued you from calculating how much was he willing to budge for you. You didn’t know what you had wanted from him when you pouted and whined at the smallest of things or just being difficult as a whole. Part of you was certain each time that this might just be the time he was finally done with you and in all fairness, you were sure you would not have nearly half the patience he had towards you if the tables had turned. You wondered what it was that made you so hell-bent to put a measurement on just how much love he had for you that this was how you chose to gain insight, knowing well enough that you would feel just as bad at the notion that he “did not love you” as you would have had he let you had your way.

It was a double-ended spear, with both sides aiming straight at your own insecurities that you refused to let shown but was equally desperate to have someone acknowledge. You wanted to know if he loved you enough to move his own net back and back but also slam yourself down when he did, your stomach caving in at the clear thought that you were not worth that amount of care the moment you even felt the want to test him. 

Whether it stemmed from a genuine confusion as to why someone like him would want someone like you or just general senes of incompetence, you did not know, but it did leave you staring down at your feet in shameful silence even when you thought of it now.

Perhaps the distaste you had against yourself made you reluctant to believe that there really would be someone who loves you despite your flaws, and you resorted to pushing him away through shoving him towards reasons and reasons to leave you all while selfishly hoping he would stay.

But Kita Shinsuke never left, even with you actively providing chances for him to do just that. He wasn’t sure what it was that put you in disbelieve, but if you want proof then he would just give it to you until you didn’t need them anymore. 

You didn’t remember when was the exact moment you were finally convinced, but you eventually stopped wondering why and just became content with the fact that it just was.

It was hard to place a mark on how much he loved you, but if you wanted one then there was no better way to put it than that it was enough for him to keep moving his own line back to take you out of your void and eventually meet him at his side.

The squeak of the facet halted your thoughts to a stop. You blinked when you snapped back to see him looking at you, a small smile dancing on his lips. You did not even notice that your gaze had fixed on him while you were in your own headspace, darting your eyes away with a sheepish grin when he extended his hand to you in amusement.

“Careful,” he murmured as you took his hand. A laugh accompanied the slight shake of your head at his caution as you pulled off the towel that was tied up around your chest. Goosebumps rose on your skin at the bareness, but some part of you was sure that it might be the doing of how he was looking up at you with so much tenderness while he held your hand.

The stark contrast of temperature had you pulling back a little when you dipped your toe into the water, the heat burning against your cold skin before slowly settling as a welcoming warmth. You let out a sigh as you submerged your body under the surfaces, sliding further down until it was just your shoulder that was out in the air.

Kita watched as you rolled your head back, your neck resting against the rim before turning to the side to look at him.

You were smiling, your eyes narrowing at him with a glint behind your lids. He was glad, he thought it was only right that you were always happy and content.

The breath that escaped your lips was long and steady, blending into the steam you were breathing in.

You opened your mouth lazily, letting your eyes close as you basked in the warmth, “You’re too nice to me.”

“Nonsense,” he scolded gently, standing up on his feet but not without pressing a quick peck on your lips as he reached your eye level. 

You had got to know that the feeling was mutual when you stretched your arm out, turning to your side and leaning on the tub while he undressed. Your skin glowing under the moisture and warmth, chest pushed up against your arms as you looked up at him behind your lashes with interest.

His finger nearly missed the button with a hitch of his breath, but he managed to conceal the momentary loss of his calm with his hand smoothing out the material hugging his torso.

You sank lower into the water as his hand went down and down, revealing more of his toned stomach as each button came undone. He was not the tallest or the most well-built person, but the contrast between his appearance and the muscles underneath the layers he always covered himself in had your breaths growing just a little heavier. Pulling his shoulders back swiftly as he peeled the shirt off, he turned around all while throwing the garment into the basket at the side before unclasping his belt. The action was slightly ceremonious, the turning around, given how well you had grown to be accustomed to every inch of each other’s bodies in the years but you could not find the voice in you to voice that out when his back was so sculpted, each swell and dent catching your eye as he pulled the leather off of his waist with a flex of his arms. 

The thump of the heavy fabric had your lips pursing tighter together, only following his frame out of the corner of your eye as he stepped into the tub. The water rose as he sat down at the other end with his legs just brushing against yours, his head tilting back as his mouth fell agape from his worn muscles relaxing under the warmth.

You gulped when he placed his elbows on either side of the tub, chest expanding as he spread his form to get comfortable.

As a person, you had grown past acting out to seek attention, but something about his brows locking together as his muscles spasms just made you want to push his buttons.

Golden eyes glanced down when the motion of the water grew violent. He complied willingly when he felt a tap of his toe against his leg, parting them so that there was space for you when you stood up. You made a show to whimper when you sat down again this time with your back to his chest, leaning your neck against his shoulder when the heat radiating off his body was now added to the warmth of the bath.

You could feel each ripple on his body on your skin, his firm thighs pillowing your sides as your hand drew mindless patterns against the root. He naturally brought one arm around your waist, calloused palm placed just above your stomach. Kita only watched as you went to toy with his free hand, letting you trace down from his knuckles to the vein on his inner wrist. 

Until you started pushing your hips back against him, and there was no way he could just watch as you deliberately press yourself onto his cock.

“Trying to get comfortable,” you said, biting your lips to stop the grin from creeping onto your face when his hand on your waist tightened its grip. Your hands were on his thighs, using the support as leverage to push yourself further up on his lap.

“Hm...”

The rumble came out as a vibration through his chest, and you couldn’t help but let yourself arch back at the gravel. His arm was locking you down, half-hard cock rubbing on the plushness of your skin. You wanted to moan at the growing heat pressed upon you, the image of his length filling and pulsing at your miniatures had your legs curling towards your body. The muscles of his legs were tensed under your touch and his breath now fanned at your ear as he hoisted you up by the waist. 

You stopped holding back when the sturdy hand travelled upwards and cupped your breast, the rough texture of his finger on your skin had you whining as it brushed against the underside of the swell before it found its way to the firm peek.

“Shinsuke!” you mewled when he gave your nipple a light pinch, the other hand slipping into the water when you were not paying attention and now creeping onto your thigh. He buried his nose in your hair, lips brushing against your earlobe as his hands wandered. The caress had you wiggling between his arms, with burning trails left behind on each corner he dragged his hand across.

Bath water thrashed around when you flipping yourself onto your knees, your arms were thrown around his neck as you pulled yourself up. His hand came to rest on your hips when you pouted, leaning closer until your lips finally met. He was quick to reply when you kissed him again and again, hand leaving its place to hold you still by the back of your neck as he parted his lips to deepen the kiss. You gasped when he tugged the loose strands of hair on the nape of your neck, your bodies moulding together as he slipped his tongue in.

Your eyes were glassy and hooded when he pulled back, lips still wet and parted with a pant. You moaned when his hand went to cup your sex, rolling your hips back to gain more friction on your cunt that was begging for more. His fingers rubbed against your folds, blood boiling at the sight of you chewing your bottom lip when the longest digit swirled around your clit. 

“Please,” you shuddered when nimble fingers spread you apart, the action making you clench around nothing but the warm water that felt incomparable to the heat throbbing between your legs, “I want you...”

You squeaked when a finger was pushed in, the hand on your back putting you in your place from taking him in deeper. Your walls sucked him in, begging to be filled with something more. 

“Is that so?” His voice was like honey, rich and deep as he plunged the digit in and out of your pussy. He chuckled at the way you nodded frantically, finally sitting up until he could look down on you. A slight push on your back made you arch, nowhere to hide the contortion of your face when he added in another finger just as you held yourself still for him.

“Want what?” He finishes off his sentence with a curl of his finger, sending jolts down your spine at the sudden pleasure. You had to force your eyes open, fixing your gaze that was dripping with wanton desire on the man who was waiting for an answer just the way he liked it.

Your voice was shaky as his digits scissored in you, swallowing the drool that was pooling up in your mouth when a breathy moan was pulled out. 

“Want your cock-” a hitch from the back of your throat disrupted you when he pulled out, running his finger along your fluttering lips, “-want your cock in me!”

he groaned, finally sitting up and pulled you onto him with his hands digging into the flesh of your hips. You gripped onto his shoulder for leverage when you felt his tip lining up at your cunt, your cheeks being spread by his firm knead on the plumpness as you hovered above his cock.

He tilted his head up to kiss you square on the lips, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth when he pulled away, his breath fanning against you as he let out what almost sounded like a purr.

“Good girl.”

“Fuck-” you hissed when he sunk you down on his length, slowly and agonizingly. Your eyes shut together tightly in reflex at the stretch and the heat that was spreading everywhere in your system. Your nails scratched down on his shoulder as he buried deeper and deeper in you, until eventually you were sitting right on his lap with his cock throbbing inside your cunt. A light tap at the side of your hips was a silent command and with legs that were already starting to feel wobbly, you forced yourself to raise yourself up before slamming all the way down once again. Each roll had your body shaking, but the breathy grunts from the man whose cock you were bouncing on were enough to make you go on. The water surface tickled your skin as you fucked yourself on his shaft, the sound of squelching being muffled by the water that was moving around your joint bodies.

“Feels good?” he asked, kissing your neck and muffling the moan on your skin.

A sharp whimper was all you could manage to force out, too distracted by how hard and hot he was inside of you. An unexpected thrust had your mouth falling apart, your eyes rolling back as your waist felt near giving in.

“Shinsuke please,” you whined, voice breaking at the end when the grinds of your hips could no longer match up with the pace you had set and was chasing after. 

You collapsed on his chest when he lifted you off of him, with only his tip left buried in you before bottoming out of you again. All you could do was moan and claw at him as he took charge, bouncing you on his cock until you were nothing but a whimpering mess.

“So good, so good, so good-”

Your babbling was incoherent with your face against his chest, each flex of his stomach under your hands making you melt into him even more. Your toes curled as he fucked you hard and fast, aiming precisely at the spot that made your scalp go numb. It was his name that you cried out when the band in your stomach snapped, sending heat exploding in your core and white in your vision.

“Fucking-”

The rare obscenity that choked out of his cavity had you whimpering, your body still sensitive from your high. The rapid slams now faded into long strokes. He was holding it out, and you pouted at the clear intention that it was for you.

“I want to make you cum...” your whine was soft, still breathy from your pants, and he couldn’t help but groan.

The final push had you whimpering weakly against him, the loud moan rumbling out of his chest as he spilled his hot cum in you had your mind fogging over. He held you still as he took in a sharp breath, before slowly loosening the grip of his hand on your hips.

“No,” you protested when he wanted to pull out of you, rubbing your face on his collarbone before leaning against his shoulder, “let’s stay like this for a while.”

The bath water that already gone back to being lukewarm finally calmed down as you stayed still in his embrace. His face was flushed, the pounding of his heart just starting to steady itself as his finger traced soothing patterns on your arm.

He looked content, and happy, and the fuzziness in your chest returned.

“You are so good to me,” he wasn’t sure if you were really talking to him with the way you were looking hazily at the ripple on the bath as you brought your hand up, “why are you so good to me?”

Kita paused, and really thought about the question.

Perhaps he just wanted to be good to you and have you know that he wanted to.

And so he replied truthfully, with so much love in his eyes that it put you in disbelief that you had ever doubted the weight of his words.  

“I don’t think I need a reason for it.”

[darling-cas]

Hoax (an original story)

I amaze myself sometimes. 

My therapist says I need to go back to things that bring me joy, says I need to find happiest in life again. During one specific session, I was asked to name a time when I was truly at peace, a time I felt moments of pure joy outside of my partner and friends. The first thing that came to mind was a time years ago, when I would post stories here, on this website, for you all to see.

This surprised me honestly, because if you knew me personally (*cough* hi @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie *cough*) you would know the amount of stress and pressure I put myself under when it came to writing We Are Young, Whatever It Takes, etc, etc, etc. But despite all the negative emotions, the moments that always stand out to me is sitting on my laptop after I clicked post, watching all the love and adoration pure in from each and every one of you.

I say this monthly but, I really do want to get back into writing. Thanks to my therapist and business major partner, I’ve been dipping my toes into editing for others as a side job. But I want to make my way back to writing my own stories and sharing them with even the smallest corner of the world. This story, Hoax, I wrote actually one year ago, when I first started therapy and after a hard heartbreak. It helped me feel like myself again and lifted me out of the darkness.

I hope, for even the smallest number of you, it does the same. I hope you can feel the same magic that I felt when I wrote it. Take this as a thank you for, years ago, bringing me such joy and happiness.

Until next time...

Cas.

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

The air was midsummer sweet.

It was an Indian summer of blue sky dreams and late evening tears, with the weather shifting moods in the blink of an eye. Grey clouds would eclipse the setting sun with their mighty fists, soaking up the colour of the earth like ink drenching a cotton ball.

And with the continuous alternating weather came the busty smell of sunblock and wet grass. Summer scents combined with the salty air and pungent fish that cling to Jake’s senses from the moment he started his journey along the coastal towns.

His mountain travels started just mere days ago. The task of hiking the grand peak was something he was finally going to cross off his bucket list. Dipping into his savings and requesting a week or two off work was a small price to pay when it came to the tranquility and beauty laid bare before him.

Born and raised on the outskirts of the city, there hadn't been much nature for him to appreciate and admire growing up. But from the moment Jake entered the first small, close-knit fishing town, all he could seem to do was appreciate and stare in outright awe.

The land laid undisturbed all around; the mountains, the trees, the ocean, they had all planted their roots, dug in their heels, and refused to surrender. Cities had been conquered, the vast expansion of country fields and towering summits were placed in chains, forced to give themselves to man. But here, on the coast of fishing villages, it seems as if Land and Man came to an agreement, a compromise, an understanding, to live in peace as one. 

Roads of all kinds swerved, twisted, curled up and down along the coast, between the trees. Houses of unnaturally charming bright blues, yellows, oranges, and greens sat gracefully against the mountain rocks, climbing up the forest-speckled cliffs. Homes and buildings of sea-weathered colour rested on the broken shoreline. Boats bobbed in the water, their docks reaching out towards the horizon like fingers longing to reach and touch a disappearing lover.

In the coastal towns, driving along the sunset stained ocean, Jake swore he would never see true beauty again.

Even now, when the sky wept tears of sorrow, its beauty never vanished.

The weather came on suddenly, as he passed the welcoming sign for Higdon's Harbour. The roads became slick, a  ghostly fog settled in, and the colours were muted a few shades darker by the clouds above. Rivers trickled down the mountain side, disappearing into shallow ditches. Waves started to leap and jump to catch the increasing wind. All while the sky cried on and on.

Jake drove on through the town. Classic rock thumped softly in the background and raindrops tapped on the roof of the car. He had planned not to stop for the night until the next town over. He had driven through several rain storms since the start of his trip, and this was nothing.

But the cracks in the sky's broken heart continued to grow with exceptional pain. Tears of despair quickly turned to tears of anger. The beating on the car became more aggressive as the wind wailed daunting threats and the ocean frantically waved its arms.

It became too much, too quick. Jake was used to driving through bad weather, but not seaside storms. Not gusting winds and sideways rain. Plus, he decided, he was already making good time. So when the flashing green neon sign reading Beaumont Motel came into view, he didn’t hesitate to pull off the road, into the parking lot, and turn off his car.

A bell jingled above as Jake pushed open the door. He stepped into the warmth of the lobby, drenched through his clothes and soaking the carpet under his feet.

“Turned nasty out there real quick, didn’t it?”

Jake threw off his hood, shaking out his damp, blonde hair as he caught sight of an older woman with long grey hair smiling at him from behind a wooden desk.

She pulled her beige cardigan closer around her, brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “Looking for a room, hun?”

“If you happen to have one available,” Jake replied, walking towards the desk and setting down his backpack. Judging by the lack of cars in the parking lot, he was more than confident there were plenty of empty rooms. Still, he glanced at the woman’s name tag and flashed her a smile. “Vera.”

“Oh, hun,” Vera chuckled. Her fingers tapped away on the computer that looked too new to be in the small, tacky, lobby with flower-patterned wallpaper. A lobby that was decorated with simply a small sitting area off to the side, a dusty fireplace warming the room, a dark wooden desk, rouge carpet, and outdated lighting fixtures. “I think I have one or two available. For how long will we be seeing your handsome face around?”

“Only a night,” Jake said. “I’m just passing through.”

“Storm pushed you off the road, huh?” Vera turned around and grabbed a key off one of the hooks on the wall. “It should only last the night. Nightly storms are common for us during this time of year. Here you go, hun.”

“Thank you!” Jake took the key before picking up his bag once more, throwing it over his shoulder.

“If you’re looking to warm up a bit, Kay & Elle, the pub next door, is open for a few more hours,” Vera informed him, fixing her wool cardigan on her shoulders. “A lot of the locals inhabit the place, but we’re friendly folks here. I’m sure they’ll keep you entertained for a bit.”

“Thank you for the suggestion!” Jake pulled his hood back over his head. “Have a good night, Vera.”

She waved him off with a dazzling smile. “Enjoy your short time at Higdon’s Harbour.”

Rain beat down around Jake as the lobby door closed behind him. The sticky air promised an onslaught of thunder and lightning, but it had yet to develop. With a glance at the metal key in his hand, Jake made out a marked 9 engraved at the top. His toes were cold as he quickly made it to the door and inserted the key before pushing the door open and stepping into the musty smelling room.

It was just as drab as the lobby. The double-bed was dressed in off-white coverings. Cream walls, dark carpet, and tacky seaside pictures. Along with two side tables by the bed, a small TV on top of a mini fridge, and a bathroom door on the far wall.

It wasn’t the nicest looking room he’d ever stayed in, but he would also be lying if he said he hadn’t stayed in worse before. 

With a tired and uncomfortable sigh, Jake tossed his bag onto the bed, peeled off his wet coat, and padded off into the bathroom.

He never really thought of going to the pub Vera had mentioned. His only plans that evening consisted of taking a scalding shower before crawling into bed. Maybe watching some TV or reading the book at the bottom of his bag to spice up the night.

Yet, once the two former items on his agenda were checked off, an uneasiness fell over him. Neither the TV nor his book could hold his attention. The bedsheets itched his legs. His heart thumped in his chest, just fast enough to be noticeable. He couldn’t sit still.

Lightning flashed outside and Jake’s head whipped in the direction of the window. The pub came into view; the two porch lights twinkled in the dark and laughter sounded in time to the pounding storm. It shimmered in the lightning’s afterglow, the rain creating a silver mist of magic around the stone building.

Jake tossed off the sheets and threw on some clothes and his damp jacket. The pull in the pit of his stomach pushed him towards the front door without Jake even really realizing what he was doing. But he chalked it up to boredom and the anxiety of being knocked off his schedule.

He left the warmth of his room behind, almost crashing into a figure as he gently closed his door. An apology was on the tip of his tip tongue when a feeling of nausea washed over him. He felt dizzy, stomach turning. But it was gone between one blink and the next, along with the person. Jake got a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye followed by bells and laughter as the door to room 8 snapped closed. 

The thunderous weather started to overload Jake's senses and the urge to get to the pub was greater. With his head down, the figure fading from his memory, Jake made his way across the parking lot.

A drink or two would kill some time, he thought to himself. At least it would help settle the uneasiness and put him to sleep.

The mist around the pub seemed to glow as Jake drew closer, but he was too busy keeping the rain out of his eyes to pay much mind to it. Warmth shot up his arm as he pushed the door open, a jingle filling the room.

The smell of liquor and smoke tainted with the slight scent of sweat greeted Jake as he stepped over the threshold of Kay & Elle. The low rumble of a banjo filled the space, bouncing off the wooden rafters, mixing with the low mumbles and chuckles of the clusters of people scattered around the room. It wasn’t a full house, but crowded enough given the storm outside.

With his footsteps sounding off the wood floors, Jake made his way to the dark-oak bar. He received a few stares and nods of acknowledgment as he walked by men and women alike, sitting at tables and standing by pool tables. As he walked past, he took in the stone walls, the empty stage in the back, the shimmering yellow lights, and the photos of fishermen, smiling ladies, and vast landscapes littered throughout the walls. 

He took off his jacket, his heart having settled from the moment he entered the pub. Jake wasn’t a man who believed in faith, but in his bones, deep in his marrow, he knew this was where he was meant to be, for whatever reason.

“Well ain’t you a fresh face,” the elder man behind the bar remarked as Jake sat in one of the barstools, just a few seats down from a hunched over figure nursing a glass of whiskey.

Jake placed his wet jaket on the chair beside him as he chuckled. “Hard to be a stranger in this town.”

“Small-town life, my boy. Everyone knows everyone.” The man threw a towel over his shoulder, his dark hair pulled back in a low pony-tail, causing the wrinkles on his slim, tan face to be on full display. His green eyes sparkled in welcome and his smile pulled at the faded scar on his left cheek. “Passing through?”

The dim lights jumped and danced off the many bottles lining the wall behind the bar. A muted glow hugged the bar, the music changing to the beat of a fiddle.

“I am, but the storm took me off the road for the night,” Jake explained.

“You staying at the Beaumont?”

Jake nodded. “The woman, Vera, recommended I stop by for a drink.” 

The words tasted bitter, full of half-truths and false tales. But Jake wasn’t sure why, just as he wasn’t sure how to explain his need to be sitting in the pub at that particular moment.

“That woman,” the elder man chuckled with a shake of his head. “She sends more business this way than any billboard ad ever could. Well, have a drink while you’re here…"

“Jake.”

The music skipped a beat as the fiddle played a harsh note. The air turned bitter and cold. Jake’s limbs urged him to run, screamed that he made a mistake, scolded him for giving his name so willingly. But it was a reflex; the word leaving his lips before he understood what was happening. An impulse came over him, the same one that pulled him to obey the man's demand and order a drink.

No one seemed to notice the odd behaviour, aside from the hunched over figure a few seats down. His depthless brown eyes flashed to Jake, grey hair falling across his pale, sweaty forehead. There was a look of pain and madness in those eyes. Jake opened his mouth to say something when a draft of beer appeared in front of him. And suddenly he couldn’t remember why his limbs felt tense or why there was a cold sweat on the back on his neck.

“Nice to meet ya, Jake,” the bartender smiled with a gleam in his bottle-green eyes. “Name’s Murphy.” 

“Likewise,” Jake raised his drink before bringing the glass to his lips, downing half of it in a few gulps.

The hunched man tipped back the last of his whiskey, slamming the glass hard on the bartop.

“Murphy,” he spoke in a husky voice, like the sound of asphalt and gravel.

A flash of irritation, with just a hint of sadness, came over Murphy's face. He didn’t say a word as he quickly prepared another glass, sliding it gently in front of the stranger.

“Take it easy, Harold. That’s your third now.”

Harold grunted, shooting back half the glass without a word.

Murphy sighed, every other emotion but worry washing from his face for the smallest moment, before he turned back to Jake with a smile on his lips.

“So, where were you headed before the rain knocked you off track?”

After another smaller sip of beer, Jake explained his mountain travel plans and his desire to reach the great peak that waited for him at the end.

“Good on ya. Do it all now while you’re still young and can move about,” Murphy said with a chuckle. “This a solo trip? Or are you with someone special? Perhaps they’re waiting for you back in your room?”

“No,” Jake chuckled, ignoring the grunt of clear annoyance from the man a few seats down from him. “Just me.”

A glimmer appeared in the old man's eye. “So no one speical then? No sweetheart waiting for ya?”

Glass rattled as Harold slammed his empty drink back down on the bar.

Jake cast a sideways glance at the stranger. Restlessness rushed through him as he slowly sat up straighter. Tension gripped his limbs as Harold turned to look at him. Those unnaturally dark eyes shined with intensity. They held so much knowledge, so much pain, so much fury that Jake couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t waste your time with such things, boy,” Harold grumbled, voice rough and firm. His brows were pulled together so tight they were touching, as the bar cast his face in shadows of back and grey. “Love is pointless.”

He said the word love with such hatred, Jake felt as if the stone structure surrounding them would cave in and collapse. 

Murphy, for his part, looked just as on edge. It was a fact that did little to calm Jake's sudden nervousness. 

“Harold,” he sighed. “Let’s take a moment-”

“There is one thing that is certain when it comes to love,” Harold continued, eyes gazing unblinkingly at Jake. “It is nothing but pain. Love is made up of pain and heartbreak and bitter ends. It is a useless and pointless part of the whole damn human existence.”

A hush fell over the bar, as if even the other guests could sense the mood Harold had brought about. The upbeat tone of the fiddle suddenly switched to a soulless wail. . A shiver ran up Jake’s spine and he begged his body to turn away, to dismiss the man and be done with it. But he couldn’t. His unmerciful gaze pulled him in and suddenly Jake was drowning in the scent of liquor and smoke and dead leaves and depthless seas. 

“You fight so hard." Harold gripped his glass, and a crack started to appear. “You fight with all you have and give yourself completely and it's no good. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is good enough. Love is about fighting a losing battle and in the end, only one person suffers the consequences. And it's usually the one who fought the hardest.”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was firm, loud, booming over the music as Jake jumped back in his seat. He didn’t realize how intently he’d been listening to Harold. How he was hanging on to every word like it was air. Or how, while talking to the terrifying man, for the first time since entering the town, Higdon’s Harbour glowed with colour.

An angry, remorseless, pulsating red colour.

Harold held Jake's gaze for a moment longer, intense eyes cast in complete shadow, before turning back to the bar.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jake found himself saying, voice shaking more than he'd like to admit. He didn’t mean to speak, the words simply rushed out of him with an aftertaste of smoke. 

Clearing his throat, Jake downed the last of his beer before pushing the glass towards Murphy for a refill.

A hush fell around them for just a few moments, the tension already starting to subside. Jake felt his shoulders drop as he slowly sipped his beer and Murphy slid Harold a glass of water. After some small talk with the old bartender, Jake felt himself able to breathe once more. His body started to relax, the fog lifting from his head. He was breaking the surface and forgetting all about the darkness of the ocean and the murdered limbs of the trees on the forest floor.

While on his third drink, Murphy started to get busy with the other parties of the bar. Tables started to ask for refills, and drenched couples walked through the door, the wind roaring behind them. He drifted more and more between the bar and the tables. And it was about that time that Jake decided he would soon be calling it a night.

“You shouldn’t have stopped, boy.”

Ice crawled up Jake’s spine at the sound of that sandpaper voice. Murphy was off to some seemingly remote corner of the bar. Jake couldn’t help but notice that every new body who walked in stayed far away from the bar, from him, and from Harold.

Jake gripped the tall draft in his hand, foam and condensation running through his numb fingers. 

He turned to face Harold, those black soulless eyes dragging him into the abyss. He was in a freefall, too much rushed through him all at once. A thumping started at his left temple and his heart dropped to his stomach as he fell and fell and fell from the bowels of the sky through the open arms of the corpse-like trees.

“You shouldn’t have stopped,” Harold spat, teeth clenched and head hung low. “You should get out of this cursed town before they get you too. They know you’re here. They knew you’d be here before you knew you’d be here. They got to the rest of this damned town. They got her. Get out before they get you too, boy.”

Fear rooted Jake in place. Fear for what, he couldn’t tell. But in the back of his mind, in the depth of his soul, he knew Harold was right. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have stopped. Yet, the thought of leaving caused his heart to clench and spots to form behind his eyes. Without his control, he found his lips forming the words - 

“Who are they?”

The lights flickered with the time of the thunder clashing outside. The fiddle faded out and the haunting strings of a violin floated through the room, accompanied by a soulful woman's wail.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t provoke this man. He should just pay his tab, get up, and leave. But it was unexplainable, much like the whole night had been. He simply couldn’t help himself.

Harold completely turned to Jake. The harsh lines on his face caught the glow of the dim lights. His eyes burned with unattainable wisdom and passion. Jake's heart started to race, limbs locking into place as he noticed the music slowed. Along with, somehow, every other body and soul in the bar. A haze filled the room, a mist blurring and engulfing everything that was not Jake and was not Harold. Even the storm seemed to hush, with only the woman's cry continuing on.

“Let me tell you a story, son.” Harold’s voice turned mystical, the words floating in the air between the two. “Cause I’ve lost my friends, my family, this whole damn town, and yet no one will believe me. They think I’m a nut-case, a man full of grief. But I ain’t, you hear? And maybe you’ll believe me. Maybe you won’t. But they took my wife-”

“Your wife is missing?”

Jake’s pulse jumped as Harold leaned in close, his blood-shot eyes burning crimson red. “For years now. Cause they took her.”

“They?” Jake repeated, feeling physically ill.

Harold nodded. “The fairies.”

He should have laughed. He should have backed off. His mind should have been yelling at him that the man was senile, crazy, insane. He should have bid him goodbye, called over Murphy, and been done with this place, this man. This man who was staring at him with all the earnestness in the world.

Fairies.

The word danced around in his head, bells and whistles suddenly joining in with the escalating violin. Suddenly, the whole town made all the sense in the world and yet, none at all.

“Fairies?” Jake spoke slow and steady. “They’re just folklore. A myth.”

Even as he said it, the words turned to dust on his tongue. He wanted to wash the taste out with his beer, but found he genuinely couldn’t move. 

“The Harbour Fairies,” Harold whispered. “Nasty creatures. And if you believe they’re just a myth, you’re as foolish as the rest of them. If you believe there isn’t more to this world, that we’re the only beings here, you’re blin. These aren’t just some little buggers who pick your berries and sprinkle dust. They are savage, mischievous demons.”

Jake started to shake his head, mostly to clear the fog that had started to form. “I don’t-”

“We here grew up wearing our clothes inside out and carrying bread in our pockets to stop the little people from leading us astray,” Harold spoke with more urgency than Jake had heard all night, “But little good it did. Everyone was blinded by what was right in front of them. These creatures play tricks. Oh, they love tricks. And not the fun kind. No, the kind that leads you over a cliff or dead at the bottom of the sea. They are unpredictable forces of nature who lead you in the woods, and suddenly you're never heard of again.”

“And they got your wife.”

“They stole her,” Harold spat the words into the air. His gaze flicked towards the red-head who walked past them, beer in hand, before he spoke again. “They took her from me. Everyone here believes she ran away, but I know. I caught them you see, I saw it with my own two eyes. One day she was in the garden, the next…”

… she walked into the woods, never to be seen again. Jake knew because he saw it himself. He watched it play out in Harold’s aged eyes. And suddenly he was inserted into a story that was not his. He didn’t feel right; too tight in his skin, eyes unable to properly focus on the greys, blacks, and whites of the world. But he still watched.

A grass-stained seven year old boy cradled the arm of a pretty girl with messy blonde hair. They sat in a treehouse, feet dangling over the edge, kicking at the clouds. The girl had tear-tracks running down her cheeks and dead flowers stuck in her hair. She was biting her lip, nodding as the boy spoke.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” he whispered sternly.

“I didn’t mean to,” her lips trembled, gaze moving to anything but the boy before her. “It wasn’t my fault.”

The boy shook his head as he ran his hand over the forming bruise. “You gotta be more careful Cathy. What if something were to happen to ya?”

“Then let's get out of this town, Harry,” a seventeen-year old girl twirled in the headlights of an old pick-up truck. The waves crashed against the shore in the distance, the sun tenderly kissing the horizon goodbye. The girl’s blonde, messy braids whipped around her shoulder, dress bunched at her ankles. She stood before a brown haired boy, grass-stains on his jeans, leaning against the red truck. “Let’s pack up and leave after graduation next week.”

“And go where, Cathy?” The boy shook his head. “I have a job lined up on the boat and you have-”

“Nothing! I have nothing!” She threw her hands in the air. “I ain’t got nothing lined up. Just my next shift at the diner. I want to go to school, you know I do. But papa-”

“Don’t worry about your father,” the boy grabbed at the girls skirts, pulling her so close their hips touched. “I told you, I’ll protect you from your papa.”

The girl bit her lips, forest green eyes glancing over the boy's shoulder. Her face was tender but the look of caution never left. As if she wanted to believe the boy holding her but her heart refused to pay heed. “Promise?”

“I do.”

Applause thundered across the crowd, the waves beating against the rocky cliffs. The man lifted the woman's veil, tucking a piece of messy blonde hair behind her ear before gripping the back of her neck. He leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. Whistles and wails filled the air, a screaming violin starting to play as the newly-weds walked down the aisle.

She held on her husband’s arm like a life-line, biting her lip as her father clapped the bride-groom on the shoulder. Her eyes darted around the crowd, the same look of caution from five years ago still masked her face.

It was a look that never left her face, a look that was forever present in the back on her eyes. It was the only thought Jake found he was able to form; the look of a woman who was scared. The look of a woman who was holding a secret.

And maybe she was, for that look stayed with her for all the years to come, Jake noticed. He watched Harold's and Catherine’s life play out before him, just as Harold described. The twenty plus years together. The moments of tender love, the moments of bitter fights. The squealing laughter and howling sobs. The funerals and the weddings, The slamming bottles and doors leading to nights together and alone. It wasn’t the best marriage, but what marriage is, Harold said.

They never had kids, their life centred around just the two of them, their fading love and the growing tension. Every second leading up to that moment, in a garden of muted yellows, reds, and oranges.

Flowers in her messy hair, a near fifty year old Catherine knelt before a bed of dirt. Sunglasses covered her eyes, dirt stained her knees, finger nails, and cheeks. She was silent as she worked.

A door slammed in the distance. “Catherine!”

The tension became electricity in the air. Catherine’s head snapped up as footsteps made their way to the backyard.

Jake noticed it at the exact moment she did. The wind switched directions, bells jingled off the tree tops, mystical laughter floated out from the forest on the other side of the garden.

Catherine turned slowly. The flower fell out of her hair. She tossed the sunglasses onto the ground and her bruised, deep green eyes glowed against the muted world. She walked towards the tree line, footfalls light. Laughter bubbled past her own lips and, between one step and the next, she was gone.

“... the forest swallowed her up and I knew they got to her.”

Jack was back in the bar. Everything rested as it had, and he himself wasn’t even sure if what he had just witnessed was real. Surely not, but the description and details felt real, tangible. As if, for a moment, he truly stood in Harold's memories.

“The forest was the only way out,” Harold’s eyes were wide, urgent, and the brightest things in the whole bar. “It was either through the house or the forest. And she’d been acting out for years. Always in the garden, out on her own. They got her, it's the only answer. But,” a pause, eyes shifting. “I know where she is.”

Jake swallowed, throat dry as sandpaper. “You do?” 

“An island just a few miles out in sea. A rocky cliff, that's where they stay,” Harold nodded, talking more to himself than Jake. “She's there, with them. I’m taking my boat out tomorrow morning. I’m going to get her and-”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was enough to make Jake jump back. He never noticed how close he had been leaning towards the old man. Just as he never realized how tightly he was holding his warm, untouched third glass of beer. He pulled his hand back, wiping it on his jeans as the pulsing in his left temple grew stronger. 

As he looked around the pub, Jake took in all the faces looking his way. Eyes bounced between him and Harold, whispers and murmurs accompanying the flute and violin pair. It was only when Murphy loudly, purposely, cleared his throat that the inhabitants of the bar started to look as if they weren’t listening. 

“Harold,” Murphy spoke softly, placing a hand on Harold’s tense shoulder. “I think it's time to head home, friend.”

There was a fight in Harold’s eyes, Jake could see it. That bloodshot, haunting, soulless gaze held a fire and life to them, ignited by the hatred for creatures that couldn’t exist. But the moment Murphy spoke, the moment Harold looked around the pub and saw all the eyes on him, the fire vashined. It was as quick as releasing a breath, there one minute and gone the next. 

Harold held Jake’s gaze. There was still so much left unsaid, unanswered, and Jake found he didn’t want him to go. His mind and soul craved to know more about fairies and their secret world.

A laughter echoed off the rafters, and Jake realized for the first time that night how terrified and exposed he truly was.

“Tomorrow morning,” Harold grunted as he stood, the invitation loud and clear. Jake didn’t understand why Harold was inviting him along but it somehow made all the sense in the world.

With no other parting words, with not so much as a glance at any other living soul in the pub, Harold walked out. Back hunched as he disappeared over the threshold, rain and wind howling as they swallowed him whole.

A hush carried on throughout the pub for a few heartbeats. Until the flute faded back into the plucking of a guitar. Someone cheered, laughter followed, and soon the lively atmosphere of the bar was back once more. As if the haunted man with an implausible story wasn’t present a few moments before.

“Is it true?” Jake found himself asking, tongue sliding across his chapped lips. He turned in his chair, facing Murphy, who now stood behind the bar. He hoped his shaking hand wasn't noticeable as he raised his beer to his lips. “About those… about the fairies.”

The word tasted like strawberries and metal on his lips.

Murphy glanced up for the glass he was cleaning, scar strained across his cheek as he pursed his lips. “They’re urban folktales. Myths passed down through all the generations of the Harbour.”

“And his wife?”

Murphy paused. He let out a sign, placed the glass under the bar before turning to Jake. Worry and concern shinned in his eyes.

“She left him,” he explained softly, mindful of the ears around. “Packed up and left, just like that.”

“Just like that?” Jake raised an eyebrow at Murphy’s hesitation.

“There were… rumours about cheating and drunken fights but…” Murphy took a breath, crossing his arms on the bartop as he leaned in close. “Look, Harry's a good guy, difficult but good. Our families know each other well. And Cathy… well she had a hard life with her father. She wasn’t all there before she left and Harold took it hard. He still won't get help and has himself convinced the Harbour Fairies are behind it. Says he’s seen things with his own eyes that explains it.”

Jake swallowed, leg bouncing restlessly. “He’s going out tomorrow morning-” 

“Yeah,” Murphy nodded solemnly. “We’ve tried to stop him, talk sense. But he won’t listen. And he’s at the age and point now where we've given up - what can ya do.”

A lot. Jake glanced around the pub, taking in the numerous people laughing, chatting, drinking. He didn’t know these people, he shouldn’t judge, but they could be doing something to help that man. He may be talking crazy but… was he? 

The more Jake studied the bar, the more it felt like a fog was lifting. The pieces were falling into place. The math was suddenly starting to make sense. And Jake refused to acknowledge the answers that were before him.

“Where is she then?” Jake asked, breathing through his nose to calm his racing heart. “His wife. Catherine.”

“No one knows,” Murphy admitted. “She got out of this town, that's for sure. And no one has heard from her since.”

“No one checks in?” Jake couldn’t hide the disbelief from his voice. “No one’s tried to find out where she is or what happened.”

Murphy watched Jake for an uncomfortable moment. His eyes looked him over, mouth twisting as if to say something. But then his lips shut, he blinked, and he shrugged before pointing to the still full glass in front of Jake. “You want another?”

Jake's breath caught in his throat. Claws bit into his spine. His skin felt too tight as a breeze brushed the back of his neck, red flashing in his vision. The room was too small and too big all at once. He didn’t know why he was feeling such a way or what had brought it on. But his gut knew it was because of this town.

And he knew he wanted to get out.

The door to the pub shut as a couple walked out, but the noise still rattled against Jake’s bones as he shook his head.

“No,” he stood up, hand shaking as he pulled out some bills and tossed them on the bar. “I think I’ll call it a night actually.”

Murphy picked up the money, either not noticing the odd behaviour or choosing to ignore it as he smiled. “Well, Mr. Jake, I hope you enjoy the rest of your short stay. Maybe someday we’ll get to see you passing through the Harbour again.”

“Who knows,” Jake gave a nervous chuckle, “It seems anything is possible.”

He left the pub in shambles. The smell of ashes and fowl fish followed Jake as he made his way to the door. Tables were knocked off centre, chairs were tipped over. The banjo played too loud and slightly off key. Men and women alike stumbled over one another, drinks spilled onto the floor. Even Murphy’s slicked back pony was a mess, falling into his dark, sweat covered face.

The illusion was breaking, the corners being pulled back to show something ugly and monstrous. Something those who inhabited Higdon’s Harbour refused to acknowledge.

Jake stepped over the threshold, blood pounding through his veins. He welcomed the rain beating down on his face, the wind biting through his damp jacket and nipping at his icy skin. The door to Kay & Elle closed with a thunderous bang. The banjo and hysterical laughter was replaced by sorrowful wind and wailing rain.

He stood there for a moment, face turned towards the sky as he tried to will air into his lungs. 

He needed to get out of this town.

Whatever force pulled Jake towards the pub earlier was controlled by a demon. He didn’t know what purpose it served him, to hear about Harold and the fairies… fairies that shouldn’t, didn’t, couldn’t exist…

Someone squealed and giggled across the parking lot. With a jump, heart in his throat, Jake started to make his way back to the safety of his room.

And he was almost there, just a mere few steps away, when his body suddenly felt as if it were stretched too thin. Nausea overcame him and his head spun. The rain pierced his skin like devilish needles and the wind sang a woman's lullaby in his ear. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, thunder crashing as someone bumped into his shoulder.

It was an innocent tap, the woman clearly too captivated by the lady on her arm to notice him. But it did all the damage in the world.

“Oh!” She gasped, the sound like a thousand bells. She grabbed his arm, full-lips pulled back in an apologetic smile as all the air vanished from Jake's chest. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn't breath, the pulsing in his left temple was suddenly magnified by ten. The warmth of her hand on his arm spread through his whole body. He no longer felt the wind and rain beating against him, he was too allured by her auburn curls, high-cheekbones, and hazel eyes that glistened like moss coated in morning dew. 

She was the most hauntingly beautiful creature he had ever beheld. And every part of his being begged him to run.

“Are you okay, Jake?” Her partner spoke up. They were holding one another so close, arms locked tight, it was as if they were one. Gravity pulled them together; where one moved the other followed. A simple stranger such as himself could not doubt their adoration and love.

Jake ripped his gaze away from the red-headed woman and looked at her partner. He took in her slim face, the dirty dress, and messy blonde hair pinned back with a flower.

It was then that Jake noticed that both women were completely dry.

It was then that Jake realized they knew his name.

It was then that his eyes met the blonde’s green ones, and he saw it all.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” a seven year old boy with grass stains on his knees told the six year old girl with a bruised arm.

“I didn’t mean to,” she trembled, and Jake realized she wasn’t avoiding the boys gaze. She was looking at someone else. She was looking at the young auburn haired creature standing a few feet away, invisible to the boy and eyes tense with worry. “It wasn't my fault.”

Be more careful, the boy told her at the exact moment the creature met the girl's gaze and said, I know. I’ll protect you.

“I told you,” said a seventeen year old boy as he gripped a sixteenth year old's skirts. “I’ll protect you from your papa.”

You know he can’t, Cathy, The auburn creature said, standing over the boy's shoulder as she held the girl’s green-eyed gaze. I’ll protect you from them both.

The blonde trembled. “Promise?” 

With all the power of the forest and the sea. I promise.

She was there, always there. She did all she could to keep her promise. But it seemed even she was limited in her abilities.

Jake watched Harold and Catherine's life play out once more. As the twenty plus years faded together, the moments of tender love vanished. The fights were more frequent, more aggressive than Harold let on. He stumbled home in the dark more than once, eyes bloodshot and words slurred. There were many years of fights and screams. Fists were thrown and bones were broken. And the red-head was there through it all, helping as best as she could. She cared for Cathy, tried to protect her, but it wasn’t enough.

Run away with me, Cathy. It's the only way.

And run she did.

It wasn’t a laugh that called Catherine to the forest that day in the garden as Harold’s raging voice bellowed off the walls of the house. No, it was not a laugh at all, but her name, spoken in bells and chimes, love and warmth.

Catherine stepped over the threshold of the forest, laughter on her lips, as she jumped into the arms of the beautiful red-headed fairy.

She didn’t leave, wasn’t taken. She willingly left her delusional old life for one of magic and wonder and respect.

Jake stumbled back a step, shaking off the hand of the creature before him. His head was spinning, his stomach turned and his vision blurred as he truly saw the two ladies before him. As he noticed the glow around them, the electricity that danced in their wake. 

This town, these people… how could anyone let a woman suffer as Catherine did and not do anything? How could they not see what was right in front of them?

And these creatures, the fairies, Harold painted them as the demons and yet, this fairy was Catherine’s saving grace, her lover, her protector...

They shared a look, the two lovers, before turning back to him. They didn’t say another word as the fairy smiled at Jake, white teeth flashing, and blew him a kiss. They turned to leave, Catherine giving him a wink over her shoulder, before disappearing into their hotel room. Right next door to his.

Jake stumbled as fast as he could to his room, slamming the door behind him as he tried to catch his breath and will his mind to understand what the hell was going on.

It took him a few moments to realize, for the first time all night, he was completely dry.  

----------

Light had yet to transform the morning sky when Jake sped out of the Beaumont Motel parking lot. The rain had stopped and the winds were whisked away. Grey clouds lingered in the sky, suffocating the rising sun on the horizon. 

What was once a piece of art to Jake was now the ugliest thing he had ever seen. 

The mountain reached its claws to the sky, holding all the trees and buildings in the palm of its hand. The roads swerved in and out of its fingers, weather-worn homes running up the forest-speckled hills, trying to escape. The ocean leaped for joy as it played with the rocky cliffs, trying to capture and destroy anything it could reach. The boats bobbed in the water, begging to be let free, while the docks pointed their fingers to the open sea, luring in any desperate and lonely souls to the corrupt town. 

The ocean was painted an angry blue against the grey light. The white-capped waves pounded against anything in their way. What Jake once thought was a place of harmony, he realized now, was an illusion.

The image had been shattered, broken beyond repair.

The land had won after all, he realized now. It had conquered Higdon’s Harbour and all within it. There was no agreement, no compromise to live in peace. For nothing could truly defeat nature.

The land cackled against the last remains of the raging storm winds. For it knew the game it was playing; it knew who truly ruled the town. And it was not man.

Jake made it out before the first kitchen light flickered on. Before the inhabitants of Higdon’s Harbour woke and started about their delusional lives. His heart pounded in his chest the whole way, hands shaking as they gripped his steering wheel. Even when he passed the city line, his body refused to relax. Not as the sound of chimes echoed on and on and on in his head.

By the time Jake remembered Harold, he was long gone. And he was too far out to turn back. Too far out to hear the news, or see the headline of the Higdon’s Harbour newspaper that morning. And to hear the otherworldly laugh that accompanied it.

Man Crashes Boat Off Rocky Cliffs In Desperate Search Of His Wife.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Where We Belong

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Amongst all the lavish luxuries at his parents estate, there’s one place Draco feels he truly belongs.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of the war, brief mentions of alcohol, slight angst, fluff, kissing

The ballroom was decorated floor to ceiling in only the most expensive of luxuries, down to the very goblet in Draco’s hand, encrusted with crystals amongst pure gold. Malfoy events were never modest in the slightest, anything borderline simple would never suffice. A pianist sat in the far corner, though the instrument’s melody had traveled across the entirety of the grand room. He should know, he’s spent years dancing his fingers over the sleek ivory keys when his father wasn’t around to scold him for it. 

Dozens of conversations mingled in the space, ones he could only assume didn’t hold any true meaning. They were his parents acquaintances after all, they never had much more to talk about other than their estates and business dealings. He felt rather grateful he hadn’t been subjected to talk about such things, for he’d gone a different way with his life. One that was better suited for him. He doesn’t feel as though they’d be interested in the subject of healing sick and injured people with magic; if his father frowned upon his career choice surely they would too. But that wasn’t of importance to him now, not really, he had better things to concern himself with.

Perhaps the most enamoring part of this evening was you. Well, it was most definitely you. Granted, he’d wished that you weren’t as much of a socialite for just this evening, because he’d much rather be with you than stand along the same gray wall sipping his wine. He’d been doing that all night but still he settled for admiring you nonetheless, he could never tire of that.

You were singlehandedly the best thing to happen to him and he’d say that with absolute certainty. You knew him when he was a boy who made all the wrong choices, and you know him now as a man trying to make better of them as best he can. He felt he had many flaws for you to overlook, all of which you did in fact set aside because you couldn’t hold him to his mistakes forever. You’ve shown him love when he had none, and for that he was forever grateful.

You had been weaving in and out of clusters of forest green dresses and pristine black suits, attempting to hold a conversation as best you could. It was proving to be rather difficult because you didn’t revel in overly expensive mansions and finely manicured gardens; you reveled in your cozy cottage with imperfectly perfect flowerbeds and old wooden shelves crammed with worn books. So, you felt it best to keep it moving throughout the room in hopes someone would say something of interest. With the war having been concluded, there was no looming threat over your head to hide your relationship with the Malfoy heir, but a small part of you had still wanted be on good standing with everyone. However, it seemed as though your efforts may have been futile the more you spoke.

Narcissa adored you, and that was good enough for you.

Your eyes eventually landed on Draco’s in your periodic scan around the large room, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you sigh. You were tired of being social, you had done more than your fair share for the evening. He’d been eying you ever since you left his arms just short of an hour ago, it wasn’t hard to notice after all. After being discreet in his admiring all these years, he no longer cared about being obvious.

“Here I thought you’d abandoned me, love,” Draco says, feigning hurt as you take the goblet from his hand and set it down on a nearby table.

“Now why would I do that?” 

A smile was quick to grace his lips as he looked down at you, a chunk of his icy hair dipping into his eyes at the action. His mother had scolded him for ignoring her wishes on cutting his hair for this event, even just a trim or to simply slick it back, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. You liked it like that anyways.

“You look beautiful, you know,” he murmurs in your ear, dropping a sweet kiss just below it. A familiar heat began to burn in your cheeks as his lips ghost over your skin.

“I believe you’ve told me that quite a few times,” you smile, a laugh leaving your lips when he nipped the lobe of your ear in a playful response to your teasing. You quieted when it drew a few stares that were just as quickly averted.

“I mean it,” he sighs, his hands squeezing yours.

A deeper blush stains your cheeks and you will yourself to look away from him momentarily, the bout of jovial laughter ringing through the room giving the perfect excuse to do just that. Draco was growing tired of the bustling atmosphere, though he supposes he had been even since the two of you had arrived at the Manor. Elegant parties were no longer something he particularly enjoyed, only tolerable in small doses. He was tired of sharing your attention; he’d wanted you all to himself and didn’t find it in him to care if he was being selfish.

You turned back to him, the fondness of his gaze still very much there and you can’t help but lean on your toes and kiss him softly. The tender action seemed to have solidified his ideas, ones he’d pondered the entirety of the night and he found himself nodding towards the double doors without second thought. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth in a wordless agreement, and his hand is quick to envelop yours fully as he gives the room one final glance before tugging you along.

The halls were nearly vacant as you hurried through them with a practiced ease, his hand never leaving yours. Smiles were fought to be contained as you passed by a few staggered guests, sharing an adoring gaze as he tightened his grip on your hand. The only sounds to be heard were the giddy laughter leaving your lips, mingled with the fading commotion of the crowded ballroom and of course the clicking of your heels. The two of you disappeared around a corner, apparating to the only place you’d wanted to be that night, home.

—

The change of scenery was much needed, and very contrasting at that, your home far warmer and welcoming than the Manor could ever be. The scent of cinnamon and sugar was immediate upon walking through the door, a warm glow of miscellaneous lamps illuminating every room. Every shadow seemed far less mysterious and cold, the feeling of prying eyes within them no longer present. It was refreshingly quiet save for the pattering of the rain outside and the ticking of a few clocks, it was serene and it was home. No bad memories were housed here, and hostility was not welcome if you could help it. There had been enough sorrow and guilt in Draco’s not-so-distant past to last a lifetime or two, and he didn’t want it to tarnish your home. It was peaceful and it was shared with the love of your life.

“Are you ready, darling?” Draco calls out from the bottom of the stairs.

You appear at the very top with a smile on your face, Draco’s soon to follow as you made your way down the creaky wooden steps to him. It was tradition; after ever ball, every party, every fancy dinner at his parents estate—you would always come home to enjoy a night alone, away from elegant luxury, and away from the need to be proper. For an event like this in particular, it was always customary to share a dance.

Draco’s pristine black suit was discarded in favor of his plaid pajama pants, his hair a ruffled mess of platinum from apparating in the rain. Your silky gray dress had since been abandoned in a crumpled pile on the bedroom floor, his old quidditch sweater hanging comfortably from your shoulders in heaps of tattered deep green yarn. He hadn’t worn the thing since sixth year, but you had always taken a liking to it so he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

“I’d argue that you look even more handsome right now,” you state.

“And here I thought you liked my signature suit,” he scoffs in faux offense as you join him at the bottom of the stairs, a bright smile on your lips.

It was true, he was always dashing in his rather monochromatic suit, it was impossible for him not to be. But his current attire was much more preferred, he looked much more comfortable. Not so rough around the edges and intimidating, not that you ever considered him to be. He was rather soft under all those layers of defense and angered sorrow even if he didn’t want to admit it.

He offers you his hand in a playfully mocking attempt to be proper, leading you to the living room. It was lit with just about every single candle he could find, the varying scents not necessary mingling very well with one another but the effort was enough to outshine it. The fireplace melted away the nagging chill of the rainy evening, and a single flower was held in your direction. It’s ruffled pink petals dripped with raindrops when you take it, and you laugh softly at the sweetness of the gesture.

“Have you always been so romantic?” You jest, his eyes narrowing at you in a lighthearted glare as you smell the lingering floral smell.

“Only for you, my love,” he says with a soft smile, tugging you close. “Not a word of it to anyone else.”

You laugh at the words quietly spoken against your lips, though you’re quickly cut short when his own meld with yours, his hand settling on your flushed cheek tenderly. His soft sigh tickles against your skin and you couldn’t help the giggle it had elicited, the flower in your hand now fluttering to the floor as you wrap your arms around his neck. He continued his affections across your cheek and over your jaw, your smile never faltering. 

“Is something funny, darling?” 

Amusement laces his tone as his words muffle against your skin, the feeling sending a shiver up your spine and an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat at the single kiss pressed there. He knew that very fact quite well, taking great joy in the effect of such a simple action.

“Yes, actually, there is,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to stave off how flustered you were becoming.

He looks up to meet your gaze, his brow raising as the corner of his mouth quirks up. “Do enlighten me.”

“I believe the tradition is to dance with me, Draco, not kiss me,” you laugh softly.

His hand drops from your cheek and joins his other around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“This is the first moment I’ve got you all to myself, pardon me if I want to kiss you all night,” he quips, his smile fond as he looks at you. “Besides, traditions don’t always have to be set in stone, do they?”

You smile and he kisses you before you can argue his reasoning, though you don’t think you can find a plausible counter for it with the way his breath mingles with yours in the close proximity. He breaks from you too soon with another quick kiss, and you take the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder. 

No music was needed as you swayed about the cozy living room, the candlelight flickering against the sage-colored walls. No music was ever needed when you found yourselves in your own little world as you so often do. A moment alone to dance with you in the privacy of your own home, in the comfort of your pajamas at that, was far better than some elaborate ballroom in ridiculously expensive clothing. It will always be better, for your company would always be enough for Draco no matter the circumstance.

A smile graces his lips as his cheek rests atop your head, and the platinum hair that poked in his eyes and tickled his nose was only a minor inconvenience not worthy of interrupting moment like this. He still wonders how he’d gotten so lucky as to steal your affections, and not a single day goes by where he doesn’t feel fortunate for it. You were wonderful, you were warm, you were radiant, and you were his.

He’d dance a thousand dances with you in this very living room, because this was where the two of you belong.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @lunalovecroft @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

[leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid]

Dirty Motel Sheets

Pairing: Wincest x Reader very bottom!Reader, bottom!Sam, top!Dean

Word Count: 2813

Warnings: All the smut a threesome can ask for! Dirty talk, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, drinking, cursing, and of course Christmas

Summary: Maybe it’s the Southern Comfort in the eggnog but this Christmas just got a little more steamy and incestuous. 

Author’s Note: Happy Christmas my lovelies! It’s been a very long time since I’ve written, let alone posted a fic. But here we are, at the end of the dumpster fire that was 2020 and I bring you this @spnsecretsantaficexchange​ for the lovely host @negans-lucille-tblr​. She took pity on me and let me join her exchange at the last minute. Thank you for that darling. I know I missed the deadline but I hope this is worth it! Beta by the wonderfully talented @kayteonline​

Christmas as a hunter didn't mean much. There was no Christmas tree. No lights, strung garlands, or shiny round ornaments. Presents, if there were any, came from other hunters. A new machete, a jar of dead man's blood, or a new flask to keep holy water.

This Christmas however, came with a gift you'd been fantasizing about since you first heard of the Winchester's. There was always talk of the two handsome men who traveled across the country in their black beauty of an automobile. How they only truly trusted each other and that their love for each other ran pretty deep.

Maybe a little too deep, but the thought of Sam's big hands with his long fingers spreading himself open for big brother Dean sent arousal down your spine. Sure, it was wrong, but damn what you wouldn't give to see if the rumors were true.

"Thanks for helping me out, guys. I don't think I could have taken those ghouls without an extra set of hands." You reached out a hand towards the older Winchester as he stuffed the shotgun holding the trunk open to his Baby down into the trunk.

"Ain't no problem, sweetheart." Dean thrust his hand into yours, "anytime you need help, give us a call." A wink from those piercing green eyes had the breath stolen from your lungs.

"You know, it is Christmas Eve. Maybe you should come on back with us to our motel. Have some eggnog." Sam smiled and brushed his hair behind his ear as he leaned against the roof of the Impala's passenger side door.

Warmth flooded your body at the suggestion and you were quick to nod your acceptance to the invitation.

"Sure, sounds great. I'll be by in about an hour. Wanna wash the ghoul out of my cleavage and you might want to get the blood out of your hair too, Sam."

With a grimace, Sam nodded and climbed into the Impala while Dean walked around to the driver's side. "See ya in a bit, kid."

A little over an hour later you found yourself sandwiched between the Winchester's on the ratty, brown plaid motel couch. Both boys were freshly showered and pouring another round of  drinks. The eggnog was heavy on the bourbon, the good old Southern Comfort settling in your belly, and it wasn't long before a warm buzz was singing through your veins.

“So, I have a question,” you blurted as Dean emptied the last of the spiked drink into his glass.

“Sure, darling. What is it?”

“I’ve been hearing rumors, and I have to know if they’re true. It’s probably not, and if it’s total bullshit just say so and I’ll blame my curiosity on the SoCo.”

Sam smirked, “sounds ominous. What’s the question?”

Licking your lips, you sat up straight closing your eyes to gain courage, or maybe it was just hard to keep them open when you were this drunk. “Do y’all fuck? Cause last time I was in Nebraska, Jo said….”

The sound of Dean sputtering made your eyes snap open. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Dean wiped his mouth and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he cleared his throat before muttering under his breath, “Jo should have kept her big fucking mouth shut.”

A wild grin spread across your face. “So it’s true?” You turned to look at Sam who had been quiet, his face and ears tinted with a rosy hue that you didn’t think was just from the alcohol.

“She walked into something she shouldn’t have. Look, Y/N, you can’t tell anybody. We know what people think and we don’t want it getting in the way of what we do.”

Reaching over, you laid a gentle hand on Sam’s jean covered knee. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m not going to tell anyone.” You peeked over your shoulder at Dean, biting into your bottom lip, “it is hot to know though.”

Dean smirked at your comment and leaned back against the couch, his arm going up and over the back. “You think so, huh? What makes the thought of us, a couple of brothers fucking, turn you on?”

Releasing Sam’s knee, you leaned forward, setting your almost empty glass on the wood coffee table and settled back between the brothers, your hands rubbing along the denim over your thighs. “Where do I even fucking start! You’re both gorgeous, and I’d give my left tit to fuck just one of you. But the thought of your plump lips wrapped around that bulge in Sam’s jeans, his massive hands tangled in your hair as he fucks your throat. Or Sam’s ass in the air, cheeks spread by those long fingers of his while you sink your thick cock into him over and over again. Fuck, the thoughts alone leave my pussy wet and aching.”

Dean leaned in a little close, his hand coming up to lift your chin and tilt your face towards him. “Tell us, sweetheart, do you get off thinking about us? Do you make that ache in your pussy worse, fucking yourself with your fingers while thinking about the cum that leaks out of Sam’s tight hole after I’m done with him?”

Your breathing turned rapid as Dean brushed his lips against yours. “Yes,” you exhaled.

Movement on your other side tried to draw your attention but Dean’s lips were molding against your own, his pink tongue flicking at the seam of your lips until you let him in as Sam curled a hand around your thigh.

A hot breath caressed the curve of your ear, “do you want to join us tonight, Y/N? Stay the night and be filled for Christmas?” Sam’s words were like pure sin in your ear and you moaned into Dean’s mouth as hands started moving across your body.

Deft fingers popped buttons and tugged open clothing, a large hand moving to pull the cup of your bra down to palm at your breast while another snaked into your open jeans, tapping against your clit through wet panties.

It was a blur as Dean's lips on yours became Sam's, his kiss more forceful as he dominated your mouth. Dean's own lips find purchase on your neck, sucking the sensitive skin there while his fingers flicked open your bra.

The hand in your pants rubbed against the wet fabric, your clit throbbing as Sam built you up to almost your breaking point before stopping and pulling away.

He stood from the sofa, offering you a hand which you took rising slowly until you stood at his side. From behind you, Dean grabbed the waist of your undone jeans, pulling them and your wrecked knickers down until they pooled at your feet.

"Go lay on the bed, sweetheart." Dean's words, like a command, swept over you, and when you turned towards the bed it was only then that you realised it was the only one in the room.

"Not much use for two these days," Sam murmured beside you as his large hand came down on the small of your back, giving you a gentle nudge towards the already rumpled and dirty motel sheets.

You went willingly, climbing up along the center until you could rest your head among the dingy pillows.

With you perched and watching, Dean did what came naturally as he stepped up to Sam, shooting you a wink before pulling his baby brother down into a searing kiss.

Tongues tangled and groans of need filled the air as the brothers undressed one another in a synchronized dance they had perfected over the years. Large calloused hands caressing and squeezing as fabric hit the floor and revealed taut skin.

Your eyes were glued to their movements, your hands lightly touching your skin, along your thighs and between your legs, one hand dipping lower to tease your wet opening while the other made lazy circles around your swollen clit.

The squelching sound of your fingers plunging in and out of your drenched cunt drew the brothers attention, Sam, now gloriously exposed to you, stepped away from big brother to crawl up the end of the bed towards your dripping center.

“Such a pretty pussy, it’s been awhile since I’ve tasted that sweetness. Can I taste you, Y/N?” Sam asked, a hunger in his lust blown kaleidoscope eyes.

“Fuck, yes please,” you mewled, withdrawing your hands from your core to clench at the off white sheets below you.

A sly grin rolled around Sam’s lips before he leaned forward, licking a hungry strip between your swollen lips. His tongue wrapping around your clit, pressing hard before moving down to lick at your entrance.

“How’s she taste, Sammy?”

Your heavy lids raised to look over at the eldest Wincester as he stood at the end of the bed, his thick cock in hand as he lazily stroked himself from base to tip.

“So fucking good,” Sam groaned into your cunt, his words adding vibrations to your pulsating clit making tingles of pleasure shoot down all the way to your toes.

Dean stopped touching himself and leaned over to a get something from a duffle bag that was on the floor, a bottle of lube popping free from a zippered front pouch.

“That’s good, Sammy. Keep licking that sweet, tight pussy. Get her nice and ready to take your huge dick.” Dean clicked open the lid to the lube, slicking his fingers as he stepped closer to Sam kneeling between your thighs. “It’s been a couple years since I’ve let Sammy have someone’s cunt wrapped around his beautiful cock. It’s been all mine since he came back out on the road with me.”

Dean stopped talking and your pussy clenched around Sam’s tongue as Dean held Sam’s left ass cheek open so he could smear the thick wetness on his digits over the taut opening of Sam’s asshole. Slowly, Dean sank a finger in, letting the tight rim of his baby brother’s hole stretch to let him in.

“Finger that pussy open while I get you ready, Sammy.”

With a whimper Sam obliged, inserting first one and then two fingers into your greedy cunt, rocking them in and out slowly, matching the pace of the fingers in his own ass.

Desire wracked your body, clit pulsing as your cunt squeezed around Sam’s fingers, his lips and tongue focusing all their attention on your sensitive nub.

“Make her cum, Sammy. Cum all over his fingers and tongue, Y/N. He’s fucking starving for you to flood his mouth with your juices. Come on, sweetheart. Cum for us.”

Dean’s words as he scissored his fingers inside Sam, sent a spark of white hot pleasure through your body, your toes curling and a wail of delight exhaling from your lungs as you came, Sam lapping happily as you soaked his digits.

“That a girl,” Dean praised.

You came down slowly, Sam slipping his hand free as he cleaned you with his tongue before crawling up your body, Dean withdrawing as well to coat his hard cock in lube.

“Think you’re ready for me, darling?” Sam asked, his mouth taking possession of yours without letting you answer as his thick cockhead rest against your cunt lips.

You moaned against the flavor of pussy that was sparking on your tongue as Sam licked into your mouth.

“I think she’s ready, Sammy. Fuck her, hard. Get her nice and stretched by that fat cock before I start getting antsy and start fucking you.”

Sam’s lips left yours as he sat back just enough to see between your bodies and ran his flared cockhead down between your folds, your clit jumping from overstimulation as he rubbed back and forth before dragging down to your opening.

“Dean’s so impatient sometimes,” Sam murmured as he slowly sank his tip into you. The wide head stretched you open further than his fingers had as a pleasurable burn rippled through your core.

Your eyes fluttered shut as Sam pushed his way into your body, settling to let you adjust as he rained kisses over your chest his lips, tongue and teeth greeting your neglected nipples for the first time tonight.

Sam hummed to himself as he ravaged your chest before pulling away with an audible pop to look at you. “Y/N?”  He waited until your eyes opened to continue. “I’m gonna start moving now. If that’s alright.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please fucking move before I fucking explode. Need you to fuck me with that huge cock, Sam.”

Dean barked a laugh, “she’s desperate for it, baby brother. Give it to her.”

Sam smiled that boyish grin of his before pulling his hips back and slamming back in. Knocking the air from your lungs as he started pounding in and out of your dripping core. His cheeks starting to redden with the exertion as sweat beaded along his skin, your arms reaching up to pull him in closer, lips searching out his as your nails dug into his thick shoulders.

Pleasure coursed through your core being stretched and stuffed full like you’d never been before flooding your brain with endorphins. Ragged breaths fell from your lips, mirrored by Sam’s own until Dean stepped forward and laid a solitary hand on the small of Sam’s back, just above the curve of his plump ass.

“Hold on for a second, Sammy,” he whispered, resting a knee on the mattress as he pulled his hand down over the curve to hold Sam open again.

Sam’s eyes were on yours as he breathed slowly above you, his bottom lip drawn up between his teeth in anticipation of what was coming next.

You smoothed your left hand down his sweaty back, until you reached his buttocks, grabbing a handful before pulling the other side open for his big brother. “Fuck him, Dean.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, his head lolling forward, his eyes shutting briefly at your words as he thumbed his flared tip down and slowly pushed at Sam’s rim.

The brother gave a grunt in unison, and you couldn’t help clenching around Sam’s throbbing erection still inside you.

“Please don’t do that, Y/N. I’ll fucking cum and I don’t wanna ruin this,” Sam groaned, his voice strained as Dean settled deep inside him.

“Sorry,” you giggled before having it punched out of you by Dean as he thrust forward into Sam as hard as he could, sending his baby brother deeper inside you until his cock rest against your cervix.

“Holy fuck,” you yelped in pleasurable surprise.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” Dean said just as he started pumping over and over into Sam, sending the younger Winchester into a rhythm that let him fuck you in turn just as hard.

Grunts, groans, whimpers and mewls of pleasure filled the motel space. Outside the air was freezing, but inside it was hot and smelled of sex; dripping wet cunt, sweat, and lubricant.

“I can’t, Dean. I’m gonna fucking cum.” Sam whined as Dean hammered into his prostate and your pussy fluttered around him, your own orgasm building quickly.

“Try, Sammy. Want us all to cum together.”

But he couldn’t do it. The stimulation rippling through his body, your wet pussy squeezing him tight and Dean rocking into him hard enough for the headboard to be hitting the wall was just too much. Sam ducked his head into your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as a dull roar left his lips. His cock pulsed against your walls, filling you to the brim with his cum.

The squelch of his white mess dripped out around his cock and onto the bed as the three of you kept moving, Dean using all he had to stave off his release in favor of yours.

“Gonna cum on that dick, Y/N? Squeeze out any bit of cum my sweet baby brother’s got left?”

The rasp of Dean’s words traveled straight to your clit, as did Sam’s fingers and your world exploded into a world of bright white, blood rushing to your ears and leaving you deaf as Dean too grunted out he was gonna cum.

The three of you were a bunch of tangled and sweaty limbs, each panting and covered in each other's white, sticky juices.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Dean announced as he pulled out and dropped onto his back beside you on the bed.

A whimper at the loss leaving Sam’s pink lips as he too untangled himself from your core and laid on the vacant side of you.

Cum dripped between your thighs and out of Sam’s asshole onto the motel’s grimy off white sheets, leaving them a little dirtier after witnessing your Christmas sins.

“Merry Christmas indeed,” Sam sighed before promptly falling asleep, exhaustion taking over as you giggled between the brother’s.

Christmas as a hunter was rough, but this one had turned out to be the best one yet.

[satendou]

⟼ camtime

⍣ 365 days of sun series | previous | next

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⇢ pairing: iwaizumi/reader/oikawa

⇢ au: 365!au, poly!au, college!au, pro!oikawa

⇢ summary: iwaizumi is feeling a bit needy, but oikawa really wants to facetime. the solution?

⇥  masterlist

⇥  requests are open! | rules

⇢ warnings: smut, established relationship, polyamory, camera sex, mild daddy kink, oral, unprotected sex, for the love of god properly clean up after sex

⇢ word count: 3.8k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: i had a thought while i was half asleep. and once again thank you to the loml @keijiskitten​ for torturing herself to beta this for me

Iwaizumi frowned as you sighed for the hundredth time that hour, staring down into the pan of vegetables that you were currently frying. It was pretty clear what was wrong; Oikawa had been gone for three days and the most either of you had gotten was texts saying “I love you” and “Goodnight.”

You jumped as his arms slid around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

“I miss him too,” he murmured, breath tickling your ear.

Your shoulders shook under his chin as you laughed. Oikawa would never see it and Iwaizumi would deny it if you ever mentioned it, but Iwaizumi got extremely *mopey when Oikawa was gone. And he’d never hear the sweet things Iwa had to say about him, like how much he missed him when he was at away games. 

Not that you didn’t tell Oikawa about it; the small smile he’d get when he heard was enough. The not-so-subtle teasing he aimed at Iwaizumi was not worth the amount of flack you got from Iwa afterwards, and you couldn’t stop yourself from spilling it all out to Oikawa. And the affection between the two for days afterwards was enough to make you smile.

“I know. He always does this when he leaves, doesn’t he?” you asked, setting your spatula down and turning in his arms. You wound your arms around his neck and pecked his nose followed by his lips. “But I’m glad you’re here, Haji. I couldn’t deal with the both of you being gone.”

His large hands rubbed up and down your back, holding you close to his chest as he kissed you again. The loud popping of oil at your back brought you back, and you turned around to tend to it again, shivering as Iwaizumi’s lips trailed up your neck and back down again. “I know. You’re so needy.”

Whacking his hand lightly with the spoon in your hand, you laughed. “It’s your own fault. You spoil me too much, and I love it.”

Iwaizumi’s lips moved against your neck as he muttered, “Yeah I bet you do.” He followed that up with a much quieter, “And I love you.”

You almost rolled your eyes, but he said it so sincerely that you couldn’t help the warmth that spread up your neck. It was amusing that he was smooth without even meaning to be, and adorable that he was so reserved in delivering. “Ugh, you’re so cute, Haji.”

He huffed and you could just imagine the eyeroll that nearly took his eyes to the back of his skull. A quick peek gave you an eyeful of his cheeks turned slightly pink. “Shut up.”

His arms disappeared from around you so that he could finish preparing the rice for dinner. You continued to chat about your day until you announced the vegetables were done, and then arms wound around his middle. He could feel you rubbing your face against his shirt between his shoulder blades and he rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Annoying you,” you answered, pausing. “Is it working?”

“I’ve been friends with Oikawa since preschool, and more for years now. You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to annoy me,” he responded, patting your hand as he sighed. As much as he loved Oikawa, that man was infuriating. Loud, boisterous, flirtatious, teasing, and gorgeous. He shifted uncomfortably as the image of Oikawa shirtless flashed through his mind and rolled his eyes. Typical, he couldn’t escape even when he wasn’t around.

“Don’t tempt me,” you said, shoving into him before moving away to plate dinner.

He froze, the image switching from slightly dirty to both you and Oikawa at the same level. Deadpan, he said, “If you ever become like Oikawa I’m breaking up with both of you.”

--

Later that night, just a little while before the two of you would usually go to bed, Oikawa texted you.

‘Facetime, 30 min? <3’

“Doesn’t he know what emojis are?” you asked, peering at Iwaizumi’s screen over his shoulder.

“He thinks that it’s ‘quirky’ to use these instead. We’ll have to use your phone,” he said as he typed his reply back, “so make sure it’s charged. Please,” he tacked on as an afterthought.

Laughing at the way he narrowed his eyes when he realized what he had done, you read Oikawa’s response.

‘KK :)’

“He really is a dork, isn’t he?” you sighed, checking your phone and wincing. 32%.

Iwa watched the sway of your hips as you headed down the hall to plug your phone in, the shape of your ass in the yoga pants you wore keeping every ounce of his attention. And when you walked back, the bounce of your tits in the tight shirt you were wearing drew his eyes again, and he wondered how long Oikawa would want to talk. It had been a few days since you had fooled around, and it was annoying that he wanted to call *tonight, possibly ruining the plans Iwaizumi had already made.

Iwaizumi couldn’t count how many times the both of you checked the time on his phone in the next 30 minutes, barely paying attention to the show you’d been so invested in just a few minutes ago. It would be the first, and probably only, time you would have a chance to talk to Oikawa before he came home in a few days. It was his way of settling his nerves before a game-- he’d call and talk to you until he or the two of you fell asleep. More than once, both of your phones had died when you both accidentally fell asleep, and so you learned to leave it plugged in while you talked.

Iwaizumi’s phone lit up before the thirty minutes were up, like you knew it would. Oikawa was so predictable.

‘Can we do it now? I can’t wait :’(‘

And impatient.

You both laughed and stood up, lacing your fingers together as you headed towards the bedroom. Falling onto the mattress, Iwaizumi snuggled up behind you, fitting himself to your back and curling his arm over your side. Your phone screen lit up when you picked it up and he watched you input your password, navigating to the FaceTime app. Tapping on Oikawa’s name-- ‘Pretty Boy <3’-- it started ringing and he almost instantly picked up.

“Well, there’s my two favorite people in the world,” he said, smiling into the camera. His hair was damp and spread out against his pillow, his shoulders bare. “Sorry I’ve been so quiet. Practice and traveling and--”

“Yeah, yeah, Tooru, we know, you’re busy,” Iwaizumi said, and Oikawa pretended to pout, his eyes carrying a glint of mischief.

The camera jerked as he rolled over onto his side, his bangs falling into his face. “Aw, don’t sound so bitter, Haji. I know you miss me.”

Iwaizumi’s breath puffed against your ear, a sound of exasperation and irritation. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Brattykawa.”

You stifled your laughter with your hand. Iwaizumi had come up with that nickname shortly before the three of you started dating. He was constantly stumbling over his insults, feeling that his old names were too harsh as his feelings developed. It was almost painful, and it was just fortunate that Oikawa was too dense to notice. To both of your surprises, Oikawa didn’t really comment on the sudden stuttering over nicknames and always looked more concerned when it happened. And then one day, he heard you call Oikawa a brat and it just seemed to slip out.

Brattykawa.

It was a name Oikawa wore with pride, and even seemed to relish. The giggle that came through the mic scrunched his nose and proved your point as you smiled with him, feeling Iwaizumi’s lips curl up against your skin. His fingers were tracing light patterns on your stomach, tickling and making your stomach muscles twitch. 

You couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like they were moving lower with every pass, until they brushed the waistband of your yoga pants. Craning your neck, you looked back at Iwaizumi, but he was wearing a placid expression, his eyes locked on Oikawa.

“What are you doing to our little princess, Hajime?” Oikawa asked when you giggled at Iwaizumi purposely tickling you. This time his fingers dipped under the waistband.

He kissed just under your ear before saying, “Nothing you wouldn’t do, Tooru. Not after that stunt in the locker room, anyway.”

You flushed from the tips of your ears down to your toes at that memory, but it ignited something else in you too. Suddenly the fingers playing at your hip weren’t playful or low enough and you bit your lip as you met Oikawa’s keen gaze.

“Oh, what would make you bring that up, Iwa-chan?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and smirking. They traveled further down, to the swell of your breasts, the lowest point he could see, and then flicked up to meet Iwaizumi’s eyes. “Are you doing something dirty?”

At his question, the fingers slipped beneath and found your clit, and the heat expanded. At the same time, he reached above your head and tilted the camera down to show Oikawa exactly what he was doing to you. Your pants were suddenly too uncomfortable, but with the phone in one hand and the other wrapped around Iwaizumi’s wrist, it wasn’t an option to pull them off.

If Iwaizumi and Oikawa would even let you.

“Is that what we’re doing tonight? Giving me a show?” Oikawa asked, watching the movement of Iwaizumi’s fingers under the black fabric. “You aren’t doing a very good job. I can’t see a thing.”

He feigned despair, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. There was a faint flush to his cheeks and chest and his fingers twitched in the yellow light cast from above his bed. Knowing Oikawa, he was already rock hard, ready to give the two of you orders even from a thousand miles away.

Speaking of rock hard, you could feel the outline of Iwaizumi's hard cock grinding against your ass, pushing back into your own rocking hips. “I don’t think I have to listen to you tonight, Tooru.”

For a moment, you thought Oikawa was going to start pouting, but he surprised you. Rolling back onto his back, he panned the phone down, showing his boxers pushed down his thighs and his cock ready and hard, his hand coming into view and skimming his fingertips up the underside. “Give me a show, then.”

The fingers disappeared from your clit and you sighed, reaching down to pull your pants off, but they just as quickly wrapped around your wrist and a deep voice right in your ear commanded, “Don’t move.”

The phone was yanked from your hand and carefully set up on the nightstand, angled diagonally across the bed. Then Iwaizumi walked down to the foot of the bed and his fingers wrapped around your ankles, pulling you to the edge. With a laugh, you looked back to the phone and found yourself lying parallel to the phone and in full view of Oikawa.

While you stared into his wide eyes, Iwaizumi peeled your pants slowly down your legs, his fingers skimming over your thighs, your knees, your calves in their wake, leaving goosebumps behind. He adjusted you just slightly to the right and started kissing his way back up your legs, sinking his teeth into the tender inner flesh on your thighs and you gasped, slinging your legs over his shoulders.

Your moan mingled with Oikawa’s groan when Iwaizumi licked a stripe up your soaked slit, splitting your lips until his mouth covered your clit. You had just buried your fingers in his hair when his hands gripped your thighs and shoved them up to your shoulders, the movement dislodging your fingers and you instead threaded them through your own as he went to town, suckling and lapping at your clit like a man starved. Vibrations spread through your pussy when he groaned, his fingers tightening around your thighs as he ate you out.

You jerked in his hold when you heard Oikawa’s voice call out, distorted with pleasure, “You look so good, princess. Wish I was there helping him out, occupying that pretty mouth.”

When you looked up and caught sight of him, you lost the ability to breathe. 

His cheeks were flushed and his hair a mess where he’d ran his fingers through it and tugged, trying to avoid touching his cock to torture himself. He’d failed and you could see his arm working up and down, too slow to be anything but teasing. When his eyes caught yours, he smirked and licked his lips before the angle changed and you realized that he was moving the camera down, showing off his slicked up cock, his fist wrapped tight around and pumping up and down at a steady pace. Precum rolled down from the head and you licked your lips as you thought about wrapping your lips around him, lapping and suckling until he came in your mouth.

The hot pleasure coiled in your stomach, ready to snap and your lips parted, your back arching while Oikawa stared you down. Your toes curled when Iwa dipped his tongue into you, wiggling and lapping at your walls and the dam broke, waves of pleasure washing through you, your hips bucking against Iwaizumi’s hold and he let your thighs go in favor for pulling you closer by the hips. You clenched your legs around his head as you rode out the last of your orgasm before pushing at his head.

“Haji, shit,” you pleaded and breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled away.

“How was that, Brattykawa? Enough of a show?” Iwaizumi asked, smirking at the man on the phone. 

He was panting, his hips rising and falling as his arm worked in short jerks. The phone had fallen to the bed at just such an angle-- and Iwaizumi wouldn’t be surprised if he had done it on purpose-- that showed off his twitching cock, currently splattering cum all over his clenched abs.

The blissed out look on his face and your trembling legs locked around Iwaizumi’s hips made his own cock jump, watching the last bits of cum dribble out from between Oikawa’s fingers.

“I didn’t think you’d give up so easily, Tooru. I still haven’t cum yet,” Iwaizumi teased, settling his cock between the lips of your soaked pussy and rocking his hips. He enjoyed the way you trembled with every pass over your clit, staring up at him with glazed, pleading eyes. “What do you want, princess? Speak up, or Tooru won’t be able to hear you.”

As he said that, he pushed your shirt up to around your neck, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Wrapping his lips around one nipple, he groaned when you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer and moaning out his name.

“*Hajime, I thought this was Tooru’s thing. I didn’t-- know you were a tease too,” you gasped, jerking your hips in time with the slide of his cock. You had made a mess all over it, your slick dripping down his shaft and balls and spreading all over your thighs, creating a wet slap that rang through the room.

He chuckled against your breast while an adamant “Hey,” came from the phone and switched, distracting you while he wrapped his hands around your thighs again. “No, you wouldn’t because Tooru is always teasing you. But he’s not here tonight and I don’t have to have mercy on you. Now tell me what you want.”

His movements stilled and he stood up straight, leaving your red and abused nipples free and pebbled.

“Haji, I--”

“Louder, princess,” he said, and took the base of his cock in his hand, slapping it against your pussy. He could hear Oikawa groan from the phone and when he looked up, his hand was wrapped around his cock, stroking loosely as it hardened again. “I’m sure Tooru wants to hear you beg me to fuck this pretty pussy. Right, Tooru?”

A thrill rippled through you at the dominating tone in his voice as he stared Oikawa down. In return, Oikawa gulped, licking his lips as he nodded.

“That’s right, princess. I wanna hear you scream as you cum around his cock. He’s gonna make you feel so good, isn’t he?” he asked you, but his eyes were only for Iwaizumi, who had resumed rolling his hips.

Hearing them say those things made your pussy clench in anticipation, the tension between the two men enough to block out anything else.

“Please,” you whispered, reaching out to Iwaizumi, who dropped your thigh to take your hand. “Haji, fuck me with your cock, please, I want you inside me.”

“No, no, princess,” he said, even as he slid the tip of his cock into your dripping hole. “Who do you want to fuck you tonight?”

Inching his way slowly inside was torture, but the way your lips parted and your back arched was worth going slowly for. Your cunt clenched and fluttered around him, your legs locked around his hips trying to pull him in faster as he groaned with the effort of holding back. He wanted to hear you say it, wanted Oikawa to hear you beg, knowing he got off to watching you get stuffed and stretched open by his fat cock.

“Daddy, daddy, please fuck me,” you babbled when he slowed to a stop, terrified that he was going to pull out if you didn’t ask him properly. That was something you really, really didn’t want. “Please don’t stop I need you, want you to stretch me out, fill me with your cock and cum. Daddy-- fuck.”

Iwaizumi had slammed the rest of the way inside you, hilting himself in your slick heat and pulled back out. With your head thrown back, you could see Oikawa had set his own pace to match Iwaizumi’s thrusts and you watched with an open mouth as his cock drooled all down his hand. His eyes flicked from your bouncing tits to Iwaizumi’s face, twisted with concentration as he fucked you, down to where his cock slid into your slick and spasming cunt.

“Tooru,” you moaned, licking your lips as you stared at his fist squeezing his cock for all it was worth.”

“I’m here, babygirl,” he moaned, forcing his eyes to your face. It was full of lust and love and bliss and he couldn’t help but smile at the pleading look in your eyes. “Tell me what you need. Fuck, tell daddy what you need.”

Your eyes flicked to Iwaizumi’s face for a moment and found him watching you with narrowed eyes as he raced towards the edge. His thumb flicked over your clit and you struggled to keep your eyes on him as the coil built again.

“Wanna suck your cock, Tooru. Wanna taste you,” you moaned, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight. Cum from his last orgasm still glistened on his stomach, joined by more and more that dripped from his cock. He was so close, you knew it by the way his abs clenched and his hips bucks, his eyes fluttering as he forced them to stay open, to watch you come undone all over Iwaizumi’s cock.

“It’s yours, princess,” Oikawa moaned, his breathing heavy and voice thick with his impending orgasm. “As soon as I get home, I’ll fuck your throat as long as you want, cum as many times as I can between those pretty lips. You want that, princess?”

Your hips jerked in Iwaizumi’s grasp as your vision whited out so hard that you missed him slam into you for the last time, unable to stand the way you squeezed his cock and forced him over the edge, filling you with his cum. His breath came out in puffs against your chest, where he had collapsed, sweaty and spent. 

Your own chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, your heart thumping erratically against your ribs. Threading your fingers through his hair and pushing it off his forehead, you chuckled. “That was amazing, babe. Holy hell.”

He laughed, still very much out of breath and turned his head to look at the phone. You followed his gaze and found Oikawa’s face filling the screen.

Boneless and in need of cleaning up, Iwaizumi pulled out of you and stood, crawling over you to his side of the bed and pulling you into him. You snuggled down into his chest, pressing kisses to every inch of sweaty skin in your range, while he grabbed the phone and held it above his stomach.

“I owe you for that, Hajime. That was the best show I’ve ever seen. Might have to make this a constant thing whenever I go away,” Oikawa gasped, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. The angle of the camera was a little weird, and you realized he’d put it down to free his clean hand.

“We could probably work something out. If you’re okay with it, princess,” he said, looking down at you. You looked ready to fall asleep, but at your nickname you looked up at him and smiled, blinking tiredly.

“Hell yes,” you said, and both men burst into laughter at the fucked out tone of your voice.

Looking back to Oikawa, who wore a smirk, Iwaizumi said, “Guess we don’t have to ask her twice. You should get some sleep, Tooru. You have a big game tomorrow. Good luck.”

“Love you, Tooru. Good luck tomorrow,” you murmured, opening your eyes to look at him. He was so pretty with his cheeks flushed and his hair a mess, smiling that soft smile he only got after sex and he was so tired he couldn’t think straight.

He rolled onto his side and tucked his arm under his head, chocolate brown eyes tender and warm. “Love you too, princess. Sleep well, I’ll be home in a few days.”

You hummed and your eyes shut again, throwing your arm across Iwaizumi’s chest, curling your fingers over his heart. Iwaizumi rubbed his fingers up and down your arm, staring at Tooru and smiling.

“I love you, too, Tooru” he said, and flushed when Oikawa’s grin widened into a smile. For a moment, he thought he would make some joke about expressing his feelings, but he didn’t.

Instead he said, “I love you too, Haji. Sleep well. Kiss her for me.”

“Of course. Night.”

The screen went black as they both hit the disconnect button, and when he looked down at you, you were fast asleep, hair splayed over his shoulder and breathing even. Curling his fingers around the hand covering his heart, he pressed his lips to your hair one last time before flicking off the lamp. “Love you too, _____.”

⇥  masterlist 

taglist: @lyovochkaa​

[wondernimbus]

quidditch world cup — seamus finnigan

pairing: seamus finnigan x female!reader

request: Would you write a Seamus Finnigan imagine during the Quidditch World Cup where his crush sits near them during the game and has a tent near the Finnigans (and Dean) and when the Death Eaters attack and he and his crush hide from the Death Eaters together?

a/n: i changed a few minor details about the original request but other than that, enjoy! 

A palpable buzz of excitement still hangs in the air after the match has officially ended. Some of those rooting for Bulgaria trudge out of the stands looking glum, but most, although the team they had been rooting for lost, are just as excited as the Irish—or perhaps not as excited, but close to it. On her way back to the tents, [Y/N] spots no less than five fans of Ireland weeping tears of joy.

"You'd think they won a thousand galleons with how they were acting," [Y/N] points out with a laugh after coming across an Irish fan pounding his fists on the ground and bawling loudly.

Beside her, Dean Thomas snickers. "I bet a thousand galleons Seamus is somewhere going bonkers—oh, there he is."

[Y/N], with much difficulty, tears her gaze away from the bawling man and looks up. Sure enough, Seamus Finnigan is standing a couple feet away from them in front of his tent, wildly brandishing a pole on which hangs the flag of Ireland.

She can't help but laugh at the sight. "How long do you think before he starts crying?"

Dean nudges her. "I assume you'll be wiping his tears away when he does?"

"Oh, shut up."

Seamus catches sight of them when they draw closer. He stops waving his flag around and grins at the pair, looking the happiest [Y/N] has ever seen him. "We won, lads!" he yells, bounding towards them.

"Lads?" [Y/N] wrinkles her nose, fighting back a laugh. Seamus looks like a five-year-old on Christmas day who just got the toy broomstick he wanted.

"Don't mind his vocabulary, [Y/N]. He's half out of his mind," Dean says in a mock sympathetic voice, clasping Seamus's shoulder with one hand. "You good, mate? Sure you don't need to sit down?"

"Never been better!" Seamus answers breathlessly, eyes wide with mirth as he bounces slightly on his toes. "Never had any doubt Ireland would win—poor Bulgaria never had a chance!"

"Don't start crying on us now, Seamus," Dean sniggers. "Or at least if you do, do it on [Y/N]—"

"Seamus!" [Y/N] exclaims, cutting Dean off with a sideways glare. "The painting on your, um, cheek—it's gone a little messy. Would you like me to fix it for you?"

It's not a lie. The large four-leaf clover painted on Seamus's right cheek has gone smudged and looks more like a big blob of green than what it's actually supposed to be. He absentmindedly drags his hand across his cheek, making it even worse.

Dean snorts. "Oh, now you're just doing it on purpose—"

"Can't say no to that, [Y/N]!" grins Seamus. "Gotta show my Ireland pride. I've got a brush or two in my tent. Come on, you two!"

Dean gives [Y/N] a look. She smacks him on the shoulder and rolls her eyes. "What?" she whispers as they follow Seamus into his tent.

"You seem an awful lot like you're up to something," Dean grins, not bothering to lower his tone.

"Who's up to something?" Seamus asks, rummaging in his bag presumably in search for a paintbrush.

"No one," [Y/N] assures him, glowering at Dean. And then, in a hushed voice, "I am not up to something—I'm his friend, I'm just being nice."

Dean raises his eyebrows at her, obviously not convinced. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she turns to Seamus, who has successfully located a small paintbrush and bottles of green and white paint. "Here you go, [Y/N]—Dean, where are you going?"

[Y/N] looks back at Dean only to see that he's halfway out of the tent flaps, back hunched as though he'd been tip-toeing. He straightens up, trying very hard to mask the devious grin on his face, and shrugs. "I just remembered I had to, uh, meet with Lee," [Y/N] gapes at him in disbelief. "I'll see you two later!"

And then, with no more than a final annoying smirk at [Y/N], Dean leaves the pair of them alone in the tent. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, shaking her head as her gaze skitters back to Seamus, who looks just as perplexed as she does.

"Do you—um—" for some reason, some of the glee in Seamus's eyes dies out and is replaced by a touch of awkwardness; [Y/N] can see it in how his gaze darts away from hers. "Do you still wanna—" he gestures to the paintbrush and paint he holds in his hands.

[Y/N] has never hated Dean in her life more than she does now. "Of course," she sniffs, letting out a laugh in an attempt to ease the sudden burst of awkwardness now hanging between them.

Seamus hands her the paintbrush and paint, scratching the back of his head. "You don't have to do it really well, it's alright—I'm washing it off before I sleep anyway—"

[Y/N] lets out a genuine snort of laughter. "Are you sure?" she asks, eyebrows raised. "You seem like the type to show Irish pride wherever and whenever, even when you're asleep."

Seamus ducks his head in shame. "You've got that one right," he grins toothily. "Those blokes were amazing up there, don't you think? Never had any doubt they were gonna win—and Troy was bloody spectacular, did you see his goals?"

"They were hard to miss," [Y/N] agrees, amused as she pries the paintbrush and paint off of Seamus's hands and beckons for him to sit down on the couch, which he does, still rambling on about Troy—Ireland's best Chaser.

"Knew right off the bat he was gonna end up scoring the first goal—he's been training the longest out of all of them, see, he got signed right after he left Hogwarts and he's been under the Irish National Quidditch Team's wing for a decade!"

[Y/N] nods along, a smile playing on her lips as she dips the brush into green paint.

"And that was a bit of a daft move by Krum, don't you think, catching the snitch when Ireland was more than a hundred and fifty points up? Kinda' feel bad for the bloke, I bet his teammates are having a go at him right n—"

Seamus stops talking when she leans in close and places a hand on his cheek.

He swallows.

"Why'd you stop?" [Y/N] asks, pulling back momentarily and laughing.

Seamus swallows again, blinking rapidly. "You just. Uh, caught me by surprise."

She narrows her eyes at him playfully, smiling despite the blush coating her cheeks that she hopes to Merlin Seamus doesn't notice. "I'll be sure to give you a warning next time," she assures him, eyes twinkling. "You good?"

He nods, fidgeting around in his seat as he mumbles something about the Irish team.

[Y/N] leans in for a second time, hovering over him with one hand on his cheek to keep his head steady and the other fixing the painting of the four-leaf clover.

Seamus sits as still as he can, barely even breathing as he glues his eyes to a random spot beyond [Y/N]'s shoulder so he doesn't have to look her in the eye. In a lame attempt at conversation, he asks, trying not to move his lips too much, "Who—who were you rooting for?"

With her tongue darting out of her lips in concentration, she mutters, "Bulgaria."

Seamus's eyes widen almost comically. "You—what—" he blubbers, looking as though he wants to flail around in his seat. "Bulgaria?"

[Y/N] nods, jokingly scowling at him as she drags the brush across his cheek. "What, you don't want my filthy Bulgaria-loving hands on you?"

He opens and closes his mouth, looking at a complete loss for words. All he manages to get out is "Bulgaria?" in the same incredulous tone.

"Yes," [Y/N] laughs, drawing back to look at her creation. She places both hands on her hips as she tilts her head at him, eyes surveying the slightly better-looking four-leaf clover. "I think you're ready to go—unless you want to wash it off, since a Bulgaria fan drew it for you."

Seamus sits there, looking deeply offended at the notion of her supporting his favorite team's opponent. "I," he inhales, "am disappointed."

[Y/N] rolls her eyes, giggling in amusement as she sets down the paint and paintbrush on the table. "Cry me a river, Finnigan. Your team won, anyway—I don't see why you're so upset."

He rises to his feet, massaging his temples as though he's sporting a massive headache. "I'm very disappointed, [Y/N]," he admits, and she can't quite tell whether or not he's being serious. "You have everything—you're nice and you've got good humor and you're downright bloody gorgeous but you support Bulgaria?"

[Y/N] stares at him, the amused grin on her face slowly drooping as she registers his words.

"Bloody.. gorgeous?" she repeats, blinking.

Seamus's body turns rigid. He blinks rapidly, eyes wide like he's been caught in the act. "I didn't—"

Suddenly, a shrill, ear-deafening scream cuts through the air, louder than the celebratory hoots and whistles of the Irish. This one is filled with terror and fear and pain—the stuff of nightmares.

[Y/N] doesn't hesitate; she rushes to the tent entrance, dread blossoming in her stomach with every step she takes.

Everyone has stopped celebrating. The whole field seems to be at a standstill; smiles have fallen, the thrill of the Quidditch match forgotten as everyone stares up at the sky, where four people are being tossed about in mid-air.

"Are those—are those Muggles?" gasps [Y/N], horrified.

Another scream interrupts the deadly silence. And then another. And then another, until everyone starts screaming and running and the sounds of panic build up into a horrifying crescendo. Seamus tugs on [Y/N]'s arm—she hadn't realized she'd been frozen, transfixed at the horrendous sight above her.

"Come on, we gotta go—" Seamus is saying, dragging her by the arm. "[Y/N]!"

[Y/N] snaps herself out of her reverie. The tents are on fire. People are trampling over each other in desperation to flee to the forests. Her brain tells her to start running, so she does, Seamus clutching her hand beside her in a vice-like grip as witches and wizards alike push past them, shoulders ramming into theirs.

"Just keep running, we have to make it to the woods!" Seamus yells above the noise of panic; one of the Muggles in the air have started screaming—a woman—and loud, boisterous laughter ensues.

"Seamus, who are those people?" [Y/N] gasps, eyes catching onto the crowd of masked wizards standing beneath the Muggles. They're standing just several feet away from them, wands drawn as they march closer, huddled together in a pack. "Are those—"

"Don't look, [Y/N]—come on—"

Just before [Y/N] averts her shocked gaze, one of the wizards points his wand in her direction and a jet of green light rushes straight towards her—and it would have hit her right in the back if Seamus hadn't pulled her down at the last second.

Eyes wide with panic and her chest pumping with the adrenaline of nearly having been cursed, [Y/N] scrambles to her feet and lets Seamus drag her into a random nearby tent. "Stay quiet—don't move," he hisses once they've made it behind the tent flaps, crouching just behind the entrance.

"Seamus—were those—"

"Death Eaters, I think," he confirms her suspicions, gritting his teeth. "And they nearly damn cursed you."

[Y/N]'s grip on Seamus's hand tightens as she clamps her mouth shut, willing herself to stay as still and silent as possible. The woman's screaming intensifies and [Y/N]'s heart skips several beats when she hears it get closer and closer to where she and Seamus are hiding.

"Can't we just kill her already? Her screams disgust me almost as much as her blood does."

The voice is coming from right outside the tent. [Y/N]'s breathing gets quicker and she quickly covers her mouth with the hand that's not holding on to Seamus's.

"We are not here to kill—we are here to demonstrate," drawls another voice. "Let everyone see the powerlessness of these filthy, useless Muggles. It disappoints me how we have to resort to such means to prove an obvious point."

Seamus meets [Y/N]'s gaze; she sees her own fear reflected in his eyes. But even then, he gives her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand in his as he mouths, "It's gonna be okay."

Slowly, she nods.

But then one of the wizards—one of the Death Eaters, her brain supplies not very helpfully—says, "Oi, do you see that?"

"See what?"

"That shadow. There's someone inside the tent—"

"Leave it. We are not here to harm magical blood."

"Shut up—who knows, we might get lucky and find ourselves a Mudblood!" Footsteps draw closer to their tent. Seamus and [Y/N] can do no more but crouch behind the entrance, eyes wide in mutual panic. "Come out, you!"

The tent flaps rustle. A hand pokes out—but then several screams cut through the air, and a sound like a powerful spell being cast echoes across the field.

"It's the Dark Mark!"

Several loud popping noises ensue. [Y/N] knows that sound; it's that of someone—or in this case, several people—apparating away. And then she hears four loud thuds outside, as though heavy bodies are dropping to the ground.

"I think they're gone," Seamus says, but his tone is still hushed.

[Y/N] doesn't pause to check. She unleashes her grasp from Seamus's and darts out of the tent, Seamus yelling behind her, and sure enough, the four Muggles who had been suspended in mid-air just moments before are now lying on the ground, eyes wide in terror except for the two young children who have fainted.

"Oh my God—"

"[Y/N]!" Someone—Seamus—catches her from behind as her knees buckle underneath her and her lungs seize up in her chest.

"Seamus—they—we have to help them—"

"[Y/N], calm down—"

She wrenches herself out of Seamus's hold and rushes to kneel down next to the Muggle woman, whose eyes have gone hazy, staring off into blank space. She doesn't even seem to have noticed [Y/N], who hovers over her, hands trembling, unsure of what to do.

Shaking, she takes the woman's hand in hers and squeezes, repeatedly saying something along the lines of "everything's fine, they're gone now" as Seamus stands back helplessly, wand in his hand as his eyes dart around the seemingly empty field of tents.

"[Y/N], we can't stay out here, they might come b—"

"What about them, Seamus?" [Y/N] cuts him off, gesturing wildly to the Muggles. "What are they going to do if the Death Eaters do come back? We can't just leave them here—"

Another loud, popping noise erupts through the air. All around them, familiar faces have appeared—ministry wizards. Seamus tugs on her arm and pulls her back to her feet, watching as the group of frazzled-looking wizards fuss over the Muggles.

"This is madness!" one of them exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief. Then his eyes meet Seamus and [Y/N]'s, and he immediately advances towards them, wand drawn.

"Calm down, Amos," another wizard says, stopping him in his tracks. "They're just children." And then, turning to the shaken pair, he nods. "Go back to your tents, you two. Everything's been taken care of."

"But—" [Y/N] begins, a thousand questions teetering just behind her lips, but Seamus mutters "let's go" next to her and tugs her along.

—

[Y/N] can't sleep at all that night.

She lies awake in her bed in her tent, the rest of her family already asleep. They'd been incredibly worried when she'd turned up outside of their tent after things had started to calm down. Seamus had insisted on walking her back, but [Y/N] had known that his mother must have been out of her mind with worry as well, so she'd told him it was okay.

Now, she stares up at the ceiling. Her hands haven't quite stopped shaking yet. Traces of the fear she'd felt before remain in her heart like an itch that just won't go away. She can't quite rid herself of it; the pure and utter terror she'd felt when she first saw the family of Muggles being tossed to-and-fro in mid-air.. the panic that tore at her heart when the Death Eater approached the tent she and Seamus had been hiding in..

She remembers being pulled to the ground as a curse hurtled through the air that had been aimed for her. She remembers the screaming. The vacant, unfocused looks on the Muggles' faces when the Death Eaters disappeared.

Suddenly, the tent feels too stuffy. She gets up out of bed and sneaks to the entrance, wanting to rid herself of the suffocating feeling in her chest with a bout of fresh air. She can't get out of there fast enough—she nearly trips over her own feet in desperation, and when she does tear past the tent flaps, she lets out a tiny scream.

"Seamus!"

Clutching her chest in surprise, she takes a step back.

Seamus is standing there, eyes wide like a deer in headlights before he drops his gaze bashfully and scratches the back of his head. "Hey," he says, raising a hand in greeting, but then he seems to remember that they're literally only three feet apart and drops his hand back to his side.

"Hey," [Y/N] says breathlessly. "What are you—what are you doing here?"

Seamus shoves one hand into his pocket, shifting a little on his feet. Quietly, he tells her, "I wanted to check if you were okay."

[Y/N] stares at him for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to react. The "I'm okay" rests on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't have the energy to lie, so she just shakes her head and hopes to leave it at that.

Slowly—hesitantly, Seamus moves his gaze back to hers. "I'm not, either," he admits with a painful grin, fidgeting where he stands. "Can't really sleep. Too much thinking. Death Eaters and Muggles being tortured and.."

He inhales sharply, shaking his head. "You almost got cursed," he says quietly. "If I hadn't been there—"

"Can I hug you, Seamus?" [Y/N] cuts him off, and her voice sounds oddly pained. Like she's holding herself back from crying.

Seamus blinks, surprised.

"I'm sorry, I just—"

"Sure," he exhales, letting out a long breath he didn't know he was holding. "Sure, [Y/N]. Of course."

[Y/N] doesn't wait; she walks forward and throws her arms around him, gripping much too tight. She needs this. She needs something to ground her back to reality—something to pull her away from the dark part of her brain teeming with thoughts of death and torture.

It takes him a few seconds, but Seamus hugs her back. He may not know it, but when he wraps his arms around her and pats her back albeit a little awkwardly, he's bringing her back from the nightmarish part of her head.

They stay like that for quite some time. When [Y/N] pulls away, she wipes at her cheeks hurriedly and steps away, clearing her throat. "Sorry," she winces, trying for a small laugh. "It's just.. been a little much, is all."

Seamus nods, pressing his lips together. "Bit weird how just a few hours ago we'd all been losing our heads over Ireland winning, innit?" and it's a measly attempt to cheer her up, but [Y/N] looks up at him and smiles anyway. It's a little sad—a little off—but it's a smile nonetheless.

"I'm pretty sure that was just you," she tells him quietly, that same tiny smile on her face.

"Yeah, well at least Ireland won," Seamus retorts defensively, the same passion he'd been sporting a few hours ago making itself known again. And then he seems to remember that this isn't the time to be arguing about Quidditch; "Nevermind. Sorry."

"It's fine," [Y/N] assures him, a genuine smile breaking out on her face. "It's fine, Seamus. While we're at it.. you didn't finish telling me about Troy earlier."

[Y/N] needs to stop thinking about everything that happened, and she knows Seamus does too.

What better way to do that than with Seamus's passionate opinions on Ireland?

He seems to consider this for a moment. And then he folds his arms over his chest and begins in a theatrical, haughty tone, "You wouldn't know since you're a Bulgaria fan yourself," he says with feigned spite (or what she hopes is feigned), "But Troy is one of the best Chasers the Quidditch League has ever seen—he learned to fly a broom before he could even walk!"

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah, well, believe it. Anyways, Troy—unlike Krum—is plenty talented.."

[vidalinav]

Queen of Monsters: Chapter 5

Summary: Nesta and Cassian visit the Ironcrest clan and are forced into close quarters ft. an Illyrian wedding 

Read also: Chapter List, General Masterlist 

Warnings: None for this chapter I think 

Updates every Tuesday/Wednesday... mostly Wednesday. I will edit this tomorrow since I can’t look at it any longer.

~

Nesta scowled as Cassian set her down on the platform, crossing her arms as a permanent fissure took up space between her brows.

“Don’t touch me.” She said, patting the skirts of her gown with one hand as she tried to carry a basket full of exotic fruit with the other. Delicious reds, vibrant greens, and some that smelled of candy. The scent made her gag through the flight.

Cassian rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically as Nesta glared. But he grabbed the handle of the basket before she could take a step forward.  

“Stop that,” She grumbled, swatting him away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he moved to face her, blocking her view of what waited beyond him.  

“Nesta, listen.” Cassian said his voice lowering. “I know you’re intent on making everything difficult for all of us, and you have the tendency to run off to Mother knows where, but here, I need you to stay close to me.”

At the words, Nesta wanted to tell him off, imagined kicking him between the knees like that day many moons ago. But Nesta saw the look he gave her, the red of his cheeks blooming to full color.

He was angry—angry enough that he spouted curses without even opening his mouth.

She saw it in his eyes. The hatred burning.

Nesta nodded her head, and Cassian, at her assent, turned to face the Illyrians.

The rigid males were gathered in the town square, the space situated between the residents of the Ironcrest Clan. Unlike Windhaven, most of the small city had been occupied by buildings instead of tents. Some two or three stories in height. Their triangular roofs ran up the mountain like pictographic trees on a map and there was hardly any space between each hut.

Brown. The city was brown and painted with mud-ridden snow. In the back of her head, she thought she heard Elain’s voice, you can always find something beautiful if you look hard enough. Nesta could not see beauty where there was none.

The Illyrians were lined up as Cassian stepped ahead of Nesta. A male, she could only assume was the camp lord, raised a stern hand. He was stout, with a goatee made of wisps of grey. He stared at them harshly, as Cassian’s wings almost seemed to rise to full height.

Nesta wanted to snort at the action. She’d read in a book once that when birds felt threatened, they brushed up their feathers to antagonize, and when they wanted to mate, those feathers would flutter open so that all the colors would be displayed in its full glory.

He was peacocking, Nesta chortled silently.

“The High Lord sends his greetings,” Cassian announced, the words so formal for the puffed-up bat she’d always seen. “He regrets that he can’t make the trip himself.”

“Too busy to do his job?” Another male inquired. A young man by her standards, that drew up short to Cassian’s impressive height. He was lanky, certainly not as big as Cassian’s physique, but he was well-muscled and built strong.  

He was handsome, she supposed, plain by fae standards, but… handsome enough.

“He has more important affairs…” Cassian glowered, “like running a court.”

The male sneered at that and Cassian clenched his fists. The two Illyrians bristled, Cassian looking down at the male, the male sizing him up. Nesta thought they might settle it right here, in the middle of all of them watching.

She doubted the Illyrians would mind so much.

But a voice broke out from the silence, and Nesta stood on her toes, her neck reaching to see a male wading through the crowd. The lines parting for him.

“Now. Now. Our High Lord is busy settling the conditions of the state. We were in a war after all.”  

To Nesta, the male looked like Father Time. Sleepy and white. His skin pale and grey. His hair seeming to be dipped in winter. For some reason, looking at him made Nesta want to yawn, and she imagined falling asleep to the rhythm of clock hands turning.  

Cassian dipped his head at the male who extended a solemn hand, “Lord Ymran.”

“General,” the male bowed, his voice light and eager.  

Cassian turned towards Nesta, his hand casually drawing her forward.

The Illyrians did not so much as look at the female who emerged through the crowd, her head buried low in her arms. She was pregnant, Nesta noticed, but she moved quickly. Nesta passed the basket to her as she bowed her head and remained quiet beside them.  

“Our High Lord offers a token of appreciation for our stay and in regret of not offering greetings, himself, during Solstice.”

“So, he sends his dog in his stead? Tell me general, what’s it like sitting on his lap and licking up his leftover scraps,” The young Illyrian said, sneering as he eyed Nesta.  

Nesta could feel a tremor in her spine at the words. A deep roar like sound echoing in her mind, that surprised even her.

Cassian stepped closer and the camp lord, perhaps remembering where they were last year, remembered what they saw, raised a hand to the young male who would not be consoled.

“Kallon,” the camp lord warned.

Switching his attention to Cassian, he forced a grin. “How long do you intend on staying?”

“Until what we’ve set out for is accomplished,” Cassian answered vaguely.

“I’m afraid we have not made up a residence for you both,” Lord Ymran said, sizing up Nesta curiously.

As if on cue, the rest of the males did too, looking her over and under and somehow in between. She wanted a bath from all the looks that stared hungrily, and maybe some cleansing oil for the sneers. But Nesta did not shy away from their gaze, a fact she saw eat at Lord Ymran, whose brow twitched slightly.

“All of our houses are otherwise occupied.”

Cassian grabbed her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers as Nesta stared at him with subdued shock.

“We’ll find our way.” He said sternly, without looking at her.

The males began to disperse. But Cassian didn’t let go of her hand.

Nesta did not ask questions, preferring to save them until all of them had left. Except Lord Ymran, Kallon, and the camp lord would not leave. They stayed, standing as if Cassian himself had no right to dismiss them, as if they did not follow his orders.

A wall of Illyrians, she wanted to call the image. One segment of a fence. Barricaded by wings and blundering egos. It was Cassian who eventually submitted, pulling Nesta with him until he managed a distance beyond fae ears.

“Fuck,” Cassian yelled, swearing a list of Illyrian expletives she made sure to remember so Emerie could explain them to her later.

Nesta merely rolled her eyes as he punched at a pile of snow.  

~

“You raging buffoon,” She spoke, “Stop pulling me.”

“You walk so slow in those dresses,” Cassian goaded, continuing his hike through the village.

Most of the houses they past seemed empty compared to the hustle and bustle of Windhaven. There were no lights making way for shadowy figures. All of the lights were out. Nesta counted more than one window shut by thick curtains.

It was a ghost town. Quiet and eerie. Existence trapped behind memories and door frames and four wooden walls. It had her grasping for any signs of life.

Where was the fire? Where was the smoke?

“It’s not my fault you have legs as long as tree trunks,” She roared.

“Wouldn’t be an issue if you weren’t so stubborn about flying!”

Flying had quickly become a debate between the two. Though Cassian boasted she would become used to it sooner than later, that he flew gentler and with a greater care than his brothers, Nesta wasn’t at all convinced. She had asked to stop many times during the trip, puking behind bushes and trees. She wasn’t so keen on trying it again.

“You said it was only a block away!” Nesta yelled.  

��So!” Cassian replied indignantly, his voice getting higher as he got more upset. That was hardly her fault! Nesta thought, pulling her hand away from his grasp.

“So, a block away is walking distance,” She scoffed. “You’re just pissy that you lost.”

At his inquiring look, Nesta continued. “That little standoff you all had…”

He knew what she was talking about, of course. Nesta could see it in the way his nose scrunched up and his jaw clenched tightly.

“There was nothing to win,” Cassian dismissed, whipping forward as his wings almost hit her.

Nesta barely missed smacking them away.

“There is always something to win.”

But Cassian ignored her, stepping up to a building that was larger than the rest.

Like many of the other houses she noticed, a purple plant hung from the door, nailed to the wood in some omen that Nesta could only describe as aggravating. You don’t know what we are, the plant seemed to say. Even after all this time reading, you still know nothing.

She had a vague inclination to ask Cassian, even if it was beyond her better judgement, but he was already racing inside.

Nesta shook her head, muttering the words childish and fool.

She found him at the counter. An Illyrian flipping through a large book as Cassian spoke.

“I’m afraid most of our rooms are filled,” Nesta heard her say, though no regret filled her voice. “There’s a wedding this evening.”

The female gestured to the rich fabrics covering the walls and Nesta’s gaze trailed over the deep pinks and dark purples, the patterned oranges twisting their way up the fireplace, the door frames, and all of the tables filling up the warm space.

“I assume you and your wife will only need one room.”

“We’re not—” Nesta was quick to protest, whipping towards the desk.

“Yes. One room will be fine,” Cassian answered, pulling out a bag of coins that jostled on the countertop. The Innkeeper eyed it hungrily and Nesta wanted to snatch it away, demanding that the female recognize them as sworn enemies and not matrimonially tied.

In a series of what felt to be a cosmic joke, one room was not the worst outcome she’d find as they opened the door to their room.

Inside, covered with an abundance of furs, was a bed.

One bed.  

Cassian snorted at her look, his lips raising to one side as he held in a laugh.

Nesta ignored him, walking past and dropping her bag on the floor. She kicked it under the bed lest Cassian trip and go sprawling on top of her in the tiny room.

Cassian plopped on the mattress and Nesta grimaced at his shoes laying on the soft throws. He tucked his hands beneath his head and lounged. Grinning teasingly as he looked her over.

“I am not sleeping with you,” She warned.

Cassian laughed, “As if you’d get that honor.”

“You think too highly of yourself.”

“And you don’t?” He taunted.

Nesta ignored him, changing the subject in an effort to secure a victory.

“Who was that Illyrian? Lord Ymran.”

Cassian sat up suddenly serious and Nesta smirked inwardly at the win. “An old lord.”

“And his son?”

“Lord Ovis and the younger one is his son Kallon. But he’s not a lord,” Cassian grumbled. “Not yet.”

Nesta grabbed a sweater from her bag, folding it and setting it in one of the drawers.

“Lord Ymran seems... respectable enough.”

“He’s not.” Cassian remarked, not elaborating further.

Nesta wondered what he meant, but Cassian kicked off his boots closing his eyes as he leaned back into one of the many pillows.

“You’re sleeping on the floor.” Nesta asserted haughtily.

~

Cassian had left before her, but not without some convincing. She’d told him she’d wanted to change. He so helpfully remarked that he wasn’t stopping her. After two glares and three smart retorts, Cassian had left for the training fields. Nesta hadn’t asked where those were.  

She took the note Ira left her from her notebook, reading each letter in her perfect script. The name of each plant blooming behind her eyes. She knew three of them in Illyrian. Elleborum for the hellebore flower, iglika for primrose, and podsen for the snowdrop’s droopy petals.

Ira had mentioned a shop. Hard to find at first, but easy enough for someone as stubborn as Nesta. She’d asked the innkeeper if she’d known this shop, but the female had raised a nose and rudely said that if there was such a place Nesta certainly had no business going to it.

Her help had left Nesta with little option, but to walk around, scouring the village herself.

Two hours later she’d yet to find the shop, but oh did she find the training fields.

Sweat dripped down Cassian’s back, and Nesta tried not to crumble the paper in her hands as she took in his shirtless form. His tattoos crawled down his back like a finger running down his spine and Nesta swallowed lightly. Some voice in her head chastising him for being shirtless in the middle of winter.  

She watched as he tumbled with another male in the ring, the Illyrian raising his fist as Cassian punched from below, kicking him so far the male rammed into a set of wooden planks set out for seating. Another male entered the ring and though he lunged at Cassian, he was quick to deflect. The end of his palm going straight to the male’s nose.

Nesta blinked at the aggression, trying not to wince at the splattered blood. Cassian must have sensed her there because he looked back and grinned defiantly. His canines bright and dangerous.

At his stare, Nesta yawned, tapping her mouth as if she’d seem much more impressive things.

His eyes burned at that, and Nesta smirked playfully, dipping her head in mocking salutations as another male came running from behind, kicking out his legs as Cassian fell and they carried on with their ruckus in the rings.

She continued on her way, kicking up her boots as she counted all the buildings.

There were fifteen before the mountain had skewed upwards, twelve on the upper level. Seven as the height grew higher, and none of the businesses had the letters she could draw in her sleep, that Nesta had come to associate with infirmary, plants, herbs or even the word shop.

She gave up after house thirty-five, her shoulders slumping through the inn’s doorway. Her stomach rumbled at the smell of baked bread, and it was only then Nesta realized she’d missed dinner.  

Nesta blinked at the changed scene before her, twisting her head to peer behind her as if she’d entered the wrong building.  

The place had only been half decorated when Nesta left, but now… Silk woven tapestries covered the walls and bundles of fabric fell in every corner, so much that Nesta felt entrapped by the purple and orange glow. She was in the middle of a pillow fort, she felt, rather than an inn turned wedding hall.

Nesta followed the colors down a narrow hall until she met an open doorway that emptied into light.

Candles glittered through the aisle and though Nesta wanted to snide at the impracticality of blushing brides burning before they said, “I do,” the romantic part of her brain took notes.

Illyrians were already gathered in their seats, talking low, their voices thrumming with joyous song.

Nesta crouched low as the music sounded and made her way to an empty seat in the back. Inconspicuous enough that no one would see her as they celebrated the couple she had yet to see. Or so Nesta thought, because the minute she sat, arching her neck to get a better view, a finger poked at her side.

Nesta yelped as Cassian shushed her.

“It’s about to start,” he whispered gruffly.

He maneuvered to sit, but his wings brushed against her hair, a talon snagging on her braids. Nesta gave him a murderous look as she patted her hair down, Cassian failing to hide his snicker.

“Shh,” Nesta answered in reply.

The groom entered from the side, walking to the podium as he made greetings to the people at front. The fabric of his wings were etched in gold paint, a collection of tiny points and whirls like Cassian’s tattoos. Nesta grasped it all, the male smiling as an older female came to bring him a wreath of magnolias.

Nesta was afraid to take a breath as the subtle strings of a mandolin started, the soft thrum of drums. The sounds of heartbeats, she thought, and something more fervent—like a budding flower being dipped in sweet honey until the dew tasted of desire. Of dreams.

The groom loved his bride, Nesta could tell by his look, had perhaps dreamt of her long before the admission had been uttered from his lips.

They did not have to wait long for Nesta to see that the bride too loved the groom. A hush fell over the room as the doors opened, the procession standing at her image.

The bride’s brown skin glowed with gold; her wings as covered as the grooms. With those markings that whispered dreams in their ears. And the groom looked happy, truly happy to see the female glide forward. Her smile bright enough to light the room.

Cassian didn’t utter a word beside her, and Nesta looked at him, suddenly concerned that he had stayed quiet for so long.

He only stared at her softly, his chin resting in his palm.

“The wedding is that way.” She grumbled, watching as a ribbon was twisted around the couple’s joined hands.

What did it all mean? Nesta wanted to know. But Cassian leaned closer, and Nesta blinked as his body neared hers, their heads so close she refused to swallow in fear that he could hear it like resounding bells.

“Red for honor…” Cassian recited; his words sweet to her ears. “Tied around the wrist for fidelity, knotted for bonds that will never be broken.”

Nesta watched as the bride grasped the chalice the priestess held towards her. Her arms, woven in bright red, reached out and she held the chalice up to the groom's lips.

“A sip of wine for abundance, drunk from the same cup for unity. May love be overflowing.”

“My blood is your blood,” She heard the couple repeat. “My glory is your glory.”

Cassian dipped his head, his lips so close to her ear Nesta wanted to shy away, but she held herself still, holding her breath as she willed her heart to stop beating so fast.

“The tie will not be severed,” He repeated as did the couple, “for they are made of strengthened bonds. Love has won all battles.”

The priestess did not untie the knot, but rather let their wrists slip through the loops, so that when they were free the bride and the groom came together in a kiss.

Nesta’s heart swelled for them both.

“After this, they’ll burn the ribbon,” Cassian explained in hushed tones. Indeed, the priestess handed the couple a lit candle, the flame waving to and fro as it was jostled around.

“What happens next?” Nesta asked as if in a trance.

A wicked gleam settled in his gaze and Nesta immediately regretted her words.

“There’ll be a reception. Song and dance, and then they’ll fly off to some location in the mountains. Undisturbed, of course. The best part of the whole thing, I imagine.”

Nesta snorted, “How romantic.”

“How about you Nesta?” He teased, “Do you wish to be swept off your feet—fly to some unknown cabin where you’ll ravaged for hours.”

Nesta gave him a sidelong glance, as he leaned back in his chair, cool in his plain shirt and his loose pants sitting low.  

Where did the advantage lie?

“I think that if there were truly someone who could ravage me for hours, I might skip the wedding entirely.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. “I don’t know. You strike me as the type to want the whole ceremony. Don’t tell me you’ve never planned your wedding when you were young.”

“Why? Did you?” She inquired, pursing her lips. “Now, were you the one in the dress? Or did you just like imagining someone who’d want you for more than a few hours?”

Cassian paused at the words and so did Nesta. The soft strum of the mandolin melting away and leaving only hollow echoes in its stead. She swallowed the regret away as his gaze turned to frigid ice.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Nesta cut him off with a flare of her hand.

“Don’t bother.” She stood abruptly, the creak of the chair loud enough that Illyrians glared her way. She scowled back, looking to Cassian as her body towered over him. “I’m going to bed.”  

Nesta brushed away the magnolia petals falling as the crowd began to throw them at the blissful pair. She cut them off at the door.

At least they had each other, Nesta remedied, swatting the guilt away.

Who did she have?

~

It was uncommonly warm in the small room, with the heat from the kitchens wafting up. There was no need for the chimney, so Cassian had not started a fire. A fact she was both grateful for and perturbed by because the darkness seemed to make her rattle in her skin. People laughed through the walls, through the floors, and Nesta felt their voices vibrate in her bones. She could hear the sharp edge of glasses breaking, the cheers and music drifting through the wood and furs and Nesta tried not to make the bed creak as she turned, clutching the blankets to her chest.

She peered at Cassian, lying on the floor even after all of his complaints, but he turned towards her suddenly and Nesta squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be covered by sleep’s endless throws…

When she opened them again, Cassian was staring at the ceiling, his eyes bright even in the dark. His wings tucked between the bed and the wall, one of his talons angling oddly. Nesta couldn’t imagine it was comfortable and some brave part of her, the part that had become unhindered in the darkness, wanted to tell him he could share her bed.

She quickly clutched the quilt to her mouth.

Even in all the noise, she could hear him breathing, hear the sweet rhythm of his heart beat on and on. One thump after the next. Nesta wondered if he could hear hers too or if like Feyre had once said, he’d learned to tune hers out.

The thought made her sink into the mattress, her knees coming to her chest.  

“They don’t like us here.” Cassian spoke, his voice as soft as sheets.

She caught his gaze in the moment, Cassian shifting until they lied facing each other. Nesta pretended his words were the beginning of a bedtime story, but Cassian didn’t paint worlds with his tongue. He just looked at her, waiting for her to speak.

Perhaps, she should have said something, voiced that he was wrong or agreed that he was right.  

But Nesta suddenly exhausted and heavy burdened, only turned away. She closed her eyes as she settled, tucking a hand beneath her pillow.

What could she have said anyways, she asked herself.

Why would she, Nesta probed.

But the answer had already clanged in her chest, the space hollow and unfilled. Her soul left desolate and bare.

Empty.  

She would not comfort him, she thought. There was no comfort for the unwanted. The unloved. They only had each other here in this dark room, and Nesta would not make him feel better when he was all she had.

And so Nesta let sleep claim her, tucking wishes into bottles, grasping stars for a tomorrow that would never come.

Cassian deserved to feel the bitterness seep into his skin.

For it had surely seeped in hers.

~

Tagged:  @my-fan-side  @ekaterinakostrova  @anastasia-orlov @lord-douglas-the-third @autumnsletters @soitsgorgeous @sjm-things @courtofjurdan @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives

~

Sorry for the late update! I got sick, but I’m mostly better now! Also oof this chapter needs a lot of work. I’m going to have to edit these last few chapters soon. 

I was feeling this chapter when I first wrote it and today my brain was like nope not today. So I’m a little bit disappointed with it. But I’ll fix it eventually. At least it’s own in the world. 

Also, You’ll notice a lot of times, I have many Illyrian women being in the center of these stories. Mostly, that’s because starting off it’s Nesta’s POV and of course she’d see mostly women. But it’s also because I want to imagine Illyrian culture. And culture and society are built on the backs of women. Food, celebrations, stories, teaching, language by that extent, cultural practices. Especially in a society where men would have a specific role to be the warriors, merchants, weapon masters, business owners, the people who are sustaining every day life would be women as mundane and trapping as that might seem to maybe Cassian or Rhys or Azriel. 

Not to say that women are not disadvantaged as SJM has described, just that the way these men may see disenfranchisement, may in itself be another sort of cage. So I hope to eventually distinguish that between their two POVs. This very biased “feminist” view from Cassian who says that females need to learn to fight to gain this elusive equality and subsequent protection for themselves. And Nesta’s POV who has seen the world with a very traditional mindset of marriage, virginity, ballgowns, and poise, who has learned and experienced that those things create barriers for women. Who herself feels trapped in her body as a fae, but even before is trapped in a society she doesn’t fit in, who then learns her world is a lie and everyone in it a liar. So, personally, I would think that Nesta could see what Cassian can’t, that women are not just “doing chores.” There is some importance in child rearing, in feeding the village, in domesticity, even if they still do need to expand the rights of women. This is not a weakness, but rather one facet of power. 

This is also why I tend not to have Nesta completely dismissed by all these females either. because I feel it would be easier to infiltrate the ranks of women as a women rather than say Cassian offering his money or power or sympathy. Especially when Nesta’s character is someone who can relate so well.  

Anyways, I don’t know if that makes sense or if it’s is coming across well, and I don’t know if I should continue analyzing my own fic, but I guess let me know if that’s something y’all are interested in me continuing throughout the chapters. 

Like, reblog, comment... and Happy Reading! :D

[captain-tch]

All That I Can Give

summary: kiko is a struggling business owner thrown into the chaos of the borderlands. when she makes a mistake that will threaten her life, she learns just how far she will go to keep herself alive. 

TW: DEATH, MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, MENTAL HEALTH, TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, VIOLENCE

chapter 9: question time

previous chapter

Coming back to the pharmacy that night was hard. Neither of them spoke. Kiko wasn’t sure she could form words; she was pretty certain Tetsu didn’t have the energy for it. She didn’t mind. The silence gave her chance to mull over the events that night. 

The more she thought about it, the less she felt. 

She stared at her hands in awe. These hands, her hands, took down the one true evil in her life. It destroyed her tormentor and now her chest felt lighter than it ever had before. No longer did she have to worry about Riku coming home with an ever changing palette of bruises on his skin. She no longer had to fear the store being looted at night. She no longer had to sleep with a pair of scissors nestled underneath her pillow. 

She could start to breathe again. 

A deep shame took root in her body. Kiko felt like she should hold some level of remorse. She stole a human life when she didn’t need to. Yet as much as tried to dig deep into herself to find a single negative emotion about what happened, she found... nothing. 

She sighed, looking up at the pharmacy door. She shrugged her shoulder, jolting Tetsu awake. Her voice was frail, her throat scratching as she forced words out. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Where are the keys?” 

“As if I’d trust you to use them.” He took a step away from Kiko, swaying on the spot. She jumped forward as he started to dip towards the ground, catching him just before his head hit the ground. Tetsu stared up at her with an icy stare. “I can do it.” 

Rolling her eyes, Kiko let Tetsu go. He thudded to the ground, a high pitched moan emitting from his mouth. His glare didn’t lessen in intensity as he somehow found a way to stand upright long enough to unlock the door. He clutched onto the door handle like it was a crutch. 

Entering the building, Tetsu collapsed to the floor in a heap. Kiko gently kicked him out of the way, shutting the door with a soft slam and proceeding to lock all of the 4 locks barricading the door. Tetsu watched with hawk eyes as she did this. 

“Don’t you trust me?” Kiko smirked. 

“Trust is a loose term.” 

She scoffed. Taking in his bloodied and bruised form, she started to walk through the aisles. “What’s the best stuff to deal with... you?” 

“Poison,” he muttered sarcastically to himself. A little louder this time, he told her to grab some dressing, water, cloth and pain relief. She scavenged the area for the supplies, returning to his side a few minutes later. 

Kiko pointed at his shirt. Tetsu frowned at her, waiting for her to elaborate. Kiko tried to open her mouth to speak, swallowing thickly as the words got lodged in her throat. Unconsciously a hand drifted to her throat. 

Tetsu watched her struggle silently. She took a few moments to compose herself, gesturing again to his shirt and making a lifting motion with her hand. It took some time for it to register.

Grunting under his breath, he tried to lift his shift off himself. As soon as he tried to lift his arms above his head he cried out, body going lax. His head fell back against the cupboard. He took three calming breaths, face scrunching up when he breathed deeply. 

His hands went to the bottom of his shirt when Kiko stopped him. Halting him in his tracks, she pushed his hands away, giving him a tiny smile. “You can trust your body guard.” 

She found a pair of scissors nearby, making quick work of cutting off his shirt. She pulled the excess material away, touch light as she pulled it off his body. He winced slightly but said nothing else. 

When his chest was finally exposed to her, she couldn’t withhold her gasp. His chest was a canvas of colour, bruises turning a dark colour on the surface. In some areas his chest had been cut, blood crusted around the wounds. From the way his hand was lingering near his ribs and the pigments there, she was certain he had broken his ribs. 

“I’m so sorry Ryuk did this to you.” Kiko turned her gaze downwards, busying her hands with wetting some cloth with water. 

“It’s not your fault.” He watched her movements carefully, eyes running over the wounds littering her body. They seemed to fixate on the bruise around her neck the most. “You’re hurt too.” 

Kiko brushed it off. Her elbow throbbed, her back ached and she was fairly certain there was a possibility she might have to be mute for a while. Even with these growing concerns in her mind, she sent him a trembling smile, speaking in a raspy voice.  “It’s nothing.” 

Tetsu nodded. Kiko started to make work of cleaning the blood from his skin, the cloth turning a rusty red as she washed his face. Her movements were so light Tetsu could barely feel her touch him. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Kiko raised a brow. Tetsu wasn’t normally one to ask questions, and if he did, he surely never asked permission. Silently she bobbed her head.  

“How do you know Ryuk?” 

She froze. She contemplated telling Tetsu where to shove his question (more specifically, up his ass), or just be honest with him. It felt like he was knowing more about her daily, and to her, he was still a stranger. 

“How about I answer your question, for the price of asking you a question.” Kiko was surprised when Tetsu agreed. 

Kiko continued cleaning his skin, dipping the cloth back into the water. Ever so slowly it was beginning to turn a murky colour. “Do you remember the game where we met?” 

Tetsu nodded. 

“I mentioned my debt. Well, he was one of the more, untraditional debt collectors.” Kiko moved to cleaning his chest now, making her touch feather flight. She could still feel him tense under the sensation. “He caused my family misery for years.” 

“Do you feel better for killing him?” 

Kiko halted. She felt her words falter, something she tried to pin on her aching throat, trying to form an answer to a question she wasn’t sure she had. “It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Fire away,” he relented. 

“How did you know the answer?” It didn’t long for Tetsu to realise she was referring to the seven of diamonds game. It had been boggling her ever since the game was completed and she could think straight. He slumped down, letting Kiko finish cleaning him before answering. 

“I didn’t.” He shrugged, hissing at the sudden movement. “I took a chance and it paid off.”

Kiko stared at him, mouth opening and closing. She struggled to fathom why he would gamble with his life so freely, so easily. She opened her mouth to question it, his voice interrupting her. “A question for a question?” 

Kiko nodded. 

“Do you regret killing Ryuk?” 

She knew the question was coming and she still had to give herself time to think. It was true that she felt safer now that he was gone. She didn’t regret it at the time. Afterwards she was horrified by what she did. But with the image of his mangled head appearing in his mind, she found the only thing she felt was elation. “I only regret that it will haunt me for the rest of my life.” 

He hummed, sated with her half truth. Now Kiko was itching to ask him a question that had been burning in her mind since he revealed his truth. “Why gamble your life like that?” 

Kiko reached for the dressing, starting to unravel it. She pushed herself closer to Tetsu, wrapping the material around his chest tightly. His skin was cool and smooth to touch. He drew in a large breath. “If I was right, then it wouldn’t be so bad. If I was wrong, well, it could be worse.” 

“You would have died.” 

Tetsu’s silence spoke a thousand words. It struck a chord within her. She was sent back to a chilly day, wrapped up in a thick, black jacket, a note crumpled in her pocket. A train could be heard rattling down the tracks. Her toes tiptoed the edge, bracing herself for the impact that would never come. 

Kiko shook herself. It would do her no good to be thinking of that here. 

Tying the dressing, she marvelled her work. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. “Not too tight?” 

Tetsu grunted. “Perfect.” 

“Can I do anything else to help?” 

She could see how much it physically pained him to ask. “Can you help me to the couch?” 

With one arm wrapped around her waist, they shakily walked to their makeshift bedroom. Kiko made an effort to ensure Tetsu was comfortable, shifting pillows and dragging the blanket over him. 

“Kiko?” Tetsu looked up at her with half lidded eyes. “Make sure you drink some water.” 

He gave her a small smile, his wrecked body rapidly falling asleep. 

Kiko sighed, moving to the other room to address her own wounds. Like Tetsu advised she dabbed some water on her bruises, paying particular attention to the one wrapped around her throat. If she looked closely enough, she could make out where Ryuk’s fingers had marked her. She carefully cleaned her elbow, being sure to pull as many shards of glass out as she could. She was unable to control how her breath hitched each time a particularly sharp shard was pulled from out of her skin. 

With her elbow cleaned and bandaged, a yawn consumed her. She nestled into her make shift bed, glancing at a half full water bottle calling her from across the room. 

Kiko swiftly turned away, quickly falling into a world of blood soaked dreams. 

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Breadcrumbs

It was Saturday night so you knew it wasn’t going to be a good time. I mean, someone would probably be having a good time, but that was usually the problem. I work as an EMT downtown and a “good time” didn’t always turn out right for everyone. Weekends in particular often saw a good number of drunken brawls, passed out Freshmen on lawns, people accidentally locked out of their homes and close to frostbite, and all sorts of mild concussions.

I had been dreading this particular day for the entire week. Madison is a college town, meaning that most of the population is young adults trying to get a degree in psychology or international relations or getting alcohol poisoning by the age of 22. It also meant that when things happened at the college, the rest of the city felt it.

It was the weekend after finals and we felt it. The night before had seen a tiny girl in a rainbow shirt puking in the ambulance three times (and on me) and a pre-law student having a nervous breakdown over their test results while I asked them over and over what they had taken. And at the very end of my shift around 3 am a frat boy tried to punch me and then cried, asked to call his mom, and fell asleep all in the span of ten minutes.

I was actually one of those students just a few years earlier with the same panic and sleep-deprived wildness in me. I tried my best to help with sutures and calming words and a very large puke bag. “Doctor” had been the dream job since I was old enough to google youtube videos of live-surgeries, but getting to “Dr. Braginsky” was a thing far in the future.

For now, it was just me and my crew and the frigid streets.

It was the regular gang that night for the Ford pick-up rig: Mary Keynes who was at least forty but drove like hell and texted her kids every few hours. She had been there longer than any of us and often regaled us with the story of how she left her husband and decided to make several “life changes.” Driving an ambulance was one of those changes.

And then there was the other paramedic on duty: Jimmy Newark. He wasn’t even that interested in medicine as far as I knew and worked as an accountant during the day. He told us he just wanted something to fill his nights and was a slow-talking calm man with a sad-dog look about him, like he had been kicked a few too many times as a puppy. I also knew that I only ever saw him really come alive was when he was staunching a head wound or trying to resuscitate an old lady from heart failure.

It seemed he got some weird thrill from it, but he was good at his job so I never said anything.

It was me, Mary, and Jimmy. We were pretty chummy at that point and worked well together and the first few hours flew by.

We picked up a kid with a badly sprained ankle after he took a spill on some black ice and visited two seniors who had taken some party drug that had them picking at invisible scabs and babbling. I didn’t think anything of it.

It was a ten hour shift and we were four hours in. Downtown was all lights and red faces and bad music coming from somewhere. I had my flash cards out. I had been studying for the MCAT for almost a year and a half by that point and being an EMT was good practice, but it wasn't a replacement for the actual book knowledge med school would take. And I kept getting nervous.

My hands are steady and there was no end to my fascination with the weird things of the human body, but thinking about testing into competitive schools like Johns Hopkins always got me a little stomach sick. I was getting that nervous sick feeling thinking about applications when we got the call.

It came in over the radio and Mary took it right away. I didn’t hear most of the conversation since I was absorbed in my own thoughts and figured it was something like a college student slipping on a beer bottle. But it was different.

“Right, Sherman Avenue.” We made a quick U-turn and turned on our lights just as I stuffed my flashcards away into a separate compartment as to not get in the way. “Good Samaritan call-in.” Mary said over her shoulder, “an injured man off Sherman avenue. Near the park.” Jimmy leaned forward, “Cuts? Broken bones?” “Didn’t say,” Mary said and made a sharp right turn. “He said it might be a homeless guy. That he just looked bad.” “Okay,” I said and mentally prepared myself for any of the “worst” possibilities. There was a relatively small homeless population in Madison, but they were the most vulnerable to violence and the worst of the Wisconsin winter.

We made it in good time to Warner Park and I looked up just in time to see the slate grey skies starting to release little tiny puffs of snow. “Oh great,” Jimmy sighed and looked up with me. “I left one my house windows open.” 

I rolled my eyes and we pulled up to Sherman Avenue with a Goodwill across the street and dark stretches of park on the other. I sighed, “I don’t suppose there was a better tip-off for where this person actually is?” Mary stopped the engine. “Better get out and give it a quick sweep.” We usually only spend a little while looking for an injured person on busy nights like this, but Jimmy pointed first.

“There,” he said and jerked a finger up. “By the light.” There was an upright figure caught in the pure white light of the street lamp on the sidewalk and standing perfectly still. “Is he… hurt?” I asked and squinted and Jimmy was already out of the car. “What are you talking about?” He pinched his gloves on and was running, I got my own gloves on and ducked after him.

“Don’t you want the stretcher?” Mary asked, but I didn’t pause. The man looked like he was standing just fine by himself.

Snowflakes kissed my cheeks softly and I followed Jimmy’s hurried steps toward the figure. “Hold on sir! We’re coming.”

My heart was pounding and I didn’t know why. It beat it in my ears with a hot sticky pulse and my breathing was feverish and far too fast for our light jog. I blinked once, twice, and then the man was farther away. Standing in the light of the next street lamp.

“Wait,” I didn’t like this. I turned to reach for Jimmy, but there was only air besides me. I slowed and looked left and right, “Jimmy?”

Soft snow landed on the tip of my nose and there was a red and visceral scent on the breeze. I took a deep breath of it and recognized the rusty hardened stench of old blood. The type that’s been left there to turn to copper and old musty globs.

I tensed from head to foot and when I looked down there were several tiny drops of blood spattering across the sidewalk. Leading me forward. They were wet and must have been what gave the air a putrid smell.

“Jimmy?” I looked around again, but the street was empty as the wind whipped through the branches of the park trees nearby. I turned to get away from this new eerie twilight feeling.

I took a step and the toe of my shoe dipped into a small puddle of blood. I jumped back, I wasn’t a stranger to blood but it looked darker than normal and seemed to sit...wrong. It was too thick and too shiny in the light.

I stood there as if transfixed, and a soft moan crawled through the space. It matched the wind itself and crooned almost sweetly. I jerked my head up and there was the figure again.

He was standing this time inside the park itself by a bench and tall beech tree. I scanned the area around for Jimmy one more time and then figured maybe he got ahead of me. The moan weaved through the air and I reached out a hand toward it.

“Sir?” The smell of cooking meat and winter chill filled my mouth and I covered my nose with my sleeve. The man stood next to the bench, unmoving, and I tried to be rational, there’s blood. Someone’s hurt. Do your job.

I walked quickly on autopilot to get closer to the stranger. Nothing about him came into sharper focus: he was still a faded silhouette among long shadows. I did notice however there was a light I hadn’t seen before.

It was so faint you might be able to convince yourself it wasn’t there, but it burnt pale and tinted blue around his form. An outline a very determined child might have painted around someone.

I sucked in a deep breath and swallowed down the brackish scent once more as I drew closer to him. Spots of blood appeared as shiny pools on the ground. The moan was even softer now and barely audible.

“I’m here to help.” I heard myself say as I indicated the medical insignia on my jacket. The wind slapped me in the face and I winced.

I looked up and there was no one by the bench, but my gaze was driven deeper into the wooded park by a gentle light. And the figure.

I shivered and knew I needed to turn back, I needed it like water or air or a hug after a long day. But there was this smooth line of blood slithering toward him and I was walking. I tried to make it make sense- I couldn’t just leave the fellow and surely once I had him I could drag him back toward the ambulance and find Jimmy again.

I walked past the park bench and past the leafless trees and some of the slush left over from a storm a few days earlier. The snowflakes caressed my cheeks and I squinted ahead.

The moan was musical at this point and I almost started swaying along to it. I didn’t, but I found that I was still walking and walking.

The park passed by and my eyes were filled with the soft glowing blue light and the deep melodic groan that led me toward the earthy blood scent and faded outline.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away and barely noticed as the landscape opened up. The trees fell away and the wind died down and all I was left with was the smooth ground and shiftless dull winter skies. I was however aware of the crack. There was a crackling, electric sound alike to fireworks or eggshells being crunched on the floor.

The moan fell away altogether and it was quiet with only the crackling of the ground and the lovely blue light that seemed to seep inside me. A strange beckoning feeling followed. “Sir,” I whispered as I finally, finally, reached the outline, “You’re injured…”

That’s all I got out before the thing turned around and something stood before me. Featureless, blank skin and something in the middle of its face like a tearing, violent slash that you might describe as a smile. No eyes, no nose, but a jagged smile that split the face in two with the same sick crackling sound as the ground. Something shifted under me.

I gasped and looked down to see that I had stepped out onto the park lake and that’s when the utter cold swallowed me whole.

Cold and cold and freezing water engulfed my head and my vision went white. I tried to pry my eyes open, but the water was black and thick and there was only the barest hint of shine ahead. A shine like long teeth and something looming and huge just beyond me.

“Ah!” A yell like a battle cry erupted from above and I was being wrenched out of the water just as quickly as I had fallen into it.

I sputtered for air above ground.

“Don’t follow the glowing man.” A hoarse voice wheezed into my ear like a chant over and over. “Never follow the glowing man.” I passed out in a twinkling haze of shaking and murmuring.

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

I was saved by a homeless man sleeping on one of the park benches by the lake. No one on my shift remembered me leaving or where I went. All I knew was that I had followed something thoughtlessly out onto the Warner Park lake and fell in.

I asked a nurse, once, if she thought there was something in that lake, but she just gave me a funny look and said that the lake wasn’t deep enough to house much wildlife. I shut up after that.

In the years that followed I never stopped trying to help people, but sometimes I hesitated now. When it was dark, hard to see, and drops of blood littered the ground. I stopped and listened for melodic moaning in the distance.

I didn’t see anything like it again, but working the ambulance wasn’t the same. I looked around corners too much and jumped too easily at different sounds. I took the MCAT as quickly as I could and things become easier in well-lit fluorescent rooms. 

I do stop whenever I can though and give out blankets to anyone sleeping on the street and avidly tell college students and locals to avoid the lakes at night. And not to follow any trails of blood that lead you onward and onward into the dark.

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

If you enjoyed the story I have a patreon for long term support and exclusive bonus content and a ko-fi for one-time tipping and $3 coffee trips, please consider giving to the artist if you can! Even a little helps 🤗

[farfromtommy]

the rest of our lives //chris evans x reader

A/N: wrote this bc I couldn't sleep. its almost 4am and im tired but felt like writing some cute shit tonight. I love this so much and sorry if it doesn't make sense and for the mistakes but I LOVE IT. pls give it some love . 

Summary: chris and y/n visit her childhood home and tell her parents about their plans for the future

Warnings: angst, FLUFFFFFFFFFFFF, language I think, age gap but its not gross (chris 38, reader 22)

Word Count: 3,780

masterlist

With one final zip of your suitcase you were ready for your trip. You and your boyfriend of 2 years, Chris, were taking a couple days off to spend time with your parents. You hadn’t seen them since your college graduation and they had been bugging you for months for you and Chris to spend some time in your hometown. 

You were currently living in Boston and had completely expected that you weren’t going back home following your completion of university. Your life was in Boston. Although you missed your parents and your sister, you were so ready to start this new chapter of your life and be able to make it your own. 

You and Chris had been looking for a house together since you decided to stay in Boston with him. Your relationship was headed in a good direction and both of you were 100% in it for the long run. You wanted to wait till after you graduated to move in together, not wanting to worry about anything besides school. Chris had his realtor on the phone the minute your grades for your last semester had been finalized and everything was approved for graduation. 

When you sat down with him and both said what you were looking for in a house, the topic of kids came up. You knew Chris wanted a family, and you did too. You had both agreed to bring the conversation up again after some time in the house together. You were secretly hoping he was planning on proposing to you soon. You’ve been dropping major hints at him through your Pinterest board ever since you started having serious conversations about your future with each other. You were ready for it all. You wanted to marry Chris and fill your beautiful new home with a bunch of kids. 

You were also slowly convincing him to get Dodger a friend since both of you were always working, and you wanted to make sure he was never lonely when you were at work. 

Your amazing realtor had found a beautiful house right outside of Boston that had everything you were both looking for. You were just waiting for the final pieces of paperwork to come in and finally be able to call the house yours. 

Your lease on your apartment was up last month and had been staying at Chris’s place. All of the big things you didn’t sell from your place were in storage and everything else was with you. 

When you had mentioned to your sister that you and Chris were days away from closing on your new home, she had asked how your parents felt about everything. 

“They know our relationship is serious. They met him at graduation and had known about him well before that. Mom even talked about us having a fall wedding here, since the weather would be perfect. I haven’t told them about the house since we’ve known about this trip since everything with the house started. I want to tell them in person, so don’t mention anything to them.” You huffed. 

“I talked to mom the other day and she thinks that you made a mistake staying there to be with Chris. She doesn’t think your relationship is going to last, since he’s so much older than you. Hell, that’s what everyone thinks. She’s just worried, I think.” She expressed. 

“I’ve been hearing all of that for the past 2 years from everyone I know, especially from mom. Nobody knows our relationship better than we do. We both want the same things and are happy being together. So what if he’s older than me? Dad is way older than mom and no one questions the integrity of their relationship, why does everyone have to question mine?” I said back. 

“I know. I know you keep hearing this, and I’m sorry. I’m really happy for you, Y/N. I really am. Buying a house together is a big deal and I’m glad you’re ready to do that with him. You have everything so figured out and people are just jealous. I mean, you have the hottest dude in Hollywood in your bed every night. Who wouldn’t be jealous of that?” She chuckled. 

“Anyway, we’ll talk more when you get here! I’m so excited to see you. Call me when you land and I’ll meet you at home. Love you!! See you tomorrow.” The line clicked and you threw your phone onto your bed. You let out a deep sigh and moved your suitcase off of the bed so you could collapse. 

You were slowly dozing off when you had heard Dodger starting to bark, alerting you that Chris was home. He had been doing some small indie films in Boston, not wanting to get back into major productions until you were settled in your new house. You picked yourself off your bed and walked into the living room, seeing Chris toe off his shoes and place his things down. He greeted Dodger and walked over to you, mumbling a quick hi and placed a quick kiss onto your lips. 

“Hi my love, how was your day?” He asked as he walked into the kitchen. You took a seat on the barstool facing the kitchen, and watched as Chris started to look around for something to snack on. 

“It was pretty good. Work was how it usually is. I came home early and got all my packing done for the trip and just cleaned a little bit around the house. I left some things you might want to pack out on the bed just incase. How was yours? Anything exciting happen on set?” You asked, leaning back on your chair.

“Wrapped up everything I needed to do so I could relax and enjoy the next couple of days without worrying about needing to get back to set.” He took a beer out of the fridge and leaned against the counter and took a drink from the bottle. “How are you feeling about seeing your parents and telling them about the house? You haven’t really said much about it.” He took another sip and walked closer to you. 

He sat in the chair next to you and just looked at you, waiting for your response. You thought for a moment, collecting your thoughts before giving him an honest answer. You sighed and thought about the conversation you had with your sister. 

“I’m excited to tell time, but really nervous. I talked to my sister earlier and she had told me that my mom has been having doubts about us and was just worried that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into and blah blah blah. But I’m ready to set everything straight and tell her that she can’t doubt us anymore. It’s important to us that we do this and she needs to be on board with that. I know she’ll be happy for us, but you know how she gets. I think dad will be happy for us. He really like you, y’know. Tells me all the time that I need to fly him up here so you two can go to a Pats game. Poor guy had a house full of women his entire life and now he finally has the son he always wanted.” You rambled slightly. 

“Everything is gonna a work out, don’t be nervous. It’s 4 days with your parents and then we close on the house when we get back and should be moved in by the end of the next month. I know how important your family is to you and how much it means to to get their support on this, but you have so many other people who support you. You’re basically and Evans now and you have all of them standing behind us, cheering us on. Don’t worry too much on what might happen with them, but think about what’s happening with us now. Our life together is finally getting started.” He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it before pulling you off the chair and moving you closer to him. You stood between his legs and wrapped your arms around him. His comment about you being an Evans filled your stomach with butterflies but you didn’t think much into it. 

For the rest of the night you just sat on the couch watching movies and eating random snacks you had in the pantry, not bothering to cook something for dinner. You snuggled up next to Chris and Dodger was next to you as you stayed in the living room well into the night. You had fallen asleep on the couch and next thing you knew, you were being placed on your side of the bed and tucked in gently. 

Chris placed a kiss on your forehead and moved some of your Y/H/C hair out of your face. You sleepily smiled at him before turning to your side and let sleep consume you. You heard shuffling around the room, assuming Chris was finishing any packing he had left. You woke when you felt the bed dip beside you and your were wrapped in a pair of strong arms. You moved closer to Chris and let sleep take over you once again. 

~

It was late afternoon and you and Chris had landed safely in your hometown. You were driving down the street that was still so familiar to you. You saw your parent’s house come into full view as you instinctually turned a corner. You drew in a sharp breath as you put your rental car in park and stared up at your childhood home. You had spent so many years of your life here and it was so weird not seeing it as your home anymore. You looked over at Chris and he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. He grabbed some of his things and opened the car door and stepped out. 

You walked up to the front door hand in hand and raised your hand up to ring the doorbell. Not even 5 seconds later your mom had answered the door and immediately wrapped you in a hug. She grabbed your shoulders and looked at you with joy. She brought you in for another hug before giving one to Chris. 

“It’s good to see you again, Chris! How have things been going for you?” Your mom questioned, moving out of the way so you could walk inside. 

“Everything has been going great, thank you! How have you and Y/D/N been?” Chris asked, looking at the beautiful house he walked into. He had never seen this place in person, just in pictures you had and through a phone whenever he was around when you video called your parents.

 It was so elegantly decorated. Family photos littered the walls, he could pick you out of all of them. One of the things he had hoped he’d get a chance to see were photos from your childhood. You have been through every photo album the Evans family had created, thanks to his mom. You knew he was looking forward to those, so you had made sure your mom pulled them out of storage for him. 

“Same old same old. We’ve been really looking forward to you guys coming to visit us. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve made Y/D/N clean this house over the past week. Had to make sure everything was in tip top shape for your first visit.” She winked at Chris and looked back at you. You plopped down on the couch, exhausted from your hectic day. 

“Thank you, Y/M/N. It’s really a beautiful house.” Chris said as he sat down next to you on the couch, putting his arm across the back of it. She nodded at him and went to go find your dad. You leaned into Chris’s side and he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. He placed a kiss on the top of your head before continuing to take in his surroundings. 

“Don’t fall asleep before giving your old man a hug!” Your dads voice said as he walked into the living room. You and Chris both stood up and you ran into your dads arms. You loved both of your parents, but you were always closer to your dad. He gave you a big hug, picking you up off the ground slightly and placed a kiss on your cheek. Chris walked up to him and extended his hand for a handshake once you were done greeting your dad. 

“It’s great to see you! Glad you guys could take the time to make it out here.” Your dad said, shaking Chris’s hand and pulling him in for a “bro” hug. 

“Me too. I’m excited to finally be here. I’ve heard a lot of stories and seen a lot of pictures of Y/N growing up here.” Chris said as everyone took a seat in the living room, the two of you going back to your original spots. 

You all sat around the living room talking for a while, just catching up on everything that had been happening in your lives. Your dad and Chris started to get into sports talk and your mom motioned for you to go with her to the kitchen. You stood up from your spot, excusing yourself from the conversation you were no longer interested in and followed your mom. She poured you glass of wine, and then one for herself and told you to take it to the back porch while she got something for your dad and Chris. You sat down on one of the chairs and got comfortable, your mom joining you a few minutes later. 

“So, how are things in Boston with Chris? We haven’t really talked much about it. After graduation we thought you were going to come back, and then you stayed and we were all kinda confused.” Your mom said taking a sip from her glass. 

“Things are really great between us right now. Chris has been spending most of his time in Boston doing some small projects so I see him basically everyday. Work has been going super well, I’m loving every second of it. I know you guys were really disappointed when I didn’t come back, but my life is in Boston now. Chris is there and all my frien-“ You were saying before your mom cut you off. 

“So Chris is your life now? Chris and work? What happened to family first? You were supposed to come home and help us out. We thought you were going to find your own place here and find a job and be able to be here for us. We were there for you all your life.” She criticized. 

“Mom, I’m 22 years old. Don’t you think I’m old enough to start building my own life? Chris and I are building our future together and I couldn’t just leave and continue doing that from here. I wasn’t going to make him uproot his life up to follow me here just because you wanted me to. I’m sorry that you don’t agree with my decisions but I think I’m allowed to decide what I think is best for me.” You said back to her. She rolled her eyes at your response. Before she could say anything back your sister opened the door excitedly greeting you. You were relieved she was finally here to pull you out of the conversation that had taken a turn south between you and your mom. 

You had gone inside with your sister and saw that she brought dinner for everyone. You went over to Chris and asked him to help you get your bags out of the car before you sat down for dinner. He had noticed your change in mood and quickly followed you outside. You quickly ranted to him about what your mom had said and blew off some steam before heading back inside with your things. Chris followed you up to your childhood bedroom, where you two would be staying for the next few nights. It was still the way you had left it. Pictures of your high school friends scattered around the walls, and posters of things you loved when you were in high school. Chris chuckled at some of them and you two headed back to the dining room. 

Dinner had been going well, despite your moms discreet bashes at your life choices, you ignored them and continued to enjoy the rest of the meal. As everyone was finishing, you decided it was as good a time as any to bring up the big news. 

“So mom and dad, you guys don’t know this but Chris and I have been talking a lot the past couple months about our future and where we see it going. Things between us have been getting serious for a long time, but we just put off pulling the trigger on anything until I finished school and found a good job. Now that I am done with school and found a really amazing job, we decided that it was time to start settling down and getting ready for the rest of our lives together. With that being said, when we get back home, we are closing on a beautiful house that we found. We bought a house and we’ll be moved into it by the end of next month.” You said looking to your parents, hoping to be able to read their expressions. Your sister had a smile on her face, already knowing the news. 

Chris grabbed your hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. You shot him a small smile and looked back at your parents. Your mom had an unreadable expression. She seemed to be going through a lot of things in her mind as she processed everything you had just said. You looked at your dad, hoping to get  a better reaction from him. He stood up from his chair and walked over to the space between you and Chris, and gave you two the most bone crushing hug possible. He whispered a few words of encouragement to you two before letting go and going back to his seat. 

“I’m so happy for you two. This is such a big step in any relationship and it can be really tricky. You seem to be handling it with grace and I’m really proud of you two. I’m sure you have searched high and low for the perfect home for you two, and I already know its going to be beautiful. I hope that once you are all moved in and settled and are ready for guests, you invite us to spend a couple days up there with you. All I ask is that you make sure the Pats are playing so Chris here can show me how you New Englanders party when they play.” Your dad said, looking at your and Chris with such love and admiration. “Not to push or anything, but I hope this house has some extra bedrooms ready for kids whenever you decide you’re ready for them.” He added. 

You chuckled at your dads comment and wiped some tears that fell from your eyes. “Yes, dad, there are plenty of bedrooms for kids. One of the things on our list was it needed to be family friendly. When you see it, you’ll see how perfect it is for a family. But we’re taking it one step at a time and we’ll talk about kids again when we’re ready.” You assured him. He mumbled good and looked over at your mom, who had been silent the entire time. She looked at you when she realized that all eyes were on her. “Mom, are you going to say something to them?” You’re sister chimed in. 

“I didn’t know you guys were really this serious about each other.” She responded. 

“Well after 2 years together I would hope we were serious about being together.” You smirked. 

“I’m sorry for the shit I was giving you earlier, I was just so scared that you were throwing your life away for some guy you were dating. If I had know the depth of it, I wouldn’t have been so harsh. I should’ve listened to you, Y/N. I was just worried about you and worried that he was going to leave you broken and battered. I’m sorry for not giving you more faith, Chris.” She admitted. You and your mom had both stood up and gave each other a long hug. This was the first time in a long time where your mom had been so genuinely happy for you. There was a big family hug, with Chris included. You joked that he was basically a Y/L/N, referring to the joke he had made to you yesterday. 

“Well I do hope that buying a house together means that a wedding is in sight.” Your mom had whispered in your ear. You shot her a look of ‘ I know right?! ‘ and you gave her another hug. Chris winked at you from across the room when you made eye contact. You send him a loving look and mouthed ‘I love you’ to him. He returned the look and mouthed ‘I love you too’ back. You felt butterflies in your stomach and your cheeks heat up. 

~

You had gotten ready for bed before Chris had and was all tucked in and ready to sleep by the time he came up to your room. He had stayed downstairs and helped your parents clean up from dinner while you showered and started to unwind. He saw your body on the bed and assumed you had already fallen asleep. You stared at him as he undressed in front of you and admired his amazing body. He caught you staring and shot you a suggestive look as he turned the lights off and went back to get into bed with you.

“We’re not defiling my childhood room by having sex in here. Plus my mom finally came around to our relationship and my dad probably loves you more than I do, so we can’t risk them hearing us.” You whispered as he pressed his body against yours. Your back was pressed against his bare chest and you gripped his forearms as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You turned your head towards him and pressed a kiss onto his lips. He mumbled ‘I love you so much’ between kisses. 

The love that was flowing between your bodies that night was unreal. You spent all night in his arms, exactly where you belonged. 

[miss-pearlescent]

If you have time, I was wondering if you could write a one shot based off of Favourite positions 😂 also have a nice day/night!!

Thank you for the request! If anybody hasn’t watched Kai’s practice videos of the Confession demo, go look it up now :) You won’t regret it :))))

I almost deleted this whole thing because I didn’t like it LOL but I hope you guys enjoy this quick read at least a little bit ._.

Favourite Position (M)

You kept waving as the sleek car pulled out of the driveway. For some reason, the exhaustion of the past month suddenly hit you like a wall as you watched your in-laws driving away. It was finally over. The wedding, the move, the housewarming party.

You closed the heavy oak door of your new house and let out a little sigh.

“Tired?” Jongin’s soft voice floated from the kitchen archway, where he leaned against the beam casually, his arms crossed over his chest.

You gave him a dumb smile and dragged your slippered feet over, letting your forehead hit his chest as he opened his arms. He was like your big teddy bear. “Mhmm,” you murmured.

Strangely, you felt at ease for the first time in a long time. You were home, in your husband’s (it still felt odd to call Jongin something other than your boyfriend) embrace, settling into a new house. This was perfect.

A hand squeezed your butt, ruining the moment.

You snorted a laugh, amazed for a second by how quiet the house suddenly felt. The two of you were alone and...Jongin was feeling handsy.

“It’s been too long, I can’t help it.” His voice was already a low husk as he tilted your chin up.

You rolled your eyes even though your arms were winding around his neck. “It’s been two days.”

Dotting chaste kisses along your cheek, he chuckled. “Two days too long. We need to break in the bed.”

You half-gasped, half-giggled at his words, his breath tickling your skin. “What do you mean?” Warmth washed over your senses and the calm in your body quickly stirred into something achy.

“That was just a quickie.” Jongin pulled your legs up and perched you on his waist, turning to walk into the kitchen. “You were only partially on the bed.”

He set you down on the counter, running his hands up your legs to slowly pull up the hem of the dress you were wearing. You opened your thighs, letting him have access to whatever he wanted. “Partially? My hands and knees were on the mattress.”

That morning, Jongin had been the first one to get out of bed, and you remembered watching him get ready. He accused you of being a pervert when you couldn’t look away from him as he got dressed for work. You threw a poorly-aimed pillow at him for calling you a perv.

Then he pulled you out from the covers, got you on your hands and knees, and fucked you from behind.

It was maybe three pumps later before you were screaming his name.

You were a dazed mess when he tucked you back into bed, kissing your forehead and promising to fuck you in that position more often.

Tonight, you hoped he would stay true to that promise.

“I want you on your back. I want your legs above your head,” he murmured, his fingers unzipping the back of your navy blue dress. “That’s how we’re going to break in the bed.”

You shivered, pulling off the sleeves of the dress as Jongin stoked the fire in your core. Just a quick hour, the two of you were having a quaint dinner with parents from both sides. You had tried your hardest to look and sound like the perfect daughter-in-law, and now you were about to strip down naked.

“Fuck.” Jongin’s breathing was harsh as he pulled away to help you take off the dress. “You look so beautiful.”

You blushed and ducked your head to reach back and unclasp the heavy necklace around your neck.

“No, wait.” He took your hands and held them in your lap as his eyes devoured the sight of you, wearing only your bra and panties. “Keep the necklace and earrings on.”

You knew you were turning even more red. Sex was always quite messy between the two of you, and you didn’t feel right wearing the expensive jewellery that Jongin had got you for your birthday last year. But the look in his eyes told you it turned him on.

Not to mention, the noticeable bulge under his pants.

He groaned and set his mouth to your throat. “How did I get so lucky?”

You felt your stomach flutter as he opened your legs wider, pulling aside the thin fabric of your underwear and pressing a finger to your slit.

“Oh, Jongin!” You clutched his shoulder, surprised by the touch.

His lips sucked on a sensitive spot on your collarbone, making you whimper as he made small languid strokes between your legs, dipping ever so slightly deeper and deeper. “You’re always so wet and ready for me, babe.”

Your feet wrapped around his waist, pressing him closer. You needed him, now.

He grabbed one of your ankles, hooking it up so it rested on his shoulder. You weren’t sure if you were flexible enough to pull off this position elegantly, but it seemed perfect for Jongin as he pulled down his fly and clasped his thick erection in his palm.

Your toes curled at the sight of him, his pre-cum beading at the tip.

His thumb kneaded your thigh, forcing you to take shuddering breaths as he teased your entrance. He spread your juices with his head, flicking your clit on occasion to make everything more slick.

“Look at me,” he said, putting a finger under your chin.

You met his eyes, his gaze so hard yet tender, and you knew you had married the right man, the one who loved you more than anything in the world.

Your mouth fell open as he breached your entrance, stretching you wide for his thick girth. He watched with satisfaction as your legs began to shake with every inch that he pushed. “I’m going to come. I’m going to come,” you whispered.

Jongin smirked. “I’m barely inside, babe.”

But you couldn’t help it, you were already seeing stars. Maybe you were the insatiable one between the two of you, because it seemed that you could never tire of the orgasms that Jongin gave you.

Trembling, you closed the distance by angling your hips forward and pressing your bodies together. You heard him suck in a breath as he pulled you off the counter, his hands digging into your ass as you moaned his name.

“Jongin...” This was a completely new position, and it was as if his length had reached deeper than ever before. You laid your head down on his shoulder, panting as he cradled you in his arms.

And when he began walking out of the kitchen, you had to bite down on your lip to keep from crying out. The movement jostled your body, causing his length to slip in and out. Your clit took a blunt hit everytime he took a step, sending pleasurable shocks down your legs.

“It’s been too long for you, too, hasn’t it?” he asked as he gently settled you down on the arm of the couch.

You helped him unclip your bra, tossing it to the side. “Hmm?”

Jongin leaned in, taking one of your heavy breasts in his palm and running the hard nipple between his fingers. “You’re always so sensitive these days.”

“Are you fishing for compliments, oh mighty sex god of a husband?” you teased and leaned your arms back on the couch so he had a full view of your naked body.

He threw his head back in a laugh, a sound that warmed your heart. Then he closed in on you, his stare sinister and unyielding. “I take that back. You’ve always been sensitive for me.” Without warning, he thrust hard.

You arched your back, taking him in as your mouth opened in a silent gasp. Your hips were raised up on the armrest in a perfect angle for him to hit deep.

And boy, did he go deep.

“I see my girl needs some stress relief after having all those guests over.” He thrust again, his hands holding your waist to meet him halfway.

“More,” you begged, breathless. “More, Jongin.”

He pumped faster, his eyes going to your breasts that were bouncing up and down thanks to his rhythm. “Fuck, you’re getting tighter, babe.”

Unable to take it any longer, you grabbed at the couch cushions, digging your nails into them as your body stiffened. Your limbs felt like they were hot molten lava as you collapsed down, your breath dying as a sigh between your lips.

A moment later, Jongin followed, falling forward with a shudder as he took your aching breast into his mouth to muffle his groan. His hips jerked wildly, shooting his release inside until you felt the couch move a little under his force.

Immediately, the thought of conceiving a baby popped into your mind. You looked down, marveling at the man you called your husband as he buried his nose in your skin. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, never wanting to let him go.

He pressed kisses between your breasts as he caught his breath, the gesture so tender that it oddly made you want to cry.

“We’re not done yet,” he rasped.

“What?” You let him up, unsure if you had heard him right since he was speaking to your chest.

He propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes hooded and a lazy smile on his lips, and casually drew circles around your sensitive nipple. “We still haven’t broken the bed.”

---

I hope you guys enjoyed that one! The moment I saw this request, I knew what you were talking about LOOOOOOOOOOOL

It was actually a little bit difficult to write because 1) I had to dig for the lyrics though I still don’t know if they were correct and 2) KAI IS JUST DANCING ABOUT STRAIGHT UP SEX. How am I supposed to work with that!!!! So I decided to try out kitchen sex LOL Sex positions are difficult for me because I don’t like describing positions and setting and stuff, but it’s a good exercise for my brain...So many body parts...so many directions....

Thank you for the request and I hope you liked it :)

[jovialyouthmusic]

Time of the...

Sophia and Bastien may seem as if they’re at it like rabbits, but every four weeks or so they calm down a bit - and you might guess why. Here they confront the monthly lull. There’s nothing graphic I promise, just fluff. It ‘belongs’ to the next chapter in Silver Service, but I’m posting it as a stand alone piece because it’s a loooong series and you can just dip in if you know the characters but haven’t kept up.

If you know NOTHING about this ship, it’s Bastien Lykel from TRR and his LI, my OC Sophia Turner, who came to Cordonia to work for the royal family. That’s really all you need to know apart from the fact that they are truly, madly, deeply in love. Oh, and they have pet names, ‘thea mou’ means ‘my goddess’ and ‘agape mou’ means ‘my love’

Word Count 1779

No warnings, but please bear in mind my blog is not suitable for under 18s.

Sophia sat huddled up on the couch, hot water bottle clutched to her stomach, soft blanket around her shoulders and knees drawn up to her chest. This wasn’t the first time she’d had her period since she’d moved in with Bastien, but they’d not discussed it before, just skirted around it. Her cycle was mostly regular, but the symptoms varied wildly, and this was a bad one. She was bloated and her head throbbed. She had managed soup and bread for lunch, which was sitting heavy in her belly and the painkillers were taking a long time to kick in, so she curled up and started to channel surf.

She heard Bastien returning from work, and he came in to the lounge. She knew that he had eaten in the staff canteen, but she hadn’t wanted to appear in public with the way she was feeling. He paused momentarily as he took in the situation, stooping to kiss her on the forehead before he continued through to the kitchenette, clattering around making coffee as she settled on a romcom. She frowned at the kiss and winced at the sharp noises, calling out to him testily.

‘Do you have to make so much noise?’ she snapped

‘Sorry my goddess. Do you want anything to drink?’

‘No’ she said shortly, the smell of coffee turning her stomach. Yesterday she had desperately wanted him to come back, but right now she wished he would just leave her alone.

‘I could make hot chocolate’ he cajoled. She shook her head, irritated that he would presume that would make her feel better.

‘No thankyou’ she said in an attempt at politeness that she definitely didn’t feel. He came over and sat next to her, leaning his arm on the back of the couch, head on his palm and body angled toward her.

‘Can I do anything for you, theá mou?’ he asked soothingly. She shook her head and kept her eyes on the screen, though really she wasn’t watching it – it was just wallpaper. ‘Sophia?’ he prompted. She turned her head to him sharply.

‘What is it, Bastien?’ she said sharply ‘I just want to sit and be quiet’

‘You’re hurting, agápe mou’ he pressed ‘I want to help’

‘Well don’t’ she snapped, looking back at the screen ‘I’ve coped with this on my own for years. Most women do, you know’ He was quiet for a while but didn’t move.

‘We’ve never talked about this’ he said, quietly probing ‘How is it for you? You can tell me’ She sighed heavily, knowing he wouldn’t let it go.

‘My guts hurt, my head throbs and the pills aren’t helping’ she said, a lump forming in her throat.

‘It’s not usually this bad, is it?’ he asked, his tone gentle. She shook her head, and found her eyes prickling. He handed her  a tissue, and she accepted it and dabbed at her face, sniffling and holding back tears as her mood swung from irritation to self pity. He leaned closer, his tone soft as he carried in his assault on her walls.

‘Did I ever tell you about the first time I went down on a girl?’ She shook her head, pressure building in her chest from the sobs she withheld. He smiled ‘She didn’t know her period had started, and it was a while before either of us realised. She was mortified’ Sophia looked at him watery eyed, her sob turning into a laugh.

‘That can’t have been nice’ He put his hand on her knee and squeezed it.

‘I didn’t mind. A few towels and a wash afterwards and all is fine. You don’t have to hide anything from me, theá mou’ he said softly ‘Come here, let me hold you’ She made a little sound of acquiescence and he moved close as she repositioned herself, still hugging the hot water bottle. Gently he put his arm around her shoulders, stroking her hair. She sighed and relaxed into his warm embrace, genuinely feeling just a little better.

‘I can heat up that bottle’ he offered. She shook her head, unwilling to move.

‘No, just stay like this for now’ she murmured. She stared at the screen. She knew he disliked what he termed ‘fluffy’ films or series, but he bore it without complaint. If it weren’t for the dull ache in her belly and throbbing head she would have fallen asleep in his arms. Instead she shifted uncomfortably, groaning quietly.

‘What pills did you take?’ he asked ‘How long ago?’

‘Aspirin’ she mumbled ‘An hour ago. There wasn’t anything else in the cabinet and I didn’t feel like going out’

‘Housekeeping are stocked with all sorts of pills and potions’ Bastien pointed out ‘What usually works?’ She shrugged. Housekeeping at the Palace was indeed a wonderful source not only for pills, but pads and tampons, and the last time she’d bought any was when they were touring with the court. But this was Applewood and their supplies were different.

‘They don’t have the ones I used to take back home, and I’ve run out’

‘Tell me what they are and I’ll see to it’ he said. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a hot chocolate?’ She sighed

‘I’m bloated and that will make me feel worse.’ she grumbled, becoming aware that she needed to change her tampon, and hauled herself on to her feet. As she returned from the bathroom Bastien addressed her again.

‘What do you usually have when you feel bloated?’ She ensconced herself back on the couch, shivering slightly and pulling the blanket tight around her shoulders. Her head still ached and she was suddenly consumed with a longing for comfort food. He waited for her answer, stroking her knee and running his hand down her calf to her foot.

‘Oat milk. But I want chocolate ice cream. Ben and Jerry’s Phish food is good’

‘I’ll get you some’ he said ‘Do you have an empty packet of your pills?’ Resignedly she sighed.

‘In my toiletry bag’ she said ‘It’s okay Bas, you don’t have to’

‘Yes I do’ He bent to kiss her forehead before getting up ‘Hold tight, I’ll be as quick as I can’

‘Does the kitchen stock Ben and Jerry’s?’ she asked ‘Do you even have it in Cordonia?’

‘We’re not savages’ he chuckled ‘Let me heat up that bottle before I go, the kettle boiled not long ago’

---------

Sophia jerked awake at the sound of the door to the suite closing. The television screen flickered and the bottle held against her belly was still warm. She dabbed at the drool at the corner of her mouth as Bastien entered with a grocery bag. She goggled at it as he sat on the couch next to her. He drew out a packet of the pills she wanted.

‘Did you go to the store?’ she asked incredulously, and as he nodded she had a vivid picture in her head of him standing solemnly in line at the checkout, basket hanging from his elbow.

‘I did’ he said ‘I do have basic life skills you know, I’m not a spoiled noble with lackeys to do all my business.’ He paused for a moment thoughtfully ‘In fact I am a lackey’ She sat up eagerly, peering at the bag on the couch.

‘What else do you have?’ she asked, reaching out, but he held it back from her and drew out a tub of ice cream. Her eyes grew wide ‘Bas, you are incredible. You did this for me?’ tears started to her eyes again and this time she let them flow. He scooted next to her, putting the bag on the floor and placing his arm around her shoulder.

‘Hey hey, don’t cry agápe mou’ she soothed. She sobbed and hiccupped for a while

‘You – you’re just so…nobody ever…’ her words were disjointed and he held her tight and kissed the top of her head. She smelled sour but he didn’t care.

‘How could I see my goddess suffer and do nothing?’ He let go of her ‘Now what type of spoon do you want? Tea spoon or dessert? Do you want a bowl?’

‘No bowl – but a teaspoon, I’m not a savage’ she managed to quip, smiling faintly. Bastien chuckled and went to fetch it. She heard him put something into the microwave and presumed it was to heat up a drink. He came back and sat down next to her, handing her the spoon. She opened the tub and drew her knees up, toes curling in anticipation. Bastien smiled fondly as she dug in, and went back to the microwave as it dinged. Wordlessly he handed her a warmed wheat bag as she ate. A look of bliss crossed her face as she let the ice cream melt, feeling the chocolate shapes hard on her tongue then melting slowly. She replaced the hot water bottle with the wheat bag, which she surmised he had just bought from the supermarket. In contrast to the bottle it was soft and pliable and moulded to her belly. She squinted at him.

‘Do you want any?’ she held the tub out to him, but just barely, and reluctantly. He shook his head

‘No, I’m fine. How about a foot rub?’ Her eyes widened

‘I don’t think I could handle Phish food and a foot rub together’ she said incredulously. ‘Not just now’

‘I could run you a hot bath’

‘Mmmm’ she mumbled, settling back into the couch ‘I don’t know, cold ice cream, hot bath. Might upset my stomach’

‘Let me know if you change your mind’ he said, and went back to the kitchenette, coming back with a glass of water and the packet of pills. He popped two out for her and put them into her palm. She held the ice cream tub between her knees, earning a look of disapproval that he quickly hid as she put the pills into her mouth and took the glass to sip some water and gulp them down. She settled back and took a couple more spoonfuls of ice cream. He had barely sat down beside her again before she handed the tub back to him, sighing happily. He rose again to take it back.

‘How about that foot rub?’ she called to him as he put the dessert into their tiny freezer compartment. He smiled and turned back to her, happy to see the contented look on her face. She was puffy and blotchy, but to him she was the most beautiful sight in the world.

‘Whatever my goddess desires’ he murmured, rubbing his hands together to warm them.

[kur0mimi]

Provoke - An AKIRA AU Oneshot

Synopsis - A very short drabble involving Azuma and his interaction with Setsuko in the nurse’s office after a brawl with Toni. Just typical Setsuko and Azuma tension, with the inclusion of @neoghoulukaku ‘s OCs.

Genre(s) - Comedy, mild fluff towards the end, and a pinch of angst/tension

Warnings - None, really. Just underdeveloped one-sided sexual tension with Azuma (Setsuko doesn’t like it at all, though)

Hope you all enjoy !!（╹◡╹）♡

It was never Setsuko’s fault, per se, that there was a catastrophe ensuing in his brain. He had never asked for any of it—who in their right mind would tolerate such a girl like her? Azuma, an emotional explosion, wasn’t at all similar to someone who was as tranquil and mysterious as her. As he could tell that his knowledge of her beyond aesthetics and idle chatter was undoubtedly inadequate.

Plus, there was an issue at hand, which posed a slight problem: that he got his brains beaten out by Toni, leaving him to be left in the filthy cot in the nurse’s office—with the lustrous feline at his side, reading what appeared to be Dante’s “Inferno”. Typical for someone of her calibre and intellect, she was at the very top of the exam results beside Nimura Hasegawa, a fellow god-like prodigy in her grade.

But Setsuko was from the infamous Ueda family, or clan if you wanted to get technical. It was certainly not a happy family, albeit Hitoshi and Ritsuko Ueda were the parents of two wonderfully gifted, brilliant, seemingly perfect children—although the oldest of the two was considered to be terrible in the second year’s eyes as he stared up at her, his breathing coming out in laboured breaths as he watched her shiny black locks fall over her precious face. She was the horrendous disappointment to her parents, as they had only cared about blood status. To them, it meant everything; it determined personality, social class, etiquette, absolutely everything. They were all sorted as elites, ruthless people that made the people are them kiss the ground they walked on yet... Setsuko was the one that was brazenly disagreeing with their ideals.

She was a nonchalant beauty, with eyes so black but had an attractive sparkle in them that drew people in. But it was her tasteless personality that drove them right out the door, as she appeared to be too passive for her own good and was withdrawn for most of the time. However, she was afraid of being judged wrongly and being accused of something she’d never do. Which made her sensitive to conflict, as she steered clear of any yelling feuds or brawls amongst the messy corridors of the school. And sadly, thanks to the unbearable narcissistic outbursts of his older peer, Toni Akashi—which resulted in Azuma losing his marbles, a couple of punches being exchanged, and Kuro verbally cremating the older boy with his snide remarks... Ultimately leading to the victim resting in the infirmary with the heiress of the Ueda family at his side.

Azuma waited for the nurse to scurry out of the room, making sure the moment to get a word out of the poor girl’s lips would not be hindered by any bystanders outside the curtains. Perhaps he would thank her for escorting him to the office, even if it meant casting away the harsh and foul glare of their principal Hamura Hasegawa, as the thought of him made the poor teenager’s toes curl with absolute disgust. The room was quiet, and if he focused hard enough, Azuma could hear the consistent breathing of the first year student, her thick eyelashes acting as a curtain to those peering eyes of hers.

“Ueda-san,” Azuma said, looking to the girl that sat directly to his left. Setsuko looked up from her novel and into the older boy’s eyes, staring at him with a gentleness that resembled a dove’s. “..I don’t know why you of all people brought me here, but thanks... Kyousuke fucking dipped on me at the last minute. What a prick...”

Setsuko’s pale cheeks turned a soft shade of pink at the sudden praise, before clearing her throat to speak as she shut her book. “It’s study hall, anyway. I don’t have tutoring with Nimura-kun for a little while so I figured I’d just help you since I have nothing I can do to spend my time productively.” She mumbled softly, her eyes brightening a bit ever so slightly for a reason Azuma couldn’t put a finger on. But it was disgustingly adorable nonetheless.

“Tch... So he tutors you because you’re illiterate?” He spoke harshly, almost as if words of gratitude didn’t slip off the curvature of his tongue moments ago. “I’m sure you’re just trying to get closer to him, is that it? Your families are both old money, so there’s no doubt in my mind that you’d want to slip into his p—“

The seemingly passive, shy, and meek attitude tapped away slightly as she cut him off articulately, her tactful voice debunking him in a factual manner. “Firstly, my mother and father would be all sorts of angry if they saw me doing anything... questionable. Secondly, I would never dare to take advantage of someone like that nor would I fake a learning disability just to get a quick point for my ego.”

Azuma let out a little laugh under his breath at how she corrected him so quickly, as she was fast on her feet like a cat. An admirable part of her, but clearly there was more to peel from there. So he sat up, licking his battered and bruised lips as Setsuko opened her book once more. “Well, my sincere fucking apologies for offending you... I can hardly get a read on something with your personality and backstory. You’re practically an oddity at that point... a prized porcelain doll.”

“Okay, and?” Setsuko spat, flicking a page of her book once more. “I don’t exist to please others, as I hold myself to greater esteem than that. If you’d like to get to know me more, please do it in a way that doesn’t make me... never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“What was that? Spit it out, Ueda. You can even say it in English or something... You’re a smart ass, after all.” Azuma challenged her, his face coming dangerously closer to her’s as his shimmering hazel eyes bored into her onyx ones. “I’m sure you can enlighten me on your situation... It’d really get me some clear insight on how we could get along...”

“...Uncomfortable. You make me uncomfortable, Isagawa...” She said softly, pulling away slightly before he gripped her wrist slightly, the slimness of it making Azuma nearly gasp as he watched her breath hitch. “You’re giving me more of a reason to now. Will you let go of me, please?”

“Uncomfortable...” He retorted, his growling voice rumbling at the shell of her ear as he heard a gasp escape from Setsuko’s lips—and oh, it enraged him how satisfying it was to hear something like that escape from her quiet mouth. “Is it because you do things that piss me off? I know the way I act on it is pretty unjustified.. but you gotta reason with me here. Sometimes I can’t stand to look at you, Ueda.. you’re a pain, a great big pain...”

He listened to the breaths escaping her mouth getting more and more quiet, almost as if she was holding her breath and the urge to just punch him right then and there. Azuma wanted to provoke her, it was certainly barbaric and he wouldn’t harm her by any means. But that gasp uttered from Setsuko’s trembling lips was the golden ticket. And now was the trump card that he had seen Kyousuke pull on his precious mates.

Azuma’s hand clasped her thigh, the supple skin under it making him tremble slightly at how good it felt. It was soft and plush, but it wasn’t like he could feel it for much longer as Setsuko pried herself off of him—which was just in time for the door to swing open to reveal the aforementioned grandson of the principal and Setsuko’s best friend, Aiko, who looked extremely bewildered at the sight of her best friend as pale as a ghost from the sudden contact she’d received.

“Oh, my apologies,” Nimura said nonchalantly, his gaze dragging over to Setsuko as she got up and shuffled behind him—hiding behind him like a little kid. “I was looking for Setsuko-san, I’m supposed to tutor for this time.”

“Yes, can we go ahead, then?” Setsuko insisted slightly, her voice frail as she wiped her hand on the patch of skin Azuma had placed his hand on—which disgusted her to the bone.

“Um... very well, then. See you, Azuma.” Nimura shrugged as he ushered her out and shut the door behind him, to which her intelligent female friend cocked an eyebrow.

“What was that all about? Did he make you uncomfortable or something?” Aiko probed, defensive for the sake of her best friend who had been shaken up. Setsuko could only nod, her face devoid of its former colour as Aiko hissed under her breath, cracking her knuckles as she marched back into the room. “Azuma... are you kidding me?”

With that, the afternoon ended with another fight in the nurse’s office, much to the staff’s absolute horror when they saw a brand new shiner on Azuma’s tanned face. But Setsuko was grateful, as she made sure to give Aiko a big hug for her effort to look out for her. Even after that, Nimura’s tutoring with her went by rather smoothly and Setsuko tiredly planted her head on the table, her eyelids drooping sweetly as she felt tiredness overcome her.

Although for Azuma, he plagued with nightmares of Aiko’s fists continuing their vicious onslaught.