#…and ‘don’t know’ and ‘don’t have’ (but i picked up those two phrases from work lol)

[deus-ex-mona]

[shakes the duolingo owl threateningly]

[honestlyvan]

ALAN WAKE 2 ANNOTATED: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT WEIRD FINNISH GUY SAYING

(This post is also available on Dreamwidth)

Preamble: What is this?

There’s a lot of Finnish shit in Alan Wake 2. I speak Finnish. I’m really annoyed about how wrong about some of the things that are in Finnish in the game people actually are. @drdarling is an Ahti fan. We’re mutually annoyed about how wrong about Ahti people are, because in general the trend is people thinking Ahti is spooky and mysterious because they don’t know what he’s saying, rather than thinking he’s spooky and mysterious because of the things he’s saying.

So Autumn went through the entire game, transcribing Ahti’s dialogue, and I went through the transcript, translating everything untranslated in the game, and providing cultural context for the rest of it (with some saves from @saikkunen, @rhpurasu-blog, and my mum), because truly this dude is not nearly as cryptic as people make him out to be, and is actually twice as weird as people think he is as a result.

Disclaimer: Finnish is very regional, and even with people from all over pitching in, some of the shit Ahti says might still be idioms we’re not familiar with. If you’re a Finnish person reading this going “HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”, trust me that I had many moments like that while putting this together, and please leave a comment so I can add your insight :D

This post is going to go through all of Initiation, followed by all of Return. There's unmarked spoilers past the cut -- enter at your own risk.

INITIATION 1: LATE NIGHT

First meeting with Ahti as Alan:

Ah, (no niin) there you are, Tom. Not so much evil that not a bit of good as well. Not one without the other. Good to see you.

“No niin” -- utterance, roughly the same as “alright” or “now then”. “No” is a common filler word like “well.”

“Not so much evil that not a bit of good as well.” – “ei niin paljon pahaa ettei jotain hyvääkin”, a common Finnish turn of phrase. Broadly has the same meaning as “silver linings.”

Alan asks Ahti to point him towards the exit:

(No totta helvetissä.) Of course, Tom. The work will instruct its maker. I was gonna get something from the basement for you, but you can get it yourself now. The more cooks the worse the soup.

“No totta helvetissä” – “(in Hell), of course”, a variation on the phrase “totta kai”, meaning “certainly” or “of course”

“The work will instructs its maker” – “työ tekijäänsä opettaa”, common proverb. “You learn things by doing them.”

“The more cooks the worse the soup” – “mitä useampi kokki, sitä huonompi soppa”, common proverb, same as “too many cooks spoils the broth”

Alan asks Ahti what Ahti wants him to get from the basement and clarifies that his name is Alan, not Tom:

(No joo, mutta katopa kun) a man’s a man but a man with a tool makes two, Tom. (Eikö niin?) And a man with a tool can build his own exit. It’s in a shoebox in the basement where you left it. Safe as in the Lord’s purse. Here’s the key.

“No joo, mutta katopa kun” – “see, here’s the thing (with that) is”

“a man’s a man but a man with a tool makes two” – this may be an obscure saying, my whole gaggle of Finnish friends were equally stumped by it. Entirely possible it’s just those little shits from Espoo fucking with us, entirely possible that it’s a variation on a saying that we’re just not picking up on.

“Eikö niin?” – “isn’t it so?”/”Right?” a filler phrase. (It is very common for people to say this right after saying something that makes no fucking sense.)

“Safe as in the Lord’s purse.” – idiomatic, comes from the Bible (1 Samuel 25:29)

Alan asks Ahti if they have met before:

You remember Ahti. The janitor. You can’t be lost if you don’t worry about where you are headed. So don’t worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs. Just remember to turn on the lights. It won’t take long when you get to work.

“You remember Ahti. The janitor.” – the intonation of this line implies to me that in Finnish he’d be using emphatic -han/-hän for it

“You can’t be lost if you don’t worry about where you are headed.” – may be an obscure saying, none of us recognised it.

“the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs” – “paistaa se päivä risukasaankin”, everyone has their little successes, “every dog has its day”

“It won’t take long when you get to work” – “ei mene kauaa kunhan pääsee alkuun”, “as long as you get started it won’t take long (for the matter to resolve)”

Alan asks Ahti if he knows a way to escape The Dark Place:

He who moans about his troubles, is the prisoner of his troubles. It’s not easy to get out. But don’t you worry, Tom, the home is still there, where the heart is. I often think about it when I mop the floor and look into the puddle. Water is the memory of the world. Water finds its way.

“He who moans about his troubles, is the prisoner of his troubles.“ – “Joka murheistaan valittaa, on murheidensa vanki”, common proverb. Finnish people love telling other people to stop complaining.

INITIATION 4: WE SING

After the musical sequence, when you walk past Ahti in the studio:

My Swedish brothers, (perkele). (Ai että nyt on kyllä joo). (Lattoi pojat jenkkakoneet soimaan, saatana).

“Perkele” – “(by) the Devil”, one of the most common Finnish swear words.

“Ai että nyt on kyllä joo” – Untranslatable, can be approximated as “now we’re talking”, “that’s more like it”, or “a hell of a thing”. I love this phrase because it means fuck-all even in Finnish, and conveys a sense of deep appreciation regardless.

“Lattoi pojat jenkkakoneet soimaan, saatana” – literally “Those boys really made the jenkka machine ring, (by) Satan.” “Jenkkakone” refers to the band, playing a song for people to dance “jenkka”, a fast-paced folk dance to. (Addition from @sluiba: jenkkakone is a colloquial term for a jukebox, nowadays more commonly used to refer to audio equipment more broadly e.g. speakers; so he's basically saying, "those boys really turned it up to eleven".)

INITIATION 7: MASKS

When Alan runs into the janitor’s closet:

Hurry, Tom! Here is the light at the end of the tunnel. (Jumalauta), that held you close, Tom. (Ei muuta kun) onwards, said the granny in the snow. When the panic is biggest, the help is also near.

“Jumalauta” – “god help us/you”, a common swear word

“that held you close” – “otti läheltä”, meaning about the same as “a close call”. A more literal translation would be “that took close”.

“Ei muuta kun” – “nothing else to do about it, but”

“onwards, said the granny in the snow.” – “eteenpäin, sanoi mummo lumessa”, a common turn of phrase, an motivational expression of perseverance and sisu

“When the panic is biggest, the help is also near” – “kun hätä on suurin, on apukin lähellä”, a common turn of phrase, broadly means the same thing as “there is light at the end of the tunnel”, can be thought of as a more optimistic companion to “things will get worse before they get better”

(I like this block of dialogue a lot because it demonstrates that a lot of Ahti’s Finnish is just filler words and a tonal component to what he is actually saying.)

Alan mentions that Door didn’t seem happy to see him this time:

Fearing the master is the root of wisdom. But don’t let the game get you down. He is playing his role. Maybe put him in your films, Tom, like you have put me. (Perkele! Sehän olisikin).

“Fearing the master is the root of wisdom.” – “herran pelko on viisauden alku”, the fear of the lord (or rather, The Lord) is the beginning of wisdom. It’s an interesting choice to omit the reference to the Christian god, because it’s preserved in other phrases.

“Perkele! Sehän olisikin” – “(by) the Devil! Wouldn’t that be something.”

Alan asks what films Ahti is talking about:

I’m a fan of your masterworks. There is “Tom the Poet”, my favorite. And “Yötön Yö” is the most famous one, of course. And is it true what I hear, that it’s coming back to cinemas soon? Is there a bottom to this rumor?

“Is there a bottom to this rumor?” – “olla pohjaa”, to have a bottom, means “to have a factual basis”.

Alan says he needs to get back to his apartment, asks if Ahti can help:

Well-planned is half-done. You asked me to make sure you won’t forget the… (mikä se valokuva oli) light pictures, the photos that your artist wife took. They are waiting in the shoebox in the basement. What you leave behind, you find in front of you.

“Well-planned is half-done” – “hyvin suunniteltu on puoliksi tehty”, a common turn of phrase. What it says on the tin.

“mikä se valokuva oli” – “what was the word for ‘valokuva’ again”, a relatable bilingual moment. The Finnish word for photograph is literally just a compound word that directly translates to “light picture”.

“What you leave behind, you find in front of you.” – “minkä taakseen jättää, sen edestään löytää”, what goes around comes around.

He also has incidental dialogue, if you hang around after the conversation

I am looking forward to seeing “Yötön Yö” in the cinema, but first I work. And the work won’t end even when you do it (perkele). (No ei siinä), one potato at a time. Just remember, Tom - the brave will eat the pea soup.

“No ei siinä” – “well, nothing else to it”

“the work won’t end even when you do it” – “ei työ tekemällä lopu”, common proverb, warning against rushing and working too hard (because you won’t run out of work through hard work)

“one potato at a time” – “yksi peruna kerrallaan”. This one is so funny to me because he could have just said “one thing at a time”, since that phrase translates literally, and instead he says this just so sound slightly more Finnish.

“the brave will eat the pea soup” – “rohkea rokan syö”, a common proverb, used the same way as “fortune favours the bold”

RETURN 5: OLD GODS

At Valhalla Nursing Home, after Rose tells Ahti that he doesn’t need to clean, this is his home, and threatens to take his mop away even though she knows he would just find it again:

(Kyllä, kyllä mutta) once after being told no. Why rest, when you are born to work. (Eikö niin?)

“Kyllä, kyllä mutta” – “yeah, yeah, but”, exactly as “yeah yeah whatever” as you’d think it is.

“once after being told no.” – “kerta kiellon päälle”, a common idiom, to do something one last time before stopping for good. “One for the road”

“Why rest, when you are born to work” – possibly an obscure saying, the version I grew up with is “why rest when you are born to work hard (like a farmhand)”.

Rose tells Ahti to go pick a song from the jukebox, as a treat:

Yes box, holiday. Just thinking about it makes my dance foot waggle. (Kyllä näin on).

“Yes box, holiday” – This is a reference to Pirkka-Pekka Petelius, a Finnish sketch comedian from the Eighties. “Jees” is a loanword from the English “yes”, meaning “good, decent, alright”. The original append was far more vulgar, translating more properly to “yes box, dick face”

“makes my dance foot waggle” – “tanssijalka vipattamaan”, a common turn of phrase, means “makes you want to dance/makes you start dancing” depending on the context.

“Kyllä näin on.” – “That’s the way it is”, common filler phrase.

Saga introduces herself:

(No eipä siinä). Name won’t make the man worse, even a Swedish name. I’m Ahti.

“No eipä siinä” – filler phrase, same as “No ei siinä”

“Name won’t make the man worse” – “ei nimi miestä pahenna”, a common proverb, similar in meaning as “don’t judge a book by its cover”

Saga asks if there’s anything good on the jukebox:

We try to do good, but only prime comes out. Music from my Swedish brothers, Old Gods of Asgard. My pals, the (perkeleen) vikings, (perkele).

“We try to do good, but only prime comes out.” – “Hyvää koitetaan tehä mut priimaa tuloo”. This is a very specifically Bothnian turn of phrase, he’s just bragging about the Old Gods making good music.

“(perkeleen) vikings” – “Perkele” being used as an adjective for emphasis.

Saga asks where to find the Andersons:

You can never know where. Only a seaman can know that, but even the seaman can’t know everything.

“Only a seaman can know that” – this is also an honest to god pop culture reference, to a song called “Vain merimies voi tietää” (“Only the sailor knows”) by Tapio Rautavaara.

Saga asks if Ahti was in the band:

(Minäkö?) No no. (Perkele, saatana, en ollu en). Not so much sweet that it fills the whole stomach. But we have shared a stage or two.

“Minäkö? Perkele, saatana, en ollu en.” – “Me? (Perkele, saatana), absolutely not.” “Me” in the interrogative has a slightly dismissive/diminutive vibe in Finnish.

“Not so much sweet that it fills the whole stomach.” – “ei makiaa mahan täydeltä”, a classic turn of phrase about not overindulging.

Ahti’s incidental dialogue, hanging out by the jukebox as Saga:

Rain is coming down like from the ass of Esteri. (Vaikka vettähän ne kyllä lupasikin, että…)

“Rain is coming down like from the ass of Esteri” – “vettä tulee kuin Esterin perseestä”, same as “raining cats and dogs”

“Vaikka vettähän ne kyllä lupasikin, että…” – “Although (they, the weather forecast) did promise it would rain, so…”

Rushing is not good for you and hurry is not an honor. (Lietkö olet tämmöistä kuullut.)

“Rushing is not good for you and hurry is not an honor” – “ei ole hoppu hyväksi eikä kiire kunniaksi”, a very common idiom. What it says on the tin.

“Lietkö olet tämmöistä kuullut” – “I wonder if you’ve heard (of) such a thing”, he’s just making fun of Saga for being “hasty.”

(Joo näinhän se menee, että…) the lazy man gets sweaty when he eats and gets chilly when he works. (Se oli kyllä hyvin sanottu.) The song revives the soul.

“Joo näinhän se menee, että” – a filler phrase, similar meaning as saying “as they say”.

“the lazy man gets sweaty when he eats and gets chilly when he works” – “hiki laiskan syödessä, vilu työtä tehdessä”, a common proverb excoriating people for laziness.

“Se oli kyllä hyvin sanottu” – “That was well said”. This whole exchange comes across as Ahti trying to impart some words of wisdom to Saga.

After the power goes out, Ahti has dialogue upstairs:

No use crying in the dark place. What has been, has gone. But trouble doesn’t look like this! You can go to the basement and check the generator. But look out - you can never know in which tree the devil sits.

“No use crying in the dark place.” – This is most likely a deliberate play on words from Ahti. The relevant Finnish proverb is “ei auta itku markkinoilla” (there’s no use crying at the marketplace) which means it’s pointless to waste time feeling sorry for yourself.

“What has been, has gone.” – “ollutta ja mennyttä”, usually this phrase is used the same way as “water under the bridge”

“But trouble doesn’t look like this!” – “ei hätä ole tämän näköinen”, common turn of phrase communicating that the situation is not as bad as it seems.

“you can never know in which tree the devil sits.” – “ei sitä koskaan tiedä missä puussa piru istuu”, common proverb. The word used for devil, “piru”, refers to a folk devil or an evil spirit rather than a capital-letter Devil the way “Saatana” and “Perkele” do.

Ahti jumpscare at the Spiral door:

Getting in is forbidden, for your own safety. Time is long for those who wait. But in the end, stand the thanks.

“Time is long for those who wait” – “odottavan aika on pitkä”, common turn of phrase. Same meaning as “time is slow for those who wait”.

“in the end, stand the thanks.” – “lopussa kiitos seisoo”, common turn of phrase. Similar meaning as “good things come to those who wait.” The word for “thanks” can also be used to mean “reward”.

Saga asks Ahti is he knows anything about the Cult of the Tree:

Yes, yes! He who reaches for a spruce tree will stumble into a juniper. Blum was one of them. He has kicked empty. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. But I like his shoes.

“He who reaches for a spruce tree will stumble into a juniper.” – “joka kuuseen kurkottaa se katajaan kapsahtaa”, a common proverb about (edited by suggestion from Sluiba again) the dangers of excessive ambition and greed.

“He has kicked empty.” – “potkaissut tyhjää”, common idiom, "kicked the bucket"

Saga asks Ahti how he knows Blum was in the Cult:

A fox never runs out of tricks. Tease a crazy man and he will show his ways. Blum liked to talk.

“A fox never runs out of tricks “ – “ei ketulta keinot lopu”, proverb. Foxes are traditionally tricksters in Finnish folklore.

“Tease a crazy man and he will show his ways “ – “härnää hullua, saat tapansa tietää”, proverb. In essence, “fuck around and find out.”

Saga asks Ahti if he knows where Anger’s Remorse is, after finding the empty record sleeve:

The matter is not my business, (mutta niin, sanotaanko vaikka, että) but she who steals a needle, steals a nail. Wonders of the modern world - music captured on vinyl, on tape. What will they come up with next? (Mitähän ne vielä keksii) I’m a man of the old union.

“mutta niin, sanotaanko vaikka, että” – “but, yeah, let’s just say”

“but she who steals a needle, steals a nail.” – “Joka varastaa neulan, varastaa naulan”, an old proverb. I’d like to note that Finnish does not have gendered pronouns, so Ahti is deliberately giving a hint here. (Addition from @sluiba: "[the proverb] suggests that someone unscrupulous enough to steal small things will likely also steal something bigger.")

“Mitähän ne vielä keksii” – “what (else) are they going to come up with”

“I’m a man of the old union.” – “Vanhan liiton mies”, a biblical reference to the covenant in the Old Testament. He’s basically calling himself older than Christ. The phrase itself is used to mean "old-fashioned" in a positive sense.

Weird idle dialogue in Ahti’s room after this:

There are pieces of george on the floor everywhere. The black stuff. Shitty thing. Very bad. I need to clean it all away. (Perkele, kun sotketaan joka paikka)!

“pieces of george” – very sneaky, he’s saying it look like someone threw up (yrjötä, the name “Yrjö” being a Finnish form of George) on the floor.

“Perkele, kun sotketaan joka paikka” – “(Perkele), what a mess they’ve made of everything!”

(Kulkaapa nyt, mikä…) (Mitäs, mikä paikka tämä on?) (Voi helvetti soikoon). Where am I? (Tämä ei ole minun koti). This is not my home. (Minä haluan…) I want to go home now. What is this place? (Ei saatana. Ei saatana!) How did I get here? I’m lost… lost at sea. No lighthouse anywhere, and a storm is coming. (Voi jumalauta).

“Kulkaapa nyt, mikä… Mitäs, mikä paikka tämä on?” – “listen here, what… Where, what is this place?”

“Voi helvetti soikoon” – cursing, literally translates to “oh, how Hell rings (like a bell)”

“Tämä ei ole minun koti. Minä haluan…” – “This is not my home. I want…”

RETURN 8: DEERFEST

Alan goes to the Spiral Door in the Dark Place and sees Ahti there:

We loop around, and come together, Tom. I have put everything ready for the visitors. I’ll come to wash the floor of your room next. All you need is water and Vileda. Water is the oldest balm. Water finds its way. What water brings, it takes away. It can be clean or dirty, it can give life or drown it.

“We loop around, and come together” – “ympäri käydään, yhteen tullaan”, a common turn of phrase. “What goes around comes around.”

“All you need is water and Vileda.” – Vileda is a popular cleaning supplies brand. He’s quoting an advertisement.

“Water is the oldest balm.” – “vesi vanhin voitehista”, from Kalevala. What it says on the tin.

Alan asks if Ahti can help him find his way one last time:

Now there’s a devil in the fish trap. Don’t be spooked by it so that shit won’t start beating your underpants. Okay, I’ll get the door open for you, Tom. There you go. The matter is a steak. Now comes the end of the rhyme.”

“there’s a devil in the fish trap” – “olla piru merrassa”, an idiom. It means that there’s unfortunate consequences for something you did, similar to “a devil to pay”

“Don’t be spooked by it so that shit won’t start beating your underpants” – “älä säiky ettei lyö paskat housuihin”, would be more properly translated as “so that shit doesn’t drop hard into your pants”. Means the same thing as it does in English.

“The matter is a steak.” – “asia on pihvi”, idiom meaning that something has been exhaustively dealt with, the way you make steak out of a cow.

“Now comes the end of the rhyme” – “tuli lorun loppu”, idiom with a similar meaning and implication as “end of the line”, the expected end of the current circumstances.

And that’s a wrap! If there’s interest, and if I can get an assist from Autumn again, I might go back to Control and do the same thing for Ahti there. The point is to do justice to our collective weird uncle from the Remedy Connected Universe. Hope you had fun and learned something new :D

[abibliophobiaa]

Hii hope you're having a lovely day

Can I get a forced proximity,fake dating smut with Eddie Munson and the phrase "come on I won't bite, unless you're into that"

this was such a fun prompt! below is 4k of eddie and r just being adorable as hell. warnings: fluff; barely edited because i’m at work and die like bob in the docs; fem!reader; smut, so 18+ minors dni.

-

It was supposed to be simple: show up to your ex's wedding with a date, so that way your friends from college wouldn’t look at you with pitying gazes that clearly said, “Look at the poor, sad, tragically lonely girl.”

For the record, you were none of those things. And maybe it was a little dramatic to think that way. Also yeah, maybe you received those questions from time to time—asked innocently enough, usually—when you planned on settling down, but what if you never wanted to?

But pretending, at the time, to be in a relationship seemed easier than avoiding all of those questioning stares and probing comments.

It had been Max’s idea, actually; you’d been helping tutor her for a college math test when she noticed the invitation on the fridge and you’d laughed about how it was your ex and you still frequented the same friend group, which meant being invited to his wedding was an absolute. You murmured to her in confidence that you really weren’t excited about going; mentioned you were the only one in your college friend group who hadn’t been married off yet or popped out a kid (you shuddered to think of either of the two).

“Why not bring a fake boyfriend or something?” She asked. It seemed so…silly at first. You’d arched a brow in her direction and chuckled to yourself, the tip of your pencil tapping against her loose leaf notebook absentmindedly. At your confusion, she proceeded, “You know? Ask Steve or Argyle…Eddie.”

“Don’t say Eddie like that,” you grumbled, chewing at the eraser tip.

The redhead flicked one of her braids over her shoulder, shrugging. “Don’t say Eddie like what?”

“How you did just now! You didn’t just say Eddie,” you explained, dropping your pencil down onto the paper. “You said Eddie. Like you’re insinuating something.”

“Yeah, like the big freaking crush you’ve had on him since you two were in high school together—”

“Your answer to number five is wrong.”

Max snorted. And that was that.

Luckily, Eddie’s amicable as he always is. When you suggest coming as your date, he’s quick to ask for times to pick you up and requesting the attire for the event. It’s an evening wedding, and he shows up in a dark suit that matches the color of his hair. The same suit that now rests over the back of his chair, the sleeves of his shirt beneath rolled up to the elbow, revealing endless whirls of tattoos he’s collected over the years since he graduated high school.

He’s—well, Eddie on a normal day is breathtaking. All dark hair that falls in waves to his shoulders, broad smiles, dark eyes that can see through your soul. Charming as hell, and just as charismatic. He’s the kind of person that brightens every room he walks into and graces with his presence.

Eddie at a wedding?

You’re practically heaving into your champagne glass with how disturbingly—and unfairly—handsome he looks, but he can’t know that, so you play it off that you’ve danced one too many songs and need a moment to collect yourself.

“Think the plan is working?” He muses, leaning over to sip at your glass. “Think we’ve fooled enough people so grandma over there can stop clutching her pearls asking if you’ve accepted your spinsterhood?”

Honestly, the whole fake dating thing isn’t as bad as you initially thought. Eddie’s been ever the gentleman, holding open doors, holding your hand, holding the side of your hip. It’s great for the optical illusion you’re trying to portray, but it’s terrible for the ever painful kick-thump throb of your heart in your chest.

“Why? You wanna get out of here?” You likely can. You’ve stayed for the ceremony, most of dinner. You’ve even danced with Eddie a bit on the dance floor, introduced him to a few of your college friends, let him press a kiss to your cheek during the ‘couple’s dance’ after he’d suggested you try on the lips and you nearly broke an ankle, tripping up in your movements from the mere suggestion of doing something so insane. “We could always head back to the hotel room?”

Oh—and therein lay the other problem aside from your cardiovascular symptoms as a direct result of Eddie’s proximity: the hotel reservation somehow got all mixed up and you only afforded yourselves one bed.

One.

Singular.

Eddie had reassured the front desk employee that it was no issue, but you’d slapped your card onto the countertop and asked—admittedly pleaded—if they could check again for another room. It was with pitying gazes that they advised, because of the wedding, all the other available rooms were full. Which left you and Eddie with a king size bed for the night.

“It’s fine,” Eddie had teased, tossing pillows down the center of the bed after both tossed all of your things onto the floor. “Here’s our bundling board. You better not try to jump my bones in my sleep now.”

The thought itself has your thighs sliding together, mind swimming as your friend’s ring clad fingers trail against your forearm, drawing you back to reality. You turn with a ‘huh,’ your eyes meeting his as he says, “I’m fine with that if y—”

You’re interrupted by the sound of Clarissa, your ex’s new bride, calling your name from another table away. You’ve been friends with her for years, studied in the same program for your undergrad degree, and remained as such even after she came to you one day in the library and asked if it would be okay to date Jared. And it was; you’d been broken up for some months, anyway, after all. All adults who could handle weird circumstances.

Just like right now, as Jared joins his new bride’s side and extends a hand to greet Eddie. “Is this the guy that swept our friend here off her feet? Nice to meet you…”

“Eddie,” Eddie says, reaching over to grasp Jared’s hand and shake it. He’s just as charming when Clarissa leans down and urges you both forward in tight hugs, giggling brightly over how nice the two of you look and blushing when Eddie speaks again saying, “You look beautiful. Congrats, you two.”

“Congrats you two,” Clarissa practically trills, clapping excitedly. She mouths over Eddie’s shoulder, “He’s gorgeous.”

You can only pathetically shrug in agreement before Jared’s asking how the two of you met and Eddie tugs you so close to him you’re practically sitting on his lap. Your hand manages to grip his thigh to steady yourself when your chair wobbles, and his palm swallows yours upon doing so. He lifts it up to his mouth to brush a gentle kiss against the back of it. Your skin bursts to life with a thousand bubbles dancing along your skin, though you chalk it up to the champagne buzzing in your system.

Heat coils again as he turns to look at you, brown eyes fathomless as he says, “Back in high school. She walked into first period math class and she waved at me and I knew it was all over after that. But we only recently realized we wanted to be more than friends; figured it was about time to take a chance. Best choice I’ve made in a long time, really. Now we’re inseparable. Unbreakable. Insatiable—”

You elbow him slightly, cutting his words off. “Insatiable, Ed?”

Clarissa and Jared are none the wiser. The both of them only lean into one another, Clarissa glowing with her bridal beauty and Jared looking like he’s fallen in love with her all over again as Eddie regales them with your fake relationship origin story.

“Can you act like you actually like me?” He grumbles near your temple, that palm curling around your hip again to draw you even closer. Heat coils in your belly once more as that mouth drops lower, hot breath fanning along the shell of your ear, his voice a husk of, “Relax. I won’t bite…unless you’re into that.”

So, maybe you can’t swallow the breathy sigh that punches its way up your throat. And maybe your thighs clench beneath the table. But they’re all mere side effects to the man hypnotizing everyone around him with his charm, casualties of the battle waging war behind your ribcage. Even so, the damage is done; the carnage remaining in the wake of your inner turmoil is evident in the slow curl of his lips, the proud smirk lining those presently devilish features.

He’s thoroughly enjoying himself—enjoying the effects his presence has on you, even under the guise of pretending you’re something you’re not. So if your eyes roll in your skull when he leans down and presses a barely-there kiss beneath your ear, it’s only because he’s really wonderful at the elaborate facade you’ve both concocted.

It’s only because, over the years of being DM, he’s perfected the art of performance.

It’s that and nothing more.

Call the casual touches and flirting throughout the night side effects of a few glasses of champagne and loosened inhibitions. Call the glances across the dance floor nothing more than intrigue and longing for a ‘what if?’ Call the brush of his fingers against your skin, the press of lips, the hand on your hip nothing more than part of an act. Because that’s all it is.

Or so you think and have conditioned yourself to think.

But that tension lingers long after Clarissa and Jared wish you well. It lingers in the breaths filling the elevator on your way back to the room, it seeps into the pauses in your conversation. It grows and curls like a bowstring in your belly, drawn tight when Eddie slides the key into your hotel room door and pushes it open.

“If I didn’t know any better, Munson, I would have thought you were flirting with me earlier,” you hum, a casual laugh breaking into the otherwise quiet of your newfound privacy with the man, toeing off your heels near the door. “And the little speech about how we started ‘dating’ was really convincing. Either that or you should reconsider a career in acting.”

“What if I was, though?” His voice is soft. Softer than it’s been all night, a tremulous breath that makes your stomach clench. “Flirting with you, I mean.”

Before you, you can see two options laid out on a platter: you push into unknown territory, a world of possibility should you choose to open your heart to him; or, you brush his affection aside and preserve what you already have, not wishing to disrupt the balance of your life as you know it.

Eddie is friends with your friends.

You’re friends with his friends.

When lines become blurry, relationships are put at risk. Sides might need to be taken. There are other people involved outside of the two of you. But a louder thought rings true. An understanding that it’s Eddie. Eddie, who has only ever put your own needs above his. Always first. Wanted what was best for you at all times. Would it, then, be such a terrible thing to be selfish just this once?

“If you were…” you begin, stepping across the room to meet him where he stands. Your fingers trail up to his tie, the dark red material like blood sifting through your fingers, “did you mean it? The story too?”

“Since first period math class senior year—well, your senior year. My first senior year.” He chuckles uneasily, palm moving to slide over the span of his shoulder, easing at a knot. Watches you slide your fingers up along the fabric, moving up to help loosen the knot around his neck. You fumble with it for a moment, his breath spilling across your forehead, your bottom lip between your teeth when he rasps out, “Can I kiss you?”

And you’re nodding your head rapidly, gasping as his hand slides up to rest against the small of your back, guiding your frame closer to him. You practically ooze into his chest, bodies warm and humming with anticipation as he walks you backward over toward the bed and groans into your bottom lip presently pinched between his teeth as you tug at his tie and drag him into the cradle of your thighs down to where you lay in a sprawl of limbs against the mattress.

“Oh…” He pauses in his ministrations, breaking apart with a gasp despite your whines of protest to run a palm along the mattress. You flop down onto your back as the man presses the same palm against the topper, watching it shift and move beneath his weight. “Oh this is nice. Much better than my shitty one back home.”

“Eddie…” His head jolts back your way, as if he remembers you’re lying beneath him, waiting for him to help you out of your dress, and drops a kiss down against the curve of your neck. You hum to yourself and grasp his chin, dragging his mouth near to yours. He brushes your lips once, twice, and you tell him, panting, “I really like you, Eddie.”

He sighs as your hands finally help free the tie from around his neck and you toss the fabric into the far corner of the room, fingers dropping down to start working on the line of buttons down his chest inch by inch until you’re met with dark ink and a trail of hair against the bump of his stomach that disappears into his waistband and has you leaning forward to press a kiss to his exposed sternum. Beneath you can feel the rapid thrum of his heart, can taste the salt on his skin, flesh still warm from all your dancing in the wedding hall.

He’s climbing over to the top of the bed, bringing you with him, and rearranging the two of you so you can lay side by side. One of his palms starts a gentle slide up your back to grasp at the zipper pulled all the way to your neckline. His eyes implore yours briefly, a gentle exchange with no words, and your head dips. The sound of the metal dragging down your spine reaches your ears, fabric soon pooling around your ankle before he’s tossing it over onto the far corner of his room with the rest of both your clothes.

You take a moment to look at one another. Eyes roving across skin, fingers following in their wake. He trails his fingers along your shoulder, down the path of your sternum, swirls a circle around the soft skin of your abdomen until your sides shake with laughter. You watch those exhausted eyes of his trail along the curve of your hip, the bend of your knee, the crux between your thighs. Nearly gasp into his collar bone when he hikes a thigh over his hip and draws you in for another kiss, and you can feel the hot press of him briefly—albeit too briefly—against your center.

Those kisses, burning with a fresh fervor, draw breathless sighs from your lips. His words against your skin, telling you how beautiful you are, how he’s wanted this moment, how he wants to watch you fall apart against his fingers when he asks if he can touch you have you mewling with want, shuddering at the first brush of his fingers through your slick, warm and welcome between your thighs.

But it’s in that languid exploration that the two of you start to slow down, champagne bubbles that still linger in both your bellies making your eyes more and more tired with each passing moment, fingers becoming gentler, lingering longer. He sighs when you lean over to brush a kiss against his throat and suck, but it settles in the air and you can’t help the airy giggle that spills from your lips when one of his hands waves lackadaisical in the air as you ask, “Falling asleep on me, Munson?”

“No—no,” he groans. He presses a gentle kiss to your throat, and feels your pulse skitter beneath your skin. “Jus’ g’me a second. Wanna make you feel good.”

It’s a shame, a sin really, how even in his tired, partially blissed out state, Eddie Munson still has the power to make your insides liquify. Especially when those eyes start to flutter as he tries to focus his attention on you, lashes lingering longer and longer against the tops of his cheekbones in his efforts to stay awake.

With one last press of your mouth against his, you slide off the bed and help yank down the comforter enough so he can crawl inside, sleepy sighs spilling from his tattooed chest. Satisfied, you clamber in beside him and smile to yourself as that same chest aligns against your spine, arm looping low around your waist, and you both drift into a slumber.

It’s early when you wake again. Sunlight starts to filter in through the windows, the clock to your left reading seven in the morning. Luckily, it’s a Saturday and your check out time isn’t until eleven, which means more than enough room to shower and get ready to head back home to Hawkins. You’re about to clamber out of bed when you feel Eddie’s hand against your stomach shift. Butterflies burst to life at the gentle caress of his skin against yours, fluttering away only seconds later when the man in question grumbles, “Oh shit. Oh shit, sweetheart. I fell asleep.”

“You did,” you giggle, your calf brushing along the hairs lining his own. He groans, face pressing between your shoulder blade, hips flush against your ass and you continue, “It’s okay, though. You were tired.”

“We were…and I was…shit.” He huffs against your skin, hooking his chin over your shoulder to then brush a kiss against the plushness of your cheek. Then once more in that space beneath your ear that has you shuddering against him.

He starts a slow path along the side of your neck, laving kiss after kiss into your flesh, trailing down your shoulder. He starts to mark his way back upward, igniting every inch of you with a fresh fire when you gasp out, “We, ahh—mmm—still have a few hours before we need to leave.”

For emphasis, to really drive home your wishes in the moment, you slide your thigh up and over his, your hips moving backward to press needily against where you know he’s hard already. Those talented hands of his that strum along his guitar at the countless Corroded Coffin shows you’ve been to begin to work a slow path up your thigh, calluses tantalizing against skin. You push back harder against him, feeling his returning roll of hips against your ass, seeking out friction, craving release. But you have all morning.

You have time for the gentle slide of his fingers down the front waistband of your panties, the whine you release as his middle finger parts your center from entrance to clit, drawing out three slow circles that have you nearly begging him to fuck you right then and there. Still, he’s patient. Takes his time stroking against your center, listening as you coach him through what feels good, telling him to speed up, slow down. His other hand, not occupied with drawing out your pleasure, grips yours and slides it against the pillow nearest your head, a chuckle spilling from his lips when your head turns and you whimper into your pillow, asking him for what you need.

“What did you just say, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your bare shoulder, hissing when your hips push back into his hardened cock. “Tell me what you want.”

“Mmm—” He slides a finger inside you, drawing a slow circle, opening you around the digit before adding another. He repeats the question, low and sensuous in your ear, a purr that has your eyes pinching shut. “Want you inside me, Ed. Want you, want—”

Those fingers at your center slip from you, your chest heaving as he reaches over onto the nightstand nearest to his side of the bed and fishes out a blessed foil packet. You hear him hastily tear it open, the bed shifting and dipping in his efforts, before he’s pressing his chest back along your spine and hiking your thigh up and over his. The hand previously holding yours against the pillow above you slides back into your own, and your vision blurs out around the edges as he pushes your panties aside and drags himself through your folds from behind, catching on your clit, before slipping inside.

Your mingling hisses at the initial stretch of him turn into quiet moans as he starts to pick up his pace. He pastes sticky kiss after sticky kiss into your shoulder as that hand of his moves around to slide against your throat, shifting your head up and away from the pillow you’ve buried it within. Your eyes meet his, and between the constant roll of his hips as he moves within you, the fingers splaying across your neck, and the words he babbles into your lips about how tight you are, how good you feel, how you’re doing so good for him, it all quickly become too much.

He catches the flicker across your features, the way your sounds pick up in frequency, the rasp of your breath through your lungs. Against your lips he mutters, “Come on, sweetheart. Touch yourself for me, okay? Wanna watch you.”

And you’re quick to do as your told, palm sliding down your stomach until two fingers meet your clit, rubbing in the way you know you like, matching the frantic pace of Eddie’s hips, pulling back and then slamming into you again and again, driving you closer and closer to utter bliss.

“Oh—fuck—I’m so close, baby.” His fingers around your neck tighten, lips pressing against the corner of yours as you work yourself in tandem with him, the sound of skin slapping together muffling the cries spilling through your parted lips. “Tell me you’re close.”

You come before him, nails pressing down to etch crescents into the hand holding yours above your head, murmuring his name over and over again like a prayer as his lips claim yours once more and swallow the moan he lets out as his body jerks a few times and then stills behind you, shallow breaths puffing hot and frantic into your kiss.

When you both finally catch your breath, and you roll over and turn into him, he pulls you close to his chest and grins into your shoulder, asking, “What are you doing next weekend?”

And it’s that next weekend, at Jonathan and Nancy’s wedding, that you go as a real couple this time.

You don’t even give Max and Lucas shit for giving you a thumbs up when they think Eddie isn’t looking.

-

-

(protect myself from readmore)

[babybadger]

Charles takes you to Monaco for the first time and youre scared because you dont fit that lifestyle

The flight to Madre

When you met Charles as an intern at Ferrari, you never would have imagined that 2 years later you would be at the airport waiting on his private plane to go meet his entire family. This was stuff of fairytales- of fan fiction. He had spent the whole morning trying to comfort and reassure you that everything would be fine with his family and the trip but you still weren’t convinced.

You were both cosied up on a couch on your phones waiting on the announcement that your plane was ready when you suddenly locked your phone and stared at the door infront of you. “Whats got your brain rattled behind those pretty little eyes?” Charles questions as you continue to stare at one of the blank walls in the private lounge. “Does your mum have a favourite colour?” Charles looks slightly taken aback. He removes his arm from round your shoulders and leans slightly away from you to get a full view of your face. His eyebrows crease as he looks at you confused. “Okay out with it, what’s really going on? Why are you asking such a question?”

“I just realised I haven’t packed much red stuff. I don’t know I just wear it so much at ferrari and all my long gowns are red for ferrari events so i don’t really buy summer stuff in red cause red in like my work colour but then i saw a tiktok saying meet your mother in law in her favourite colour so she has a good first impression. But you’ve never told me her favourite colour so what if it’s red and I don’t have any clothes that are-” “Mon amour, calme-toi, tu penses trop à ça. She’ll love you, you’ve met arthur and enzo. You have nothing to worry about I promise.”

You giggle through the worry, “Cha you know i have no idea what you’re saying in French. My A in my exam when I was 16 in school means very little in a conversation with- oh my god does your mum know i don’t speak French? You need to teach me French on the plane!”Charles giggles in return as he looks in front of you to see the airlines crew member coming towards you telling you the plane was ready. You both stand up, Charles picking up both of your backpacks in one hand and using the other to wrap round your waist and pull you into him as you walk.

“Well I can’t teach you the whole language in one flight my love, but I can teach you some phrases to impress mi madre. That’s mum by the way.” Charles laughs as you roll your eyes. “I know that my love, I just don’t want your mum to ask me questions and I look stupid because I have no idea.” Taking your seat in front of him on the plane you sigh. “Y/N baby, she’s so excited to meet you. When she facetimed yesterday she asked what she should cook because she wanted to make sure you liked her cooking. You two are as bad as each other, stop being so stress babe.” You smile and lean over the table “It’s stressed babe, stop being so stressed.” He mimicked you leaning his elbows on the table, his face centimetres from yours. “See no one can be perfect, especially in a second language.” A smile spreads your face and you close the gap creating a very gentle kiss.

[yyuangss-main]

❝MOTHER LANGUAGES — SPIDERVERSE HCS

summary ; pavitr with a hispanic girlfriend who teaches him some spanish and he teaches her some hindi.

pairing ; pavitr prabhakar x hispanic fem!reader (no specific race stated)

note ; teehee i was so excited to show off the new layout 🤭 i literally have so much fun writing for pavitr. this concept was so cute, i started working on it immediately so thank you to the anon who requested it <3 mwah 🫶

• — pavitr prabhakar !

about three months into dating, pavitr started practicing some spanish on his own. went about his way to get a dictionary that took forever for him to find. he starts writing the words out and takes his time to pronounce them. he takes note that he’s extremely great at reading spanish just a little troubled on the way to say the words.

the very first phrase he ever told you in spanish, he had a slip of paper with the sentence written down. pavitr wanted to make it sweet and maybe tell you right after kissing you but poor boy forgot the phrase. so he had to squint and read off the torn paper.

“tu eres la chica de mis sueños.” (t: you are the girl of my dreams) the second he finished saying it you jumped on him, kissing all over his face, telling him how cute and adorable he is.

you told him that you were practicing hindi in secret to surprise him as well, but you were having a lot of trouble. it makes a big smile spread on his face to know you both had the same intentions.

it’s where he offers to teach you how to speak, read, and write hindi if you can do the same for him with spanish. you agree and then he goes, “hehe >:) and teach me the bad words too muhehehe” you’re just like “pavitr 😭”

pavitr really excited when you’re teaching him spanish. he’s listening intently and repeating each word after you. he doesn’t think it’s hard, but it’s definitely good to have a native speaker helping you out and giving tips.

keeps a separate notebook filled with words and phrases he wants to tell you. of course, they’re all him telling how much he loves you. you also have a separate notebook with hindi written in it and it’s mostly you practicing to write ‘i love you’ and memorize it.

he knows it might take you a while to fully understand hindi and he’s okay with that. you’re the making the effort and that’s what he loves the most about you. finds your confused face cute when he starts rambling in hindi.

you two practice by only having conversations in each others language. he finds it super helpful and you both will correct a word if needed. text messages will sometimes shift from spanish to hindi to spanish again.

his heart and feelings grow for you even more when he sees you talking to his aunt in hindi. she thinks it’s so sweet that the two of you are learning each others languages and don’t find the barrier to be a bother. she even starts to help you too in secret. she wants you to surprise pavitr with what you learned.

i cannot stress this enough. loves to introduce you as his girlfriend in spanish. “esta es mi novia, ella es mi novia”. mi novia this, mi novia that. he gets like a schoolboy when he says it. if he gives you gifts, pavitr always writes a little note that says “para mi querida novia” (t: for my dear girlfriend) or something along those lines.

whenever he meets someone who is either hispanic or speaks spanish too, he’ll speak to them in spanish just so they can ask where he learned. all because he can’t stop saying how his girlfriend taught him how to speak spanish.

he starts picking up on the expressions too. accidentally let “tch, no mames miguel!” slip out when he was getting sent on a new mission. miguel’s head whipped over so fast and just looked at him so shocked like, wtf did you say to me?

“no mames? no mames?! como que no mames miguel?! who taught you that huh?!”

“mi novia teehee :)”

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

can I order a part 2 or the gone headcannon

I’m assuming you mean the Gone (Doll!reader x Vox) thing I just posted, so yes! I was already working on it, so here you go. This is more of an aftermath type thing, for when Vox finally gets back.

Gone (part 2) (Doll!reader x Vox)

"Worthless dolly… useless doll… worthless dolly… useless doll…" | mumbled, lying on the floor of our room, halfway propped up against the bed as I stared blankly at the wall. I was as limp as a doll, and although Vox hadn't done anything, it was almost as if I was in a trance. "Worthless dolly… useless doll.."

I heard a knock on the door. I didn't react or acknowledge it. “Stupid, an utter waste of my time. Gone for two fuckin’ weeks on that fucked up business trip…” Vox muttered, unlocking the door.

"Worthless dolly… useless-"

"Doll?" Vox asked, stepping into the room. I didn't move or acknowledge him, I just kept muttering that same phrase. He turned on the lights and I didn't react in the slightest. He inhaled sharply when he saw me, the state I was in.

"Doll... come on, I'm home," he said, kneeling down in front of me. He placed a hand on my shoulder but I just continued staring blankly ahead. "Doll, please work with me here. Are you okay?" No response. He snapped his fingers in front of my face. Nothing. He frowned. “What… what happened?”

When he realized he wasn’t going to get anything out of me, he sighed and stood up. He made a call, to one of his assistants, apparently, then cursed under his breath. “She was gone for 11 fucking days and none of you were worried?” He asked, pacing around the room angrily. I’d effectively been missing, since I’d only called to take off two days of work. “You didn’t think to fucking tell me? No, no, no- you do not get to- SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!”

He sparked and glitched out for a moment. “You do not get to make those decisions, you do not decide what happens to my doll,” he said coldly. “You sent me on a worthless shitty fucking business trip that was a complete waste of my time, and then I come home to this? You’re so fucking lucky you aren’t dead right now.” He leaned down and cupped my face gently, his expression softening. “Yes. No, you know what? Forget about it. Just know that if this happens again, I’ll have your fucking head.”

He sighed and hung up the phone. “Hey, doll,” he said softly. “I’m back, now. Everything’s okay. You don’t have to… you’re not worthless, okay?” I hardly acknowledged him, only giving him a slight nod as I fell silent. It wasn’t much, but it was better than before. I was almost in a world of my own.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m going to pick you up now, okay?” I didn’t acknowledge him at all this time, but he scooped me into his arms anyway. “Shit- have you always been this light?” He asked, raising a brow. He set me down on the bed, took a look at me, and assessed the situation. “You… nobody has seen you around, which means you haven’t been eating. From the looks of it, you haven’t been sleeping, either…” he muttered. He reached for my shirt, but hesitated. “I need to get a proper look at you. Can you undress yourself, please?”

“I…” I tried to speak, but couldn’t. My limbs felt like lead, I couldn’t move them. It was a miracle is been able to give him the small nod, earlier.

“God,” he mumbled, looking away. He was used to exerting his power over me, breaking me down and building me up, seeing me at my worst. He enjoyed it. But this? This wasn’t something he’d directly caused, it was something I’d done all on my own. The notion that his little doll wasn’t as strong or resilient as he had previously thought… the idea that I was actually fragile, despite how much I put up with from him… it was something, to say the least. It was jarring. “I’ll… I’ll do it instead, okay?”

He slid off my shirt, and paused. Cuts and scars littered my body, especially my arms. He traced his fingers along them gently, seeming unsure of what to do. “Be a doll and heal yourself up for me,” he said softly, looking at me. I smiled slightly upon seeing the red and black spiral in his left eye, as a familiar wave of calm washed over me, muffling my thoughts. My eyes glazed over and I did as I was told, leaving only the marking on my neck. The only scar left was that one, which marked me as his property. “Thank you,” he said, giving me a small smile of his own.

“I love you,” I said quietly. I was ecstatic to be his again- truly his. Him putting me in this trance was proof that I wasn’t worthless, it was proof that he wasn’t going to throw me away. I loved it. I was happier now, more content. The emptiness that had been gnawing at me since he left was finally gone.

“I love you too, doll,” he said, with a soft laugh. “How are you feeling now? Better?”

“I’m… tired. And hungry, I think. But I’m okay,” I said, as he helped me sit up. “I feel okay.”

“Mm. Be a doll and let me take care of you,” he said with a grin. “I’ll help fix you up, get some food in you. You must be starved, and so, so tired… mm, I think I’ll make your favorite meals for the next few days. And you can get all the sleep you need.”

“Thank you,” I said, with a bigger smile. I was happy he was back- happy that I was back. I was only an empty shell without him, a worthless doll on my own. I needed him, and I didn’t even seem to mind.

He got up, and moved towards the door- probably to get me some food. “I’ll be right back,” he said. I immediately scrambled and tugged on his sleeve, insistent. “Hm? Doll…?” He asked, looking confused at the fear on my face.

“Don’t. Please don’t go,” I pleaded, holding onto his arm desperately. “Please don’t leave me alone, not again.”

“Oh,” he said softly. He paused for a moment, then sighed. “I won’t.. I won’t be gone long, okay? I’m just getting you some food. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Mm,” I mumbled, still displeased. I didn’t want him to go at all.

“Be a doll and don’t worry about a thing while I’m gone,” he said with a smile. “Seriously, I’ll be back soon. I won’t leave you like that ever again.”

“Promise?” I asked, as another wave of calm washed over me.

He chuckled and gave me a light pat on the head, affectionate. “Promise.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Cassian x reader: Collar and Muzzle[*]

A/N: inspired by a Midnight Thought™️ so here we go :)

Summary: Under that rough, resilient exterior of his, beneath the grins and the jokes and teasing, those comments really get to him. Maybe he needs to figure away to dull the sting—take the bite out of it.

Warnings: smut, kind of pet play I guess?, use of collars, leads, muzzles, femdom, degradation, not at all proofread, 7.4K words

“Spit it out,” you snap.

You get antsy when people dodge around a point.

“You know a lot about…degradation,” he finally poses. You look up from your book—you’ve been trying to read it for the past half hour but he’s seemingly been working up the courage to begin this conversation.

You shrug, setting the book down, “I suppose I’m familiar with it.”

He steels his spine. He knows you’ll be less likely to oblige him if he pisses you off first thing in the morning. “I’d like to ask you for a favour.”

You lower the magnifying glasses from your nose—the damned text is so small. “Illyrians getting on your nerves?” You muse, propping your cheek on your hand as you peer at him. “Want some help laying into them?”

The General stands from his chair, then looks back at it, wondering if he should have remained seated so he won’t fidget. He shows too much, wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s easy to read, if you know where to look—which you do.

“No, actually. I thought you might—…” he pauses, rethinking his words. “Azriel mentioned that…” he seems to be searching for a way to phrase it. “What did Azriel say?” You ask mildly, watching him from your relaxed position.

There’s the faintest kiss of colour to his cheekbones, and he’s having a hard time keeping eye contact. “I don’t know how to approach this right,” he admits, gaze finally flicking to yours. He looks almost apologetic. You suppress a smile, even if your lips twitch at their edges.

“Sit down, and talk to me properly. Stop tripping yourself up with imagined issues,” you drawl, gesturing for him to take his seat. He nods, then repeats the action seemingly to himself, settling down in the chair, shuffling to get comfortable. “Now, what did Azriel say about me this time?”

Your eyes mark the roll of his throat intently.

“We were talking,” he begins, hesitantly.

“About what?” You ask, enjoying the way his shoulders tense. It’s sweet when he gets uncomfortable. “Just…things,” he supplies, “male things…” then winces when he realises male things sounds like a euphemism. He shakes it off, returning to the conversation, “he mentioned you had a reputation, of sorts, with…” he coughs into his hand, a nervous tick he hasn’t thought to mask, “well, being in the bedroom.”

If the male had been paying attention, he would have noticed the stiffness that had overcome your body. You shift slightly, and make a note to bring this up with the Shadowsinger later. Find out what, exactly, he’d said to Cassian. “We’re familiar with one another in that area,” you say, keeping your tone as controlled as possible.

“Right.” Cassian nods again, eyes finally settling on you as he sends you a nervous look. Why is he so jittery?

A silence falls, stretching between the two of you and his hands clench into fists on the arms of the chair. You keep his attention, staring at him coolly.

“I want to try it,” he blurts, pressing his lips together.

Ah. That’s why Azriel had mentioned you. Your heart rate picks up. You’d have to get him something nice in return for this opening he’s gifted you with. Being the Spymaster, he’d quite easily picked up on your fondness for the General. You’d been after him for a while now, but you weren’t the type to pursue unless you knew it was reciprocated—the Warlord had given no such indication. Yet here he is. Surely it counts for something.

Maybe you need to be gentler with him?

You sit up straighter, trying to let him understand you’re hearing him out—that it’s fine for him to talk to you. It’s what you want, after all.

“What’s sparked this sudden interest, Cassian? I was under the impression you were content with your own bedroom activities.” You conceal your wince at your relaxed tone that came out sounding short, and dry. Not what you had hoped to say, but it’s better than some of the other things you’ve accidentally told him.

He looks at you sincerely now, slight vulnerability in his hazel eyes. “I want to take its power away,” he says solemnly. “Being called a dog. I don’t want it to have power over me.”

“So…you would like someone to degrade you, because…?” You’re struggling to see his thought process. He looks down at his lap, mentally reciting his words before he looks back at you, “I want to change my association with it. Azriel figured if I give it another meaning—one that pleases me—it’ll become easier.”

Your hand settles over your lips, rubbing thoughtfully as you consider it, before you nod. “I think I can find someone for you, Cass. It’s been a while since I’ve run in those circles but I’m sure I can pull someone up.” You should take this opportunity to talk more with him. Find out what he’s been doing. At least ask for something in return, since that wouldn’t be too unbelievable. Maybe you can wrangle a dinner out of him. Yeah. Insist he takes you out to dinner, then you can have a night together, chatting, feel him out a little more. Just you and him.

“I was hoping you’d be willing to show me, actually.”

You forget how to breathe, blinking at him as your lips part, a soft puff of air exhaling from you in surprise. He wants…you. He wants you…to show him. He wants you, to…

“You want me to take you to my bedroom?” You ask slightly hoarsely.

“Again, I’m not sure how to approach this. So I thought I’d try and be straightforward with you.” He admits, soft colour blooming high on his cheeks but he holds your gaze.

That’s just like him. Straightforward and honest. Right to the point, just as you like. You can only hope your own flush of warmth isn’t too obvious as you feel something tug on your heartstrings. He’s too endearing for his own good. So baldly charming and sweet.

“Why me?” You ask, regaining your composure. “Decisions like these need to be carefully thought through. You can’t just pick the person most convenient, and as General I would hope you know that.” You manage, smoothly. “I need it to be someone I trust,” he explains, voice thick with emotion, “I’m sure there are some lovely females out there, who might indeed work better. But I trust you.” He declares. “Again, it’s only a request. And I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable with being so blunt.”

You feel that giddy sensation in your chest, the kind that tends to surface when he’s around. You resist the urge to soothe the feeling.

“I take it you understand the sexual nature of the favour you’re asking me for,” you say, softly, watching him over the rim of your glasses.

He swallows, heat crawling up the back of his neck at the look you give him. You look so fucking sexy whenever you do that. Give him that dismissive stare, as if you don’t care what happens to him. How many times has he imagined you giving him that precise expression whenever he fists his cock, how you might run your eyes over him when he’s finished, displeased with his mess.

The General nods his head in confirmation. You hadn’t immediately shot him down like he’d thought you would. Maybe Az was right—you aren’t as cold as you appear. Of course he would know that, he thinks bitterly. He doesn’t care to entertain the idea of how his brother knew about your bedroom tendencies. If the two of you had ever—

“Very well,” you say sharply, breaking him from his train of thought. You reach for your book, indicating the conversation is coming to a close. “Come to my chambers at ten O’clock,” you order. When he moves to open his mouth, you snap in before him, “it doesn’t matter what you wear, as long as it’s easily removable.”

So you’re really doing this, then. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or panicked. He’s finally going to have alone time with you—but he’s going to have alone time with you. He hopes he doesn’t mess anything up. Maybe he should just swallow his pride and ask Az for a little more about you. So he can prepare—he doesn’t want to disappoint.

He’s got one clear shot at you. And it’s tonight.

————

“I seem to be rather popular today. You’re the second person to visit me in ten minutes.”

You’ve learned not to be surprised when he detects you. Even though you know you didn’t make a sound, and his shadows were no where in sight. “What did you say to him?”

“Just now, or what did I say to prompt him to make a move?” Azriel asks, still not looking up from his reports. You grit your teeth at the information he’s dangling before you, just waiting for you to pounce on it so he can spring his trap. “Both,” you growl, walking up to his side to get his attention.

He sighs, then reaches for another report, comparing it against the first, before setting it down and scribbling something in a diary which promptly vanishes after use. “I’m not in the mood for games, Shadowsinger.” His lips twitch as he reluctantly sets the papers down, turning to face you, your arms crossed over your body as you level him with a icy stare.

“I merely set the two of you in motion. You’ve been dancing around each another for a while now. I figured a friendly push in the right direction might set you on the path to collide.” He answers, his posture relaxed; casual.

Damned bastard.

“Keep your nose out of my business, Az. How would you like me meddling in your own affairs?”

His expression remains neutral, mouth set in a bland line but amusement makes merry in his eyes. So similar to Cassian’s. You grit your teeth at the smug look, as if saying you wouldn’t be able to if you tried. He keeps his lovers entirely to himself, tucked away in his belt. “You’re Spymaster. Not matchmaker. Stick to the role you know, Az.”

He raises a single, taunting brow that has red edging your vision. Does he understand how important this is to you? That tonight goes well?

“Why not both? You know how I like to switch from time to time.” Your brow narrows at his tone. It’s lilting…almost as if designed to allure. To seduce. He hums to himself, a sound deep in his throat. “Yes. You know quite well indeed.”

“What are you playing at?” You ask, voice deceptively soft. The tell to your growing ire.

He pushes off from his chair in one elegant movement, hands settling on the desk either side of you as he cages you in. “Playing dumb, angel?” His eyes glint with amusement and mischief, wariness flooding your body. He leans down, his breath brushing over your neck as his silky hair tickles your cheek. “I’m putting on a show for our guest,” he whispers, so softly only you can hear.

And not the male just the other side of the Shadowsinger’s office door.

Your eyes widen as you whip your gaze to his, just as the presence you’ve finally noticed disappears along the corridor. No sooner that the General leaves, Azriel pulls away from you, settling back into his seat, returning to his reports as if nothing had happened.

“If anything will get him to act,” the Spymaster begins, still paying you no mind, “it’s that jealous streak of his. Always was his downfall during the snowball matches.”

Your hands clench into fists at your side. “You’re in deep shit, Shadowsinger.” You growl as you move toward the door, “deep. Shit.”

Azriel has the audacity to huff a low laugh as you slam to door shut, so hard the hinges rattle.

————

He knocks at ten. On the dot.

He had no idea his own brother was trying to covet you. And it indeed sounded as though you’d had relations in the past. Whether those relations still held strong… He doesn’t have the time to consider as your door cracks open, and you peer out.

He suddenly feels ridiculous. Acting as if you’re his when he hasn’t even had the opportunity to take you out for dinner. He doesn’t deserve to be jealous over you. You appreciate straightforwardness. Maybe he should just ask? Get it out of the way. Or would that be inappropriate?

You save him the trouble of the drawn out debate that would have surely continued as you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. “Ah, the eavesdropper.” He stiffens under your assessing gaze, levelling him with a cold look that tells him you did not appreciate his invasion of your privacy. Even if you hadn’t even properly closed the door, so really it was completely reasonable that he could have just…overheard.

“I’m not late, am I?” He says instead, choosing to sidestep you for now as he enters your room. And maybe takes the chance to inhale softly, taking in your feminine scent. Tantalisingly mouth-watering.

The door closes softly behind him, snicking shut as the lock clicks. You’re dressed in a thin, cream night robe, concealing the gown beneath. Sharp heels adorn your feet, the point having enough of an edge you could probably take someone’s eye out with a well-aimed kick. For some reason, his pulse spikes.

He takes in your room with a sweep of his eyes, attempting to remain calm, and collected. You don’t seem to appreciate chaos, or any of his arsenal of charms if he’s honest. He wonders if maybe you’re only doing this as a favour—nothing more.

“If you’re thinking you can come in here with an attitude like that, then I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken,” you say bluntly, running your eyes over him. “I’m not in the habit of tying down loose canons, Cassian. Either you be good and obey, or you can take the door. Your choice.”

He takes you in, sizing you up. He knew you were cold—icy, even—but this is different somehow. Maybe you’ve been holding back on him all this time.

So he plants his feet on the floor, dipping his head ever so slightly.

Your displeased expression doesn’t budge, keeping on a mask of vague neutrality. “Better,” you say, striding past him as you move to the bed. You turn in time to see the wariness in his eyes, the rigidity of his figure as he takes in the items you’ve laid out for him. But for his troubles, he’s rewarded with the slight twitch of your lips. You seem to be satisfied with his reaction, to a degree.

He clears his throat, “what are those?” You gesture for him to come forward, and he follows willingly, padding across your wooden flooring. “I thought we could start with these.” He comes to a stop at your side, assessing what you’ve chosen.

“Cassian,” you say, drawing his attention. “It’s important you remember you can reject any of this. I do anything you don’t like, and you tell me so. This is supposed to be helpful, not worsen how you feel.” When his eyes flick back to the bed, you add a touch softer, “that includes vetoing any of these.”

He swallows, but nods in confirmation.

The warmth disappears from your tone. “Answer me.”

Hazel latches onto you, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “I understand.”

Your brow narrows, “ma’am.”

Arousal slides down his spine at your demanding tone. “I understand, ma’am.” He could swear the air shifts. Becomes sweeter, somehow. “You’re going to be good and obedient for me?” You arch a brow as you take him in, the powerful muscles, the silky black hair, the two large wings at his back—you hope he’ll one day let you touch them.

It’s your arousal, he realises. He can smell your arousal.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, a little hoarsely.

The edges of your mouth quirk, heat dancing in your eyes but you turn toward the bed. He’d assumed there would be a build up before you reached for any of the three items. He’d assumed he’d have time to prepare. But you take the black, leather collar in your hands and step toward him.

It takes a surprising amount of will not to back away from the object you’re holding, but he stands strong. Even as you enter his space, pushing up onto your toes as your arms slide over his shoulders. All he can look at is the red of your lips, the smoothness of your skin, the sweep of your lashes. Mostly your mouth.

The collar clicks into place, and you begin tightening it until you can only fit two fingers beneath the seam. “How are you feeling?” You ask, and it takes him a while to respond. “Fine,” he manages, roughly, knowing well enough you’ll be able to scent his own arousal. He hopes it pleases you.

You tug at the leather, dragging it back against his throat and he chokes with surprise. “Ma’am.” Heat swirls down his spine and he has to grapple with his instincts to fight back. To spin you around and pin you to the bed when you’re so clearly threatening him. But instead he manages a nod, “fine, ma’am,” he corrects.

You release the collar, stepping back from him. His chest feels cool.

“Remove your shirt. Slowly.” You settle elegantly on the bed, watching him intently.

Relief spills within him. That’s something he knows how to do.

Following your orders, his fingers find the buttons of his shirt, slowly—teasingly—popping them out, then tugging the slats at the back free of his wings. He’s surprised by the hunger in your eyes. Hunger that’s directed at him. So intense he feels his mouth dry. Even for him, it’s an effort not to shy away.

When his shirt falls to the floor, your gaze roams over him, “good.”

He suppresses a shiver at the thickness of your voice, as if you’re having to hold yourself back from pouncing on him. It’s exhilarating, to be wanted in this way. As if the roles have been reversed.

“Come.”

He follows compliantly, moving until he’s before you. You reach for the leash now.

“Sit.”

He swallows down the heat that’s wanting to rush to his cheeks. But he asked you to do this for him, and want aside, he trusts his brother to know you. Apparently quite well. So if he says you might be able to offer some kind of help, he’ll trust you. More than he already does, if that’s possible.

Hesitantly, he lowers himself to a kneel, so he’s within reaching distance of you.

Your attention returns to him, leash in hand, “good boy.” His throat rolls at the praise, cock stiffening with arousal as you gracefully cross your legs, allowing him a glimpse of the white lace beneath your night robe. He curses mentally, replaying the short peek he’d been offered.

He nearly loses his mind when your legs open again, but this time one extends toward him as you lift his chin with the tip of your foot. “Attention on me, Cassian.” Even the way you say his name is a gods-damned turn on.

You shift on the bed, allowing him a longer peep between your thighs as you drag your foot down over his chest, until the sharp point of your heel drags over the hard shape of his arousal, making him hiss softly. “Like that?” You drawl, lowering the base of your foot as you press against him, giving him that sinful pressure as his hips back lightly.

“You look lovely on your knees, Cassian,” you comment, leaning close as you attach the leash to his collar, eyes flicking up to his, holding his heated gaze with your own for a moment longer than necessary.

“You’d look better, Angel.” He doesn’t know where the intent comes from, but he’s overcome with the need to know what was going on between you and his brother in his study. Though maybe he could have chosen a different time to bait you. Like when you don’t have your foot pressed over that incredibly sensitive part of him. You could inflict a lot of pain with the slightest of movements. Though he supposes that’s why you’ve positioned him as he is. At your mercy.

Surprisingly, the amusement remains in your eyes. “Careful, mutt. I had the sense you didn’t like that third item,” you drawl softly, and he knows you’re talking about the muzzle. “As I said before, if you’re going to refuse to play by my rules, you can walk out that door.”

He bites his tongue. He wants—needs to know what was going on between you and Az. What he’d whispered to you when he’d pushed you against his desk.

“As for your comment, I’m surprised you so readily admit to eavesdropping on us. Something grating at you?” There’s no way you don’t know. Not with the way you asked, not with that mocking lilt to your voice.

“Simply curious, ma’am.” He manages to keep his voice surprisingly even. You raise a brow, “he mentioned you had a jealous streak.” He hissed when you drag your heel over the ridge of his cock, making him twitch in anticipation.

But you lean forward, attaching the leash to his collar. Then your free foot presses against his shoulder, and you tug, sharply. He hisses at the pressure of the jerk, keeping his instinct in check. How easy would it be to just grab your ankles and spread you apart?

You know you’re wet. There’s no way you aren’t with the way he’s looking at you. As if he’s imagining every position he could be rutting into you, cock nestled deep inside of you. It’s enough to have your mouth parched. You can’t help yourself.

“What are you thinking about, pet?”

“I’m thinking about how good I could make you feel, ma’am.” As usual, his answer is full of unfaltering truth. Blatant, undeniable. You know he marks the spike in your temperature.

You jerk on his lead in reprimand for the bold statement. “You think it’s appropriate to be having those kind of thoughts about me, mutt?” You tug on his leash again, dragging him closer so your leg can hook over his broad shoulder. You can practically see the stillness overcome him, as your scent hits him. His eyes dart between your legs—he has an unobscured view, and he’s not wasting a second of it, eyes glued to the damp lace.

You tilt your head, allowing the tie of your night robe to come loose, revealing the sheer, matching gown beneath. “See something you like, pet?” He growls in response, and you hook your other leg over his shoulder, so he’s between your thighs. “I might be calling you an animal, but I should hope you’re still capable of an intellectual response.” You make a show of running your eyes over him, as if doubting your evaluation. “Using words, at least,” you amend.

“Yes, ma’am.” The words are guttural. His pupils fully dilated as they don’t budge from your concealed heat. You wonder what would happen if you told him to crawl for it. You get the strangest feeling he would, and it’s exhilarating. Maybe you can indulge yourself a little.

Humming, you slide your hand to his cheek, raising his jaw so he’s forced to look at you. “What is it you like the look of, hm? Maybe I’ll lay you have some.”

You’re being cruel. You know that. But you can’t resist brushing your calves against the tendon in his wings, getting off on how they shudder, but don’t tuck away. As if he wants you to touch him there. You oblige happily, running the pad of your heel up the great wing, skating over muscle and cartilage, and sensitive, sensitive skin.

He trembles beneath your touch, breathing shallowing. “You,” he groans. “I want some of you.”

His head spins lightly as you unhook yourself from his shoulders, sliding down off the mattress into his lap. “Disobey once more, pet,” you whisper over his lips, free hand now gripping his jaw, “and I’ll slap that muzzle on you faster than you can protest.” His hips roll beneath you, needing to feel more of your soft heat against him.

“Understand, bitch boy?” His pupils dilate at the title, nostrils flaring as he gets high on your scent. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs, wanting so desperately to put his hands on you, feel the skin of your waist, how it will give a little beneath the pads of his fingers. “Good boy, Cassian.”

He shudders, the sound of his name on your lips making him twitch beneath you. “Undo them.” He’s not sure he heard you correctly.

You grip his jaw tighter, nails biting into the muscle of his jaw. It’s enough to set his shaky hands moving, fumbling with the strings.

You wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is pounding, if he can tell how desperately you need him. His scent is all around you, and you feel like you might go crazy. You need more. You need him inside of you, to have him tearing at your clothes, to have him snarling and biting for a chance to sink his teeth into you.

“That’s better,” you murmur over his mouth when he’s out. It’s an effort to keep from drooling at the sight of him. “Show me how you touch yourself, Cassian.”

His breath hitches as you shift on his lap, breasts grazing his chest as you lift to make room for his hand. Your eyes are piercing into him, as if you can read every despicable thought he’s ever had of you. And he knows you can see the vulnerability in his gaze as he wraps his hand around himself, he can’t hide from you.

Your eyes flicker as he begins stroking himself, slow, languid touches. Hard, and rough. As if he likes that edge of pain. One arms snakes over both his shoulders, the other hand cupping his jaw to keep him looking at you. “That’s a good dog,” you murmur, soothingly, and he allows the praise to wash over him. To sink into the marrow of his bones.

He looks at you quietly, a request in his eyes. Amusement dances in your gaze as you ignore it, but bring him closer. “You want a taste, mutt?” His attention narrows on your mouth, how your tongue flicks out to wet your lips. He’s panting softly, heat radiating from his body, and he groans as you roll your hips, pressing your abdomen against him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes.

You lower yourself to him, “gentle, Cassian.”

He follows compliantly, tugging softly on your lower lip, even if all he wants is to bite, and snap, and devour. He’s practically trembling with the effort of holding back.

He jolts, hissing when your hand encases the damp head of his cock, teeth sinking into your lip.

You tug sharply at the back of his collar, yanking him back so he can see the blood beading. His eyes widen marginally, “I’m sorry,” he breathes. It comes out quietly, hardly more than a whisper. But your tongue flicks over the puncture wound, and already it’s sealed.

He didn’t mean to hurt you. Oh fuck.

Fuck.

Your lips press to his, firmly, hand still resting over his own as you pump him roughly. You moan softly into the kiss before pulling away. “Even purebreds would be put down for biting their master,” you drawl.

Cassian watches you silently, tensely.

“Bad dog,” you murmur, raising up onto your knees.

His head goes quiet as you raise your night gown, allowing him a glance of your wet heat as you pull the lace to the side. “I need you to be good, or I can’t give me to you, Cassian.” He growls, a sound deep in his chest, full of ravenous hunger. You tilt his chin, forcing him upright as you stare down at him. “You want me, don’t you?”

His pupils dilate further, lips parting slightly as he inhales your scent. “Want to sink into me, hm? You’ve got to be a good boy for that. Earn your rewards. Because that’s what I am to you, mutt. A reward.”

Cassian’s panting heavily, a light sheen over his skin as his temperature spikes, your thumb occasionally swiping beneath his tip, the up over his slit. Just as tight as he likes it. But he wants to be inside of you. In some way, anyway. Between your legs or in your mouth. Dear gods, he needs to feel the wet heat of you in some way.

“Isn’t that right, hell-hound?”

Cassian growls, so close to that edge. The soft, firmness of your hand. Perfectly showcasing yourself. The physical softness of your body, contrasted with the sharp talons that lie just beneath your surface. He’d gladly allow you to sink them into him.

Your brow narrows in distaste, before you’re pulling your hand away from him, raising fully onto your knees as you press yourself flush against his front, smushing yourself against the hard contours of his powerful body.

A sound between a snarl and a moan tears from his throat as you run your fingers down the base of his wings. Your back arches at the sound, and his head falls forward, burying himself in your breasts. You hum, satisfied with his reaction as you flush with feminine pleasure. Maybe you press against him a little tighter, allowing him more.

He can feel that wave cresting, reaching its peak, towering high as it prepares to sweep him away. Mind lost in the swirling euphoria you’ve worked him to.

A wave of magic bats his hand away, and suddenly he feels cold.

He hardly has time to comprehend that you’ve removed yourself from him, as his vision clears slightly, though it’s swaying. Enough for him to see you settling upon your bed, leaning back, spreading your legs, enabling him a perfectly erotic view as your gown hikes up your thighs. You kick off the white lace, and all he can seem to focus on is your gleaming, hot, wet, heat. So ready for him, so ready for his fingers to pump and curl, his tongue to lap and flick, for him to slam his cock into you, bury himself so deep he’ll be more that six feet under.

“Have a taste, Cassian.”

An animal snarl rips from him as he forgets his own pleasure, fingers biting into your thighs, surely bruising as he shoves between your pretty legs, needing to finally set his mouth on you—

Your fingers flick toward him and you moan, the muzzle snapping over his mouth and nose, locking at the back of his head just before he came into contact with you, the mechanism rubbing against your heat instead of his tongue. His eyes go wide. You’ve completely knocked him off his feet on this new battlefield, legs wrapping over his broad shoulders, sliding between the two great wings at his back as you lock him in place.

Magic snares his wrists, tying them tight behind him as he’s suddenly completely at your mercy.

“I don’t tolerate disobedience, mutt.” You say, coolly. He snarls, struggling but your magic is pressing in on him. You give him a look of mock sympathy, “all you had to do was remember some damned manners, mongrel.” But when pain flickers in his eyes—soul pain—you thread your fingers through his hair. Your expression remains displeased, but your touch is soft; affectionate, brushing down to his cheek, skating around the edge of his muzzle.

“Do you know better now, mutt?” You ask coldly, peering down at the great male you have trapped between your legs. How badly you want that contraption off him, so you can kiss and mouth at him, have him between your legs. “Yes, ma’am,” he grits out, lip curling back.

“I don’t think you have,” you reply nonchalantly. “I think you’re being greedy. I think you’re trying to get into my good books again so you can take advantage of me.” Your hand ducks beneath his chin, raising him a little, but roughly. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing. That’s what you are,” you stare down at him, allowing him to see the heat in your eyes, “a wolf.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His gaze is fierce, starving hunger blazing in the hazel depths.

Your heart kicks up a pace, as your lips twitch.

You lay back, propping yourself up on one forearm as you drag your hand down yourself, settling at the hem of your gown. Then dipping further.

Cassian let’s put a sound that’s a mix of a groan and a whimper, his eyes glued to your cunt as your fingers dip between your legs. “Like the view?” You whisper, middle and fifth finger spreading yourself, slippery with arousal. “Don’t you just want to set your mouth on her, huh? Drag your tongue over me? Until you drown in her release?” He struggles again and you tut, summoning his leash to be beside you, using your magic to tug him closer, the muzzle pressing flush against your heat.

You roll your hips over it, and you swear Cassian’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull with arousal. You laugh softly, sultrily. “If you try hard enough, you might be able to lick it up.” He’s so nearly lost his mind. You’ve worked him up into a rage of lust, his vision unclear as he presses forward, as if he might be able to get closer.

You moan softly at the pressure, how his head shifts and the wide rubbery bars roll against your clit. You bite your lip as you kick off your heels, dragging your feet up his back as you press him into you, raising your hips. Then you drag one foot higher, brushing it against your wings and his moans. He moans so deeply, so desperately, the sound so raw you aren’t sure you can keep teasing him like this. Not with your own orgasm now on the line.

But instead of allowing him off the lead, you drag him back a little, forcing him to watch as you rub the pad of your middle finger over the top of your clit. Once…twice…then you dip down, coating your two middle-most digits in slick, and you sink them into your heat. Your back arches lightly and he growls with the need for it to be his fingers instead. It needs to be him inside of you.

You force his gaze to yourself, lead tugging on him to drag his attention from your slick heat. “You want to be inside her, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Guttural. Raspy. Husky.

“Too bad I don’t let mangy mutts in my bed.” You can smell his arousal. That deep, masculine scent that only serves to make you wetter and wetter. His arousal is appetising.

“No,” you growl, “I want something better. Something stronger. Something to make my eyes blind and my senses weep. Something to take me so hard I scream. Something so deep, and raw, that I have nothing left.”

The muzzle vanishes and he dives forward but the lead keeps balancing his force in the opposite direction. Your fingers pull from your heat, threads of silvery slick connecting them before you grip his jaw.

It’s hell for him. Hell and heaven all wrapped in one. You’re so near, so utterly around him, filling every sense, and your cunt is right before him, your slick coating your fingers and he just needs one taste one taste and then he’ll be okay just one taste—

“Can you be that something for me?”

“Yes,” he sobs. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your lips hitch into a small grin, and your magic releases him. “Good boy, Cassian.”

He surges forward, tongue dragging up your centre, flicking and sucking and licking as he tastes and tastes and you fill him up you encompass him while and it’s not enough it’s not enough—

The breath is snatch from his lungs as he’s unleashed upon you. He’s mad. Raging with masculine delight as he devours his female. His female. His.

He goes between your legs, but needs more, pulling away to shove your gown away from your skin, revealing your breasts—nearly tearing the fabric in the process. His teeth nip and bite, tongue flicking, hands gripping you. And then he’s kissing you, swallowing your flavour, both hands roaming all over you: groping your chest, thumbing your nipples—pinching them. He drags his hands down your front, wings flaring in an inherent display of dominance, and he knock something over but neither of you care. His mouth opens over your throat, teeth biting into you as his arms snake around your back, feeling the soft, warm press of your body against his own.

Moans spill from your lips as you allow your head to fall back, thighs parting invitingly, legs wrapping around his hips as you drag him closer. He grinds against you, getting himself covered in your slick before pressing the tip to your entrance. And pushes in. Even in the midst of his hunger he’s careful, going in slowly, a few inches at a time until he’s as far in as he can fit and you don’t exaggerate the moan he pulls from you.

You’re gasping, and he’s panting deeply, heavily. And he looks at you as he draws his hips back, then slams in. You melt in his arms, liquidate until it’s only him keeping your together. He’s pounding into you, going to the hilt every time, filling you with sunlight, and heat, and all the other lovely things that make you’re heart thunder with vivacious life.

“Cassian…!” You gasp, his cock touching that spot within you. At your keen, he shoves you further up the bed, hand dropping to your ass as he orders you to raise your hips. You do, and practically sob when he aims for that spot, rubbing it, abusing it over and over as his thumb finds you clit. He groans in response, twitching inside of you.

“I—…” he growls as you clamp down on him, arms snaking around his shoulders, fingers touching his wings as you bring his mouth to yours. You understood him well enough. He’s about to collapse, spill into you with the force he’s promised to you.

And he does, your own release following as thick, hot liquid shoots into you, spurting from him in rivulets. Your lips part in a gasp, and he snarls when your hands graze his wings, the overstimulation already too much.

You pant heavily, basking in the aftermath of his pleasure. Your own pleasure, too. You’re not sure if you were fully conscious for the entirety of your release, with how hard he forced you to come.

He’s still inside of you, and you’ll be happy if he never leaves. Remains planted deep within your heat. He’s breathing erratically still, and his eyes flick to your mouth, as if he wants to—

The leash goes taut, and his mouth is hauled to yours as you open for him, allowing him past that line. He understands, too, moving softer, more tentatively as his tongue flicks at your roof, hands lightly gripping your waist to keep you against him.

When you finally pull apart, you’re not sure you’ll be able to hold yourself together. You don’t want to confess your feelings to him while experiencing the high of your orgasm. Things like that need to be thought through.

“That was…good.” He breathes, and you manage to narrow your brows at him—somehow. “It was better than good, and you know it.” The collar and lead vanish, freeing him, but he doesn’t try to move away. Instead he kisses you again, at the slow, steady pace. As if he’s taking his time feeling you out.

But he pulls away, swallowing, “about you and Azriel—”

You grimace, “I really do not want to hear his name while you’re still inside me, Cass.” He winces and moves to pull out. You growl softly, tightening your grip on his hips, keeping him nice and warm. “So that means, don’t talk about him.”

He watches you, wariness creeping into his eyes.

Oh. Right.

He saw you in his study.

You sigh. “Your brother’s a dick. You know that?” Cassian’s own brow narrows in confusion. “He knew you were out there,” you state plainly. “You heard what he said, about getting us to collide.”

His lips part silently as he connects the dots. “Az was the one who suggested I talk to you,” he says, softly. “He knew I—”

Heat flushes your cheeks, heart-rate spiking. You hand grips his silky black hair, tugging slightly. “Finish that sentence.” He shifts inside of you and you suck in a breath.

He presses closer to you, front flushing tight against you, hips firmly between yours as he noses at your neck: the various bite marks. He inhales softly, as if getting his courage from you before pulling back.

“He knows I want you. That I…still…want you. Badly.”

Holy Mother.

Your heart’s practically in your throat as you nod in agreement. “He knew about me, too.” His eyes flick to yours, surprised. It gives you the push you need. “I’ve been after you for a while. I figured you weren’t interested.”

Incredulity flashes in his gaze. “How could I not want you?” He breathes, softly. His arms tighten around you, pressing deeper inside of you, heat flushing your skin. But you purse your lips, attempting to regain your composure, “you’ve never shown any intent before.”

“How was I supposed to? You were always so…distant. I thought that was your way of saying you weren’t looking for anything like that. That you’d just find it annoying to have a male panting after you.” He admits, quietly.

“I see.” You watch him silently, his lips twitching.

“Is that you being affectionate?” You swallow, looking away. “I sometimes forget to shift my expression. That’s my fault, I suppose. I didn’t want you to see how much of a mess I am.” His brow knots, hand cupping your cheek, “you’re not a mess. Not a bad one, at least.”

“I don’t like being out of control, Cassian. What you do to me, how you make me feel…I don’t like it. It’s too much. I don’t know how to manage all of it.”

“And that’s why you always seemed so cold,” he finishes.

“I didn’t mean to come off as harsh. I was supposed to appear put together. Steady, so you’d look at me and think, she knows what’s she’s doing. She has a purpose.” You peer up at him, and he sees that vulnerability in your eyes.

“I wanted you to look at me and see someone impressive. I wanted you to think I was strong, and independent. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone, and the easiest way of accomplishing that is by doing everything myself. I don’t want you to think I’m someone who needs help.” You’re unaccustomed to this sort of intimacy. The dangerous, barbed emotional kind.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help, though. Hell, I came to you for it.” His thumb strokes you cheek, and your eyelids flutter closed, leaning into him. ���I want to help you, where I can. I want to do things to make life easier for you. I don’t want you to go through it on your own.” He brushes his nose over yours, lips grazing your own, your eyes still shut. “I want to be the person you come to when you’re struggling. I want you to want me. To want to…to want to be around me.”

“I do,” you reply. “It’s a near constant need I have no idea what to do with. It’s a pain and I don’t know how to stop it.” Your hands tangle in his hair, his mouth slanting over yours.

“I’m not sure I want to.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

[sweetnsour1]

9:36:09

Angsty Fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

Part 9 of the Broken Collection

“You probably still have time to order something online.” You laughed at the immediate soft snarl you received as a reply. “Not every gift purchase has to be a contest, ya know?” 

“Not a contest if I always give the best shit.” He continued to frown at the display in front of him, seemingly assigning blame to the assortment of objects not meeting his standards. 

“If you say so...” You walked past him, making sure to skirt around the bubble of personal space you had imagined to be there, to examine the wall of glass blown wind chimes. He clicked his tongue before diving into his reply.

“You fuckin’ love my gifts.” 

You didn’t turn back around, letting the statement fall without confirmation or denial. Instead, you let the silence build up a small wall between you. You ignored the way your shoulders tensed as you resisted the immediate catalog of presents now attempting to push their way through any other thoughts. He, of course, wasn’t wrong. Katsuki was an amazing chooser of gifts. Even the small random finds for no occasion at all were still some of your favorite things. Presents so perfect they had remained in your home even when Bakugou hadn’t. You weren’t able to move them, much less get rid of them. You never would. You really did ‘fuckin’ love’ his gifts. You swiped your finger against the paper laden strings in front of you, sending a wave of jingles throughout the store.  

“Excuse me, ma’am. Please don’t do that.” 

You snatched your hand back, now noticing a small sign with bold red letters reminding customers to restrain themselves from what you were getting scolded for now. Your face warmed as you apologized, but you still managed to direct a small kick to the shin of the snickering hero behind you. You spun around as soon as the clerk moved out of sight again. 

“It’s not that funny.” 

“It sure as hell is. You always get into some sort of trouble when we go out.” Your eyebrow arched at the phrasing. He coughed before adding, “uh, out shopping.” 

“So am I just here for comedic relief then? Thought you needed help picking out a gift for your mom.” 

He laughed again, stretching his arm over your shoulder and leaning toward the wall behind you. Too close. You turned your head as if to scan the back of the store for any missed items, ignoring the quickly changing proximity. His breath, which you definitely didn’t notice was cinnamon scented from the mints that were still apparently his favorite, brushed against your neck. You froze at the sound of a jingle and met the glare of the same clerk that had just reminded you of the rules.  

“Excuse me, sir. Please-” 

“Yea, yea. I know. We’ll take these.” He had already disentangled himself from your personal space, now holding two glass blown bell wind chimes. “That rule isn’t logical by the way. Unless you don’t actually want people to buy shit.”

“Of course, I can get those wrapped up.” The change in tone was obvious now that a purchase was eminent. Although the clerk ignored the advice, still moving with a swiftness to take the bells as if there really was some looming threat hiding behind the hands-off policy.  

“Are you sure?” The choice just seemed so random.

“Course. She’ll love ‘em.”  

“Um no offense, but why?” Your head tilted as he hesitated.

“I think they’ll be a sort of good luck charm for her.” His words came out slow and measured, the same way you had all been trained to talk to citizens you wanted to stay calm.

“I see.” You didn’t, but you chose to trust him and ignore how fucking weird he was being. “And you’re sure about the colors?” 

“Obviously. They wouldn’t work if they were different.” 

“I see.” You definitely didn’t, but at least he had dropped the crisis management voice.

You caught one more glimpse of glass as the clerk began closing the small wooden boxes. The first one, now hidden from view, had been a translucent grey, spotted with orange and black and a few green specks. The second...you frowned at the familiar colors. They were the same ones you were now expected to only wear five days a week. Your color palette.  

Your feet did not follow the path set by the hero you had been trailing all morning. They stayed firmly rooted as you blinked at the transaction’s completion. Why? Why was he doing this? Why was he like this? Why had so many small things stayed meaningful? Why did you have any meaning for him? For his family?  

Katsuki Never-Picks-The-Wrong-Gift Bakugou had chosen good luck tokens to give to his mother...one that clearly represented Dynamight and the other that suspiciously reflected your costume that his mother had helped design the last time you upgraded. His mother, who, yes had always loved and welcomed you, but shouldn’t care less about your safety after how you’d hurt her son.

You took a moment to berate yourself for questioning the character of a Bakugou. She would never wish for anything but safety for any hero. What was truly upsetting was you had never really let yourself stop to think how he had to tell them months ago. He had to explain to them what you had hardly been able to communicate to him when you left. What had he told them? The truth? That you were detrimental to each other. That it was your fault. That you chose this. That you hurt him. You had a horrible and quickly growing urge to cry. 

The pressure of the door handle against your back jolted you back into the space you were filling. You must’ve been slowly backing away towards the exit. Red eyes turned at the noise of the bell you brushed against as you gripped the means of escape. And, of course, you did what had become so natural when those eyes met yours. The motion came even more easily now that you risked tears visbily falling with every slow second that crawled by. The same action you took nearly a year ago. 

You fucking ran. 

Masterlist

Next part

[hanniluvi]

✦ TRUTH OR DARE ?! — RICKY ONESHOT ✦

— ★ : when a game of truth or dare leads to a confession.

✁ pairing : friend!ricky x gn!reader

// genre : friends 2 lovers ; fluff | word count : 2K+ (2505)

♪ warnings ! — not proofread (so there may be mistakes), a kiss is made w ricky n reader, peer pressure (in a good way?!?), lmk if there’s any more!

☏ soph speaks ! — first zb1 work aaaa !! and its not a smau?! surprising in a way 🫡 . since ricky has be flooding my tiktok fyp (and has been slightly bias wrecking me), here is something i thought of late at night !! hope you like it :)

“Come on, it will be fun!”

“Obviously not if there’s only four or five people! And probably not even five if they don’t want to participate!” you scoffed at Hanbin quietly, not taking him seriously.

Who would’ve thought you’d be playing such a childish game on a Friday night?

Staying at Hanbin’s house made you guys brainstorm on things you should do for the night.

Play sports? Boring! Plus, you could imagine the amount of rage quitting — you didn’t want to deal with that!

Bake? It’s too late! You weren’t really in the mood to bake anyways.

Play games? Sure, but what you didn’t expect was a game about asking each other questions.

“You’ve declined everything I suggested—can’t take it anymore!” Hanbin dramatically grasps his chest. “Plus, I’ve been wanting to do this forever! We have to—at least once!”

You continued to refuse — there was no way you were going to participate in this!

“If Ricky agrees, we ARE doing it!” Hanbin pleads with his eyes, waiting for a response.

Ricky looks at the two of you cluelessly, not picking up what you and Hanbin talked about earlier.

Noticing the heavy stares, he takes out his airpod, waiting for someone to say something.

“Ricky—“ Hanbin cuts you off immediately, “Ricky, just say yes!”

“Just say yes for…?”

“Just do it!”

“Hey, you can’t do that!” You nudged Hanbin jokingly, a small chuckle escaped from his mouth.

Still clueless as ever, Ricky scratches the back of his head.

“Okay then…? Sure — for whatever you guys are planning to do.” Ricky is still unsure whether his answer was good or not — you groaned and sat in defeat while Hanbin held a mini celebration.

Hanbin easily used your weakness to play some stupid game. Your weakness? It was no other than Ricky.

Ricky. Your crush since the first year of high school. He became your best friend after you guys shared a majority of your classes together. And of course, you were afraid of rejection, so you held off confessing for now. (as if you were even going to actually do it.) Cliche, but not really. And you thought you held onto your secret of liking him pretty well.

You totally don’t turn red whenever Ricky indicates any physical touch. You totally don’t smile like an idiot when he walks away. You totally don’t fix yourself up whenever you see him walking your way.

Nope! There was no way you were that obvious.

Despite your great hiding skills, Hanbin had to be the first one to know about your crush. (as if you didn’t give it away from the beginning.) Ever since then, Hanbin has been using your crush as an advantage.

“You better tell me or else!” , “Ricky is with me.” , “I’ll bring Ricky along.” — the phrases he would always say to get you to do something. You practically engraved these in your brain already.

If you heard one of those phrases again, chills would shiver down your spine—that’s how traumatizing it is.

He knew that if he just mentioned his name once, you’d probably agree to something so fast.

Hanbin does the same thing everyday. Asks you to do something, you refuse—he calls Ricky’s name, and you admit defeat.

And you know it works every single time too. It just became something you could never avoid.

Having no other choice, you went to the living room.

…Just maybe, you’d participate in this stupid game.

Totally not for Ricky, though.

Here you are, gathered around in a circle in Hanbin’s living room. Not only did he manage to get you and Ricky to play, he even got Woongki, Seunghwan, and … Seowon?

Seowon showed up to the house last minute—it seemed like he only joined the “party” for this game. So now there’s six people instead of five. I guess, the more the merrier.

You stared at the four intensely, not knowing what they would be up to. Those four were mischievous together, and unbelievably chaotic when next to each other.

You’re sure that especially those four know you have a crush on him.

Seunghwan. He knew because you accidentally said you had a crush on him. Not surprised, Seunghwan heavily supported you and Ricky. He would always secretly drop hints to Ricky such as, “You and Y/N look great together!” or “Aw, couple goals!” However, he’s not sure whether Ricky is picking up on his signals.

Woongki. Your saved contact for Ricky was questionable — “my ricky 🫶” Seriously? Do friends put each other’s contacts like that? You eventually told him because Woongki kept asking you to explain. Since then, he has always teased you by saying, “Oh, your Ricky is here!”

Seowon. When you told Woongki to not tell anyone, it was too late! On the phone, he unintentionally mentioned your crush to Seowon. As a result, he called you … and you chased after Woongki. It was astonishing that Seowon was unaware of your crush, let alone that you were crushing on Ricky, your best friend.

And Hanbin…well there’s no need to explain how he found out.

It just had to be those four to play this game with you and your crush.

“Ah, wait. Let me get us some snacks.” Hanbin interrupts the tense moment briefly — the only thing you were glad he did today.

The other three scattered to “find” things to get to leave you and Ricky alone for a bit. (but you didn’t know that.)

The two of you sat there silently, waiting for the others to start the game. Ricky managed to see you nervously picking at your fingertips. Tapping on your hand slightly, he was able to get your attention.

You hummed, ignoring your slightly reddened cheeks, and gradually stopped picking the skin off your fingers.

“Are you okay?” he mouths to you, just to get a quick nod from you.

“You sure? You only pick at your fingers when you’re nervous.” you smiled at him for remembering one of your habits. He should know, after all, you've known each other for at least two years. “Are you uncomfortable with playing this game? I can tell the others.”

“Oh no, I’m fine with this.” you lied — I mean, it’s just a childish game, right? Plus, you didn’t want to be seen as a coward to him. (although he would never see you like that). “Just randomly nervous, I guess.” another lie — you’re good at lying aren't you?

Ricky did have many questions, but to prevent you from getting even more overwhelmed, he sat there quietly. But, he never failed to take a glance or two at you.

The four slowly returned back, hands filled with snacks that could last for at least two weeks.

“Let’s start!”

The first few rounds were fine, with Hanbin being fearless, Seunghwan doing ridiculous things, and both Woongki and Seowon screaming their heads off. The sweets that had been collected began to vanish slowly.

You were chuckling quietly when you noticed Hanbin staring at you — you quickly stopped laughing because you knew what that stare meant.

It was finally your turn.

You exhaled deeply and attempted to ignore the twisting knot in your stomach. “Go ahead.”

“Y/N, truth or dare?”

You considered your options briefly while deciding what to do.

Truth. Hanbin will almost certainly ask you if you like Ricky, which you will most likely refuse to respond at this time.

Dare. It appears to be a much safer option — after all, what could Hanbin possibly force you to do?

“…Dare.” you said, wanting to get this over with.

“Sit closer to Ricky.”

You gave him a little death glare while the others said “ooh” quietly. They were aware of Hanbin's actions and enthusiastically supported them. I mean, it wasn't as horrible as you expected.

As you scooted closer to Ricky, he couldn’t comprehend why the rest were smiling. Why are they laughing now that you and him have been this close before?

There were many reactions, but Ricky didn't seem bothered by your proximity to him. You, on the other hand, were most likely the same shade as the pink couch pillow. You were humiliated for no apparent reason – why were you driven to be this way now? This would undoubtedly make Ricky suspect something is up.

Ignoring your friends' gaze, you knew it was Ricky's turn.

You ignored your bad feeling and watched Hanbin ask precisely the same question he had asked you a few minutes ago.

Without hesitation, Ricky quickly said dare. You had no idea how he made such an easy decision — he was as calm and cool as always.

Seunghwan patted Hanbin on the shoulder as he was going to say something. Hanbin smiled as he murmured something into his ear.

"That's a much better idea than I had in mind!" He held his hands together, his attention returning back to Ricky and you.

Oh no. You just know this dare will be awful.

"Hold hands with Y/N until the end of this game." The words that came out of his mouth made your jaw drop. You needed to listen back to make sure he said it correctly.

You and Ricky don't hold hands very often, if at all.

Ricky reached for your hand before you could even deny the dare uncomfortably. You stared at him with slightly bigger eyes, unable to break free from his grip.

He lays your hand on top of his thigh after interlocking his hands with yours. His hands fit perfectly with yours, like his hand was the final piece of a completed puzzle. He looked and raised his brows at the others, again with the serene face (with the slight pink hue on his cheeks that you didn't catch).

"Are you happy?" the others ask, secretly squealing to each other as if they'd gotten you and him together.

You and Ricky both shrugged, pretending holding hands didn’t affect you two at all.

Another sigh escaped from your lips as you stared at the rest slowly taking their time to answer the simple truth or dare questions.

They were clearly doing this on purpose — but you had nothing to complain about though. You just worried your palm would start becoming sweaty if you continued to hold onto his hands for at least another twenty minutes.

His thumb would frequently brush against yours, causing your heart to skip a beat. When you put your hand on his, he prefers to play with your fingers rather than stay still. This game became too much for you to handle.

Once again, the simple question went back to you. You hoped that saying the truth would be much better than picking a dare.

“Truth.” Seowon looked at you mischievously and fixed his posture.

“Do you like anyone in this room right now? Romantically, I mean.”

You froze.

What did you expect from your circle of friends? They wanted you to confess just as much as you wanted to let these feelings out.

It’s just a game. Just say yes and continue. You had to remind yourself — there are five people here, so Ricky has a one-in-five chance of guessing correctly.

“…Yes.” Ricky was taken aback, and his heart in his chest sprung slightly. He kept his face expressionless and collected himself. He couldn’t be too sure, right?

Woongki playfully asked if you had a crush on him, which elicited some laughter from you and the others.

Ricky was gently laughing, but he hoped that wasn't actually the case.

They raced to make Ricky pick a decision when they were satisfied with your response.

“Truth.” That surprised you because you expected him to keep saying dare. That's exactly what he did last year.

"Do you like Y/N?" they inquired emphatically.

You turned to look at him, attempting to read his expressions.

The abrupt question tightened his grip on your hand. It's unusual to view Ricky in this light – it was like seeing him for the first time.

But he wasn't the only one who was taken aback by this question; you were as well.

You felt a surge of feelings rush over you: anxiousness, happiness, and worry. You hoped you knew the answer to this question.

You're not sure whether you should be grateful for Seowon's direct question.

He did take a bit longer to answer this question, the anticipation was killing you. He opens his mouth slightly, making your twisted knot feeling in your stomach grow bigger. Why won’t he say something already?

Ricky finally responded, feeling the eyes from you and the rest.

"Well, I wouldn't be holding hands with Y/N if I didn't like them, right?" He turned to face you, hoping for the same reaction. Ricky feels more at ease when he sees you smiling.

The four's loud cheers flooded the living room, ruining this romantic moment. Ricky ended himself laughing in embarrassment, wishing he had confessed in a more private setting.

“You mean it?” You said to him over the ongoing cheers. He nodded, staring into your eyes with much love. He had been waiting to say this for ages, and he finally did.

Ricky had finally noticed the blush you had, which made him smile widely.

“You look so cute like that.”

“Oh, enough.”

Looking right back at them, you wore a shy grin on your face. “Well, are you guys satisfied?”

"Trust me, we're not satisfied!" Hanbin says, knowing he was serious. "Let's just ask you guys the questions—it's more fun." The others nod in agreement, eager to bombard you two with questions.

The nervous feeling you experienced at the start of the game began to diminish as you giggled slightly at the questions being asked. Instead, a warm, loving sensation arises in your stomach.

It wasn’t just you who felt that feeling, it was Ricky as well. “Oh, just kiss already!” Seunghwan says dramatically, slightly opening one eye to check if you'll actually do it.

You were staring at Ricky when you noticed him gulp, which made you giggle. "...Can you guys turn around? It’s kind of awkward, yknow…" Ricky was taken aback by your unexpected question – it's amazing how much can happen in only a few hours in this game. The others eagerly turned around, remaining silent to allow you and Ricky to have some "private" time.

Noticing how Ricky was caught off guard, you took your chance. Grabbing his chin softly, you pulled him closer to you.

As you went for a peck there, your lips felt the warmth of his cheek. The four screamed in excitement when they heard you kiss him. They appeared to be happier than you, as if they had received a kiss from their crush.

In your own little world, you stared at Ricky lovingly — you made him feel shy with your gaze.

“..So what are we?”

“Definitely more than friends.”

Your hands with his collided even tighter, both of you not wanting to let go. Resting your head on his shoulder, you both watched the others continue to create chaos.

…Just maybe this game isn’t bad or stupid at all.

taglist .. @dwcljh @ilovewonyo @jiawji @tzyuki

[writingforsimps]

Midnight Fangs - Poly BTS X Reader (Prologue)

Summary: The werewolves thought they found all their mates. They never imaged they’d met another, let alone that she’d be a vampire.

Warning: Blood, Alcohol, Sex, Breeding, Mate Au Supernatural AU, Poly Au, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Hurt/Comfort, Other… (Specific Warnings not mentioned will be made in each chapter.)

[Series Masterlist] [Your Here] - [Next] <-

You fled from your Nest.

You fled from your Nest, from the people who turned you almost 200 years ago, from the people who taught you everything you know now about yourself. Vampires have very strong bonds, they live with their Nest forever. The people who turn them and the people who are also turned. The two only reason why a vampires nest would be small is because of Hunters. You ran away from your Nest: your home, your family, your providers. Your an idiot. A lone vampire wouldn’t make it without their family.

You’ve heard phrased, phrases like “lone wolf,” and “free spirit,” everyone’s heard those phrases and in those phrases… Lone Vampire, didn’t exist. Every Vampire always said that their was a reason for that.

As the moon rises in the sky, you look at it from under a tree. Glad the sun would finally be gone from irritating your skin more. You hated swearing layers and hats, you sometimes missed the sun on your skin.

Most supernatural creatures were… sociable, but perhaps that isn’t the right word for all of them, it was more… kept to groups. There was a reason for that.

It meant you wouldn’t survive on your own.

-

-

-

Sociable was, however, the right word for werewolves. Wolves love the night, especially full moons. Werewolves were rowdy, social, and loud. You could tell from the howls you’d hear two miles away and from the many paw prints left behind in the mud after a full moon.

They loved many things.

In that love, what they loved and put above all else: their Pack. Werewolves, they had a more… engraved structure to their packs. For a vampire, the oldest is the leader. For a wolf, the most qualified Alpha is.

It’s a common… rumor that vampires and werewolves don’t get along. Cats and dogs as people would say. Wether that rumor is true or not, is up to a case to case Basis. Cats and dogs can co-exist in certain homes, when conditions are met.

Why was he even thinking of vampires? There would be no reason to think more of this subject. Cats and dogs, they would have no effect on his life with his pack. Jin sighs and shakes his head as he looks at his pack, his mates, trying to get rid of the thoughts.

Why would he even want to co-exist with a vampire? Most of them were too… cold, it was like they were searching for weaknesses to exploit. Always turning their noses in disgust, “You smell- horrible- too strong- like dog.” They’d say, while they smell like nothing but blood and death.

“Hey, Jin you okay?” Hoseok asks leaning his head against the omegas shoulder. The beta leaned onto the omegas scent gland, trying to soothe the Omega. He could smell a bit of his confusion and disappointment, even if it was the slightest, most minuscule change.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“Joon and Jumin are in the garden.” The beta causally mentioned. As the two of them looked out at them in the over grown, neglect garden. Jimin trips over a bed of something the pack doesn’t care to identify. Junjook stumbled after him and trips into the plants.

“I think the garden has seen better days anyway.” Yoongi shrugged scratching his messy hair as he walked in to the kitchen. A empty cup of coffee in hand, the alpha sighed as he glanced out the window at what was suppose to be a garden.

It was a large fences off area near the back of the cabin. The pack had picked the cabin up once upon a time, it was run down and old but now it was new again, everything was working the way it was suppose to and now it was… perfect. It felt like every room was brimming with love. The garden however, no one ever got around too. The forgotten space in the back of the house. During a full moon a while back Junkook had dug the remaining dead plants up leaving behind a pile of dirt. The pile of dirt was left, the causal “I’ll get around to it” was thrown here and there. Sure, but they all knew no one would end up taking responsibility for the garden.

If they wanted to be in touch with nature they’d go on a walk in the woods. It’s in their nature, Not planting. Digging? Maybe, yeah sure. But if they wanted berries they’d go find them in the forest. It was a waste growing them when they can just go to the store anyway?

At least. Those were the justifications. Truthfully, they didn’t know why they left it untouched for so long. It was a nagging ache in their chest… as if something wasn’t right and it just… needed to be left alone.

______

Note: Hey, so… I made this because, Bts fanfiction is really easy to find and I’ve been reading it because- hey, I want to read a specific type of fic? Bts fandom has 20 of them at least! So I thought, I’d give back…? I mean the authors are all sooo good, I just hope to live up to them. But… I don’t really know a lot about the boys? I’ve watched interviews and tried my best! But if something’s off, tell me pls!

Enjoy the series! Any questions, thoughts or concerns pls don’t hesitate! And uh… bye!

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter ten: there’s no way to hide it (i know what you’re fighting) | read chapter nine

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.6k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: sorry again </3 grad school just.... eugh. enjoy tho <3 have more end notes of me losing my mind over tim and wally's relationship too <3 also i talk a bit about wally's powers affecting reader there as well <3

Staying with Wally and Linda is… nice. 

Nicer than you thought it would be. 

Once you got over your hangups about it, anyway. And that went by quickly. It had to, because as it would turn out, being stabbed really does limit the things you can do on your own. Like pulling up your underwear and pants (and socks) after a shower and sitting up and sitting down. And picking up things from the floor if you dropped them. You ended up dropping your phone on your second day after discharge—or rather, it was going to drop, then Wally was there, snatching it mid-air and depositing it back into the (relative) safety of your hands, and it did occur to you, then, that if you had been alone, it would have become a much bigger issue.

As it was, at the moment, he just gave it back to you, settled down beside you on the couch, and started stuffing his face with chips, half-heartedly complaining about your choice in movie.

(It was Interstellar, which he ended up tearing up over, but then claimed it was just because he missed the kids. The snicker Linda let out—working at the kitchen table—assured you it was very much a bluff.) 

It still chafes, sometimes, but they like to remind you that you’ll get better eventually and be able to do those things. But until then, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?

And it’s true. And with that, you realize… it’s really nice to be taken care of. 

It’s not... quite the same if Steph—who visits frequently when she can—was doing it, it’s something else entirely. Something… reminiscent of your parents. Your mom who took care of you when you had fevers, pressing cool towels to your forehead, and your dad who would run to the store at any time of the day to get medicine and whatever else you wanted, too. 

Linda, who, sitting at the desk working, upon noticing you feeling a bit chilly while Wally is cooking dinner, will get up and grab you a blanket. Or when she breaks for lunch, she’ll cut fruit for herself and for you, without you asking. And Wally, who tells you that whatever you want, whether it be for something he cooks at home or something to-go or something at the store, he will get it for you. One day, you find yourself craving some Chinese food. Wally does you one better and, instead of dropping by any of the Chinese places in Gotham, runs all the way to the country in question to grab all of you dinner. 

Of course, for the fastest man alive, it’s nothing.

You preoccupy most of your time either watching TV, reading, or helping Linda with her book. She’s in the copyediting stage now, so you lend a hand. 

Other times, she helps you, usually by taking a break from copyediting, the two of you doing little practice press sessions, reminiscent of those times in Keystone; except now, knowing you and past the social boundaries of a stranger, she does not spare mercy—both with her questions and whatever scenario she dreams up, then her critiques at the end of it. Wally pitches in, too, and he can be a real pain in the ass about it just like her, with sneaky underhanded phrasing that trips you up too frequently. But what better way to learn than from them?

You’re all staying at a two-bedroom AirBnB in Old Gotham. Your studio wasn’t big enough to accommodate all of you. You don’t exactly mind it, since the AirBnB is really nice, much nicer than your shitty apartment, but it was all incredibly stressful for a little bit because you got let go from Circle K. And while you have savings, those savings are supposed to be for school, covering the rest of tuition and textbooks that financial aid doesn’t cover. 

But Steph came through on that, once again reiterating the offer to stay with her and Crystal at their house rent-free—an offer you accepted, given your situation. You were able to exit on your lease with minimal issue—mostly because you only had a month of it left—and she, Crystal, Wally, and Linda worked to get your things packed and moved out. You couldn’t offer much help other than directing where you wanted things to go and what you wanted to take with you to the AirBnB. 

According to Dr. Scott, your healing timeline is six to eight weeks. But you should be able to be on your own at four to five weeks. You have a follow-up appointment four weeks from when you were discharged where they’ll look at it and remove the stitches. 

But two and a half weeks after discharge has all of you scrutinizing the wound very closely after your shower. 

“It looks good,” Linda offers. “Much better than before.”

Wally makes a sound of agreement. In his lap, eight-month-old Wade West has a cold teething ring in his mouth; he joined you a few days ago and you have grown fond of him, as you’ve volunteered to feed him or play with him when his parents were busy doing something else. Your recovery has given you that luxury. But the pace at which you are healing has you a little… curious. 

Which leads to now. 

“It’s only been two weeks, though,” you point out. “But it looks like I’m at four weeks and ready for the stitches to come out.”

“Is it bothering you?” he asks, frowning. 

Wade throws his teething ring. Wally snatches it up without looking away from you, pressing it back into his son’s hands. 

“No, but it’s just… it’s weird, right?”

He and Linda share a look. 

“What is it?” you ask, immediately knowing they’re hiding something. They’d looked like that for a while before broaching the subject of bringing Wade here. The twins were doing just fine and video-called frequently, but they most likely enjoyed the freedom the Garrick's (and the West-Allen's) afforded them as the de facto grandparents willing to let quite a bit slide, at least in comparison to their parents. 

Wade, on the other hand, is still just a baby. He needs his parents. And you suspect his parents need him, too, so you agreed. Insisted, if anything, that they take him back. They’ve been happier because of it and that makes you happy. 

But two weeks together, with all the truths laid out, allows you a closer insight into your friends. (Still odd to call them that, but again, it’s something else. A friend combined with a sister and a brother and an uncle and an aunt and maybe something a little parent-adjacent, too. Weird. But you guys, ultimately.)

Wally makes a funny face. Linda purses her lips. 

“Is it bad?”

“No,” they say quickly, glancing at each other, then looking at you. 

“It’s, uh,” Wally winces. “It’s a side effect of, well, me.”

“You?” you ask, frowning. You know a fair bit of information about his powers, about the… speed force. The energy in which he and all the other speedsters draw energy from. 

“There are side effects to associating with us,” he admits. “Nothing dangerous, mind you. But… side effects nonetheless.”

“When I was pregnant with the twins and Wade, I was able to tap into the speed force,” Linda puts in. “But as soon as they were born, it was gone.”

You frown, lowering your shirt. “But that’s not what’s going to happen to me, right? I mean, that happened to you just ‘cause the kids had part of his DNA?”

“Yes,” Wally says, nodding. “It’s just—it’s not unprecedented. We don’t know entirely why side effects manifest but we know it usually happens with those we spend a lot of time with. And I mean, a lot of time.”

“But there’s a social component as well,” Linda adds. 

“A social component?”

“I care about you,” Wally says bluntly and you jolt at the fact of it, eyes widening. “And that plays a part. Generally, for a speedster’s family and close friends, if they spend enough time with them, they can age more slowly, like we do. And there is a small healing factor as well. Not as quick as mine but still faster than if you weren’t around me. You’re also immune to my lightning. It won’t hurt you. And truthfully…”

Now he hesitates. You can’t imagine what it must be. He said all that other stuff easily and it’s not an easy thing to grapple with, is it? 

But it doesn’t put you off. 

It’s… it’s honestly hard to swallow. The enormity of it. What it means. 

I care about you. 

“What?” you ask quietly. 

He sighs. “I could’ve maybe healed you from the get-go. I’ve done it before with a friend but I didn’t know if it would hurt you and I didn’t want to take my chances.”

“No, I understand. This is…” you gesture vaguely. “I mean, this is enough, isn’t it?”

He looks like he wants to say more but thinks better of it, nodding at your words. You don’t try to pry, either. 

“Will it be a problem during the check-up?” you ask next. “I don’t want you to get caught.”

“I’m sure stranger things go on,” Linda says. “Looking too closely isn’t good for anyone.”

“If push comes to shove, we can get you looked at by a doctor with the League,” he adds. “And they won’t notice if you bail on your follow-up, either. Like Lin said, way too much happens in this city for them to extend the effort.”

Well, getting looked at by a doctor with the literal Justice League feels like a bit much but needs must, you guess. 

The more physical side effects aren’t the only things going on. 

Nightmares plague you frequently these days. 

Of the attack itself, sometimes when you’ve switched places with Steph or Wally or Linda or Tim and you can do nothing but watch them get hurt. 

Then of your visit from Batman. 

Sometimes it’s him doing it, with a batarang, and the agony, the burning, it feels too real, combined with that night at the store, when he spooked you in the dark. 

It has you waking up in the middle of the night crying and your wound aching from your thrashing. Even worse when you wake up to the darkness of the room, your eyes summoning figures in the shadows. 

They both intervene accordingly. 

“Would punching him in the face make you feel better?” Wally wonders one night. “Because I can do that. He wouldn’t even see it coming.”

“It’s true,” Linda adds. “And you know he would deserve it this time.”

“He deserves it a lot of the time. It’s just that Superman says we need to talk out our problems. As if he and Wonder Woman don't want to regularly break his jaw. Besides," he says, a tad petulant now, "I know the importance of communication. I’m married. But he never gets that memo so if words don’t work, what else can you do?”

Punch him, being the clear unspoken answer. 

Well. 

You stare up at your ceiling, partially illuminated by the night light Linda plugged in. She sprawls out on your left, while Wally is on your right. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze on the Queen-sized bed, since Wally has a decidedly stocky frame but you three make it work. 

You didn’t have a nightmare tonight but that’s mostly because you haven’t yet gone to sleep. Your sleep schedule, over the past few days, has suffered. They noticed. They always do. 

“No,” you mutter. “That won’t help. It’d just make him more aware of me.”

And that awareness is the thing that makes you tetchy. 

After all, will there be some kind of repercussion for knowing what you do? Will he come to drive home another message, another threat about what you know?

You haven’t asked Steph about it and you certainly haven’t asked Tim, either, since you both still haven’t spoken since that night at the hospital (and that is a whole other thing plaguing you, too, but you digress). 

Linda takes your hand and squeezes it gently, comfortingly. On your other side, Wally does the same. 

The reassurance from both of them overwhelms you for a second. You aren’t looking forward to when they have to go back to Keystone. It’s selfish, you know, but they care for you with no strings attached. Because they want to. Because they choose to. 

Maybe you should’ve fought harder against it, at letting all these new people in. Just… more ways for you to get hurt. But that didn’t work with Steph and it didn’t work for Tim. 

Besides… you’re tired of denying yourself these kinds of comforts. You deserve it, don’t you? After everything? 

It is quiet for another moment. Linda holds your hand in hers, a steady reassurance. Wally’s thumb moves back and forth continuously over the back of your hand. It’s no less comforting. 

Finally, he takes a deep breath. You prepare for a serious opener, something about seeing a therapist, something about, once again, using League resources, because that way, it won’t cost anything and you could talk about your experiences freely. But instead…

“I could go back in time and stop him from ever confronting you?” 

The snort you let out is unbidden. You don’t even know why. Time travel is something he can do. Insanely enough.

But then Linda giggles. 

And you, a little sleep deprived, a little emotional, can’t stop yourself from dissolving into laughter, too. The kind that makes you light-headed. 

On your other side, Wally lets out a snort of laughter that makes you and Linda laugh harder. 

For a moment, all of you are laughing and laughing and laughing and everything is right in the world. 

Naturally, in the morning, things go downhill.

Mostly by you making the mistake of turning on the TV.

Wally and Linda aren’t news-type people. At least not here. Linda, because she said she’d get too big of an urge to go out there and chase leads, and Wally because he said he’d also want to go out there and save the day and that would royally piss Batman off and that relationship was already fraught with tension. 

Not to say they stayed away completely. When going out, they checked out what was going on, kept track of which parts of the city to stay away from if there was something going on. 

For your part, you wanted to take a step away from reality. Needed it, really. 

This morning was a simple mistake. You had Wade in your lap, Wally making breakfast, Linda settling down at the desk to start her edits. You were just trying to find the cartoons Wade was so fond of watching when you landed on GNN.

Then the TV was showing a chaotic scene at the Museum of Antiquities, saying something about a hostage situation and the shot abruptly shifted to the roof, zooming in on the figures there, Red Robin, Tim, and Signal, barely visible from the ground but recognizable all the same, and then a gunshot, ear-piercing even through the TV, and you managed to catch sight of Tim collapsing before everything devolved into chaos, footage shaky, people screaming, someone yelling.

It hits you quickly. Too quickly for even Wally to do something. 

In a blink, the TV is shut off and Wade is taken from you, shifted into Linda’s arms as she and Wally speak to you, but their words fuzz out in your ears, muffled as if you are underwater and the weight on your chest is crushing and you can’t breathe because you might’ve just seen Tim die and the thought consumes you until there is nothing else. 

When you resurface next, you’re curled up on your bed, with the world’s worst headache throbbing in your head and a bone-deep exhaustion still plaguing you. Wally is there, too.

The door is closed but you can hear Linda cooing at Wade, his high-pitched giggles are easily audible. 

Wally plays a game on his phone. Fruit Ninja. His thumbs move so fast, they blur a little bit, but he still manages to get one of the bombs, cursing as he does so. 

You watch him do that for a while but eventually, he gets tired of it, shutting off his phone and turning to look at you.

“So.”

You wiggle onto your side, picking at a loose thread in the blanket.

“Is he…” your voice catches, throat tightening. “Do you know if…”

“He’s okay,” he says gently. “It was just a graze.”

Is it bad, you wonder, that you don’t ask about the hostages? About what that whole situation was about? That you only care to hear what happens to Tim?

You don’t know.

What you do know is that you’ve lost so much. You’re still scared to lose it. 

You can’t lose him.

But you don’t get a say in that, do you? 

“I’m not fond of the kid,” Wally says a minute later, green eyes carefully scanning your face as he props his head on his palm. “If only because of this whole situation…”

“Tim isn’t bad,” you whisper. “He’s just… a little misguided at times.”

By now, after the rush of emotions calmed down, after settling into something like a routine, you’ve been able to think about it. You’re still hurt by what he did but you can understand why he did it. 

Mostly… mostly, you miss him so much it hurts. 

Your more physical wound is healing nicely but there’s still an emotional one inside you; it scabbed over in these weeks away but now, it’s open and raw and you just want…

You just want Tim. 

So much. 

You didn’t think it was possible to want someone this much.

But you’ve never done this before, you’ve never had something like this before… and you’re scared. 

You almost miss Wally’s next words, caught up in your own head. 

“You’re putting it very nicely,” he’s saying, “but I won’t disagree. I don't, actually, which is kind of… really annoying.”

You latch onto that, that brief diversion, if only for just a moment. "Annoying in the conventional way?"

"You have to ask?"

"You are a strange, strange man, Wally West. I do need to ask."

The laugh he lets out is full-bellied and warm. You smile, too, affection settling warm and sweet in your chest, briefly chasing away the pricks of sadness.

"No," he says, chuckling. "It's not in the conventional way. It's mostly because I do see that he is misguided. And I know how and why he is like that."

Right.

To be honest, you haven't thought much on it. On what other knowledge comes with knowing Tim and Steph's identities. It's a leap, but from what you've gleaned, from what you know of Tim's relationship with his adoptive father, what you know of Steph's opinion of him…

Well. It makes sense. And it makes you ache, thinking of the distance Tim tries to put between him and Bruce, of the things you have learned not just about Bruce Wayne but Batman, too. 

A frown mars Wally's handsome features now, grass-green eyes distant, fixed on a spot on the wall next to the bed. "I've always kind of known, I guess. But being confronted with it directly is something else entirely. And I do get it. I can see why he's like that. I don't consider myself a paragon of communication and expressing feelings and my parents were really… not great at all, but I had Aunt Iris. Then Barry and Jay and Max and… I don't know. I guess it's just the dad in me. Having child sidekicks is hardly a new thing in the community and questionable at times but what really matters is the mentorship. He is capable. I can see that. But from what I've seen here, I wonder if both sides of him have had the same amount of direction. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," you whisper. "That makes a lot of sense."

Finally, he looks at you. "But we can't change the past. And if you'd like to keep him around, which I suspect you do, maybe…" He trails off but you understand what he is leaving unspoken and the thought softens you. Wally is so good. Prideful and annoying and short-tempered at times but ultimately good. All of them are. 

"And on that topic," he continues, eyebrows raising a bit. "I think… for you… it’s time to see him.”

You stay quiet and continue fiddling with the loose thread. Wally’s hand finds yours, squeezing it gently, reassuringly. You get the message even though he doesn’t say anything.

No matter what happens, we’re here. I’m here.

You let out a shuddery breath. 

“Does it ever… scare you? Caring so much?” Loving so much?

“Terrifies me,” he agrees easily. “I have a long list of enemies who would love to—take Linda and the kids away. Kill them or worse. But worse has happened before. We manage to get through it each time. And for you… you love him, don’t you?”

You bite your lip. “I… I do.”

He nods, not appearing surprised by your agreement. “He loves you, too, you know. Even that’s clear to me.”

“But is that enough?”

“Sometimes it’s not. But you have to try, anyway. Who knows what you’ll find if you do? And what you might lose if you don’t?”

You know what he must be thinking about. 

Being with Linda couldn’t have been an easy choice for him. The Flash is just as known as Wonder Woman or Superman. The title comes with its baggage and its enemies. But he did it, anyway. They both did and look at what they have now. A marriage, a family, a home together. 

You keep thinking that you can’t lose Tim and it remains true but… you never stopped to consider what your part might be in that. Not for the danger that might take him away from you but… your own feelings regarding it. Whether you can do this with him, take this leap and change everything for the two of you. 

You can.

You have to.

“You look like you just had a come-to-Jesus moment. I’m great, aren’t I?”

You smile. “You are, Wally. You really are.”

He flushes a bit but the smile he returns is still bright. “Just for you, kid. But honestly, please, it kind of kills me to give you romantic advice regarding Batman’s kid. I won’t say no to it! Just, you know. Get together already.”

“Are you going to be nice?”

“Only if he’s nice,” he shoots back.

“Honestly, Wally. You’re the oldest one here.”

“So? He’s twenty-one, not thirteen.”

“You’re ridiculous. Also, do I need to say something similar to Linda?”

“Do you need to say something similar to Linda? Um, yes. She’s worse than me.”

“I stand corrected. You both are ridiculous.”

But you would be lying if you said you wanted to change that. 

Steph comes over a little while later. Linda texted her about your… moment. She and Wally exchange places and she stays with you, comforting you and reassuring you that Tim is okay. 

“Tim’s a rubber ball,” she says to you, curling a piece of your hair on her finger, your head in her lap as the two of you watch Lizzie McGuire. “He’ll bounce back.”

“That’s not as comforting as it sounds.”

She lets out a soft chuckle. “Well, it’s that and, according to him, he isn’t going to die before he gets to see you again.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Steph…”

“Not lying. He was a bit delirious from some mild blood loss and the pain but that’s usually when he’s his most honest. So.”

“That’s horrible. You know that, right?”

“Hey, tell that to him. I’m just stating the facts.”

“Well,” you swallow nervously, your eyes on your laptop perched on the end of the bed but nothing in the show registering for you as you prepare to ask your next question. “Then… in that case… did he… mention anything about doing that?”

“He didn’t say anything but knowing him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he disobeyed the clear order for bedrest and came to see you tonight.”

“What—? He better not—”

“No use in trying to stop him,” she says. “I think today was a push for both of you. And when Tim sets his mind to something, you and I both know there isn’t any stopping him.”

That… yeah, that is true. But that bullet grazed his neck. Somehow, it managed not to damage anything vital. A graze, that’s all it was, but still.

“He’s such a handful,” you mutter.

Steph grins. “Yeah. But that’s half the fun with him, isn’t it?”

Your face goes hot and you mutter something noncommittal. She laughs. 

Despite her words, you still think you need to reach out, too.

So, when she leaves before dinner, having promised to spend the evening with Crystal, you pick up your phone and take the leap.

steph said you were probably going to come over tonight so we can talk

i think it’s a good idea too, although i would like for you to rest and recuperate from your near-miss today at least for a couple days

Your heart climbs to your throat as you see him quickly read the text. You stand from the bed, leaving your phone there as a restless, nervous energy filling you. You pace until your phone vibrates with a new text. 

i want to see you

It’s simple. Five little words.

Five words that leave you feeling oddly breathless with the weight of them.

Because you know.

You know.

He should know, too.

i want to see you too

but i can go to you, you know

i know

i’ll drop by your fire escape at 11:30

is that okay?

That last one comes a minute later after the first two and you smile. Tim can be bossy. You and Steph have given him plenty of shit for it. He’s gotten better at realizing it, too.

sure

just give me a warning before you try knocking on my window or something

until then please actually rest???

i will :)

It’s familiar. Not much, really, but it makes you smile, anyway, and you fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling like a giddy teenager. 

Obviously, you two have a lot to talk about. And you’re still mad at what he did but like you said, you understand. You just have to make sure he doesn’t keep you in the dark again like that and more importantly, that he doesn’t double-cross you. Because that’s what it was, in a way. He crossed a line, so many lines, coming to you as Red Robin. Continuing to come to you as Red Robin. It was dishonest and you hate the way it makes you feel.

But you can move past it.

You want to move past it. 

You both feel the same, don’t you? 

The thought overwhelms you, your face burning hot.

Man. You haven’t actually thought about that until now. But… that’s why. That is the core of everything. And Tim’s questionable ways in which he handled that aside… it seems to be an inalienable truth.

He feels the same.

Tim Drake, for whatever reason, feels the same as you do. 

Hell, look at what Wally said. 

He loves you, too, you know. Even that’s clear to me.

You’ll make it work.

You both will.

reblogs are appreciated!

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[aphrodisiac-siren]

Home~ Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

Summary: Leaving behind everything he knew was hard for Neteyam and then adapting to the ways of the new clan was even harder. He'd push himself, overwork and exhaust himself even, to live upto his family's expectations; never really giving his own wants a second thought. That's why Y/N was the prefect companion for him, someone who kept things in his life balanced, who made sure to let him know that what he wanted was just as important, perhaps even more so, than what everyone else wanted of him.

//slow burn, cute Neytiri and Y/N bonding moment plus Lo'ak being a menace and HEAVY ANGST//

masterlist, Part 3

Part 2

🫧

The previous couple of days seemed to be the most fun Y/N had had in a while. She and her siblings spent almost all their time with the Sully kids, teaching them all that they needed to know to survive out here with the reef people. It was refreshing to have a break from her own lessons of healing and hunting and granted that the forest Na'vi were taking their time with adapting to the new place, it was still enjoyable nevertheless to be around them.

Aonung was still hostile, refusing to give the kids a break for even a slight mistake, with the exception of Tuk. He seemed fond of her, on some occasions treating her just like how he treated his own sisters but he was too proud to admit that he'd grown a soft spot for the little one.

Out of the whole lot, Y/N had to concede that Kiri was the fastest learner. It was impressive really how much of a natural she was. Though Y/N also made a note that Neteyam was the more ardent learner. She'd catch him practicing their sign language by himself when the others played on the beach or he'd work on his diving whilst his sisters picked sea shells. She once even saw him trying to teach his Ikran sign language whilst everyone was enjoying dinner.

"Thank-you" he said aloud as he slowly signed, so that the animal could register the gesture "this means thank-you"

As promised, in between lessons, Neteyam would treat her to some random pieces of information he'd learned from his dad about the sky people. He taught her a few words and phrases, being as patient with her as she was with him. There were times when even Lo'ak butted in, trying to have his two seconds of fame as well.

"Not to brag or anything, but I used to visit the sky-people’s camp like all the time" he flexed, grinning like an idiot who'd just won a prize "Oh teach her how to say 'suck my dick' bro"

"S-suck my-"

"NO!" Neteyam practically jumped. The last thing he wanted was to get in trouble for teaching the chief's daughter vulgar profanities "Lo'ak you skxawng! Go away"

In conclusion, the Sullys were an absolute joy to have around.

"You spend too much time with them" Aonung spoke coldly, pulling his sister out of her train of thought. He merely tolerated those kids out of obligation and because of his status as the chief's son. Beyond that, he didn’t give two fucks about them "even Tsireya isn’t tailing after them outside of lessons"

"Tailing after?" Y/N raised a brow, not to happy with the tone her brother was using "I'm sorry, why is me hanging out with them a problem again?"

"They don’t belong here" he said slowly, as if by doing so she'd grasp what he was saying and agree "ever since their arrival, we've been forced to baby them and teach them things we did effortlessly at the age of ten. You and I both haven’t had a day to ourselves to do our training much less relax"

"Those kids are doing their best" Y/N sighed, unsure why it was always her who had to deal with her brother's whining "you can tell they’re trying their hardest' they really want to learn-"

"Well their best isn’t good enough" He snapped, Y/N rolling her eyes at his outburst "I want them to go back"

"Shut up Aonung, don’t be such an asshole" she huffed, using an english insult that Lo'ak taught her and Neteyam begged never to say.

"What?" Aonung looked at her like she said something in gibberish, which to him was what the entirety of the english language would probably sound like.

"Nothing"

"Whatever, look at this" the boy struck a pose to flex his biceps, looking at his arms proudly. Y/N rolled her eyes at his antics. It was a bit funny how the conversation was abruptly halted just because Aonung wanted to flex his muscles. Brothers.

Not wanting to stick around for him to go back to his previous argument once he'd finished admiring himself, she left him to fond over himself and went to go take a walk somewhere away from the beach at which they were.

"Where you going?" he called out to her, smile dropping

"Away from you" she said over her shoulder, brushing the sand off her thighs.

"Why? I wasn’t done talking"

"Exactly why I'm going"

Not having much to do until later in the day, when she'd teach some weaving with her father, she decided to go help feed the Ikran.

They usually stayed near the far end of the village, occasionally vanishing for a few hours just to fly around. The clan's people brought them baskets of fish and sometimes fruit to keep them well fed and less cranky.

Y/N hummed to herself whilst carrying the basket that held their food. It was kept in a little shack at a distance from the Ikran. She was curious as to why there wasn’t anyone there at the time, this was usually when someone went to go feed them anyway. Not really caring much, she happily skipped toward them, slightly content that she could admire the creatures alone.

Her enthusiasm died down however, when she rounded the corner and saw Neytiri already there with a similar basket of fish beside her.

Y/N’s chirpy humming had the woman turning around, silently eyeing the girl from up to down.

"Hi" she meekly greeted, awkwardly hugging the basked like it was the only source of comfort she had at the moment "I came to feed them"

"Seze doesn’t like being fed" Neytiri flatly said, quickly glancing at the Ikran to her right who was busy digging into the basket. The other bird-like creatures were curled up for a nap, probably already done with their meal.

"Is that yours?" Y/N put down the basket in defeat, a bit disappointed she couldn’t stick around with the foreign animals.

Neytiri paused to study her some more. Y/N was a sweet girl by nature, her daughter Tuk never failed to mention that to her. She was patient and very smart, very proficient too. Despite her timid voice, she presented herself quite well, shoulders rarely ever hunched and chin up. She was curious little thing, that much was very conspicuous about her; always eager to learn or delve into anything new.

"Come" she beckoned for the younger girl who approached without a word, still holding on to the basket "put that down, Seze will only eat if it’s not directly being fed, she hates being babied"

"Sounds like my brother" Y/N mumbled as she did what Neytiri told, earning a brief grin from the woman. She took a step back and watched as the Ikran dived hungrily into the second basket of fish, despite not finishing the first one "eats like him too... don’t tell anyone I said that"

Neytiri's phlegmatic exterior melted away, laughter replacing her somber expression. Y/N was just humorous as she was diligent, an adorable little thing the older woman found her.

"Did you catch the fish yourself?" she asked, tone much more gentle and motherly now, which visibly seemed to put the younger Na'vi at ease.

"N-no" Y/N responded but quickly opened her mouth to futher justify her answer, as if she felt the need to provide an explanation so as to not be underestimated by Neytiri "but I am good at spearfishing, I've caught plenty of fish you know"

"Ah. But I must confess, catching fish with my arrows is much more easier than these spears you use" She told her and watched the girl's face contour into a look of confusion which she quickly masked with a polite smile, just nodding in agreement "you haven’t trained with a bow and arrow?"

Y/N only nodded a 'no'

"Hm," Neytiri hummed "I will see you little while before eclipse near the southern side of the reef, I hope you don’t mind using Lo'ak's bow while you learn"

Y/N's face lit up to a point where Neytiri was expecting for her whole head to just start glowing like the sun any moment.

"You'll teach me?" she excitedly asked, voice a pitch higher than usual "really?"

Neytiri only chuckled adoringly at her ardor to learn and responded by just ruffling her hair.

___

Y/N felt like she had conquered all of Pandora by securing a lesson with Neytiri.

She happily skipped to the beach to find her sister Tsireya and tell her about her day so far. She knew her sister was usually whiling away her time picking shells around this time of day, to use them later to braid into her hair.

What she didn’t expect was to run into her idiot brother and his friends caught up in a rowdy fight with Lo'ak and Neteyam. The boys were like hooligans, kicking, punching and pulling tails. Kiri stood in the distance, heavily judging the fools.

“Guys! Hey!” She made a run for it, wanting to stop this fight before any of the skxawngs managed to seriously hurt someone “Aonung!”

Her brother was too caught up trying to free himself from Lo’ak who was pulling his ear all while being dragged across the sand by his tail.

“That’s enough-“

A loud grunt interrupted her and she looked to the side to see Neteyam gracefully knee one of the other boys right in the balls.

“Stop it NOW!” She bellowed, jumping right into the mess of angry teen boys. Not wanting to accidentally hurt the chief’s daughter, Aonung’s friend’s begrudgingly seized their punching and scooted a few steps back.

“Is this how you want the forest people to know us?” She scolded, ignoring the wincing from her brother “that the Metkayina people are hostile bullies? Really Aonung?”

“That bastard threw the first punch!” One of them hissed at Lo’ak, who reacted by hissing back “maybe you should consider vouching for your people and not favour their asses for a change”

“Watch your mouth” despite being in pain, Aonung limped to toward Y/N, putting himself between her and his friend with the snarky tone “do not speak to my sister that way”

The boy only scoffed in response.

“Aonung” Y/N coldly spoke, though there was an undertone of concern lacing her words. Her brother was really beat up, face bruised, lip bleeding and skin scraped here and there “get outta here, go get patched up”

“He’s right you know” he lowly told her, eyes menacingly glancing toward the Sullys “he did start-“

“Then you should’ve put a stop to it” was all she said, staring up at him until her brother caved in and turned away, muttering a string of profanities under his breath that his mother would indefinitely ground him for.

“And you” Y/N turned to the Sully kids as Aonung and his friends made their exit “I know their teasing can get a lot sometimes but did you really have to hit him?”

“You can’t be serious” Lo’ak looked almost offended, as if he wasn’t expecting her at all to scold him “if it wasn’t for that bitc-“

“Mind what you say Lo’ak, he is my brother. A lot to deal with sometimes but he is still my family- the son of Tonowari” she then turned her attention to Kiri “and you just stood there watching and giggling, I always thought you were the mature one”

“Hey don’t drag her into this” Neteyam stepped forward, shielding his siblings both physically and in spirit “they poked fun at her, maybe save the scolding for the person who actually needs it hm?”

“Do not tell me who I ought to scold at and at who I shouldn’t. You were all at fault here to some extent” she hissed, her sharp fangs briefly making an appearance “is resorting to physical violence something you’re used to over choosing to resolve it with civil conversation?”

“Do not speak to me that way” Neteyam hissed, slowly losing his calm composure. He was well known and well respected in his clan, always treated and spoke to like he was royalty. Not a single person had ever spoken rudely much less snapped at him in such a manner. He was a warrior in training to be a strong leader “I’m to be the next Olo'eyktan-“

“No you were going to be Olo'eyktan, before your father left the forest” Y/N was letting her anger get the best of her, not bothering to think even for a second about the words that were leaving her mouth “now you live here in our clan, as a normal person with no high station. So you make your peace-”

“My father is Toruk Makto, he’s fought and won a war against the sky people” Neteyam’s voice was hauntingly low, a growl escaping in between a few words. The way he spoke, the way his tail arose, he almost looked like an animal waiting to pounce on his prey. He was well aware that he was no longer in line to be the next chief but hearing it from someone else in such circumstances made his blood boil “Your father says the reef people haven’t been at war during his time. Take his title of chief away and what does make you then? A nobody; because while I may never be chief, I will always be the son of the great warrior Toruk Makto and you are a girl that was simply born to someone who was already heir to the Metkayina clan”

There was silence.

Deafening silence.

Lo’ak was the short-tempered one in the family, always quick to say things in the heat of the moment; notorious for showing fits of rage and making impulsive choices but even he had to agree: Neteyam had gone too far.

“Bro” he softly called out to Neteyam, sharing nervous glances with Kiri who was just as stunned by their older brother’s outburst. It was unlike him to lose him temper and just say things without thinking.

As if his little brother’s voice was a force that pulled him back to reality, Neteyam’s eyes went wide with realisation after he’d only just processed what he’d said, knowing well that it was too late already.

“No, Y/N” he poorly began, tail drooping down again in shame “I did not mean to-“

“I’m so glad the Omatikaya do not have to face the shame of having to call you their Olo'eyktan” Y/N’s voice was oddly calm but that’s what seemed to scare them even more. She spun on her heels, keeping her cool “there will be no lessons today. And none from me henceforth”

[candycandy00]

Pick Me Up - A Gojo x Reader x Geto Halloween Fanfic Part 3

Gojo and Geto are two serial killers who enjoy seducing their victims before killing them. Every year on Halloween they have a friendly competition, and this year the target they both choose is you. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The first two parts will be fairly short and just serve to set up the way these two operate. The third part starts the “main part”. Any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated! Divider by @violetbudd

Smut. 18+. Fem Readers. Smut mostly just thought/talked about in this part. Gojo and Geto are both bisexual. 

You’re standing in line at the convenience store, two giant bags of potato chips in your arms. Your friend told you to bring some to the party, so here you are, standing here in a silly white Angel costume. There’s a fake halo on a stick over your head, small white wings attached to a white top that is way too sheer for your comfort. The skirt is shorter than anything you’ve ever worn, and your white thigh-high stockings have little bows at the top. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to look innocent or slutty. Probably both. 

Your friends picked out the costume for you, saying it fit your personality. You don’t know what that says about you, but you’ve decided to take it as a compliment. 

The teenage boy working the register stares at your chest, not even trying to be subtle. You pay for your chips and for some gas you just put into your car, then you head out. 

A group of trick or treaters nearly mow you down as they run into the store, excitedly chanting the familiar phrase as the teenager rolls his eyes and begins dropping handfuls of cheap candy into their colorful buckets and bags. You smile as you watch the little goblins, remembering how much fun you always had as a child on Halloween. 

This year is going to be just as fun, you tell yourself. You’ve never been to a large Halloween party before, but you’re really excited. You hum the Ghostbusters theme to yourself as you toss the chips into the backseat and climb into the driver’s seat of your car. 

***************

Satoru and Suguru have been sitting in the white van, parked far away from the pumps at the gas station, for a couple of hours now. They’re watching the various people who stop for gas, each trying to pick out their special Halloween victim. 

Suguru has one hand buried in a bag of popcorn. “How about her?” he asks, pointing to a “nurse” strutting by. 

Satoru takes a bite of the king sized candy bar in his hand. “Nah. Too easy. I want a challenge tonight. Besides, you need to focus on picking your own target.”

“My taste is more discerning than yours,” Suguru says, holding up the small bag to pour the rest of the popcorn into his mouth. 

“Wait,” Satoru says, pointing with his free hand toward the door of the convenience store, “look at her.”

Walking out of the store after nearly bumping into some kids is the sweetest looking Angel either of them have ever seen. 

“Fuck, she can barely walk in those heels!” Suguru says breathlessly, “Can you imagine chasing her?”

Satoru’s eyes are shining above the rims of his dark sunglasses. “She’d trip so fast. That flimsy outfit would rip… she’d be crawling on the ground, crying her eyes out, begging me not to hurt her…”

Suguru laughs. “Easy, you’re gonna bust a nut.”

“Only in that sweet angel’s mouth,” Satoru says. 

“I’m picking her,” Suguru suddenly declares. 

Satoru swivels in his seat immediately to look at Suguru. “What? No, I’m picking her!”

“Too late. You didn’t get a chance to cut her fuel line.”

Satoru frowns. “I’ve got other ways of getting her into my van.”

“Really? Like what?” Suguru asks. 

Satoru gives him a meaningful look, pulling the shades down. “These baby blues. I could roll up covered in blood, carrying a machete, and she’d still wanna ride my dick after one look into my eyes.”

There’s a moment where Suguru just stares at Satoru silently, allowing himself to get lost in those eyes. Then he looks away. “You’re too full of yourself.”

Satoru laughs, taking anther bite of his candy bar. “Just admit you think my eyes are pretty.”

Suguru ignores him and stares out the windshield, watching the angel climb into her car. “How about we make the contest interesting this year? Let’s both pick her.”

Satoru raises his eyebrows, clearly intrigued by the idea. In years past, they competed to see who could fuck and then kill their individual target first on Halloween night. The rules were pretty simple. They had to act suspicious, and they had to get the target to willingly have sex with them despite throwing up glaring red flags. It was their fun way of testing their own charm and good looks. 

“Okay, let’s do it,” Satoru says, grinning. “If you’re lucky, I might just give you sloppy seconds!”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “I hope you like fucking girls with no skin, because that’s the only way you’re having her tonight.”

They both laugh, and then Suguru gets out of the van, heading to his own vehicle so that he can use the backroads to get ahead of her. 

*****************

You sit for a minute in your car, trying to send a text to your friends to let them know you’ve picked up the extra chips and are heading towards the party, but there’s no service in this area. Too wooded and remote. You sigh and cram your phone into the small white purse beside you. 

A couple miles down the road, you’re blasting Monster Mash on the radio, singing along with the lyrics, when you notice someone walking along the side of the road. You hit the brakes, your car screeching to a halt beside a man with long dark hair, dressed all in black. 

If he’s walking along the road in the dark, he probably needs help! You roll the passenger side window all the way down and lean across the seat as he steps over and bends down to look in at you. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask him, concern obvious in your voice. 

He smiles at you, and you can’t help noticing that he’s incredibly good looking. “I ran out of gas,” he says.

“Well hop in and I’ll take you to the gas station,” you tell him, patting the seat beside you. 

He blinks, hesitating for a moment before that charming smile returns to his handsome face. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice creamy and smooth. “It’s dangerous to pick up hitchhikers, you know. I could be a serial killer.”

You look him over, from his smile to his clean and simple clothing. He sure doesn’t look dangerous. “It’s fine,” you say with a grin. “I’ve got a good feeling about you!”

His eyes widen slightly, then he breaks out into laughter, so much that he clutches his side. “I can’t argue with that logic!” he says, opening the passenger side door and climbing inside. 

“Wow, you smell nice,” you say to him, noticing the fresh fragrance of soap, or maybe laundry detergent. “Is that Gain or Tide?”

He glances at you sideways, seeming a little caught off guard by the question. “Uh, I just use whatever’s handy… I don’t pay attention to brands…”

“Well whatever it is smells great.”

He stares at you for a moment before saying, “Thanks.”

You hate the awkwardness of silence so you decide to keep talking. “Do you live around here?”

“No, just traveling through,” he tells you. 

“I’m going to a Halloween party,” you say brightly. “But I guess that’s obvious.”

He looks you up and down. His gaze feels hot, and you notice his eyes lingering on your legs. “That’s a cute costume,” he says. “So are you sweet like an angel?”

You laugh and slap his arm playfully. “Is that a pick up line?”

He gives you a strange look, unreadable, then smiles again. “I’m just kidding.”

“Well, if you really want to know the truth, I didn’t pick out this costume. My friends did. It’s a little more, uh, risqué than I’m used to.”

“It looks good on you,” he says. 

“Aw, thanks! You’re really sweet!”

Again, that strange look, but then a second later he’s laughing again. You’re not sure how your words were funny at all, but you giggle along with him, caught up in the moment. 

He laughs so much he’s nearly in tears, then he looks over at you with a smile that seems genuine for the first time. “Has anyone ever called you naive?”

You nod, smiling proudly. “Yep! All the time!”

He tilts his head, black as night hair falling over his shoulder. “And you’re not bothered by that?”

“Nope! I’d rather see the good in people and be wrong occasionally than always assume the worst of everyone.”

He chuckles. “You’re like one of those virginal heroines from a horror movie.”

You look at him sharply, then quickly look away, heat spreading across your face. 

“Haha, you’re totally red right now,” he says, then suddenly his smile disappears as his eyes seem to focus on your face. “Wait… why are you so red right now? Are you… a virgin?”

You wince. “Is it really that obvious?” 

His face seems frozen as he stares at you. Then one eyebrow twitches. There’s an excitement in his eyes that confuses you but also gives you a little thrill. 

“You really are an angel, aren’t you?” he asks.  

**********

When the angel pulls back into the gas station, Suguru doesn’t even have to ask if she’ll drive him back to his car. She volunteers, of course. He smiles and thanks her, and heads into the store to pretend to buy some gas. 

To his surprise, Satoru is standing by the magazine rack, thumbing through an issue of Fangoria. 

“Not in any hurry, I see,” Suguru says to him. 

“I know your patterns,” Satoru shoots back. “So, how is she?”

Suguru picks up a random magazine, not even looking at the cover, and pretends to flip through it. “She’s totally innocent and naive. Kind and sweet. She has absolutely no sense of danger, but I don’t think she’s an idiot. And…”

Satoru looks up at him. “And?”

Suguru meets his eyes. “Satoru, she’s a virgin.”

Ahh, there it is. That positively depraved, monstrous gleam in Satoru’s eyes. “Oh fuck,” he says, dropping the magazine back onto the rack. “I could wreck her so bad.”

Suguru understands the appeal. The thought of ruining something so pure and so good is irresistible to people like them. An image creeps into his mind, of that innocent angel choking on Satoru’s huge cock, and he doesn’t know why it turns him on so much. Because he’s also imagining her thighs trembling on either side of his face, gasping moans spilling from her lips. 

“I better get back to work,” Suguru says. 

Satoru waves him off with a smile. He must have some kind of plan in mind, Suguru thinks. 

After buying an empty red gasoline container, Suguru returns to the car, where the angel is waiting patiently for him. She opens the trunk for him to put the gas inside, and soon they’re on the road again. 

***************

The man beside you doesn’t talk much on the drive back to his car. You wish he would. He has such a nice voice. But he smiles warmly when he catches your eye, and he has a way of putting you at ease. You hate to admit it, but you might just be developing a bit of a crush on him. 

He tells you where to pull off the road, and soon enough a car comes into view, parked in a wooded area, behind some trees. You stop your car and turn to him, feeling a little sad that it’s time to part ways. 

“Here you are! Do you need any help?”

He makes no move to get out of the car, but looks at you with an expression you could only identify as “predatory”. But on him, it just looks sexy. “I’m not in any hurry tonight,” he says, turning to face you. “Are you?”

You feel your face heating up again. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’re feeling heated in another place too. “Well my friends are waiting for these chips,” you tell him. “Do you want to come to the party with me?”

“Actually, I was hoping we could spend some time together, just you and me.”

Ohhhh. He wants to hook up. Right here in the woods. You’re not sure how you feel about that. On one hand, he’s smoking hot. You’ve been getting wetter with each passing moment that he’s been in your car. But on the other… do you really want your first time to be with a stranger? You think about it for a moment, looking at his beautiful face, inhaling his pleasant scent. 

Why not live a little? 

“Tell me your name,” you say. 

He blinks at the sudden shift in the conversation. “Huh?”

You turn in your seat to face him. “I don’t want us to be strangers.”

“Ah, I see,” he says, then he smiles. “I’m Suguru.”

You smile back. “I like that name.”  You introduce yourself and then you take a deep breath. “Okay, so what did you wanna spend time doing with me?” You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it. 

He scoots closer to you, then leans his upper half toward you. “I don’t think you can handle what I want to do with you,” he says, his voice practically dripping with honey. 

You feel a shiver run through your body. Is this really happening? Are you really going to have sex with a guy this gorgeous? That you just met? There’s something scandalous about it that thrills you. “I probably can’t,” you admit, “but you’ll take care of me, right?”

There’s fire in his eyes as he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you gently. One of his hands moves to your hair, caressing it, pulling you closer, making the kiss deeper. When his tongue slips into your mouth, you offer no resistance. After a few moments, he pulls away to look at your face. You’re breathing slightly harder than usual as you say, “Wow, that was some first kiss.”

His eyes widen. “That… was your first kiss?”

You blush. “Yeah. Thanks for making it a good one.”

All at once, as if a switch has been flipped, he’s upon you, his hands rubbing over your body, his lips on yours, then on your neck. It’s a bit overwhelming, but it feels good, and there’s a thrum of energy coursing through you. There’s no doubt in your mind that by morning, you’ll no longer be a virgin.  

And then you hear it, a strange sound, like someone breaking a large stick in the woods. You put your hands on Suguru’s shoulders and lightly push him back. “Did you hear that?”

He presses forward, nuzzling your neck. “I didn’t hear anything,” he murmurs. 

You push him with a bit more force, causing him to stop and look up at you. “There’s someone out there,” you tell him. 

He sighs. “There’s no one out in these woods. Trust me.”

You turn around in the seat, looking out all the windows. There! Someone ran by some trees! “I saw someone,” you yell, pointing toward the spot where the figure disappeared. 

He looks in the direction you pointed. “I don’t see anything.”

“It might be an elderly person who needs help!” you say, starting to open your door. 

He gives you an incredulous look. “An elderly person?”

“They had white hair!”

Suguru’s eyes flatten to unamused slits. “Ah. I see. It’s probably some asshole playing a prank. It’s Halloween after all.”

You slide out of the car. “But what if it’s not? What if some grandma got lost in the woods and needs our help? I won’t be able to relax until I check.”

A look of annoyance passes over Suguru’s face, but he quickly replaces it with a warm smile. “Okay. I’ll help you check.”

“Thanks! You’re a really great guy!”

The two of you move around the car, calling out shouts of “Hello?” and “Is anyone out there?” and even “Shout back if you need help!”

When no answer comes, you run over and open the trunk of your car with the key. “I have a flashlight in here,” you say, digging around. You push the container of gas out of your way, and you notice something strange about it. The container is so light! You reach over and pick it up, and it’s immediately clear that the container is empty. Why would it be empty? Just as the terrible, obvious answer dawns on you, Suguru appears right beside you. 

You look up at him with wide eyes. The empty gas can is still in your hands. 

His eyes shift to the can, then back to your face. “Ah, I guess the jig is up then,” he says in a casual tone. “What a pity. I really, really wanted to fuck that virgin pussy before I kill you.” 

You back away as his words sink in. You watch helplessly as he pulls your keys from the trunk lid and then dangles them in the air. Before he can take a step forward, you fling the empty gas can at him and break into a run as he knocks it out of his way. You only make it a few yards away before you realize running in stiletto heels on uneven forest ground is impossible. 

Stopping for just a moment, you tear off your shoes. When you glance back, Suguru is running toward you. In a panic, you throw the shoes at him one at a time before sprinting into the woods. 

“Ow, fuck,” you hear him shout, “you almost hit my eye!”

“Sorry!” you yell back, a reflex you couldn’t subdue. 

Branches from small trees and bushes scratch you as you flee. Your skirt gets ripped up the side, the thin, cheap fabric of your top is nearly shredded, and your cute white stockings have holes in them now, one of the bows from the top missing. You ignore all of this as you make a beeline for the road. 

You haven’t heard Suguru since you threw the shoes. No yells, no footsteps, no crunching leaves. Either he’s a very quiet pursuer or he’s got some other plan for how to catch you. Both options are terrifying. 

Finally you break free of the trees and reach the road. You scan the area for Suguru, or your own car. He could easily use it to chase you down. You see headlights approaching and you decide to take the chance that it’s not him. You run up alongside the road, waving your arms. 

The vehicle that stops in front of you is a rusty white van, but it looks like a blessing to you right now. The passenger side window rolls down and a man in sunglasses leans over from the driver’s seat. 

“You okay, miss?” 

“No, some guy is after me! I think he wants to kill me!” Your voice is a bit frantic, but you’re trying to stay as calm as possible to avoid scaring him into leaving you behind. 

He looks around as if checking for attackers. Even in your distressed state, you notice how distractingly beautiful he is. He pulls his sunglasses down and looks at you with eyes so blue you almost forget you’re in danger. “Get in,” he says with a disarming smile. “You can tell me all about it and I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

Feeling lucky to be rescued by such a charming prince, you hurry to climb into his van. You look over at him as he pulls back onto the road. “Thanks so much,” you tell him. “You saved my life!”

He grins at you. “Don’t mention it, angel!

Now where can I take you?”

You exhale as you slide down a bit in the seat, trying to decide whether to go to the police or not. You feel like the night has lasted forever, having no clue that your Halloween was only getting started. 

Tag List:

@loyal-to-my-dilf @unearthlydream @noodlejitsu @itzmeme @themonst3rqu33n

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please comment to let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged!

[wol-fica]

-𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕎𝕙𝕠 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝔸𝕣𝕖-

BEFORE YOU READ: I’m not a medical expert, and all the information i could find on non-verbal people is from the internet. Everyone has different experiences with being mute and this is just the same. Please do not come after me saying i’m mocking non-verbal people.

This reader has selective mutism: in certain situations, she can speak simple words and phrases. in others, she can’t. (again, i found all of my claims from the internet)

~

summary - reader is getting judged for being non-verbal, so Tara comes to the rescue and saves her.

warning - use of the f slur, slight blood, violence, comfort, fluff af, Tara being a boss ass queen (slay)

———————

Sometimes in life, you will come across people who don’t have the complexity to understand your own differences from them.

Wether it’s you have a different skin tone or if you speak a different language, there will always be someone who will challenge you.

Now, being non-verbal, you get this often. You didn’t choose to not be able to speak, but yet your inability to choose has left you with judgmental people who pick on you for no reason.

Currently, you were being pinned up against a wall in a store of the large Brookfield Place mall in NYC. You were doing this fun shopping trip with your friends when a group of jockey football players from your old school decided to target you.

“Awww, can the little faggot not scream?” One of them asked, getting all up in your space.

You whimpered, tears clouding your eyes as his hands clamped on your windpipe. His friends behind him were smirking, stupidly snickering as your conscious slowly slipped away from you.

Suddenly, his hand was ripped from your throat as he was thrown backwards. Chad, one of your new friends you made, was standing over him with a menacing gaze. The other two jocks were now backed into corners, Sam and Mindy glaring them down with ferocity you wish to never be caught in.

A cough exited your mouth, your body slumping over against the wall. You clutched your neck, attempting to breathe normally while regaining your composure. Soft hands suddenly cupped your face, gently pulling you upright to see who was saving you.

Tara Carpenter, your new-found girlfriend, was staring at you with worry as she led you away from the group of jumpers. She was silent, keeping her hand in yours as she dragged you into a nearby bathroom.

After sitting you down on the toilet, she got to work with wetting a paper towel and tilting your chin up so she could wipe the blood off your face from when one of the jocks socked you.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked, pausing from cleaning your face as she met your eyes.

‘Yes, i’m fine.’ You signed, leaning your cheek into her palm as she chuckled at your antics.

“I would be scolding you right now, but you are way to cute to yell at.”

You breathed out lightly, your way of laughing, and relaxed against the mall toilet as Tara finished cleaning you up. Once she finished, she pressed her lips to yours, her thumbs rubbing against your cheeks lovingly. As she pulled away, you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her into you so she stood in between your legs.

“Mm, needy baby.” She hummed, her hands finding her way into your hair as she massaged your scalp.

‘For you.’ You signed with one hand, burying your face into her chest.

“I know, you’re whipped.”

You chuckled, leaning back to look up at her as she pursed her lips down at you. Her brown orbs bore into your soul, making you feel lost in her eyes. The small moment was quiet and nice, until Mindy burst into the room sporting a bloody lip.

“Good news, those jocks won’t be bothering you anymore Y/N!” She cheered, heading for the sink.

‘Thank you.’ You signed before leaning back into your girlfriend.

Tara glanced down to you, leaning down to your ear to mumbled a sweet, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whispered back.

———————

you do not have permission to repost my work on any platform

[tinietaehyun]

Forsaken [XIII]

[Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader] [Series] [Chapter Thirteen]

Pairing: Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader [Ft. Sorcerer!Yeonjun]

Genres: royal!au, fantasy, romance, enemies to lovers, supernatural, action.

Contains: profanity, suggestive implications/mature themes, fluff, mentions of poison, implications of blood, injury, death, su*cide.

Links: Forsaken Masterlist || Masterlist

Summary: The tension between the two of you reaches its brinks as it seems he can’t keep his hands off you and well, neither can you. Though, your anxiousness and stubbornness both leave you unable to admit your feelings for one another (despite it being rather abundantly clear).

Meanwhile, your nation seems to spiralling perilously as your tyrant brother seems to facing some rather tumultuous betrayal himself.

With a sigh, you place down the baskets of vegetables you picked with Taehyun’s guidance from his garden. You grimace at the soil and dirt on your hands, particularly under your nails. How grim!

“Toughen up, princess. Getting those hands dirty is where you know you’ve put real work in,” he muses at your rather adorable expression. You huff, “It was fine at first when you helped, but then you made me do all of it.”

Taehyun feigns innocently, “Oh but I cannot bend down, sweetheart? You wouldn’t want my wound to worsen? It’s only been a day since we came, no?” You glare, “I do wonder how long you’re going to keep this up. Surely your mana must have almost recovered? You can heal your wound afterwards right?”

A smirk lines his lips, “Mm, it’s slowly recovering. You’re forgetting how much mana I truly used for our little teleportation trick.” You sigh as he reminds you, “Yes, yes. I am aware. Now, can we sit down? My knees hurt from kneeling down for so long.”

You both sit down on the two dining table chairs. You brush off some patches of dirt on your dress; you had to admit this dress was rather comfy. Cotton was something you did not wear often - this was one of the dresses Taehyun first conjured for you whilst you stayed here initially before heading to Luna.

Taehyun smirks, “You’re quiet, why? Has some digging got your pretty little self exhausted?” You scoff, “Well manual labour is not exactly my strong suit.”

He muses, “You don’t do much work yet you manage to sleep as if you’re a hibernating bear? How fascinating. Yesterday, you slept like a log. Twisting and turning with absolute no regard to your wounded companion; it was rather amusing you know, having you cling on to me-“

“Ah-ah, hush,” you huff with a glare. You do recall you woke up with your arms around Taehyun; but it was not just you- he had his arm around you too, so it’s fair?

“Goodness, I was holding onto you so you wouldn’t fall off the bed, but it seemed like I had to worry about myself not falling off the bed with how much space you took. Practically on top of me,” he teases with a mischievous gaze. You flush embarrassed, “Oh shut it, sorcerer.”

Taehyun had to admit, the sight of you sleeping in his arms was one he relished. Your serene expression, your content smile as you nuzzled against his chest and wrapped your arms around him cherishing his body heat. He really did enjoy it and made no move to fight back.

Taehyun places his hand atop yours with a smirk, “Hm, I didn’t think you were the clingy type in bed.” You scoff, “Don’t phrase it like that. Secondly, I…it’s not like your pitiful little fireplace is enough to warm the entire house. It’s cold at night.”

“Going with that excuse are we?” He grins rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

Goodness, he’d be the death of you. His piercing eyes meet yours with a playful gleam. He had been in a rather good mood since you both came back to his cabin. You don’t know why, but it felt as though you two were in your own pocket of time, undisturbed by anyone. It felt nice, private, intimate.

Your gaze falls to his rosy lips briefly; the memories of your kiss with Taehyun flooding your mind. Heat rises up your face at the thought; it felt good. So good, that you wanted more. Not that you’d ever admit that, of course!

This action of yours did not go unnoticed by Taehyun who seemed to keenly observe just as much if not more than you did. His tongue briefly wets his lips as his gaze falls to your lips for a moment.

Clearing your throat, you abruptly stand feeling the tension in the room raise. “I shall wash my hands thoroughly and wash the remaining dishes from breakfast.”

He nods wordlessly as you make your way over to the sink with a racing heart. His stare was captivating, it had your knees buckling and made you feel breathless.

As you wash the dishes haphazardly, you continue to feel his gaze piercing your back. Silence consumes the room except for the noise of rustling forest and birds chirping outside.

Meanwhile, Taehyun watches you with an interested gaze, running his eyes from your soft hair down your back to the way the dress cinches at your waist and flares at your hips. It was an incredibly domestic scene that had him feeling some sort of way.

He wanted to kiss you again. He wanted to touch you, run his fingers across your silky untouched skin. Press his lips to your neck and make his way down to your shoulders, leaving a mark here and there. Taehyun shudders at his own thoughts; he had to calm down.

You begin drying the dishes slowly as you hear the creak of the floorboards. You feel his presence behind you as he suddenly reaches above you with a wince, startling you. Looking up, you see him reach for another dish cloth and hands it to you, “Use this, the one you’re using is pretty dirty.” You wordlessly take it feeling as though your heart may burst out of your ribcage any second.

Taehyun doesn’t move, rather he leans against the counter watching you do the mundane task. You murmur, “What’s for lunch later?”

Taehyun seems to break from his empty gaze as he responds, “Oh, well, I was thinking of some vegetable stir fry. We have the ingredients for that, I’m unable to go hunting at this rate, either.” You nod deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about, princess? Hm?” He muses. You mumble, “I was thinking about the next course of action. Beomgyu was of no use. I have to somehow get back to the palace. I have to see Sehun directly.”

He nods processing your words, “You know sweetheart, I don’t think going down the diplomatic route is cutting it.” You frown, “Yes, I can see that.”

“Force is needed,” he insists. You question with wide eyes, “You want me to kill him?”

Taehyun snorts at the look of horror on your face, “Well no, I don’t think you’d be capable of such a thing. I meant more, physically take him off the throne. Make him give up his crown. Or we can stop the coronation, something along those lines. We have to pry the throne off him.”

Your fists clench and your gaze hardens; your resolve and fervor growing more determined. Yes, he was right. If diplomacy wouldn’t work, then this was the next step. You’d take your throne back the way he took your rightful place.

Taehyun’s eyes twinkle, “You also have me, what more do you need?” A smirk forms on your lips, “As vain as usual. You are definitely recovering.”

He muses, “You believe in me, that’s all I need, sweetheart.” His words oddly touch you and you smile at him, “Of course.” You hum, “As I’ve said before; when I get my crown back, you’ll get your rightful position back.” Taehyun’s gaze softens as he grins; “I…we don’t need to jump so far ahead. Let’s focus on your throne first, alright?”

You scoff, “It’s only fitting, Yeonjun is where you should be. It infuriates me, how dare he be in your position after what he and his father did?” Taehyun shakes his head with an amused smirk, “Well, it is indeed unfair. But we’ll get to that hurdle when it comes, princess.”

Your gaze gleams, “If you see him at the palace, you better teach him a lesson. If not, I will,” you huff. Taehyun peers at you with a genuine expression of amusement and gratitude. Your anger towards Yeonjun and mannerisms were incredibly endearing. “But of course sweetheart,” Taehyun smirks, “It’s only right, he gets his consequence for his actions.”

He continues to watch you dry the remaining dishes. You’re startled as he suddenly moves a strand of hair out of your face and he muses, “Your hair.” You nod, flustered keeping your gaze averted.

You spot him from your peripheral vision gazing at you once more in silence before he walks behind you. “You wouldn’t mind, if I just…” he trails off as he slides his hands across your waist before wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your right shoulder. You stiffen, “Taehyun?” He hums amused, “Don’t think too much about it.”

You relax in his grasp feeling his warmth deep through your clothes. His soft breaths brush against your shoulder and the base of your neck. You felt a deep warmth inside you feeling his body against yours; it felt right, you felt safe. His thumbs draw faint circles on your waist; you hear his breaths near your ear. It’s a tender and intimate position that has your knees feeling weak and heart stumbling to maintain rhythm.

Why were you both feeling insatiable? This tension was infuriating between the two of you. You thought it would cease once you had kissed but no, no it had seemed to increase. A small flame if adding more firewood would only grow but larger.

The two of you isolated in one cabin was but a dangerous game, something other nobles of your standing would be appalled to hear about. One thing for sure was, neither of you were going to admit your burning feelings for each other but were not going to push each other away either, for you two were irresistibly drawn to each other. Had he cast a spell on your heart?

“Does it hurt?” You murmur. “Hm?” He questions softly. “Your wound? How does it feel?” His voice is rougher as he answers, “Mm, it’s fine. Really, you don’t need to worry. This evening I’m going to attempt a healing spell.” You nod; the both of you drawn back into a heightened silence.

You finish up and turn to face him; peering up at him through your lashes. His expression is focused on you, his hands still on your waist. “This…this is improper,” you croak out, your self-control waning by the second.

Taehyun’s lips quirk up slightly, “Improper? Oh, I think we were far past that when our lips met.” A shiver runs through you, “We’re being hasty, I-I-“

He playfully mimics, “I-I-,” he muses, “Use your words, princess.” You glare shoving past him, “You are so irritating!” You hear a chuckle before you’re suddenly pulled against him, “Don’t act as you’re above this, don’t act like you don’t want me.”

“I don’t, we’re just- it’s expected if a man and woman are together for a while they-“ You stammer breathlessly peering up his glimmering eyes. “They what?” He voices just above a whisper. “They grow to…” You shakily begin. Oh, how beautiful he was.

Oh how stunning you were with your dazed expression, he thinks. “…grow to?”

“Become attracted to,” your eyes flicker to his lips, “to each other.”

“So you only think this is out of circumstance?” Taehyun muses, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Is it not?” You breathe out shakily as his other hand trails up your other arm.

“Why? Can’t it be anything else? Must you always go behind a prince?” He quips with a dangerously sly smile causing you to scoff, “Anything else?” You say as you peer down at your ring glistening as it hangs off his neck swaying against his tempting collarbones.

Did he truly love you? Was it infatuation? Did you love him? Or were you just enamored with the idea of love? You were scared, you were scared because you had undoubtedly fallen in love with the man in front of you.

For his courage, selflessness, wit and bluntness. For the way he treated you so normally, humbled you but cared for you so tenderly at your weakest. Most importantly he hadn’t tossed you aside, no matter how unbearable you thought you were. He stuck by your through every moment. Under that bitter and snarky exterior lies a man who was hurt, betrayed and wants to love. To trust again.

The words were at the tip of his tongue. He wanted to call you his. You were from a different world, only building up feelings for you to marry off to a higher noble later on, what was the point? Couldn’t he just enjoy the fleeting moment between you two? Did he have to ruin it by admitting that he had well and truly fallen for you?

Fallen for your adamance, the way you put up with his jabs and quips, held your ground, remained so strong in the face of adversity. The way you were not like other high class nobles who were utterly self-centered, rather you were empathetic, selfless and held a true love for your nation and its people. It was only right that someone like you took the throne of Fortuna. He would do anything to make that happen.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he rasps out. “Like what?” You peer at him feeling yourself becoming dazed by his proximity. “Like you want to devour me,” Taehyun murmurs shakily, restraint heavy in his voice. You’re startled; were you gazing at him so lustfully?

“I’m not,” you stammer. “If you could see yourself from my point of view,” he leans closer, “you’d not be able to hold back a second longer,” the bridge of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breaths mingle with each other. Lips brush against each other as his other hand finally cups your jaw. You couldn’t resist no matter how much you tried, how much you supposedly wanted to keep your dignity, your noble pride.

Even at the last second, when he gives you one last chance to back out, you can’t help but move forward and clumsily press your lips against his. It was humiliatingly desperate but you didn’t care. Your hands drift to his shoulders to steady yourself. A grunt and wince escapes him as you accidentally press against his wound and you part breathlessly wide eyed, “Goodness- I’m sor-“

He cuts you off pressing his lips against yours again, this time more fervently. A low groan escapes your lips as your arms are now around his neck trying your best to avoid his wound. Taehyun’s lips move with such ferocity, you find it hard to stand. The both of you stumble back as you find your back against the kitchen counter.

His tongue pushes past your lips taking you by welcome surprise; your fingers slide into the back of his hair as you move your lips just as desperately as his. It felt so right, it felt so good. Your mouths slot together lazily enjoying each other’s presence, warmth, taste. His soft lips move passionately against yours in fervent motions that send shivers down your spine.

Any sense of royal etiquette or self control flew out the window the moment his lips parted from yours and slid down your neck alluringly, a sensation you’d never experienced, making your lips release the most sinful sounds.

“You…you truly are so crude,” you sigh breathless, feeling his teeth tug at your skin. He murmurs smirking against the curve of your neck, “Says the person who kissed me first, how hypocritical, sweetheart. You’re not stopping me?”

“Oh shut it,” you shakily say, closing your eyes, relishing his lips against your neck.

Sudden anxiety fills you thinking of what this will lead up to. You peer up at him with worry, “How far are we going…w-with this I mean?” His gaze melts and he caresses your cheek, “We don’t have to go further, if you don’t want to, princess. I never said anything about going further?” His words take you aback. A gentleman indeed.

Taehyun muses, “Having your lips on mine, is pretty fine by me. Hours on end, even. In each other’s arms.” You scoff with a playful smile, “Of course, you wouldn’t mind.”

Relief floods your senses at his words; feeling more at ease. You didn’t want to be too selfish. You still had a mission. To get your throne back.

Gods above, you were in deep trouble. The sorcerer had you falling into the abyss of love. He leans in again, his lips brushing against yours, “Anyway, practice makes perfect, no?” Rolling your eyes, you lean in, “Mm, I suppose so.”

You’d both enjoy this precious moment of solace for a bit longer before hurling yourselves into the turbulent mess of politics and royalty. For now, you were two lovers in each other’s embrace forgetting about the world around the both of you.

——————

Today was the day.

Sehun sits on his bed in his chambers with a distraught expression. “I don’t understand? What do you mean you cannot find them? This is absurd!,” he bellows.

Yeonjun stands beside him with a calm smile on his face and folded arms. Oh, he knew where they had probably gone off to.

The troops had alerted other nations and the pesky two were not there, that foolish Prince Beomgyu was enraged. Throwing furniture, breaking items and such, like a child throwing a tantrum. Truly, he had to laugh. He had to give the two of you credit, you were both making a mockery of some of the most powerful men. Albeit, powerful but stupid rulers.

He had to guess they were back in Fortuna. Wherever they were hiding, it had to be close. Perhaps in the Woods of Mors, not many regular humans could traverse the place without dying within a day. Magic users, however. That was a different story. They are certainly not in the main kingdom, the knights had searched far and wide these last two days.

“What are you smiling about? Do you not see the disaster this is?” Sehun snarls. His face is pale and his locks damp with sweat. His hands were clammy and nervous; paranoia had caught up to him. The people were growing restless and a small rebel group had formed demanding answers about the consequent deaths of the king and queen alongside the sudden disappearance of the princess. It was so sudden, how could they know?

It had seemed more and more obstacles were appearing in front of Sehun and his beloved coronation. He had become delirious these past few days, it was all so amusing for Yeonjun. His plan was coming to fruition. His hand feels for the blade under his cloak with a twisted smile.

“I just don’t see what you have to worry about your highness? The coronation is right around the corner. The palace is ecstatic. No matter where they are,” Yeonjun’s lips twitch slyly, “in Fortuna, in the palace, they will not stop you.”

Sehun lets out a panicked laugh, “In Fortuna? In the palace? Preposterous. They would not dare be that stupid. Do not utter such nonsense again.” Yeonjun hums, “I merely jest, your highness. Even if they were to arrive at your coronation, our troops would overpower and crush them in seconds.”

Sehun’s eye twitches, “Crush them? Coronation? You cannot be serious. They cannot show up there. The people will be enraged at the princess being slaughtered in front of their eyes.”

Yeonjun feigns surprise, “Oh yes, you had crafted numerous reasons as to her disappearance in your speech a month ago? I suppose it would go against that. My apologies for my ignorance, your highness.”

Sehun snaps angrily, “These last few days you have become more and more infuriating! Useless even. How irritating!” Yeonjun hums, “Oh your highness, do relax. I do not wish to intentionally irritate you.”

Sehun dismissively waves, “Be gone, you have done nothing but waste my time. I wish to be alone. The likes of your kind would not understand the immense weight upon my shoulders. I tire of your games.” Sehun stands and stretches his arms.

Yeonjun lets out a chuckle. It truly was funny. He thought he was the one in control. What a fool! “Did I utter a joke?” Sehun snaps low-toned.

“You truly have no idea, do you?” Yeonjun muses with a dark smile. “What are you blabbering about, you fool?” Sehun questions, infuriated.

Yeonjun runs a hand through his pale blonde locks, a sickening smile forming on his lips. He laughs and laughs causing Sehun to stiffen. “W-What’s wrong with you? Have you gone mad?”

A deranged glint lights up Yeonjun’s eyes, “You killed your own parents, because I gave you the idea to use poison. All the suggestions, all my nudges in the right direction, you followed them like a loyal dog thinking they were products of your own minuscule brain?” A cackle escapes Yeonjun’s mouth.

“Every suggestion, every point I made, you took so literally. Did I ever tell you outrightly to poison your parents? No. You did that yourself, I just gave you a nudge. Did I tell you to imprison your sister? To attempt to execute her? No, that was you! Why because I made a few comparisons?” Yeonjun grins manically. Sehun’s eyes flicker back and forth as a dark feeling forms in the pit of his stomach.

“No- no, I will not stand for such insolence. You did not influence me in any such manner. Stand down, Yeonjun!” Sehun bellows.

Yeonjun’s gaze darkens as he snaps, “No, you stand down. You’ve been nothing but an utter idiot from when you were a child. I’ve had to tolerate your foolishness and self-centered idiocy from when we were children. To think I had to befriend you to fulfill my goals.” A mocking scoff leaves Yeonjun’s lips.

“What?” Sehun’s knees buckle as he sits on the edge of his bed. His world crumbles. “Everything you did, everything you felt good about, everything you thought you knew, was because of me. You’re not fit to rule, your own parents saw that incapacity. You’re nothing but a whining imbecilic toddler even at this age.”

Sehun covers his head, “No, no, no. You are deranged. I refuse to hear this nonsense. Leave! Leave at once! I will have you imprisoned- guards! Guards!-“

Yeonjun sneers walking towards him, “Oh no, no. Hush now. There you go relying on others again.” Yeonjun’s wand appears as he murmurs a few words. Sehun suddenly finds himself unable to speak.

“Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do that to you, your highness?” Yeonjun grins.

Sehun flails, panicking and reaching for the nearest of the mounted swords on the wall and Yeonjun sighs, “Oh come now, your highness, why must you be this way? A ruler must have more tact.” With another flick of his wand and utterance, Sehun finds himself unable to move as he collapses to the floor.

Fear consumes his gaze as he peers up at Yeonjun. Yeonjun’s eyes flicker to the glimmering crown on Sehun’s eyes. A dark smirk laces his lips, “The rebel group, who claim you’ve killed the king and queen. Who claim you drove your sister out and exiled her. You must be losing your absolute tiny mind over how they could come to that conclusion, hm?”

Yeonjun leans down, “It was me. Sending an anonymous tip to the journalists. Those loyalist peasants ate it right up.” Sehun’s eyes widen as he’s frozen. A horrifying realisation hits him.

“I hate to break the news, your highness, but I’m afraid you will not be making it to your coronation,” Yeonjun mockingly frowns. “What a shame,” he coos.

Sehun silently seethes, unable to speak or move. A cruel spell upon the young prince, indeed. Yeonjun chuckles, taking the crown off his head and placing it on his own. “I’ve dreamt of this crown, wearing this. Doesn’t it suit me, Sehun?”

Yeonjun laughs at the enraged look in Sehun’s eyes. “Oh, I know how possessive you are of your crown. Well, here, take it back. You’re not going to have it for much longer anyway,” Yeonjun muses.

Yeonjun sits down on a nearby chair crossing one leg atop the other with an arrogant expression. Today is the day everything would change, the day he carefully planned for. Countless years of false loyalty.

He unsheathes the blade, tossing it in front of Sehun. Yeonjun flicks his wand allowing him to speak. With a gasp of air, Sehun coughs, his throat intensely dry. He croaks out, “You-you traitor. “

“My, what a hypocrite,” Yeonjun snorts. Sehun brokenly snarls, “You cannot kill me- this is- treason,” he coughs.

“Oh? But I won’t be killing you. You will,” Yeonjun smiles wickedly. “What?” Sehun coughs out.

Yeonjun flicks his wand and murmurs a few more words and Sehun’s eyes widen as his hands uncontrollably flail forward clumsily going to grip the small blade.

“You’ll end your own life, how tragic indeed, no?” Yeonjun hums. Sehun’s lips tremble as tears slip down his face, “No- no, this- we can negotiate, please,” he croakily begs unable to control the way his hands grasp the blade as he hovers it over his jugular. Closer and closer.

“The noble prince, under tremendous pressure ends his own life due to soul-eating guilt after killing his own parents, the king and queen for power, after they chose his sister instead. Nice article don’t you think?” Yeonjun asks, pointing his wand upwards delicately. “I’ve already told some of the council, you admitted the truth to me whilst drunk, quite the story, no?”

Sehun’s hand trembles as tears drip down his face. He was but a helpless puppet. “I’m sure upon hearing your death; your sister will rush here anyhow. With that bastard in tow,” Yeonjun mutters.

“Or…I’ll find them first,” Yeonjun hums with a bright gleam. “Any last words, your highness?”Sehun peers at the ever nearing blade gripped by his own hands, mortified.

Is this what it feels like to be betrayed? By someone he saw who valued him above anyone else? Someone who called as a friend, who he could show off to only receive an abundance of praise. Was that not friendship? No; it was deceit.

Sehun’s mind flashes with images of you. An unmistakeable sickness and nausea fills his mouth and chest. Is this how you felt that day? How you felt when he felt the declaration scroll in hand? After having ripped your position away?

“Oh too bad, you’re usually so talkative,” Yeonjun dryly muses before swinging his wand downwards abruptly.

Blood splatters grotesquely as the crown topples onto the floor beside Sehun’s lifeless body. With a final clink it sits in a pool of blood. A tragic scene, indeed.

Yeonjun sighs, getting up and leaving abruptly. He was just this close. There were only two outliers left who could jeopardize his plan to become king. A king that no one could look down upon.

He’d handle those two himself. No, he wanted to handle those two himself. A smirk laces his lips, oh, how the royal court would be in shambles looking for a new figurehead.

It was only natural who’d they pick.

After all, who was a better option than him?

Taglist: [open]

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[eiraeths]

y’all know janitor from scrubs? he gives me ghost vibes. if y’all don’t know who janitor is just know this: he’s a pathological liar (but it’s over minor things for his own entertainment) and two he actively tries to make the main character of scrubs, JD, life harder over a small little incident. dude can hold a grudge.

anyway here’s a bunch of janitor quotes from scrubs except replacing it with ghost being janitor and soap is JD because it honestly made so much sense in my head. I also think a lot of dr cox quotes fit price or ghost so some of those too. actually price could also be dr kelso in a lot of this good lawd.

———

Ghost: [mouths] I'm going to kill you.

Soap: [silently] What?

Ghost: [gestures and mouths] I'm going to kill you.

Soap: Why?

Ghost: [shrugs]

———

Price: Look, you and I are alike in a lot of ways.

Ghost: We both harbor an internal struggle between the desire to do good, and the urge to become a master criminal.

Price: We don't.

Ghost: We do.

Price: You hate people, and I hate people. What nobody gets is that we never hate indiscriminately.

Ghost: That is so true. I only hate those that have wronged me. Like if they stole my stuff, or put a penny in a door. Or... that guy. See this look he shot us, like he's so much better than we are.

Price: Plus, he's only 25, and earlier I heard him use the phrase "Back in the day".

Ghost: Well, he's dug his own grave, hasn't he? Let's do this.

———

Soap: Did you lose something?

Ghost: No, why? Did you take something?

Soap: No.

Ghost: What'd you take?

Soap: Nothing.

Ghost: What'd you take?

———

[Soap walks out of the elevator as Ghost mops the floor]

Ghost : Hey!

Soap: What? I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything. What imaginary slight have you concocted in that paranoid brain of yours?

[Ghost looks down to the trail of muddy footprints trailing Soap]

Soap: [internally] Crap.

Soap: Well, shouldn't there be some sort of sign... Oh, look at that. Well, you should put it back down before someone slips and falls.

Ghost: Oh, is that what I should do? Good, because I make most decisions based on your opinion. You know what, I'm thinking of splitting up with the wife. Maybe you could mull that over, get back to me, maybe pow-wow. [a woman slips] Floor's wet, ma'am. Little help over here. Little help.

———

Gaz: Cap’n, what's our plan of attack?

Price: When I crush a person's spirit, I like to use a combination of intimidation and degradation.

Soap: I prefer to create an environment in which the subjects end up crushing themselves.

Price: Uh-huh.

Ghost: I like to pick one person and torment them relentlessly for no reason. If I could find them I'd show you.

[poor rookie of the day walks up behind Ghost and wisely decides to back away]

Ghost: He's near.

———

[Ghost sprays a window with blue cleaning fluid and wipes it. He then aims the spray in his mouth. Price takes a second look as he passes by.]

Ghost: I filled it with blue Gatorade. I just do that to freak people out.

Price: Scintillating

———

[As a boy plays with a toy car in his bed, he accidentally knocks over his juice carton]

A Boy: Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!

Gaz: Hey, it's okay.

A Boy: But now the Ghost Who Hates Spills is gonna come.

Gaz: Who?

Ghost: You're right, boy. He might come this very night. And as you know, that ghost's entire family was killed by a careless spill. Just like yours. Just like yours. Hmm.

———

Gaz: Oh, hi. Are we going out? What's with the jumpsuit?

Ghost: Okay, first of all if we're gonna make it, not a jumpsuit. Shirt, belt, pants.

Gaz: Oh. Ok.

Ghost: Secondly, I think it's time that you knew the real me. All right, here we go. I'm not like normal people. I don't have superpowers, but I'm working on it. For instance, watch me move this pen. [looks at pen, which doesn't move] It worked at home. I don't know. Maybe my table is slanted. Um, anyway, in my spare time, I also enjoy stuffing animals. Usually with other animals. For instance, a badger will hold five squirrels. A squirrel will hold most of a cat. A mouse will hold a shrew and a vole. You get the idea. Circle of life. I have broken the sound barrier, but you must never ask me how. I don't believe in the moon. I think it's just the back of the sun.

Price: Ha! I love a good train wreck.

Ghost: Furthermore, I think if you look closely a monkey-

Soap: Stop it, you. he doesn't know you're joking.

———

Ghost: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa whoa. Watch your step, there, Gaz.

Gaz: Thanks, Ghost.

Gaz: [internally] He is so sweet. But why doesn't he just put up a sign that says "wet floor"?

[Soap screams as he slides across the floor and crashes]

Ghost: Wet floor.

———

Soap: [gasps] Why do you have to jump out and scare me all the time?

Ghost: I don't jump out and scare you. I follow you around all day. I only got about an hour-and-a-half worth of work around here, and the rest of the time, I track you, like an animal.

Soap: You're kidding, right?

Ghost: [chuckles] I don't know. Am I?

———

Soap: Holy-

Ghost: [whispering] Calm down. I didn't mean to scare you.

Soap: [whispering] Why are we whispering?

Ghost: [whispering] I wanted to see if you would whisper because I whispered.

Soap: [whispering] I think I would.

———

Ghost: I convinced everybody in on base that's afraid of me to go outside and spell out the score of the game.

Price: Really?

Ghost: No, you idiot. I'm just gonna tell you the score of the game. Maybe knock your head against the glass.

Price: Look, I was way out of line telling you how that movie ended, but, God save me, watching sports is one of the last pure pleasures I have left in my life, so you tell me what's it gonna take for you to let me go home, sit in my massage chair, and enjoy the game?

Ghost: I would like to perform open heart surgery.

Price: No.

Ghost: How about you perform surgery on me so that I can breathe underwater?

Price: No.

Ghost: I would like a shark that read minds.

Price: No.

Ghost: You and I trade lives for a year.

Price: No.

Ghost: How about a home-cooked meal and an hour in your massage chair?

Price: Done.

Ghost: Done.

[Ghost walks over to the window and looks outside, where a large group of rookies have arranged themselves to spell out "98-97"]

Ghost: Hey, guys, it's off.

[He looks again and they have rearranged themselves to read "Why"]

Ghost: Wow! You guys are organised.

———

Ghost: Look, if I learnt one thing from my parents, it's this. The key to a good marriage is keeping your emotions bottled up until they finally explode and you have to lash out physically.

Soap: You mean, beat each other up?

Ghost: I mean beat yourself up. My mother once snapped her own index finger because my father was late for church. She dented the car, he threw himself down the stairs.

———

Gaz: Soap, you're not that self-destructive.

Ghost: Really? I was gonna suggest he seek professional help. Would you be interested in seeing a cognitive therapist? 'cause I know a guy, he's good. I'm going to give you his card, then I'm gonna bash your head in. I'll see you in the morning.

Soap: I'm in at 7.

Ghost: Wear a helmet.

———

okay that’s it