#*drops my head into the mortified shield of my arms*

[fisheito]

do i actually like yakumo or am i just hungry

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor pt. 2

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Your mentoring tasks persist as you and the newly crowned victor tackle a Capitol party- with some help.

part one | part three

"So you’re stealing from me now?” 

You jump at the sudden sound of the voice behind you. Luckily, none of your champagne spills. 

“Pardon?” You look over your shoulder, only to see a pretty face coming your way. 

“Intellectual theft is serious, you know,” Finnick says with faux sincerity, and takes a sip of his own champagne. 

You lazily roll your eyes, “Please, one of my cows could have come up with the momma-bear angle.” You pick at your nails again, gaze drifting back to where District Ten’s Capitol escort parades Darla around. Before the group of you had even arrived, she’d forbidden you from sticking by Darla’s side the whole night. Said the president wanted people to get to know her- which made you reluctant to separate from the girl you’d taken under your wing. 

You’d settled for watching her like a hawk, prepared to intervene if you recognized any bad apples. 

"Blue suits you, by the way," he starts, and you cast him a suspicious sidelong glance. "Much better than brown, or so I'd assume." You prickle with embarrassment, catching the reference to what he'd overheard the other night.

You cross your arms, "Don't be a jerk." The words sound sad rather than snippy- like you intended them to.

"I was trying to compliment you," he insists. "Really, you look quite nice. This is a far cry from your outfit the other night." Your pajamas. They were the closest thing in reach when you were paged to the recording studio during Darla's breakdown. The reminder makes you shift awkwardly, suddenly even more uncomfortable.

"How kind of you," you say flatly, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles of the dress your stylist had placed you in. At least this interaction is slightly less mortifying than the one, or two you suppose, you had with him the other night.

Finnick doesn't respond, and you don't bother looking at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you find Darla in the crowd and start picking at the skin around your nails again. She seems okay for now, but it doesn't do much to ease your worry.

”You seem nervous,” Finnick says, without his former mirth. You startle again, assuming he'd walked away. 

 “Do I?” You briefly let your gaze flick up to him, eyes wide, before turning right back to your task. 

“Well, at the rate you’re going, your hands will be bone within the hour,” he lightly grabs your wrist, drawing your attention to the blood (both fresh and dried) that sits on your cuticles. "Have you been at this all night?"

“Thanks for your concern,” you snatch your hand back, trying to shield it from his gaze. It takes you a second to spot Darla again, and when you do your shoulders drop in relief. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he doubles down. 

“Did you ask one?” You bite back. 

“What are you nervous about?” He asks. 

You turn fully toward him, “What do you think?” You extend an arm out, gesturing to where Darla is. 

Finnick follows your gesture to spot Darla being dragged around. He huffs, "She'll be alright, you know. Like us."

"Speak for yourself," you laugh, but it's a hollow sound.

His face falls, "You know what I mean."

"I do, but I don't like it," you snap sourly. Closing your eyes, you take a deep, albeit shaky, breath. When you open them, you face the front again. "The way I feel all the time," you shake your head slowly, "I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Let alone Darla, so if I can- if I can just keep her close enough, I can spare her from some of this."

He quietly says your name, almost like a warning.

"No!" You cut him off, "No, I know how I sound. I can do it." The look in his eye says he's not buying it, but you double down, "I have to. I have to... try." Your voice breaks a little, but there's no time to be embarrassed over it when a different voice calls out your name.

Finnick watches as you pull yourself together. The change is visible. It's almost like you're a new person, the one the Capitol adores. Sweet and pristine, bloody hands hidden neatly behind your back.

"I wanted to thank you for coming in this week. The kids love your visits," the middle-aged woman says, smiling at you. Her attire is far less ostentatious than her fellow partygoers, but she's clearly Capitol-born and bred. Her gaze shifts to Finnick, and he stiffens, recognizing the look in her eye.

It seems you notice it, too, as you're quick to intervene. "It's my pleasure, Mrs. Montgomery," he almost cringes when he recognizes the name you call her. "If I could, I'd come often enough that they'd be sick of me." You're good at this, though, he notes, grateful for being off the hot seat. Quick and clever, just like in your games.

"Impossible!" The Capitolite laughs, "In fact, they're already asking me when you'll be back. When are you free?"

While your facade is impressive, it's not perfect. He sees you tense before replying, pleasant as ever, "I'm actually heading home soon, but I'll let you know when I'm back." It's enough to appease Mrs. Montgomery, at least. She eyes the buffet table.

"Please do! I'll see you soon, love," she waves as she walks away. You wave back, picture-perfect smile lighting up your features.

It drops as soon as she turns, and he does his best not to laugh at the contrast. "If that's who I think it is, I hate her husband," Finnick tells you.

You echo the sentiment with a scoff, "Me too."

"I thought you were sweet to everyone but me," he turns toward you in surprise, and you shrug. "Here I was thinking I was special," he shakes his head in faux sadness.

A small grin emerges on your face at his antics, though it's clear you're trying to hide it. He spots it, however, and smiles a bit, basking in his victory. Suddenly, your poorly concealed grin drops, and he follows your gaze to see who stole the humorous moment you'd been sharing.

Darla, of course, but someone else is with her. A large man, probably a few inches taller than Finnick, towers over the sixteen-year-old. She looks terribly uncomfortable, and the District Ten escort is missing from her side. When his eyes flick back to you, he finds your expression mirrors Darla's. It's worse, even, and far worse than when Mrs. Montgomery came around.

You turn to face him, eyes wet and blown with fear. He's never seen you look so vulnerable, not on TV and not in your limited interactions. You looked worried the other night, sure, but this is different. This is a look of terror.

"Dance with her," you practically beg, suddenly grabbing his forearm. Your voice trembles, "Please. They'll- I can't take her away. Please just go dance with her." Tears threaten to spill over, and you get more upset as you go on.

Finnick's reluctant to leave you so distraught, but he's sure that whisking Darla away from whoever this is is the only way to assuage your worry. "Of course," he nods, ducking his head a bit to be on eye level with you. His hand covers yours, subtly removing himself from your grasp so he can attend to your request. "Keep an eye on us, okay? It'll be fine."

He holds your gaze for a bit as he departs, but he can feel your eyes on him even after that. Quickly, he comes upon Darla and the large man that you apparently know and abhor enough to ask him this favor. He spews some of the charming bullshit everyone in the city eats right up and steals Darla away without issue.

Finnick looks back to where he left you as he leads her onto the dancefloor, hoping that seeing Darla safe will ease your panic. He's caught in the act, though, "Sent by my guardian angel, then?" The teenager asks him, pulling his attention back to the dance floor.

"How'd you know?" His eyebrows knit together, and the girl laughs.

"She's been watching me from the same spot all night. It's kind of creepy," she jokes.

"I think she's just worried," Finnick says defensively.

"I think if she stays there for much longer, they'll install her as a statue," Darla quips. It's funny, but he fails to chuckle since he wouldn't put it past the people here. She sort of cringes, realizing the joke didn't land. "I'm really grateful for her, don't get me wrong," Darla tries, "it's just- sometimes I wonder about her."

"How so?"

Darla inhales, "I don't know. She disappears and just seems... different when she comes back. And I swear she lies about where she goes since there's never any press coverage, but cameras constantly follow her." His face falls as Darla goes on, "Sometimes when she sees random people, she instantly clams up."

It's a little too familiar to him. Paired with your reaction to both his comment about Mr. Montgomery and seeing that man with Darla, he's starting to understand. Maybe he has more in common with you than he'd originally thought.

"Finnick?" Darla says, and he realizes he's left her in silence for too long.

"I was gonna say I wonder about her too, but I was thinking more- favorite food, favorite color," he tries to lighten the mood.

Darla looks pleased as punch, "Well when it comes to you, I have her pinned."

"Yeah?" Finnick asks, amused.

"Yeah," Darla nods, "she’s clearly head over heels for you.”  

His eyes nearly bug out of his head, “Excuse me?” 

“Yeah, no, she’s totally in love with you,” she reaffirms.

“Are we thinking of the same person?” He asks, extremely skeptical.

“Yes!” Darla insists, lightly slapping the side of his head. 

“Well, it just seems like she doesn’t like me,” he defends himself. 

“You make her nervous,” Darla affirms. “She’d make a fool of herself if she wasn’t being rude. She told me the other night, this is a quote by the way, 'he's so gorgeous, I can't say anything to his face.'"

“You’re kidding.” 

“Nope,” she pops the P. 

“I struggle to believe that Capitol’s loveliest victor won’t talk to me because she thinks I’m pretty,” he scoffs. 

“It’s more than that,” Darla chides, “she thinks you’re too good for her, so before you can reject her, she tries to beat you to the punch.” 

“And when exactly did she tell you all this?” He asks skeptically. 

“Oh, we had a sleepover the other night and got super drunk. Boy, was she an open vault,” Darla laughs, but it's clear to him you'd kept some secrets to yourself.

“And you don’t feel bad telling me?” He inquires skeptically. 

“Please, I’m helping her help herself.” She scoffs, “She’d pine over you until her dying day without ever saying a word.” 

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” he says. Finnick's not sure how reliable a source the teenager is, so he decides to refocus on his original goal. "I meant to ask if you were ok, by the way. You know that guy?” 

Darla’s face sours. “No clue. But let’s just say I was glad for the interruption.” 

He raises a brow, hoping she’ll elaborate. 

“I felt like he was … looking at me,” she huffs. “Like, trying to see below the dress.” Finnick's jaw clenches at that. He knows the type. He deals with the type. And now he's almost certain you do too, hence your big reaction.

"Well, if he bothers you again, just come find me. I'm quite comfortable on the dance floor," he tells her as the song comes to an end.

Darla pats his bicep, "Thanks, but you should really be getting comfortable with someone else." She nods her toward where you'd been standing. "The bar will take good care of me." She only gets a few paces before he calls out after her.

“Hey!” She turns to catch his words. “Moderation,” he points at her, emphasizing the word.

She smirks, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dad.” A smile twitches at his lip, and he shakes his head as he turns to find you. 

When Finnick finally circles back to where he'd left you, you're nowhere in sight. He sighs, disappointed, though he can't quite blame you when you've revealed more about yourself tonight than you probably intended.

He wonders if you've left the party or just found a better observation spot, but either way, something tells him you don't want to be found right now. He remembers something you said earlier about shielding Darla. You seem to be doing alright so far, but he's suddenly wondering how far you'll go.

———————————————————

Once again- super unedited. I'm just having fun on my holiday break at this point. I feel like this leaned kinda sad? So... sorry for that. <3

[oepionie]

—"GOTTA ESCAPE THE VOID." overblot mc!

SYNOPSIS: The Ramshackle prefect has a reputation for frequently encountering fatal magical mishaps. And when a magical accident involving Crowley almost kills them, Crewel resolves to take matters into his own hands. But it appears that his impulsive decisions cause the prefect to reach their limit and go off the rails.

⊹ [ cw ] — heavy warnings, please read before you proceed. arguments with father, self-depricating thoughts, mentions of blood, protective parent, thoughts of offing self (only once), overblot mc!, miscommunication w friends, crying, physical fights ◞

⊹ [ tags ] — angst! gender neutral reader, crewel really embodies the 'cruel' in 'cruella', ace gets mad at you :(, deuce tries to comfort you through it all, crowley feels guilt (wow), crewel is vry vry angry and punches crowley, crewel has a mother gothel moment<3◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 2.5k+◞ | 🦇masterlist◞

YOUR VISION WAS NOTHING, but a myriad of colorful blurs and shapes. Muffled voices spoke to you, but everything was practically just incomprehensible, panicked babbling. The heavy pressure of metal was pressed up against your windpipe, restraining your breath as it wound tighter and tighter. Though, a few seconds later, it vanished as if it had never existed, bursting into bright magical sparks.

The gush and pool of blood surrounds your dirtied, tangled mess of hair, a dark scarlet seeping into the knotted strands. Kneeling before your body, Crowley felt his heart skid to a stop. The sight of your fatigued form writhing around the ground tore at his chest, claws of guilt digging in deep and dragging across thick tissue.

"Prefect…Can you hear me?" The crow murmurs, clawed hands pressing against the side of your pounding head as he guides it to rest atop his lap. Vibrant blooms of red stain the dark fabric of his pants, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Dad…it hurts s'much." You slur in hushed tones, your eyes wringing shut from the pain. That was enough for Crowley to put his arms around you.

He shielded your body with his torso, hands clawing at your back as he wracks his mind of what to do next. Hastily turning round, he shifts his gaze to the surrounding students, all of them looking equally mortified.

"What are you standing around there for?! Call the nurse!"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

Drip. Drip

The pungent smell of alcohol and medication fill your senses as you groggily blink awake.

The familiar creaky wood of Ramshackle's ceiling greets you as you pull yourself from dreamland. Looking over both sides of your bed, you smile once you see both Deuce and Ace seated on a nearby couch. Both of them were quick to jump up and approach you, fussing over your bedridden form.

"Thank Sevens." Deuce murmurs, tenderly combing your damp hair back. You roll your head to the side to face him, but wince at the sudden throb of pain in your spine. Ace darts over and hushes you, gently repositioning your head to face front once more, making sure your neck was supported by a pillow. "Hey…It'd be great if you don't move so much…"

“Right. Makes sense. 'Nways…how bad was my injury?” You mutter, your recollections of the past event still foggy. All you could remember was that Crowley had fired a spell, and you somehow got into the crossfire.

“Fucking horrible.” Ace scoffs, looking at you sternly.

"Yeah, take it easy for a bit. The injury was…pretty serious. It was a miracle that the spell missed your head by a thread…" Deuce murmurs as he presses a gentle hand on your bandaged forehead.

Strands of blueberry hair fall loosely at the sides of his face as he stares down at you with worry. "You were out for three days."

"Ah…well—you know, me and my dumb non-magical ass. Always getting into trouble," you giggle, a cheery grin stretching over your cracked lips. Though it rapidly drops when you realize your two friends aren't laughing with you.

Ace shifts his gaze to the floor, hands clasped into a fist. "You're not dumb, prefect…"

"Well—I kinda am," You snort, tugging the blanket closer to your chilly form. "I really have to stop being around the old man's magic shows."

Unconvinced, Ace only shakes his head and scoffs at your jokes. The ginger reclines back into his chair, hands vigorously tugging and pulling at his hair. "You aren't. The real issue here is that deadbeat crow. I mean...hasn't he learnt anythin' from last time? What kind of idiot treats his child—"

"It wasn't his fault, Ace." Pushing yourself off the bed, you immediately interrupt him, voice stern as you rush to defend Crowley. "He didn't mean it. I got in the path of his magic. And—I'm pretty sure he's already beating himself up over this."

Sinking back into the bed, you clasp both your hands together. "It wasn't his fault. Sure, he's reckless and all but…but he's still my dad."

Silence washes over your room.

Ace was visibly frustrated, the blunt tips of his nails dug deep into his skin, nearly piercing past skin. With a final scoff, he stands from his chair and quietly excuses himself from the room.

The door slams shut with a blaring bang as both you and Deuce were left alone.

Sighing, the freshman takes your trembling hand in his, clasping it tight as his body temperature warms the cool skin. He draws your right arm up to press your palm against his cheek, eyes looking deep into yours.

"Professor Crewel is pissed," Deuce whispers as you trace gentle circles on his skin. A pair of shaky cyan eyes meets your concerned ones. "He was planning to—"

Deuce's mouth parted open and close and yet he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. You cast a questioning glance his way, but Deuce shakes his head, disregarding your questions.

"…nothing."

Surprise washes over you as you stare down at Deuce's hunched over form. It…wasn't like your friends to be so dismissive.

You, Ace, and Deuce had always been good friends. Sure you had your differences but you always communicated openly with one another. Nobody has ever been this...secretive.

Just…what was happening?

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sickening crack of a bone echoes through the faculty room as the rough knuckle of Crewel's fist connects with Crowley's face. The headmaster reels, mask flying off as his hands fly to his bloodied nose.

Everyone in the vicinity quieted as the only noise heard was the potionology professor's labored breathing.

Then, without hesitation, Crewel surges forward. Loud commotion and screaming could be heard in the meeting room as everyone quickly circles around the two. A couple of hands seize Crewel by the arms, but the professor only grows more agitated, attempting to fight past the herd.

"Let me go!" Crewel roars, tugging his arm free as he attempts to swing a fist at the headmaster. "Dire! This is your fucking fault!"

"Divus! Calm yourself!" Trein scolds, arms locked tight around the man's torso. A few more pairs of hands restrain the professor as he is forcibly pushed down onto a couch.

His face was the epitome of unrepressed rage: With his cheeks drawn back in a deep sneer, eyes bloodshot red, and hair a knotted mess.

Trein stands before the younger man, looking down at him with disgust. "Have you no shame? What will the prefect think once they hear of this?"

Across the room, Crowley spits out a little blood, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. For the last three days, the crow has been suppressing all of its emotions; however, all of a sudden, he is overcome with an unfettered and unhindered flood of shame and rage.

When the headmaster finally turned around, he fixed Crewel with an expression so scathing that the potionology professor felt compelled to charge at him again.

Once, coldly, sharply, and bitterly, Crowley laughed. "It's my fault, you say? You think I don't know that?"

"Oh please—Dire. I couldn't care less about what you think." Crewel seethes, venom practically dripping from his lips. The alchemy professor strides forward, heels clicking against the floor as he grabs Crowley by the collar.

"You're a failure of a father. All you've ever brought their way is danger." The professor cackles kicking the crow's skin.

Digging deep into his red handbag, Crewel snatches out papers and jams it into Crowley's chest. The crow unravels the creased pages to read the text on the document, eyes ripping wide open as he realizes what it was.

"You…can't possibly." The headmaster sputters, hands shaking as he reads the texts again and again.

"Oh, but I can." Crewel sneers, taking pleasure in the look of fear Crowley sends his way. He snaps around, coat billowing up behind him as he briskly walks towards the entryway. "I expect those papers to be signed by tonight."

Before walking out of the room, Crewel spares the headmaster one final glance. "The prefect departs this Monday."

Days after the event were all followed by violent storms that appeared to go on forever. Every night and day, the rain endlessly poured down from the bitter grey skies and roars of thunder echoed through the dewy clouds. Some days, it was nearly impossible to go to school.

It was almost as though Mother Nature herself was upset.

Just like how everyone was.

Crowley and your other friends shunned you like you had the plague. Even bright Kalim greeted you with a deep frown, a flimsy excuse slipping off his lips as he ran away. Only Deuce stayed by your side through it all.

The blueberry had told you everything was alright—that everything was normal and fine— but you couldn't help but be skeptical.

So when Crewel came to visit, you welcomed him right in. Eager to hear what he has to say.

The clatter and click of your father's heeled boots echoed through the walls of the dormitory as he examined the premises, comparing it to his own much more lavish flat back home in the city.

Finally, after an excruciating 5 minutes. his gaze flitted over to your bedridden form.

And the words he utters out next shatter your entire being.

"I'm withdrawing you from NRC."

What.

The glass clasped in your bandaged hands slips from your grip, smashing onto the oak wood of Ramshackle's flooring. You raise your mortified gaze to scowl at your professor, jaw dropped open in shock.

"What?" you breathlessly utter. "What do you mean?!"

"I'm transferring you to another school." Crewel replies, pushing himself off the fireplace and slipping his thick fur coat off his shoulders. The scant light emitted by the candles atop your study table did nothing to help you navigate his form as he strode around your bedroom.

"Now. You might be asking why? For one, look at the…accommodations Dire provided you with."

Crewel kicks a piece of splintered bark aside while making a gesture towards the disorder and wreckage all around you.

In the evenings, you had to use candles because the ceiling lights seldom ever functioned. The flooring had so many tears and holes that they were virtually falling apart. On occasion, you could even see the scuffle of rats beneath. The roof leaked, horribly; You had no money to fix it so you placed a bucket below instead. The front door was broken, barely hanging on its hinges, evidence of all the times your friends visited and never bothered to knock.

All of these problems and so many more were present, but this dorm was with you since the very start. It provided you with a roof over your head…it helped you survive.

"So what?" You retort, leaning back into your bed and sinking deep into the scratchy yet familiar pillows. "I don't mind it!"

"A foolish decision." Crewel sneers, running a hand into his hair. "Your accommodations aren't the only problem. Your self-destructive habits endanger you as well!"

There it was.

Groaning, you wring your hands through your hair, tangling it up. "When are you gonna stop saying that I'm self-destructive!?"

"When you start acting like somebody that actually cares about their life!" Crewel barks out, hands grasping your shoulders. The sudden increase in volume makes you recoil, but you were stubborn and refused to give in just yet.

"But I do care about my life!" You sputter out. "Why can't you just—"

"Remember what happened when Rosehearts overblotted?" He reminds you, "You charged towards a bloodthirsty tyrant with no protection, no magic, and no plan." Crewel then crosses his arms over his chest, addressing you with a pointed glare. "And you have the nerve to tell me you're not self destructive?"

"Riddle is not a tyrant!" Crying out, you slam your hand against your bedsheets, face twisting into an unsightly sneer. "I was trying to save my friend!"

Crewel gets right in your face, returning the expression of anger you sent his way. "Those friends of yours only care about you when you're useful!" he thundered, jabbing a finger into your chest.

That comment immediately silenced you.

Your hand was clasped over your mouth, jaw dropped wide open in disbelief as a sharp gasp escapes your dry throat.

A poisonous and dangerously harmful feeling gripped at whatever remnant the professor had of a heart. It colored his thoughts with regret as he began to feel a twinge of guilt, the weight of words sinking in.

There was a deep sigh of resignation from Crewel before he put a hand on your shoulder and looked you deep in the eyes, voice lowering to a softer lilt. "Why is it that every other person in that dorm had the sense to run away from the blots, but you didn't?"

Kneeling down, your father gazed at you with such vulnerability in his eyes as he murmurs, "Do you know how terrified I was every time I'd get the same message from Dire that you were out fighting overblots again? Putting your life at risk for those rabid dogs?"

The recognition of your destructive habits hit you like a splash of ice cold water. With a guilty and uncomfortable grimace on your face, you averted your attention to the floor. "I just wanted to help."

Slowly rising to his feet again, Crewel casts a deep frown your way. "I know you do, but you're careless with your life and if you're not careful…one of these days, you're gonna die."

"I will not hear anymore disagreements about this, do you hear? I've allowed you to run rampant around these past few months. You will so as I say and I'll have you transferred by the end of this week." He says simply, dropping a pristine sheet of paper clasped in a clipboard before you. Your dull eyes flicker across the title as you grudgingly reach for the pen he offers you.

TRANSFER APPLICATION.

That blank line at the end of the page is swiftly covered by your shaky red signature and Crewel is powerless to stop the relieved sigh that heaves past his lips.

A surge of victory, certainty, and an intense sense of relief overpowers the tangled and conflicting sentiments of guilt that were swimming through his chest.

You were safe, that's all that matters.

With a grieving heart, you nudge the pen and page back to your father dismissively, placing them both atop the bed. Crewel re-rolled the page and tucked it back into his handbag along with the pen.

The professor raises a hand to gently pat your shoulders as he bends down, pressing a kiss atop your head. "Father knows best."

As Crewel quietly takes his leave, he is none the wiser to the formation of impure, tainted tar-like blot dripping from your tears. Curling in yourself, you tuck your head into your knees, a broken sob spilling from your lips.

A sick and twisted feeling arises in your heart as you replay the argument you had with Crewel, and you start to wish that maybe, just maybe, Crowley's spell had succeeded in striking you.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Oi…Henchhuman?"

Drip.

—TAGLIST:

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[lunenights]

DATING LIZZIE SALTZMAN HEADCANONS

(gif creds to legaciesladies.)

Lizzie Saltzman x Fem!Witch!Reader

A/N: I miss my girl so much and got sm comfort from this😭 srry this is kinda short

• Hugs. Hugs. Hugs, and did I mention hugs?

• I can see Lizzie being the big spoon most of the time, but once in a while she needs to be held by her girl.

• Lizzie is very protective over the people she cares about, and will not hesitate to protect you any chance she gets. (It’s a hero thing.)

• We all know she’s the fashion queen, so she loves picking out your outfits! (and critiquing them👀.) “What about this?” “God no Y/N, have I taught you nothing?”

• You literally defend this girl with your LIFE. All you want for her is complete happiness and anyone ruining that will feel your wrath. (Penelope would know all about that.)

• We know that Lizzie has faced a lot of challenges due to her mental health, but you do absolutely everything in your power to help her. She needs to yell in the woods? There you are right beside her. She needs a meditation session? Oh, there you are joining in. She knows and appreciates every little thing you do for her.

• Forehead kisses are a big yes doesn’t matter if it’s giving or receiving.

• She loves doing spells with you!

• She always turns to you if in need of siphoning wither it being holding your hand, waist, or giving a you a kiss.

• If you are mad at her, she will try everything to make it up to you - even going to what she calls ‘extreme lengths’ to get you your favourite ice cream. “I know you’re mad.. but I went to very extreme lengths to get you f/ic/f, so if that doesn’t bring you out of your ‘mood’ I don’t know what will.” You frown. “Extreme lengths?” She crosses her arms nodding. “I had to walk through that disgusting shopping centre for ICE-CREAM.”

• Now, if she’s mad at you, you will probably face the cold shoulder for a bit, only receiving glares from her and sympathetic looks from Josie. While you are trying to talk things out with your girlfriend, You both find yourselves in confrontation with a monster. You saw it ready to attack Lizzie and instantly flung yourself in-front of her shielding her from the monster resulting in you getting injured. “Are you stupid? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” She shouts absolutely mortified. “Better me than you.” You muttered, holding your head. She sighed, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

• From that moment, she knew you’d risk your life for her at the drop of a hat.

[moominofthevalley]

I Will

A murdered body brings light to the detective’s past. A grieving Trystan seeks comfort from the person he loves the most.

trystan x emily

teen | wc: 1.8k | cw: major spoilers for book 2, chapter 12, detailed descriptions of a dead body

a/n: inspired by the song “i will” by mitski

There was blood on Trystan’s hands and Sebastyan Thorne was dead.

Sebastyan’s eyes were frozen in time, in horror, in shock. His ivory-toned suit was blackened with his own blood. Emily stared at the dead Thorne's throat, a deep cut slashed across his neck. Rot and copper filled their noses. Dropping down to her knees, Emily checked his pulse — yet, even before she searched for any possibility of life, she knew that Sebastyan Thorne was dead. Murdered.

The detective’s hands trembled as she jerked her vision away from the cold body and onto her partner. Trystan stood beside her, his mouth agape, his entire body shaking. Tears of bereavement escaped his mortified eyes, and within an instant; Emily wrapped him in a hug, the stains of Bas’ blood painting Trystan’s suit.

“Bas...he’s....” Trystan couldn’t bear to finish his sentence. To accept it. Emily shielded their bodies away from Sebastyan’s, as if not seeing his corpse could undo the painful death that he endured. Trystan curled his arms around Emily, tightening their mournful embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Trystan.” Turmoil bubbled inside of Emily, pangs of guilt and grief overwhelming her.

“How did we get it so wrong? We could have helped him. We could have-”

Wiping his tears away, Emily pulled away from the hug as the sounds of footsteps crescendoed. Opening the curtains of the theatre box, Lydea entered, her eyes immediately stumbling on Sebastyan.

“Holy fuck-”

It didn’t take more than a second for Lydea to mask her grief. Straightening her body, Lydea wiped away her tears before Colette appeared beside her. Although Colette’s lips formed into a seemingly shocked pose, Emily saw a slight twinkle; a lack of sincerity in the woman’s eyes.

“Oh no,” Colette uttered, her hands cradling her face.

“When did you lose sight of him?” Lydea snapped, facing Colette.

“Only five minutes ago, I swear!”

“Lydea, where the fuck have you been?” Emily hissed. Trystan put his hand on her arm, throwing her a pleading look. She ignored him, continuing.

“Where I said I’d be,” Lydea answered plainly. Emily crossed her arms.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why didn’t you contact Colette? Why didn’t you respond to our texts?”

“Because, Detective, I was busy doing my job." Lydea cocked her head, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “Now, I need you two to clear the scene. Now.”

“You can’t just kick us out! This murder is connected to my investigation!”

“A murdered prince changes things, New York. This is Royal Guard business. And I will not hesitate to arrest some glorified tourist who tries to interfere.”

Emily reached a breaking point. Anger burst out of her, her brows furrowing. Jabbing her finger into Lydea’s chest, she threw up all the shock, pain, and guilt that sat inside her for the past few weeks.

“No, you fucking listen to me, Lydea. If we had arrested Bas or taken him into custody, or whatever you do when someone is suspected of being a murderer in this country, he wouldn’t be dead right now, would he, Lydea?” Emily yelled, her face hot. Lydea, with not even a twinge of hurt on her face, stared back at the seething detective.

“Get. Out. Now.”

Trystan placed a hand on Emily’s shoulder, yet again looking at her with bereaved and pleading eyes. Before steering the two of them out of the room, Trystan choked back a sob and glanced at his deadpan sister.

“Understood, Lydea. But we do expect to see a report on this as soon as possible.”

* * * *

“Emily. We need to tell the family what happened.”

“You know, maybe you should sit this one out. No one would blame you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Trystan mumbled, gasping as tears left his eyes. “I owe it to Bas to stand here and wait to hear what happened to him. It’s the least I can do.”

Emily nodded, stepping closer to him.

“We’ll wait together. And Trystan...” Her voice died off, guilt clouding her consciousness. Trystan held her hand, offering her a muted sense of comfort. “I am so sorry that I yelled at Lydea like that. I’m so, so sorry Trystan. I should have...I should have stopped.”

Without a word, Trystan nodded. Emily searched his eyes, trying to gauge what Trystan might feel towards the detective’s outburst, and it pained her to find thinly veiled disgust. She continued, ignoring the exhaustion and bitterness all over her body.

“And I’m sorry that our investigation got in the way of you and Sebastyan having the chance to repair things.” Trystan glanced at Emily, the emotions in his eyes trying their best to fade away.

“I’m...not sure we ever would have. I've seen him more lately than I ever bothered to otherwise.” Trystan sighed, “at least...I hugged him once in our lives. Even if it was only to get that stupid ledger.”

Backing away, Trystan began to head towards the exit. “Well then...we should go on. Tell the family what happened.”

About to take another step, a faded memory crept up on Emily. A ghostly one. The scent of stale popcorn, the sound of a stadium organ ringing in her ear, the impending dread that the walls would crush her. Something else was there – a new body thrown into the mix. The face of a dead Sebastyan Thorne was imprinted on her mind, and even if her eyes were completely shut; she still saw his corpse sitting in the theatre.

“...Emily? Emily?” Trystan rushed to her, an understanding look on his face.

“Uh...sorry–sorry! I’m sorry. I was just...thinking.”

She felt Trystan’s worried look as the two left the theatre, about to ruin the lives of the Thorne family.

* * * *

Eveline’s sobs rang in the detective’s head all night.

Emily was sick. Exhausted. At the core of her being, in her heart, was absolute agony. Cuts and bruises from chasing Trystan around the maze could not compare to the turmoil, the fear, and the guilt that warped her head.

Emily dealt with death before. Rarely had she ever encountered one on the job, bar the Hand of Mahra, yet all she thought about was how the Thornes coped with Sebastyan’s death.

A sob escaped her — a loud and sudden, single sob. She clutched her chest, as if holding herself could mend her grievances. Disgust rotted her body, Sebastyan’s bloodied corpse glued in her mind. She jumped from the bed, only to find Trystan’s back facing her, sitting on the ottoman.

“...Trystan?”

He turned around, and Emily moved to the edge of the bed. It didn’t take a detective to know that he’d been up all night. Cupping both sides of his face, her callused fingers rubbed the bags under his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Her heart bled for his, and it broke her seeing Trystan look so utterly lost. She set her hands on his lap.

Dried speckles of Sebastyan’s blood clung to Trystan’s suit, and even though she fought her hardest to wipe it away, the blood sat still, a grim reminder of their loss.

“Trystan...” She murmured, “Let me wash you. Please. If you can’t sleep, can I at least give you a bath?”

Emily patiently waited for Trystan to answer, ignoring the pitiful quietness. Without uttering a word, Trystan nodded softly.

Emily’s feet jumped at the touch of the cool, tiled bathroom floor. Trystan stood still as Emily drew a bath for him, bubbling and rising. Condensation fogged up the corners of the mirror. She grabbed a few towels and rested them on the counter.

Trystan watched her work, completely mute. Although grief burrowed in his heart, the soon-to-be king still made room for the warmth he had for his Rose. Before resting in the bath, Trystan urged a weak, grateful smile.

“I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

Emily washed Trystan’s back with warm, soapy water. She delicately rinsed off the blood, small splotches of crimson soaking the tub. Trystan shivered, startled by the sheer amount of care and empathy given to him. Rubbing his shoulders, Emily sighed, grateful to have this intimate, yet bittersweet, moment with him.

Turning him around, their eyes locked, drunk with their own grief. Trystan stared blankly, fresh out of tears. Emily’s eyes burned at the sight; it ruined her to see someone so full of life and wit become so robotic. Her hand held his for a brief moment, lightly scouring Sebastyan’s blood off his shaky fingers. She continued, raking the damp towel across his scratched, hairy chest. The couple sat in the tub in stillness, with Emily caring for Trystan. He opened his mouth, shaking slightly.

“...He died thinking I hated him.” Trystan sobbed, a dam breaking down; tears ushering down his face. Emily put down the towel and wrapped her arms around him. It was undeniable: Sebastyan Thorne died believing everyone hated him. Worse yet, someone close had killed him — someone he thought he could trust.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you couldn’t make amends with him. I’m so sorry that everything with your family is just so fucking complicated.” Emily whispered in his ear. “But I can promise you that we will find out who killed him. His death can’t be for nothing.”

With that, the hug broke, and Trystan nodded. Emily stood up from the bath, at last, all the blood stains faded from Trystan’s skin. Trystan followed suit, drying himself off with another towel.

The pair lay down in bed, their foreheads touching. Emily smiled, her lips gently pressing against Trystan’s. Their arms cradled each other, in the night, in a secret hidden world only they know of. Trystan sighed delightedly, admiring every inch of his surly, private detective’s face.

“Emily, I...” His hands embraced her cheek. “I don’t know who I’d be without you. Thank you.”

Their eyes met once more, sharing a mutual fondness; a desire that’s better left unsaid. Three words echoed their minds, yet neither of them itched to say it out loud.

“I will take care of you,” she promised him. I will, I will, I will.

* * * * A/N: mitski and crimes of passion, two of my favorite things ever! anyways, i made this because i felt like,, there could've been MORE?? to trystan’s grief besides the kovmorti scene. i hope you liked it!! here’s to waiting a year or two for book 3!

p.s, i also have another oneshot of trystan & mc! it's much less angsty, with lots more flirting, and way more wholesome!! click here to read it!

click here for a list of all my work so far!

[love-toxin]

A request from 🍄 anon... (because school has been kicking my whole butt and I need comfort.

May I ask for a combination of "don't cry sweetheart" and "I just need you in my arms", please? With Eddie and Steve?

(They're my comfort characters...)

ellie's sentence starter prompts

xxix - "Don't cry, sweetheart."

xlvi - "I just need you in my arms."

(cws: burnout/depression, mentions of panic attacks, crying, hurt/comfort)

The thunk of the screen door closing is what finally rouses you from bed, that haze of sobs and teary eyes dissipating in seconds when you hear Eddie's voice calling out to you. There's only a matter of moments before the two of them will be upon you, and you use those moments as wisely as you can think--you wipe your tears dry, and briskly slide yourself off Eddie's mattress and on to the floor, reaching for the first thing by your side to hold up and pretend you're reading.

"Baby!"

Right on cue, Eddie's bursting through his bedroom door with a big smile on his face, and Steve on his heels like he was following as close behind as he could. Your lips tweak into a smile at the sight of them, cause you are glad that they're here. But it drops when Eddie's features shift, and he raises a brow in curiosity before a chuckle erupts from him.

"Doing some light reading, huh sweetheart?" Only then do you get the cue to glance down, and you couldn't be more mortified. The magazine you're holding isn't one of the punk metal articles Eddie collects--you hadn't realized how far under his bed it actually was, because what you're holding is one of his very graphic porno mags. You toss it aside on instinct with a squeak, and while he finds it funny, Steve rolls his eyes and pushes past your boyfriend to come and kneel down in front of you.

"Did you miss us?" That voice couldn't be softer, his tone as light and airy as if he's afraid he might wake a sleeping lover. And you nod, hoping he doesn't look too closely at your trembling hands in your lap.

"Yeah. Of course."

"Is that why you're crying?" Your eyes widen, you glance down--but your gaze is tugged back to him when he touches your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear you hadn't realized was still falling.

"Um...yeah. Yeah, I just..." You hurry to dry your eyes again with your sleeves, and he can clearly see your fingers twitching, and he gives you a look like "c'mon, honey, be honest"....and you just crumble underneath it. A hiccup rises in your throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut to block out those oncoming tears with the heels of your hands pressed against them.

"Oh, don't cry, sweetheart!" Eddie pipes up, understanding now how serious it really is because he sidles up next to you, his arm stretched around your shoulders to lean you against him. Meanwhile, Steve takes your wrists so gently in his warm hands, prying them away slowly so he can lean in and press a kiss between your brows. You sink into Eddie's grasp, especially when he nuzzles his cheek into the top of your head, but it's not enough--you grab for Steve as best you can, the words not quite coming out for you to ask what you want to.

"I just need you in my arms. Please," You whimper, and without hesitation, Steve pushes himself between your legs and wraps his arm around your side that isn't pressed into Eddie, hunching over you with his height like he's subconsciously shielding you from the rest of the world. "I hate it when you leave."

You're not sure you've squeezed either of them so hard, Eddie's whispers of "It's okay, we're here now" quietly soothing the taut nerves inside you that have been escalating into a panic attack for the last few hours. How long they hold you like that, it's hard to tell--but it never feels like enough, not when you've still got those visions that crop up whenever you see either of their faces, those memories of them being hurt. Whenever you wake up in the morning and look over at Steve's sleeping face, you have to resist the urge to shake him awake, to make sure he's not slipping away. And when Eddie passes out a little too soundly after a drink or a smoke, you press your ear to his chest to hear his breathing, to soothe those fears that one moment he'll just stop.

And those are just worries about them. You've got more than enough on your own plate, stress and anxiety and panic and fear that you just have to brush away to get up each morning and go about your life, no matter how much you just want to stay in bed. Between the exhaustion of getting home after a day you didn't want to suffer through and coming back to worries about things completely out of your control, things you shouldn't even have to worry about because they're completely beyond mortal comprehension, has just made for a miserable state of being that almost makes you feel like being dead would be better than feeling this wretched. But how can you say those things to them? The two people in your world that have really faced death and narrowly evaded it? It would feel like you're just spitting in their faces, which is exactly why you're already beating yourself up over them finding you like this--and you didn't even realize you've been doing it out loud. You're so stupid.

"Hey! You are not stupid. Look at me." Eddie turns your head upwards, tilts it so he can look you in the eyes, and steals a kiss off your lips like he's so prone to doing. "Look at my pretty baby. You're the opposite of stupid--you're a lot smarter than me, for damn sure. You're perfect."

"No I'm not," You moan, shaking your head like even the notion of it is too ridiculous for you to accept.

"Then what percentage of perfect are you? Ninety-nine percent?"

"Zero."

"You really think so?" He cocks his head, and while part of you wishes he would drop this embarrassing conversation, you won't say a word otherwise. This is Eddie. You can never tell what he's really thinking, and the last thing you wanna do is ruin his fun wherever he can get it, even if it's by teasing you.

"Well, Steve, you know what we gotta do." Steve, who's been occupied with nuzzling his face into your neck until now, finally lifts his head to look down on you again, and the two of them share a look before each of them grab an arm and lift you up to drop you on to the bed. Steve's got his hands on his hips, and Eddie's are crossed over his chest--and if they're gonna lecture you about being nicer to yourself, you're not sure you're in the state to really listen. But fortunately for you, that's....not quite what Eddie has in mind.

"We've gotta put you in boyfriend rehab. We're gonna raise that zero to a hundred, one percent at a time."

A grin splits across his face, and Eddie turns to the hook by his bedroom door, grabbing the jacket that's hung there ever since a month after you started dating. It's custom, denim sleeves with the back plastered over with the design of your favourite album cover, and he tosses it into your lap before hurrying off to go get his and Steve's.

"We're going out! Get your shoes on!" He calls behind him, and hurries back just to toss your pair to Steve along with his coat--but when you move to get up and put them on, Steve gently pushes you back to sit, and makes a show of kneeling in front of you and taking your ankle in his hand, your sneaker in the other.

"You said you don't want us to leave, right?" He queries, offering his shoulder for you to hold for balance as he slides your sneaker on and starts lacing it up, and only continues when you nod. "Then you're coming with us from now on. We'll do it together."

He moves to the next shoe as you pull your jacket on, but even though his words are sweet, you can't shake that tight feeling in your chest at the thought of going out all together. Usually it's just you and Steve, or you and Eddie, or the two of them together, because all three of you at once....well, it's certainly not something that would go over easily.

"Are...Are you sure we aren't gonna attract attention?"

"Honestly? No. But I don't care." The second sneaker takes less time, and before you know it, he's patting your feet and kissing each of your knees before standing up, and helping you to do the same--except, conveniently, he pulls you just hard enough to make you stumble into his chest, and pulls his arms tightly around you in a hug. "If someone wants to say something about us, then they can go right ahead. I care about you and Eddie, not some nosy busybody."

That smile and the kiss that he plants on your nose are two more comforting things than he could even imagine--it doesn't make all your stress vanish magically, but it calms you enough that you don't feel like you're on the brink of another breakdown. It's more than you could ask for, and yet you get it so easily, it's...that thought makes things a little more bearable for now.

"Hurry it up, lovebirds! Our greasy-ass burgers and milkshakes are calling our names!" You can hear Eddie stumbling around as he gets his shoes on while yelling for you both, and you and Steve share a laugh that feels so rare up until now as you break yourselves out of that near-heavenly embrace.

"Looks like the diner's the first percent. C'mon," He tugs on your arm, one last kiss pressed to your temple before he has to hold all that back when you're out in public.

"You were serious about that?" Before he can answer, Eddie reappears in the doorway, keys dangling in his hand and a glimmer in his eye.

"Dead serious. Forget your wallet--this is on me. C'mon!" He says so as if he'd ever let you pay anyways, it's always him or Steve swiping the bill out from the other's nose--but regardless you aren't left to dwell on it for too long, cause Eddie grabs you by the wrist and starts dragging you and running down the hall of the trailer towards the door, with Steve hurrying close behind as he warns you two to be careful on the steps!

And maybe it's a dumb idea, and it won't really help--maybe you still feel like you're not worth helping. But even so, it won't hurt to spend an afternoon flinging fries at each other over the table, having one of their hands on your thigh in the booth, and quietly telling them a little bit about what you've been going through as they listen with open ears. Maybe, in the future, you won't even remember today, the good or the bad about it....but either way, living in the moment now and finding something to smile about is the best thing you can do.

[yellowsugarwords]

How would the boarding school kids + Clementine react to their roommate Snoring. AND I MEAN SNORING! LIKE LEAF BLOWING!! My mother snores like a truffle pig and refuses to believe so.🤣

omg LMAOOOO I hope you have fun with this one :)

Clementine: Clementine would close her eyes and audibly sigh in frustration. It had been hours. Out of irritation and desperation, she stood, wandered over to Y/N’s bed, and flicked their forehead bitterly. Y/N jumped awake, gasping and smacking their forehead in shock. “Keep it down.” Was all Clementine said before turning and heading back to her bunk. Y/N simply glared at her for ruining their beauty sleep.

Marlon: Marlon would sit upright in bed, his hands pressed in thought to hisnmouth, his elbows resting against his knees. He was plotting. He needed a lasting way to ensure this problem didn’t happen again. He needed his sleep. Finally, in an hour's time, Y/N woke up and rolled over with Mitch nowhere to be found. Opening the door the following morning, /N spotted him asleep on the hallway floor, a sleeping bag draped around him. How over-dramatic.

Louis: Louis would stare at the ceiling, glaring, regretting not rooming with Marlon or Mitch. Even though they were interesting to room with, at least he could sleep when they were around. Finally, he sat up at the edge of his bed, staring at Y/N, squinting and scowling, plotting what he could do. He drew closer and placed his hands together, mock-praying for them to be quiet. Slowly coming to, Y/N groaned and rolled over. “Shut up, Louis.” Louis’ jaw dropped. “I don’t think I’m the one that should be hearing that,” he scoffed.

Violet: Violet would lay still and silent in bed, debating her plan. Finally, she’d swing her feet over the edge, grab one of her pillows, and wander up to Y/N’s bedside. Without hesitation, she would repeatedly begin smacking them with her pillow. She used all the energy she could muster having barely slept. Y/N yelped and attempted to fight back, using their arms as shields. “Keep it down, would ya?” She scoffed teasingly through a laugh. Y/N chuckled too, amused by her way of announcing their snoring problem/. “Thanks, Violet.” “Thank me by shutting up,” she said, again laughing as she curled back into her own bed.

Mitch: Mitch ground before standing, wandering over to Y/N’s bedside, and shoving them. Maybe he did so too aggressively, because Y/N smacked their face against the wall of their bedroom. Stunned, Mitch smacked a hand over his mouth. “Ow!” Y/N ground,slowly rolling over. “What the hell, Mitch?” “It was an accident,” he quickly recovered, offering a meek smile, “But, if the snoring keeps up, next time, it won’t be.” Y/N gulped, then curled back under the covers, praying their face would be spared.

Willy: Willy would always frown, irritated beyond belief at his inability to sleep. Without much thought, Willy grabbed one of his willows and wandered over to Y/.N’s bed, smacking the pillow on top of their face and holding it there. It wasn’t until Y/N shot upright did he stop. “That’s what’s going to happen to you if you don’t keep it down at night.” “I can’t help it!” Y/N pleaded, groggy and terrified from the ordeal. Willy groaned and flopped himself back into his bed. “I’m getting a new roomie tomorrow.” Y/N scoffed, feigning offense. As if they would care. A room all to themselves? Nice.

Aasim: Aasim tapped Y/N’s shoulder, watching as they slowly  began to come to. “Hey, dude,” he said softly, not wanting to startle them awake abruptly. “Your snoring is crazy loud. Did you know you snored?” Noticing the flush in their cheeks, Aasim assumed not. “Here,” he said, adjusting the pillows behind their neck. “My Dad used to snore badly when I was a kid. I know how to help,” after adjusting he smiled their way and wandered back to his bed. “Maybe you’ll Also get a better sleep now,” Aasim teased, hoping they weren’t too mortified. Luckily for both of them, they weren’t. Aasim had a way of making people feel comforted and non-judged.

Ruby: Ruby would gently wander to their bedside, rubbing their arm and shaking their shoulder to wake them. “Y/N?” She asked, watching as they slowly regained the concept of reality. “You’re being a bit loud,” R7uby said, cheeks red, praying she wasn’t embarrassing them. “Are you able to stop, or should I go sleep somewhere else?” She tried her best to explain she wasn’t upset, just wanted both of them to be comfortable and well-rested. Quietly, she excluded herself to sleep in the library, pillow and blankets in her arms, leaving Y/N to continue to sleep in peace.

Tenn: Tenn hated the snoring and adjusted his sleep schedule accordingly. Whenever Y/N was sleeping, he was drawing, writing, or reading, and whenever Y/N was awake, that’s when Tenn would rest early in the evening and early in the morning. He told only who needed to know as to why. Toward Y/N, he just said he had trouble sleeping if he wasn’t alone. At least it wasn’t a total lie. It was just to spare their feelings.

Omar: Omar would stare blankly at the ceiling, in pure disbelief that this was happening to him. He normally could sleep through almost anything, but not Y/N. No wonder he was the only one originally willing to room with them. The next day, groggily, Omar wandered up to Marlon with heavy bags under his eyes. He forced a smile Y/N’s way , then turned to the blonde seriously. “I am begging you for a room change. And don’t tell Y/N why. They’ll be embarrassed.”

Brody: Brody wouldn’t say a word. She normally was a light sleeper - as she frequented having nightmares as a kid - and normally didn’t mind the snoring as she was awake anyways. But when she wanted to sleep? There wasn’t a worse place to be. She often stuffed her head between two pillows and in the morning, when asked with concern by YN, Brody - avoiding confrontation - smiled. “I just, uh, like to keep my head warm,” she lied. She didn’t want them to feel bad. She could find another way around the problem. Or maybe she could just deal with it. For life. All to avoid conflict.

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 💌☕️♡

[jedimordsith]

A continuation from yesterday.

(From the same AU as here and here,  the chunk from Sunday, and the Wed bit.)

Leaning in, he kissed pressed his lips gently to hers. 

Mara’s response was immediate and more gratifying than anything else he’d ever experienced in his life. Dropping the bottle, she threw her arms around his neck and scrambled sideways, climbing into his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. She was warm and the perfect combination of softness and muscle, and Luke wrapped his arms around her, his hands stroking up her back as he coaxed her mouth open with his tongue. 

She made a tiny whimpery noise and Luke moaned, a ridiculous sound that he’d have been mortified of if Mara’s shields hadn’t come down, all her desperate relief and hunger swamping him and threatening to completely pull him under. 

He’d meant to be gentle and patient but Mara had always frayed his control like no one else. His hands fumbled with her wide belt, yanking it off and tossing it aside so that he could burrow his hands beneath her loose tunic. Her skin was soft and warm and she arched into his touch, breaking the kiss on a gasp. Luke took the opportunity to nuzzle her throat, his hands finding her chest wrap and tugging it open so he could fill his palms with her. 

Heat seared through and between them and Luke broke off, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, trying to slow down. To make himself think.

Mara still had half a standard year before she’d be seventeen, and Luke knew the secret no one else did — that Master Che had warned her to be careful her first time. They’d been through her head at least twice a year since she’d been taken by the Emperor as a child, but they still found things sometimes; slow-developing traps that had been laid in the most insidious ways. There was a chance that taking someone to her bed could trigger something they didn’t yet know about. As much as Luke wanted to take her inside to the overly-large, plush bed he’d been assigned and do all the things he’d been dreaming of, it was a risk. If things went badly, there wouldn’t be anyone here to help. 

“I don’t care,” Mara gasped. Her hands cradled his cheeks and her eyes were luminous in the dark. “I don’t — it’s just us,” she said, her expression pleading. “When’s the next time we’ll get this?” She gestured to indicate the quiet, the time. “Please, Luke. I know what your mother thinks — about me not being old enough. But I’m ready. I’ve got my implant and I’m not from Naboo. I’m a void brat, you know that —”

Luke cut her off with a kiss, a streak of resentment blazing through him. Just because she’d been found abandoned in a dying ship with no records, no family, no home world or traditions — it didn’t mean she didn’t matter. That she wasn’t the most precious thing in his life. That she didn’t deserve to be treated with infinite care. 

And she had point. When were they going to get another chance like this? 

“Promise you’ll stop me,” he said seriously, pulling back to look at her. “If something’s… wrong.” 

“If something crawls out of my head and tries to kill us, you mean?” Mara grimaced. 

“Hey,” Luke said forcing a smile and stroking a thumb across her cheek. “I’ve got enough fantasies about things I want to do to you to last a lifetime. I can’t have you dying on me our first time through, you know?” 

That pulled amusement from her, and she softened. “Deal.” 

Closing his hands on her hips, Luke nudged her up and off of him. “Come on. My room’s on the left.” 

[vipetriol]

The knock on the door came with a bit of a rhythm, revealing a somewhat bundled-up professor on the other side. He carries a present box tucked underneath his arm, wrapped in a careful bow. "A Merry Christmas to you, little sprout!" he says with a slight chirp in his voice. "I hope you haven't been too cold with the lodgings."

"As for your response, this is mostly why I have not been given offense to your skepticism during our letters." He seems to wave it off like it was nothing more than something that we would encounter at work. "The staff and students alike share a bit of the NRU spirit, after all." He extends the box to Jamil. "After hearing your discussion for athletics, I thought these would be appropriate for you."

If Jamil were to open the box, he would find a streetwear hoodie and pants! The two articles of clothing appear to be casual clothes with some subtle streetwear accents at first glance, but looking closer, the fabric for both of them seem to be predominantly mixed natural fibers for breathability and temperature regulation with the aid of synthetic fibers for flexibility and durability. As a result, the outfit could be able to go through a lot of wear and tear for a good number of years if maintained correctly against a lot of elements. There are also some simple side features that help with quality of life such as detachable sleeves for the hoodie and a hidden pocket on the side of the pants, but it still looks like it would be useful for several situations and circumstances regardless. Whether he opens it or not, Godel will say afterwards, "With your hobbies and your daily life, I thought it was best to give you something that could be used for your everyday use that can still cater to your hobbies, and to keep your body temperature consistent in the process."

There wasn't enough in the budget for sneakers, but it was better to have the most optimized in some things rather than the full set being hosh-posh and thrown around. Also, if his instincts are right, Jamil probably already has own set of sneakers for such an occasion.

Nodding at Jamil's reaction, he looks down to his watch. "Well, I will not take more of your time, but if you wish to discuss about anything, you can meet me during my office hours or drop off a letter at my door if I'm around campus. Or if you have a burning question, I could stay for a bit longer." He gives a small bow in the head. "And once again, happy holidays to you and may your loved ones be well today, as well."

Mortified. Jamil was mortified. Yes, ‘mortified’ was the most apt way to put it. When this exercise had been introduced— no, imposed upon them, he had wasted no time in preparing for the worst case scenario. Barring anyone with outright malicious intent, he was expecting being assigned to someone who would shield themselves behind the temporary anonymity to pull a ridiculous stunt. 

Each letter received had been examined in detail before opening. He’d held them against the light for one, two, three minutes, bracing himself for any unwanted surprises that might’ve awaited him…only to find seemingly non-conspicuous messages awaiting him. They’d been perfectly friendly, in fact. He should have, for all intents and purposes, responded to that kindness in turn.  

But life lived as someone else’s first line of defence against assassination attempts was bound to breed a pathologically cynical mentality. Figures. 

Unlike the letters he had penned for Ember, he simply couldn't endure not being the one holding the reins of the conversation. He’d written his responses, wary of every word, and resolute not to allow important details to slip. That is to say, nothing that could be used against him —or Kalim, or Scarabia as a whole— in the future.

Even if only for the sake of outward appearances, most freshmen wouldn’t question the chain of authority. Other sophomores could take his skepticism without taking offence. And in the scenario where it had been one of his seniors, he would simply bow his head and apologise for the discourtesy. Unless he had been paired up with someone especially difficult, his hostile behaviour would be overlooked. 

But how was Jamil supposed to know he would be assigned to a staff member? Moreover, the staff member in question had been exceedingly kind. (Perhaps too kind, he thinks, but that's a matter best left aside for the time being.) Now, Jamil almost found himself wishing it had been a troublemaker: for all of his preparations, he felt as though he had been made a fool out of regardless. 

Even if Godel bore no resentment or ill-will towards him now, he’d perfectly squandered the opportunity to improve his standing with a professor. It looked bad, no matter how you spun it. The gift he had been given was far more thoughtful than many his own parents had given to him in the past (Oh, a poison detection kit? Thank you, mom. You shouldn’t have. Really. You shouldn’t have) and Jamil finds himself at a loss for words. So he now enters damage-control mode, and quickly surveying his options, arrives at what seemed the most sensible solution. 

“I—” he starts, “Sir, is it really okay for me to have this? You’re…far too generous, this is…thank you, really. Excuse me for a moment.”

He walks back into the room, searches through his belongings, fishes out a ticket tucked away inside one of his textbooks, and presents it to Godel.   

“It’s not ballet, but a dancing troupe from the Scalding Sands will perform in Sage Island next month. Please take this as a symbol of my gratitude.”   

[discoknack]

Creature Cravings WIP (Penultimate Draft)

Looking for a reader's idea of the tone so I can tag it properly. Also would be happy to hear criticism, though I don't know if I can act on it.

Rating: Teen and Up

Category: Gen

Characters: Knack, Lucas, Dianne Garner

Additional tags: Knack and Lucas are adoptive siblings, Knack started from scratch, Knack had a childhood, sort of, Knack is the sci-fi equivalent of a sorcerer, Knack is prey-driven, Lucas is well-acquainted with the effects of puberty, Lucas has subliminal pattern recognition, Heart-to-Heart, Angst and Humor, Embarrassment, Atheneum, Swearing, mention of libido, played for laughs, Not Canon Compliant, POV Third Person, My First AO3 Post

Summary: In one of Atheneum's green parks, the boys were playing a simple game of catch with a flying disc - though it was really more like fetch, with Lucas doing the fetching. Their game was interrupted by the arrival of a friendly stranger and her dog. Excellent timing, as Lucas thought he might die. Playing with the dog, Knack became too excited and made a big mistake, so he ran off to hide in shame. Lucas had to find him and be sure he was alright.

"Hey!" Knack stood over Lucas's corpse and prodded him in the side with a foot. "You dead?"

This elicited an exhausted groan from the prostrate form beneath him. Lucas slowly and protectively curled to one side in response to the nudge, but otherwise didn't move or speak.

Knack poked him again anyways, with a finger this time, yielding a proper flinch. "Damn. That's too bad." He straightened and turned away from the body. Knack looked around as if wondering what he might do, but it was only for show. He leaned back, cradling his head in one of his hands. "Oh well~! Guess that just means I get to keep your Pokemon cards then!" and he shrugged. "No big loss."

"Oh no you don't!" Lucas summoned the strength to pull himself back up on his knees, straightening with a scowl. Then he pointed at Knack with a toy disc. He was about to say something more when he began to cough dryly. *cough* *cough* I! *cough* bought those- *cough cough*, *cough* Ugh!

Knack held up his hands in surrender, staring straight ahead as if Lucas was armed. "Alright," he conceded. Then he did turn his head, so that Lucas could get a good profile view of Knack's lopsided grin. "Just half of them then."

Lucas coughed even more, and it wasn't clear at first that he was laughing this time, doubled over once again. He wheezed, "You're a shit-head."

"Indeed." Knack shaded his eyes with a hand, though one might wonder if he'd actually need to do that. A woman and her pet had entered the park, so Knack raised his other arm and called his greeting, using supernatural volume and clarity. "Good afternoon!

The woman waved back, and her dog sprinted ahead of her after the boys. It was medium-sized, having a long tail and muscular frame, and had white fur with big black patches over its body. Its head was black too, as if it wore a permanent Luchador mask. Knack didn't bother warning Lucas before the pup was on top of him, licking anything it could reach. Lucas grunted and weakly told it no, no! But it wouldn't listen to him. Lucas tried to climb to his feet and use the disc as a shield, for all the good that did him. He was almost to his feet, but on his last ascent, he lost his balance to the dog's distraction and came right back down.

The dog stole the disc from Lucas and pranced to its owner, tail wagging. But the woman looked mortified and not pleased at all. By now she was close enough for the boys to hear her say, "Frankie, no! You give that right back!" and she appeared to snap her fingers and point in Lucas's direction.

Sure enough, it turned right around and came back, dropping the disc a few feet from Lucas - who had remained on the ground - and licking him all over again.

Knack just stood and watched, amused. The woman looked supremely irked by Frankie's antics and sharply called it over, and when Frankie looked like it was going to grab the disc again, scolded it with a drawn out "no!".

As she grumbled at Frankie, grabbing a hold of its collar and rummaging through her white bag, Knack reached over to Lucas and scooped up the disc. He leisurely approached the woman and asked, "mind if I play with him?" gesturing to the dog using the disc.

The woman looked between Knack and Frankie, her brown ponytail swinging a little. Because of the sunlight, her thin brows were pressed together and her eyes crinkled at the corners. She pitched her chin forward and blew air across her forehead, briefly lifting the short hairs that must have broken from her ponytail. Finally wiping the sweat from her brow, her expression softened and she decided, with a smile, "alright. Maybe you can wear him out!" And she released his collar.

Knack held up the disc and shook it rotatingly, which got Frankie excited all over again. Knack began to walk some distance away and let the disc fly.

Lucas was still on the ground, enjoying the moist earth which had previously been watered by sprinklers. His clothes were stained with grass and mud, and he would have to change when he got home. Now, he finally climbed to his feet, for real this time.

The woman said, "terribly sorry about that," grabbing at the strap of her bag and fidgeting, "Frankie never got the hang of, uh, people."

"Nah," Lucas waved it off, his voice hoarse, "it's no big deal."

The woman stuck her hand out for Lucas to shake and said, "My name's Dianne, by the way." And after a soft chuckle, "would you tell me yours?"

Lucas did grab her hand. But at the same time, he tried to speak and instead croaked. He had to let go of her hand to cough into an elbow.

Dianne frowned. "Is the heat bothering you?" Then she looked down at her bag, "One minute, I have something for you..."

It took Lucas some moments before he could try to speak again. In the meantime, Dianne adjusted her baby blue shawl and turned her shoulder-strap bag to her front, so she could rummage through it. Her eyes crinkled at the corners again and she hummed a tune to herself as she searched. At this angle, the size of her nose was more noticeable, as were the silver strands that decorated her hairline. Speaking of silver, she had a silver ring in her right ear. Her hair especially went gray at the temples, producing large streaks that contrasted against the rest of her brown hair.

Still having a frog in his throat, Lucas waved his hands and shook his head, but couldn't verbally refuse Dianne's offer, whatever it was.

Imitating a triumphant horn, Dianne held out a small water bottle, saying, "here you go!"

When Lucas hesitated, she pressed the bottle into one of his hands anyway, clasping it between her own. Her expression was solemn, and she pressed her eyebrows together, saying, "hydration is serious business. I have plenty more."

Lucas nodded his head, somewhat like he was bowing, before Dianne would release him. He opened the bottle and drank from it. What else was he to do? Suddenly he was reminded of Charlotte.

Dianne smiled, satisfied.

But then Lucas heard the piercing, squeaky yelping of a frightened dog. He turned sharply to look: Frankie was howling and sprinting, eyes wide and tongue flapping. Knack was galloping after him on all fours, eyes just as wide but with a deranged character about them. He resembled a gorilla, certainly. Knack must have been momentarily distracted, noticing Lucas - or,, maybe he tripped his hands on a stone or something - because he came crashing down over his shoulder, and did a half-somersault, bouncing against the ground with his backside, and just making the full rotation by sliding into a sitting position. A few red relics had come loose and inertia scattered them in the direction of the two humans.

Frankie's cries became merely whimpers as he finally reached Dianne, tail between his legs as he went to cower behind her.

Everyone seemed stunned, including Knack himself. His legs were partly curled, seeming tense and digging his heels in the ground, and he held up his hands in a clawed position, as if he had touched something dirty and didn't want to smear it on anything. If he had been wearing a smile - while chasing the dog like a puppy would chase a squirrel - it was long gone by now. His own mouth hung open in shock, his eyes wide. "I!" he looked between Lucas and Dianne, ears drawing up in alarm, "I don't...didn't mean to..." Then he clapped his jaws shut, because there wasn't anything he could say to explain himself. His ears drew back and his throat did something like a gulp. Then with a rush of relics, he was on his feet near-instantly, turned around and about to run. "I'm sorry!"

Lucas found that he had a hand out, intending to command Knack to "Wait!" but Knack wouldn't listen. In his other hand, he clutched the water bottle at his side, deforming the plastic. He turned his head to look at Dianne, who had been frozen in place and gripping Frankie's collar. She only now released Frankie again. But he wasn't going anywhere anyways, whimpering and trembling.

Dianne soothed Frankie with her words and hands, softly calling his name and petting him. Frankie meekly licked her hands in return.

Lucas asked Dianne if he could check Frankie over, and she agreed. So he carefully approached Frankie and introduced himself to him, letting Frankie sniff his hand. Lucas talked him through the whole thing as he pet him down and squeezed his limbs. All the while, Frankie licked Lucas's hands and forearms. He checked under the chin, behind the ears. He checked Frankie's ribs, belly and back. He checked paws, somewhat unsuccessfully, as Frankie pulled away every time, but the dog only seemed annoyed by it and not hurt. Lucas even gave his tail a once-over. Frankie wouldn't listen when Lucas explained that he had to be sure no toes had been squashed.

When he was done, Lucas tried to ignore the feeling of dog slobber all over his arms, stood up and announced, "Nothing broken or bleeding! Bruises are harder to check." Then he glanced in the direction Knack went, but Knack was already gone. It wasn't time for that yet. Lucas addressed Dianne, confusion on his features, asking "You saw what I saw?"

Dianne reached for the strap of her bag again, seeming uncomfortable. "I certainly saw. But I don't want to... impose a certain interpretation of the events. If you would like, I'll be glad to hear how you saw everything."

"I don't know," was the first thing out of Lucas's mouth. He looked down and away in thought, rubbing his chin. "Knack's definitely a prankster. I don't think he would do anything to hurt Frankie. But-" Lucas wiped at his lips, trying to control his words better, "well, I don't want to say 'But' - he seemed a little out of sorts... and like he had done something wrong, after that." Lucas clenched his hand, "I didn't see him touch Frankie, though."

Dianne nodded, crouching down to stroke Frankie, who wagged his tail. "Thank you," she took a moment to think, "Frankie's alright. No harm done."

Lucas wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but nodded. It took him some time to figure out that Dianne wasn't going to take Knack and Lucas to task over this. So when he did, he smiled pleasantly and said, "Thank you, Dianne." Then he remembered - "I'm Lucas! Almost forgot." - and chuckled nervous.

"Sure thing, Lucas!" Dianne smiled. She adjusted her shawl. "So, uh, maybe you should check on your friend," she said, tilting her head. "As you said, he seemed very upset."

Lucas nodded seriously, humming in the affirmative. "On it!" And he marched in the direction he had seen Knack go.

Only, where did Knack go? Specifically?

Knack could be a sensitive soul sometimes. Like that time he got his hands on a furby. No one could say where the hell it came from, and no one would fess up having given it to him. But Knack loved that horrible thing, especially because it got reactions out of people. At first, he played with it normally, but later, he would hide behind doors, and when someone open- "YUMMM!" or "Hahahaha!" Knack would stick his finger in the furby's mouth or tickle its tummy or have it make some other noise to startle them. Keep in mind that Knack was fresh as a daisy; he had just learned to speak fluently, but definitely got the hang of taking up relics and was already very clever.

Lucas was ten years old and didn't mind the furby. He'd sometimes claim it was "for babies", but Knack would catch him playing with it. Lucas would tickle it or play one of the few games it had.

The toy had mixed reception with younger kids. Some were unnerved by it just from its appearance. Knack could hold it out at them and they'd bristle and squeal, even yelling at him to get it away from them and go away. But he would just giggle and run off.

The interrogations started within three days, among scientists and their children alike. But Knack's shenanigans would soon come to an end, as he frightened a child who was far too small to appreciate the prank, and they cried. Or at least, that was the rumor that Lucas heard later. Knack wouldn't tell, and all the kid could do was cry to their parents, sobbing until they passed out, and forget about it.

Lucas found the furby the day it happened: torn up, partly crushed, and slammed into the trash in one of the dormitory halls. Carefully, Lucas removed it. The mechanical animal could only hiccup and groan, and only one of its eyes could move along with the mouth. It looked like someone slammed a chisel into its chassis in a couple places, too. On a hunch, Lucas decided to barge into Knack's room.

And he was rewarded for it by almost stepping on one of Knack's relics scattered around the floor. He didn't fully appreciate how narrowly he missed needing a tetanus shot, and simply nudged it away. He checked under the bed and found more relics, arranged into a button-eyed face. Knack growled at him and scooted further underneath the bed.

It took some time to coax him out, and Lucas had to get creative because he wouldn't come out for cookies. But after he finally crawled out from under the bed - no longer playing the part of his own monster - and climbed onto his feet, the little guy wanted a hug. And Lucas was happy to give it to him.

Now Lucas scooped up the forgotten toy disc, having spotted it along his march, and kept going. He knew Knack had gone in this direction, but nothing more. Lucas looked around.

The park they had been playing in resided between the clock tower and the museum. The latter two were landmarks proper - you could see them stand out from adjacent parts of the city. But too many people hung around the clock tower on a given day, and museum staff wouldn't appreciate the boys climbing into fenced areas to retrieve a thrown disc. When it came to the park, it was more like a strip of green decorating an intersection, but it was big enough that Knack and Lucas felt comfortable playing the game they chose for today. Hedges lined the perimeter, and a few trees provided some shade. Part of the intersection, just beyond the park in the direction of the museum, was a bridge, which crossed the man-made channel. The worst that could happen is the disc falling into the water.

Lucas began to cross the bridge, sliding a hand along the railing, and when he was just a few feet in, he stopped in his tracks. His feet felt bolted to the floor, and sweat trickled down his neck. He wasn't nervous at all, but something uncanny was going on. He had an inkling. Something in his mind went bloop! and he was aware it had something to do with water. He gently squeezed his empty water bottle. More and more, he felt some pressure, some awareness that something was directly beneath his feet. Some mounting sensation of what Lucas could only describe as destiny.

His suspicions were all but confirmed when he heard another bloop! It was the sound of a stone plunging into the water.

Knack was under the bridge.

He was curled up in the shade of it, sitting in the underpass, at his smallest. Lucas let out a sigh of relief to have found him. But then he frowned when Knack grabbed another relic from the pile and threw it in the drink, adding to the growing collection of bronze and brass at the bottom of the channel. The flowing water rippled, causing reflected light to dance against the arches of the bridge.

"Hey! You cut that out!" Lucas chided, rushing to climb down from beside the bridge. Despite his command, Lucas heard another bloop! before he reached the bottom. Lucas approached Knack, calling out, "What are you doing that for?"

Knack didn't respond, instead watching the water. He wrapped his chest and little legs with the length of his arms and seemed to sigh. At least he stopped throwing relics.

Lucas stepped between him and the pile. "Knack? Are you okay?

Knack again didn't respond in an appreciable way, except for the slightest tilt of the head.

"Hey," Lucas softly urged. He crouched down and planted the disc beside him, then held his other hand outstretched. "Talk to me, buddy. Metaphorically, I mean."

This time Knack tilted his head more, and slowly increased the pace of it until it became a shake. Then he looked up at Lucas with a very clear expression of misery, his ears drooping.

"Oh, Knack," Lucas drew out the name, "You didn't do anything wrong. Or nothing really bad. The pup is fine, you just scared it, is all."

Knack looked back down at himself, brows furrowed and lower jaw set in a pout.

Lucas lowered his hand, rubbing his fingers together in thought. It didn't make Knack feel any better to know he hadn't hurt anyone, but why? Had he been younger, Lucas would have thrown his arms around Knack on a loving impulse. And had Knack been younger, it might also have been well-received. But nowadays, Lucas thought it was important to respect Knack's personal space.

"Oh I get it," Lucas said, almost playfully, "You're ashamed of it, huh?" He laid his forearm over a knee. "You had an outburst, and you couldn't help it, and it's embarrassing."

Knack's droopy ears twitched back defensively at his tone, but after a moment, he nodded.

Lucas hummed, also nodding. He had to choose his words carefully. "You know," he inched closer, "I don't know much about goblins. But when it comes to humans?" and he gestured vaguely, "we can't live on this planet without shitting our pants at least once."

Knack threw a glance at Lucas, his brows furrowed in consternation and ears alert. But his jaw tilted into a goofy smile.

Lucas took a moment to suppress a giggle, because he was trying to be at least a little serious. He took a breath and then continued, "We get hungry, thirsty, sometimes horny," and he had to look away from Knack at this part, furrowing his own brow, "so freaking horny..."

He heard the clap of stone against stone and looked over to see Knack covering his face and violently shaking his head, nearly falling over. Lucas almost worried he said too much, but then Knack let slip a giggle.

Lucas let himself giggle, too. When Knack righted himself, Lucas tapped his paw to get him to look. Then he held up a finger and said, "I refuse to be ashamed of it. And you should, too!" Then he lowered his hand. "But about your thing."

Knack watched him intently.

Lucas brought a hand down against the pavement and kind of swung himself to sit right next to Knack, leaving the disc behind and putting his hands on his knees. "We don't know a lot about you, still. We don't always know how to take care of your needs. But we love you, and if you need something, you can tell us. Me, Charlotte, the Doctor, even Ryder. We love you, and I love you," he briefly leaned in Knack's direction to emphasize that. "We can figure something out."

After Lucas finished speaking, Knack hopped up onto his feet. He turned to face Lucas and spread out his arms, his eyebrows seeming heavy, but he smiled.

Lucas worked himself into a position where he crouched on one knee and held the other away. He held his arms out, too.

Knack closed the distance, reaching under Lucas's arms for the hug.

Lucas was suddenly overwhelmed with the sound of clattering relics and reflexively shut his eyes. The relics washed over and around him, filling the space between his arms and widening it; rushing into place under his fingers, under his arms, around his back and over his shoulders; surging partly out of his grasp as Knack expanded.

When all was said and done, Knack had resolved into a kneeling position himself, his arms wrapping around Lucas's torso and coming back up to clasp his shoulders with enormous hands. Knack's chin rested atop Lucas's head. Then he lifted it off and brought his head back down over one of Lucas's shoulders, getting a little more comfortable. All over, Lucas could feel that subtle sense of pulsing energy from Knack's chest, which brought great comfort.

Lucas could finally open his eyes and maybe appreciate the level of Knack's control. He lifted his arms some, bringing them higher up in the hug, and noticed the red spikes shifting into their proper place, having been postponed. Knack chuckled, low and content. All of Lucas's prior concerns about how Knack was doing evaporated.

Knack let go first. He kinda had to, since he was gripping Lucas's shoulders like that. And Lucas was starting to grow uncomfortable in that kneeling position. They both stood up, Lucas grabbing the disc just before doing so, and Knack pretended to yawn and stretch. Lucas dusted off the back of his pants. Knack reached up to grab Lucas's shoulder, getting his full attention.

"Thank you," he said seriously.

"Anything!" Lucas replied with a grin. "Now, let's get out from under this bridge. Neither of us are trolls!"

[gotnofucks]

Midnight Adventures

Pairing: soft!dark!Steve x Reader

Summary: He thinks you’re trying to escape him, even though he’d made it clear who you belong to. Though the truth is far more innocuous than that.

Words: 2.1k

Warning: Dub-con, past non-con implied, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, smut, language. 18+ ONLY

A/N: Inspired by this ask I got . Finally getting back to writing in more than a month. 

He was going to tie you to the bed and never let you free. Anger flowed through his veins as he sneaked into the museum, looking around for you. Sam and Bucky snickered behind him, and he resisted the urge to flip them off.

“Cap, can you see any heat signature?” He asked Sam. Sam looked around, turning this way and that until he pointed at the hall on the right.

“That’s your girl right there Steve.” Sam answered, his shield reflecting the dim lights of the museum back. Steve nodded, asking them to stay back and hold off any cops who came in while he went in and got his girl out. Bucky had disabled the alarms you had triggered, but he was sure the place was about to be swarmed with authorities any second now. He had to get you out before that happened.

His feet barely making a sound, he entered the room Sam had pointed and glanced around. The only light streaming in was from the windows, and Steve could see your silhouette moving against one. You were muttering to yourself, stumbling over your own feet as you moved about. He let his gaze wander around the room before fixing it on you again.

You hadn’t realized he was there yet, too lost in your own world. Stepping closer, Steve stood directly behind you and turned his flashlight over you, clearing his throat. You screamed, turning around to look at Steve with a frantic and guilty look in your eyes. Steve opened his mouth to set you straight when he finally caught sight of what you were doing, and he stood there dumbfounded.

It seemed like you were stealing soil. One of the display cases was smashed open and you were transferring the grey soil in there into a glass container in your hand. You stilled, stopping midway in taking more soil as Steve stared at you in utter confusion.

“What on earth are you doing?” He asked, flabbergasted. You gulped, tentatively sealing your jar and putting it back inside the small bag on your back. You stood before him, guilty as small child caught sneaking cookies from the jar. Steve turned his head a little as distant sounds of feet reached his ears. The cops were here.

Without waiting for your answer, he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him, his eyes narrowed at you. His arms went around your waist, tugging you right into his body as he silently maneuvered you both towards the exit door at the end, peeking out. Two armed cops were coming this way, the faint sounds of grunts telling him that Sam and Bucky had a few others engaged out in the hall.

“Hold on, and don’t scream.” He whispered in your ear and you nodded, holding him around his neck. He walked over to the window and looked down at the deserted street. Pressing your head into his chest, Steve took a deep breath and jumped out. The wind rushed through your hair and you muffled your scream into his shirt, nails digging in his flesh as he landed swift as a cat on the road.

Without wasting a second, he took you and jogged away, the dark not deterring his steps. You tried to keep up with his large strides, dread and thrill of the chase coursing through your veins. A minute later, a familiar black car pulled up before you, Sam grinning at you from behind the wheel.

“Oh honey, you are in trouble.” He smirked, letting you and Steve in the backseat. The police sirens faded away as you all drove back towards the Avengers compound, Steve’s hand still wrapped around your arm. You chanced a glance at him, shuddering at the sheer anger on his face. Shit. You were a goner.

Steve dragged you back towards his room, ignoring his giggling friends behind. You ducked your head and followed him in silence. It was never a good idea to argue with him. Once inside, he locked the door and turned to you, a frown deepening the lines on his forehead.

“What the hell have I told you about trying to escape?” He growled, body tight with tension. It had been a while since he’d been this pissed at you, and you shivered.

“I wasn’t escaping.” You said, nervously shifting on your feet. Steve came closer to you before tilting your chin you, making you look him in the eyes. His eyes were dark and hard, a promise of punishment rolling in them like waves in an ocean.

“Then what the hell were you doing in that museum? You ran away!”

You shook your head desperately, clutching his shirt in your hands. It had been months since you last tried to escape. You knew how futile it was to keep trying. You could never overpower Steve, not with Bucky and Sam always by his side. You’d made peace with your situation a while ago. Steve had snatched you, had kept you by force. And you accepted it as your life. You’d almost come to…enjoy it even.

“I promise you Steve, I didn’t run away.” You implored, looking deep into his eyes so he could see the truth in yours. Unless you did something really drastic, Steve rarely ever got angry with you these days. It was scary to have him so pissed again.

“What were you doing in that fucking museum?” He asked again. You bit your lip before pulling out the jar of soil from your bag, offering it to Steve. He looked at it and then your face, which curiously held embarrassment along with guilt there.

“I was stealing Lunar Soil.” You admitted, shaking the jar slightly so the fire particles in there shifted. Steve blinked at you before taking the jar and examining it, confused.

“Why?” He asked, putting it aside. You didn’t answer and he scowled, stepping closer and closer until he backed you into the wall and stared you down. Running a finger down the side of your face, he brought his lips to yours in a dangerously soft kiss, his other hand balanced beside your head. “You know I have ways to extract information from you. Would you rather I resort to them?”

You gulped, half in fear and half in anticipation. Steve’s punishments were as much a torture as they were pleasure. He was your captor, but he was also the man who would scale every corner of the earth to give you what you want. His body had a way of making you crave his touch, an intimate solace for whenever your mind turned to how helpless your situation really was.

“I – I wanted to –” You stuttered, suddenly shy and mortified. Steve hummed and urged you to go on, his hand gliding down your side to cup your ass. You slowly peered into his face, scrunching yours nose. “I wanted to use it to make moonscreen.”

Whatever he expected you to say, Steve did not expect it to be that. He raised a brow at you, silently asking you to elaborate and you flushed, pressing your face into his chest to hide from his screening gaze.

“Moonscreen, it’s like, you know, sunscreen but for werewolves.” You said at last. Steve’s hands stilled from kneading your ass, a sort of stunned silence between you both. And then he growled low in his chest. He pushed you away to face you, incredulously staring at you.

“Did you run away from my bed in the middle of the night to steal something for a mythical creature?”

You pouted, playing with the button on his shirt to avoid looking in his angry eyes. It was all Peter’s idea anyway, but he was too much of a wimp to steal the Lunar soil himself. It wasn’t fair how you were bearing the brunt of Steve’s anger alone.

“They are not.” You counted softly. “Werewolves exist.”

Steve gave a strangled groan before crashing his mouth on yours, digging his fingers in your soft flesh as he carried you to the bed and dropped you on it. You moaned, kissing him back as he tore through your clothes like a man possessed. His hands were everywhere, mouth leaving a trail of sinful fire as it moved from your shoulder to your chest.

Your hand went behind his head when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, back arching as you urged him to go faster. Wiggling, you untangled your pants from around your knees, wrapping your legs around Steve. He sat up and stripped quickly, covering your naked body with his again. There was a frenzy in his actions, an urgency to have you closer.

Quickly checking if you were wet enough, he entered you in one practiced thrust, tearing a cry from you. You whined, yours arms pulling him closer as he went in and out of you, roughly breathing with each stroke.

“You idiot girl!” He snapped, entwining your hands with his and pinning them beside your head. Sweat glittered on his hairline, his body rocking hard into you, sweet pleasure running down your spine and settling as heat in your womb. “You fucking dumb bitch!”

It seemed like he had a lot to say but just couldn’t. So, he showed you. He kissed you like he was sucking your very soul from your body, he fucked you as if branding you from within, he held you as if he could merge you into himself. Panting, softly cursing, Steve took you hard and fast, eliciting mewls and cries from you that fell like music on his ears.

“Mine. You are mine!” He said, but more as a statement than anything else. “You don’t leave me ever again. Never.”

The coil in your gut tightened, Steve letting one of your hand go to bring his to your bud and flick it with expertise. His eyes were fixed on yours, holding your very being hostage with his power. In a moan that echoed off the walls, you succumbed to his will, shattering below him and falling limp, floating in a haze of glittering pleasure. He buried his head in your neck, thrusting a few more times before finishing inside you, his cum flooding you within and warming your core.

You panted, sweaty and sated, wearing his marks and covered in him. He rolled over, taking you with him so you rested above, your ear over his chest that thumped with his strong heartbeat. Crazily, you found peace. In the hailstorm of your fucked up life, Steve was the one you held you together. He was the one who pushed you down, and he was the one who caught you as you fell. Your sanity, your insanity.

“If I ever wake up to you gone again, I’ll shackle you to me. You get it?” He murmured, running a hand over your back. You nodded, shifting closer into the warmth of his body. He grunted in approval, pulling a sheet over you before he got up to bring a cloth to clean you.

Kneeling before your legs, wiping gently and softly tracing your folds, Steve murmured soft words of love and praise and apology. He kissed your abused hole, the inside of your bruised thighs, the mass of your belly and the softness of your breast. He kissed your eyes and your nose, reaching your mouth the last.

“What is my truth?” He asked, dressing you into soft pajamas and cradling you into his lap. You relaxed into his touch, head on his chest.

“That you love me, and you’ll never apologize for that.” You answered. In the most bizarre way, you did believe he loved you. And though his love wasn’t perfect or without pain, it was what got you through his darkness that confined you here by force.

“And what is your truth?” He asked, lips on the crown of your head. You closed your eyes, listening to the beating of his heart that matched yours.

“That I am yours.” You said, sleep creeping over you in a beautiful embrace. Shifting you in his arms, Steve laid you down and spooned around you, hands covering your own. You wiggled, pressing your bum into Steve’s groin, and smiling at the catch in his breath.

You floated towards oblivion, a dream already encroaching over your consciousness when you sleepily called out to Steve. He hummed, squeezing your hands gently.

“Werewolves are real.” You muttered and before he could so much a snort out a laugh, you were snoring.

Steve smiled into the darkness, running his thumb over the back of your hand. The panic of your disappearance earlier was replaced by fondness, his heart full of love for you. No, he would never apologize for how he had taken you. Just like the lunar soil sitting on your nightstand was still a part of the moon, no matter how far apart, you were always going to be a part of him. That was your truth, both of yours.

[4joonkookie]

After Midnight

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Words: 1.8K

Warnings/Tags: shameless smut, fuckboi!Namjoon, choking, strangling, reverse cowgirl,thigh riding, ruined orgasm, angst, fluff, masturbation, mutual masturbation.

Summary: You prey on Namjoon when he can’t be peeled away from his work in the studio and after a slight speed bump, it continues in the bedroom.

OR

(In order) thigh riding, Yoongi Cameo, ruined orgasm, mutual masturbation, (eventual orgasms) and reverse cowgirl.

It’s Midnight.

You’ve been waiting in bed almost 2 hours for Namjoon to finish in the studio. You texted again and he’s been “almost done” for over an hour now.

You’re panty-clad only but throw on his nearby hoodie and quietly head downstairs to fetch him. You gently open the studio door, hoping not to disturb anyone.

“Hey.”, he turns from a computer screen as you close the door behind you.

He quickly turns his attention back to the screen, engrossed in his work. You reach him and turn the rolling chair just enough to squeeze onto his lap.

“Almost, I swear.”, he says, eyes not leaving the computer screen.

“You said that at 10.”, you whine, placing little kisses on his neck.

You brace yourself on his lap and lean forward facing away from him to reach the mouse of the computer, closing all of the applications.

“Oh I like this”, he says, grazing his hands over your near-bare ass and admiring this coincidental view. He’s pleasantly distracted until he sees what you’re doing.

“Wait , wait, wait, I'm not do__…”, he begins to scold you.

“You’re done.”, you look at him convincingly and nod, turning to straddle him face-to-face in the chair. You bluff, “...unless you’d like me to go.” beginning to stand from his lap.

He uses a large arm to pull you back straight away and locks his lips with yours.

“Mmph… 20 minutes...”, he negotiates between heated kisses. Just give me 20 minutes and I’ll head upstairs and we can finish this.”, he says, grinding his lap up.

“We haven’t started anything yet.”, you groan as you reach for the waistband of his shorts.

He lifts you by your waist and spreads your legs over one of his thighs. He begins guiding your hips back and forth and you both groan into the feeling.

“We can start like this.” he says.

“Not while you’re working.”, you counter, wanting, needing to be more important.

“No?” he says, not letting his lips leave yours but rolls the both of you back to the computer.

He lifts you off his lap briefly to raise one leg of his shorts and pulls your panties to the side. Your lips hug his bare thigh, dragging your swelling center over his smooth skin. He pushes his leg up, causing you to cry out.

The moisture flowing allows you to slide easily, Namjoon keeping his leg firm in place. The increase in sensation makes your mind foggy but you tease anyway:

“And exactly how many girls have you convinced to grind on you while you work in this studio?, you ask, not disrupting the rhythm you've created.

“None that look as good in my sweater as you do”, he says softly, sliding a hand under the sweater and feeling up your breasts underneath.

Your core slips and slides on his thigh, orgasm hot in your belly. You try to distract yourself to pull him farther from even considering touching that computer again.

“Mmmm...and how many girls have worn your sweater?”, you moan in his ear, grinding with pleasure.

“None that look as sexy with my hand wrapped around their neck as you do.”, he replies, not missing a beat. Damn. His hand in the sweater grips around your throat with light pressure, Namjoon eoying watching your boobs bounce while you move on him.’

“More?” he asks.

“More.”,you reply, moans becoming needier and breathier.

The sweater rides higher on your body when he squeezes your neck a bit tighter, pushing you down on his thigh harder. You’re swept away, hips moving instinctively, chasing the climax.

“Come, baby. Make a mess on me.” He swoons and tightens his grip on your throat ,catapulting you to your orgasm. Your legs are shaking when the studio door swings open.

Only you can see a mortified Yoongi squint his eyes shut, use a hand to cover his already shut eyes and never lets the other hand leave the door handle before slamming it back shut.

“Oh my God.” you say, humiliated and softly and drop your head to Namjoon’s shoulder.

“ ...I forgot.”,he says, frozen with his hands on your waist. He was expecting Yoongi.

“You knew he was coming?!”, you grip his shoulders, feeling your blood boil.

“I asked him to come down to help me finish_”

“Ugh!” You grunt, interrupting. You angrily hop off his lap. “Have him finish you off then, see if I care!”.

You storm out of the studio, not even minding Yoongi still outside the door with a view of your bare ass, trotting away.

Stomping upstairs, you return to the bedroom. You take off Namjoon’s sweatshirt, your body overheated with embarrassment and ruined orgasm. You shut off the lights, hide under the blanket and hope to fall asleep and put off the discomfort and frustration until morning.

You expect Namjoon to stay with Yoongi in the studio and are surprised when a flash of light pans the room when the door opens. The lights turn on and he laughs when he sees your curled up body under the blankets, surely pouting. He jumps on the bed and wrestles you out from underneath the blanket.

“You pull tight at the covers and fight to keep shielded.” He finds your ribs on your blanketed form and tickles you until you let go of the sheets. You greeted with his sweet smile.

“Don’t be embarrassed…” he begins.

“But I am.”, you snap back more roughly than you intend. “I’m embarrassed that I had to literally hunt and pin you down to try and get laid.”, you're noticing real feelings coming out under the heat of embarrassment. “That I had to all but beg to tear you away from your work.”

He hangs his head in realization. He looks at you to speak. “I'm sorry, you’re right...”, he says, sincerely. He continues “....but I'm so glad you did...”, insufferably sweet.

“ Well, next time I won't.”, you reply, still cross with him. “I’ll just take care of it myself.”

“Only if you let me watch.”, he teases and begins to stroke your body and kiss your neck. It’s enticing but your ego is still bruised and you’re not ready to give back in to him yet.

“Take off Your pants.”, you demand and gesture at him to sit on the end of the bed. He complies readily, undresses and sits with his exposed cock on one end of the bed.

You pull the still-sticky panties off your body and get on all-fours to arrange pillows on the opposite end of Namjoon, revealing your ass to him. You mimic the view he’d enjoyed earlier. You gather several pillows to prop your back up and use one to sit on.

You settle yourself on the pillow and spread your thighs apart to expose your glistening cunt, still wet. Namjoon’s cock swells further, eyes darting across your body while his brain catches up to his dick.

You begin by dragging some wetness above to your clit. Your leg twitches when you move over the sensitive nub. You use the flat pads of 2 fingers to circle around, breath quickening.

Namjoon runs an antsy hand through his hair while exhaling deeply, mesmerized.

“Fuck baby…”, he groans while grabbing at the base of his leaking cock.

You spread wetness around your opening before sinking your middle and ring finger inside. Using your other hand to spread your lips apart so Namjoon can see.

He moans and uses building precum to turn his wrist around his shaft.

The image of him working his own cock propels you faster, rubbing faster and your pelvis instinctively grinds against your own fingers.

Namjoon strokes up and down his length. “You sure you don’t want to come over here, baby?”, he growls, tempting you with his dripping cock.

You look at him thoughtfully for a half-second before nearly pouncing on him across the bed. You’d kill to get that moment on his thighs back. It’s an offer that can’t be denied.

You straddle the same thigh and settle yourself on either side. Namjoon is keen on your idea and replaces his hand around your neck.

“Where were we?”, he whispers, setting a rhythm with his lap.

“I was telling you how sexy you looked with my hand wrapped around your neck…”

It’s just a few rolls Of your hips before the sensation captures you again.

“...and how I wanted that pretty pussy to make a mess on me”, he praises.

You start to see white when his grip tightens around your neck.

“Mmm...Joonie” you moan as your peak takes you over.. He keeps his grip tight on your throat until your orgasm and hips roll slower.

“Turn around.'' he says. You can hardly make out what he’s saying in your blissed state but turn to allow him to envelope his cock inside you.

He groans when you bottom out, You rotate your hips, grinding over his shaft until Namjoon can’t control his breathing.

He lays little slaps on your skin, grabbing and groping your ass cheeks.

You rotate your hips, grinding over his shaft.

“mmmph_ I love the way you move.”, he praises. You glance back to find him with one hand behind his neck and the other guiding your ass as it bounces, eyes fixated on the work on his cock.

You arch your back, and he uses his hand to keep you high up, impossibly deep. He pushes down on your shoulders as he thrusts from below you, eventually lifting himself up to his knees for a better angle. He still pushes the small of your back to guide you around his cock.

He gorans out and moves faster causing you to lose your balance. He doesn’t let you slip off but catches you bent on all fours, never losing stride.

“I’m gonna make a mess of that pussy, baby.”, he threatens as he fucks his orgasm into you. He keeps his rapid pace and bottoms out a final time.

He falls beside you and gives your ass a rewarding rub.

“I’m sorry.”, he begins. “It’s hard for me to walk away from work”, he says, still catching his breath. “ But you’re a welcome distraction. and I love it when you ‘hunt and pin’ me down.” he kisses you.

In a teasing tone, he continues, “And how many guys have watched you touch yourself like that?”

He looks truly curious but you leave him guessing anyway.

“None that look as sexy watching me as you do”. You tease back as you stroke his cheek.

[guardianofrivendell]

How the company reacts to finding out you and fili are married 😂

I loved this request and I decided that instead of making into a full blown fic - that would take me even longer to publish - I would do it headcanon style. 

Look at me making my way through requests 💪!

The Company Reacting to You and Fili being Married

Fíli x fem!reader 

Warnings: Fíli has one braincell in this one and he does not use it, open ending because it started to get too long but we all know it would turn out okay in the end, f-word, it is really silly I’M SORRY

A/N: It might not be exactly what you had in mind when sending in the request but it’s where my imagination took me 😆 This should not be taken seriously.

you were a last minute addition to the Company

Fíli and Kíli had kept the Quest a secret but you found out anyway, following them all the way to Bag-End

because there was no way they were leaving you behind

they were not happy - except maybe Kíli who was over the moon to see you

almost breaking his brother’s ribs when he shoved his elbow in Fíli’s side

wiggling his eyebrows while his eyes drifted towards you 

Fíli immediately regretting ever telling Kíli of his crush on you

little did he know you felt exactly the same

anyways

back to the Company

lots of protest from the other Dwarves because there was no way they were taking a woman with them

it didn’t take long for you to wrap each and every one of them around your little finger

them quickly agreeing on you coming along, but you had to promise not to be a burden to them 

Kíli blurting out that he and Fíli would look after you

that earned him a swift kick to the shins from Fíli

he made Kíli promise not to tell you anything and to not tease him about it

Kíli promised to behave and not embarass him in front of you

crossed fingers behind his back

during the journey Fíli had a hard time keeping it together around you

much to the delight of Kíli who found it all hilarious

at the slightest sign of danger, Fíli did his best to shield you from it

it kind of was exhausting really, keeping an eye on both you and his brother while also not trying to get killed himself 

as long as you were safe, that was what mattered most 

he thought he could pick up some signals from you that you might be feeling the same

or that could just be him seeing things

he was planning on asking you if he could court you as soon as they reclaimed Erebor 

so he still had some time to build up his courage

and he was sure not to tell his brother about this 

but everything escalated one night when Thorin decided to share some news

they were all sitting around the campfire, chatting after dinner

when suddenly the subject of marriage comes up 

Ori asking what a wedding ceremony is like, since he never witnessed one before

before anyone can explain, Thorin clears his throat

“You will find out soon enough. We will have a wedding once Erebor is reclaimed.”

Everyone looking at each other questioningly, shrugging shoulders when asked if they know something

“Who’s getting married?”

dramatic silence

then Thorin looks at Fíli

“As soon as Erebor is ours again, Fíli is to be wed to a lady of nobility of the Iron Hills.”

a few gasps were heard among the Company

Fíli had dropped his bowl of stew to the ground

Kíli sat wide-eyed beside him, his eyes flickering to you 

you were completely still, as if frozen in place

you should have known you didn’t stand a chance

Fíli is part of the royal family after all 

but then Fíli stands up with a jolt, as if bitten by something

“I can’t marry her.”

Thorin sighs, he knew this was coming

“Fíli, it is important to strengthen the relations with-”

“No, I can’t marry her because... because...”

his eyes landed on you and his heart broke 

your eyes fixed on the ground, hands tucked underneath your thighs and biting your lip 

in complete panic he said the first thing that came into his mind

“... because I’m ALREADY MARRIED!”

okay well

that maybe wasn’t the best thing to say 

seeing how Thorin was about to burst

“Already married? TO WHOM?!”

...

Fíli panicked again

think of a name think of a name think of a name

any name but-

“Y/N!”

your head snapped up and your jaw almost fell to the ground

Kíli screeched in excitement, clapping his back

“Way to go, brother! You never told me you guys eloped?! No wonder she was so keen on coming along.”

Fíli looked at him and was speechless

did he seriously believe he would marry someone without telling him

without telling anyone?

yes, yes he did

it appeared the whole company believed it

he received pats on the back, a shove here and there

lots of ‘congratulations’ and ‘well done’

Dori was tearing up

Glóin and Bombur welcomed him ‘to the club’

you received the same treatment but were still too stunned to react 

when Thorin stood before you, you almost cowered in fear underneath his stare 

he crossed his arms and gave you a stern look

“Are you pregnant?”

“NO!” both you and Fíli yelled at the same time, absolutely mortified

his lips started to twitch and to your surprise Thorin smiled at you

“It didn’t go the way I expected but... Welcome to the family!”

Thorin hugs you

I repeat

Thorin hugs you

meanwhile Fíli is having a small extensive crisis 

he meets your eyes and you’re shooting daggers at him

he fucked up big time

there was no way out of this 

not this time

after Thorin it was Kíli’s turn to give you a bonecrushing hug

your feet might have been off the ground for a few seconds

“I never thought he would finally grow a pair! I mean... he couldn’t even talk to you without embarassing himself!”

“Thank you Kee”

you locked eyes with Fíli again

“Excuse me, I need a word with my husband.”

you ignored the feeling in your stomach when you said that

how right it felt 

lots of hooting and hollering when you dragged Fíli out of the campsite

you raised an eyebrow at him in question

enter puppy eyed Fíli 

“I panicked”

“Out of all the names you could have blurted out it had to be mine?”

since he was already in too deep he could just as well tell you the truth

it’s not like it couldn’t get much worse at this point

“You’re the only one I’m thinking about.”

smooth Fíli, really smooth

you’re speechless but your eyes betray you

they’re filled with love and adoration

and Fíli’s heart fills with hope

maybe he didn’t screw it up that bad

his hand disappears in his pocket

here goes nothing

“I was going to wait until we were at the Lonely Mountain...”

he opens his hand for you and you see a blue and silver courting bead with intricate carvings

“But since we’re already married-”

 you scoffed, but couldn’t help the wide grin on your face

“Would you do me the honor of braiding your hair?”

Told you it was an open ending... but we all know how this one would continue :) 

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @thepeanutcollective 

[multifandhoem]

server collab || ii

Server Collab from the Haikyuu HQ server with the prompt: “Guess I‘ll just have to cum inside you.“

The masterlist for the whole collab is here!

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: slight SPOILER (it‘s really really small), smut obviously, little bit of public stuff if you count it as such, slight breeding kink, wedding sex, lot‘s of fluff

Word count: 3292

“I still remember when Iwa-chan told me, how he embarrassed himself in front of a cute girl and hoped he would never see her again to not relive the existential dread he felt at that moment. And then he told me he met her again and she laughed over the mishap and they were going to get coffee next week.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I am so sorry.” His face was red, head bowed down in embarrassment, but you could still see it at the tip of his ears.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t like you were a stalker or something.” You were giggling a bit at the state he was in. “On top of that it is kinda my fault, I should’ve closed the curtains or something.” He slowly raised himself again, face still scrunched up in discomfort. He really looked like he was in horrendous pain and it was kinda your fault. “Please don’t beat yourself up over it. I’ll treat you to coffee, to make you feel better, when are you free?”

Maybe the fact that he was a looker made you act a bit more open towards him than usual, but you genuinely felt bad for him. He was obviously beating himself up over that accident a couple of days ago.

You had realised fast that you could look from your window right into the room on the other side of the street, which was why you invested in curtains pretty early. But apparently, you had forgotten to close them this time, so when you turned around shirtless and made eye contact with a man, you were both equally surprised. He looked mortified and you couldn’t even blink when he suddenly dropped to the floor, now hidden from your wide eyes.

Your body reacted, even though he probably couldn’t see you anymore, shielding your breasts with one arm, the other hastily closing the curtains. After the initial shock wore off you couldn’t help but giggle a bit. Why did he just drop to the floor? He could’ve turned around or something.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

Next to you, Hajime buried his face in his hands, but the large grin that had adorned his face for the whole evening was still there. Tooru waited a bit until the laughter calmed down until he continued.

“When I came back from Argentina for a visit she was already his girlfriend of five months. And when I saw Iwa-chan I knew that she would probably stick around for longer. You know, Iwa-chan is a very violent person-“ “Only towards shitty people!” You knew he couldn’t have let that jab just go by, but Tooru professionally ignored him.

“but with her, he was very soft, always touching her in some way. Sometimes touching too much. Don’t think we forgot the trip to the cabin!” He scoldingly wiggled his finger towards you, accompanied by Makki’s and Mattsun’s affirming but still scandalised shouts.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“We gotta be quick, Haji.” His lips were hot on your collarbones, fingers already dipping under your shirt, quickly pulling it over your head. “I know, they will wonder where we are.”

You had excused yourself for a second from the movie the others had put on. It was the first time this day where there weren’t two other people in the room with you, everybody being huddled in the living room of the small cabin where you resided for the weekend. With two bedrooms shared between the six of you and one big room that functioned as kitchen, living and dining room, there was never space for some alone time, which you were desperate to have after your boyfriend strutted around you shirtless the whole day. It should be illegal for someone as fine as he was to do such things.

Foreplay had to be postponed for the next time, you had little time until the others would grow suspicious. “No need, I can take you.”

You pulled his fingers out of your entrance, desperate to just feel his cock in you. He chuckled at your eagerness, pushing his sweatpants down until his cock sprung free, already hard and leaking. Apparently, you weren’t the only sexually frustrated one.

“Fuck,” you breathed out when he buried himself in you with one stroke.

“Quiet, baby.” His lips found yours stifling your small moans as he began moving his hips.

Breathless gasped and small moans soon filled the room, occasionally accompanied by the sound of skin slapping, when Hajime couldn’t stop his hips before they met yours. “I’m close,” you whimpered as he began rubbing your clit and he shot you a breathless smile and pressed a small kiss to your lips. “Bite something when you come,” he said quietly, thrusts becoming a bit more erratic.

“Disgusting!” Loud banging on the door interrupted you and Hajime let out a string of curses. “If you already know then don’t go interrupting, Shittykawa!” Not having to hide anymore his hips finally snapped into yours, using the full capacity of his strength to make you moan against his shoulder.

Unfortunately, the orgasm you experienced didn’t lessen the embarrassment when you faced the others again.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

It was your turn to hang your head in shame, trying not to meet your parents’ eyes, who were seated next to you. Or worse, Hajime’s parents.

Tooru chuckled at your misery, before continuing.

“To be honest, I wasn’t that surprised when Iwa-chan called me and told me he would send me pictures of rings and I should help him decide. He obviously forgot timezones since it was 2am for me and I first thought somebody had died, but after promising to make me best man I obviously forgave him.” The guests laughed again and Tooru took a well-rehearsed break.

“I don’t think I have seen Iwa-chan as nervous as when he was rehearsing his proposal through me via Skype. I told him it was good, even though he was a stammering mess. But the thing about those two over there is that they calm each other down. So I knew, when the moment would come, everything would go swimmingly. I saw the way they looked at each other, there was no way she would say no.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What are you planning?” You were chuckling, when Hajime lead you through the small house on the outskirts of Tokyo you two had purchased together when it was safe that he was staying in Japan with his work. “Let me surprise you, woman, and stop asking.” You could hear the amusement in his voice and it made your heart bloom. After all these years together he still made you feel like you were going on your first date. And he probably always would.

“Small step, be careful.”

You felt the ground changing from the hardwood floor to a rougher and colder one, showing you that you were now outside on the small terrace. You didn’t have to wonder for long, what he was planning when he carefully pulled the blindfold off your face. The first thing you saw was him.

But it was enough. He was smiling at you, his eyes radiating love. You couldn’t help but snaking your arms around his neck, to press a kiss to his lips. “You look so handsome. I love you.”

Hajime in a suit was something you had the pleasure of seeing a couple of times, but it still caught you off guard how someone could look this good.

“You haven’t even looked around, idiot,” He chuckled but still laid his arms around you to tug you towards him to kiss you again. After that he still forced you to turn around, to take a look at what he conjured in the last couple of hours.

The small garden you had behind your house was completely transformed, fairy lights making the faint evening glow even more magical.

“It’s beautiful.” The words were soft, Hajime wouldn’t have heard them if he wasn’t standing this close to you. “All for you, baby. I love you. I just thought, maybe we could sit on the blanket, maybe drink a bit of wine and just talk, you know?” His voice was laced with nervousness, even if he wasn’t even sure why. He knew you would like what he did. He went through your Pinterest boards and they were loaded with fairy lights, clinking classes, kisses shared under the faint glow. “That sounds perfect. What’s the occasion? I haven’t forgotten anything, right?” He laughed out loud at your nervousness. “No, babe, you haven’t. I just wanted to do something for you.”

His smile was so pure, filled with raw emotion, you had to kiss him again, putting as much passion as possible into the kiss. “Thank you, Hajime. I love you so much. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Your eyes were a bit wetter than usual and you hastily blinked the tears away, smiling at your boyfriend, ready to have a magical evening.

He really had everything prepared. Next to the blanket, a small cooler with a bottle of rosé laid, together with two glasses for you. His phone played soft instrumental music in the background, as you settled yourself against his chest, occasionally sipping at your wine, reminiscing about the past years, wishing for the future ones.

“Hey, move for a second, my leg’s fallen asleep.” A small tug of his leg under you made you sit up, while he fixed his posture, both of you now sitting upright in front of each other.

“Sorry, about that. Do you want to stand up for a bit to move it?” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he tugged you back down when you already wanted to stand up.

A shaky breath escaped him. So this was it. “Y/N, baby, I love you. So much, you can’t even imagine. You’ve been with me for the past couple of years and I honestly can’t wait for the future, if you’re by my side.” He paused for a second, hand slipping into his pocket. “Hajime.” Tears were already welling up in your eyes before he even managed to pull the ring out of his pocket, that he and Tooru had chosen so diligently a couple months prior.

“Will you marry me?”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Those two, right there, are a great couple if I’ve ever seen one. I actually can’t imagine a better partner for my Iwa-chan. Hajime. I’ve seen you grow up. I’ve been growing up alongside you and, dare I say, we’ve both become pretty great.” Tooru chuckled a bit, but everyone could hear his voice wavering, as his eyes were fixated on his best friend.

“I can’t express how happy I am, to still have you in my life, to now seeing you maturing into this great man who is inspiring others in everything he does. Seeing you enter this new part of your life, with this great woman in my life warms my heart. And you deserve nothing less. A toast to you. A toast to your future, Mr. and Mrs. Iwaizumi.” He raised his glass to you, a big smile on his face.

If he weren’t sitting right across from you, you would’ve missed the small tears rolling down his face. The guests around you all raised their glasses to towards you, everyone touched by Tooru’s speech.

But nobody came close to Hajime, who was clenching your hand in his’ tightly, tears welling up in his eyes, before he strode over to his friend, tightly embracing him.

You couldn’t hear what words were exchanged as tears fell and people smiled at the pair. Every guest at your wedding knew about Hajime and Tooru. The best friends, the best partners, who have been with each other since they were about five years old. Who only see each other every couple of months, partners technically becoming rivals.

When your husband came back to you his eyes were puffy, some tears still escaping, but the happiest smile on his face. Tooru hugged you too, wishing you good luck for your future, making a small joke about becoming an uncle again and telling you, once again, to take care of his best friend, his brother.

“I’m so happy to be your wife.” Hajime kissed you at your words but you still knew that he was equally as happy as you were. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily now,” you joked, relishing in the laughter that escaped him.

“As if I would ever want that. I’m going to put some kids in you as soon as possible. And then we have a little family. Maybe even a big family. Whatever you want.” He kissed you again and you couldn’t help but smile at the picture of him with kids in your head. More importantly, your kids. “About that.” You leaned into his side, grateful for the minutes you had at the edge of the room. “I’ve been thinking, maybe stopping my birth control? I mean we don’t have to start trying and stuff, but we’re married now and we’ve been together for a while, and we talked about it already, and-“ You were cut off with a passionate kiss, Hajime even dipping you slightly as he practically devoured you.

“Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?” You could only nod, a wide grin on your lips as you cupped his face in your hands to bring his mouth to yours again. “Fuck, I love you. I can’t wait to fuck you today.” Heat shot through your stomach at his words and his kisses did nothing to soothe it.

“Hajime.” You really didn’t intend for his name to sound like such a whimper. But when he growled against your lips you knew you were done for. “The bridal room. Where I got ready. Let’s go.”

You felt like a schoolgirl sneaking around again, when you were rushing through the halls of the venue, hand in hand with your new husband, giggling around, until you finally closed the door behind you, being pressed against the same one in an instant, a breathless Hajime resting his forehead against yours.

You were whispering ’I love you’s to each other for the probably thousandths time this day, but it wasn’t like you were growing tired of it anytime soon. “You gotta be careful about the dress, I don’t wanna have cum stains somewhere,” you reminded him as he was flicking up your skirt, already sinking to his knees.

“Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you.” You giggled in excitement at his statement, soon leading into a moan, when he buried his face between your lower lips, thong pulled to the side, his tongue expertly doing all the things he found out about you the years before.

“Fuck, Hajime.” Your fingers thread themselves in his hair, tugging him closer.

He took one of your legs in his hand, tugging it over his shoulder and digging even deeper between your legs, using the fingers of his other hand as well, to insert two of them into your dripping cunt. “Haji, I’m coming,” you whimpered, clamping onto him.

“Wait for my cock.” The years of never neglected training came in handy, when he stood up, with you in his arms, to seat you on the small table, that was probably just in the room for decorating purposes. You shrieked a bit at how fast everything was happening, but you kind of agreed with him.

The first time you should come as husband and wife should be with him deep inside you.

He dropped his suit pants to his ankles and you could feel yourself clench with excitement. “Ready, baby?”

“Yes, please, Haji.” You pulled him towards you again to connect your lips, moaning into his mouth when he rubbed his dick up and down your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

It’s weird to explain what you felt the moment he pushed himself inside you. You had sex lots of times. But in that moment you felt more complete than you ever did.

You stayed like that for a couple of seconds, connected in the most intimate way possible, before his hips snapped back and into you again, eliciting a moan of both of you.

“Honestly, fucking you in your wedding dress is hot as fuck.” He laughed breathlessly, kissing you again, all while not halting his thrusts.

“Think about me pregnant with your kids,” you purred in his ear and squeaked in delight when his next thrust was harder than before.

“Don’t get me started. You’re going to look so good pregnant. All round and cozy.” His speed grew more erratic and you knew he would come soon.

“Fuck, we gonna start soon, right?” Your fingers clenched in his shirt, pushing him closer to you, chasing your own high.

“We’re starting right now, baby.” He kissed you again, hand moving down to rub your clit again, chuckling at the little whimpers you let out.

“Haji-“ You didn’t need to say more, he already knew, what you wanted to tell him.

“Go on, baby.” You kissed again, moans mixing in your mouths, as his tongue caressed yours, the slight taste of your juices still left on them. Every time his cock hit that one part you had to suppress a small scream, only slightly moaning in your husband's mouth.

“Can’t wait for tonight. Gonna fill you- ah- up again and again. And then you can be as loud as you want. Fuck. Gonna take my time with you.”

The filth he muttered against your lips only made you clench down harder onto his cock, feeling your high approaching rapidly. It was him coming, his cum spurting into you, which finally sent you over the edge, legs wrapping around him, bringing him even closer to your body, completely engulfing him, dead set on never letting him go.

Heavy breathing filled the room, as you both came down from your high. Small kisses were being exchanged, I love you’s were mumbled. But it was still perfect.

“I’m already anticipating tonight,” you mumbled, slightly exhausted due to moaning so much, making him chuckle, while his hands calmingly rubbed up and down your sides.

When he pulled out of you, you moaned again at the feeling of his cum slowly dribbling out of you.

“This looks so good. You look so good.” Hajime’s eyes were focused on the spot between your legs, fingers twitching to push it back inside.

“Don’t let it go on the dress!” You shrieked, chuckling at the way he darted to get a paper towel, carefully wiping you down.

“You alright, baby?” He helped you down from the table after pushing your thong back in place and fixing up his suit pants.

“Yeah. I love you. You made me the happiest woman alive, today, you know that?” The smile he threw your way at your words made your heart bloom. You were so in love with this man.

“Now, brace yourself for the comments.” You intertwined your fingers again, going back down the hallways to rejoin your guests at your reception. “You think somebody noticed something?” Your hands grew sweaty at the thought. Hopefully, nobody suspected a thing. Especially not his parents. Or worse, the grandparents!

“Tooru will have noticed for sure. You know how he is. If we’re lucky he hasn’t told Makki or Mattsun.” Hajime seemed way to relaxed at the thought, only shrugging his shoulders, ditching your hand to throw his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side.

“I love you.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and you could feel he was smiling.

“I love you, too.”

No matter what was going to happen once you got back, this was still the best day of your life.

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Inked - part 2

*Part 2 of this, I recommend reading it first before this one :)

Pairing: tattoo artist!jaehyun x f.reader

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, oral sex (f. receiving), dom/sub, praise kink, cum play, dirty talk, swearing

Word count: 1.9k

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77 @mrg-jjh @keeach @the-universe-in-you-jjh @nootnoot-yoonoh @winniet @jaejoongiewifey-blog @iknowyuno​ @bbyqngels​ (send me a message/ask if you want to be tagged in future fics)

A/N: because of this anon, I decided to revisit this :)

You’d walked by the tattoo shop several times already, too embarrassed to go in considering what happened the last time you were there. You tried not to recall the memory too much, because your panties would dampen every time you remembered how the tattoo artist had railed you in the chair. He wasn’t able to finish his work though, since you’d hurried out of there afterwards, mortified at your own behavior. Now you had an unfinished tattoo, and you figured enough time had passed that he should’ve forgotten about you, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to open the door and walk in. Feeling like a creep, you eventually left, resolved to try again another day.

---

“What’s up with your tattoo anyway? Is it supposed to look like that?”

You were at the beach with your friend, Yuna, and she was interrogating you about your unfinished tattoo.

“Oh, he didn’t get to finish it.” You said dismissively, hoping she would drop it.

“Why not?” she asked, wrinkling up her nose, “I hope you didn’t pay him for it then.”

You coughed. “Uh, I paid him alright.”

She looked at you, confused, then shook her head. “You’re too nice, you know. You shouldn’t pay people for unfinished work.”

You just nodded, thinking she was probably right, when a shadow suddenly blocked your sunlight. Shielding your eyes you looked up, right into the dark sunglasses of your tattoo artist.

“Hm, that art looks familiar,” he said, a smirk on his face as he pointed to your tattoo. Your jaw dropped open as he stood there above you, Yuna lowering her sunglasses so she could get a better look at him. He was holding a surfboard and he looked like he’d just come in from the water, his hair wet and dripping as he pushed it back from his face. His skin glistened from the sunlight hitting the water droplets on it, highlighting every curve and dip of muscle along his chest and stomach. You swallowed dryly.

“Oh, hi-” you stuttered.

“Jaehyun,” he offered, the smirk still on his face, “I hope you remember me.”

How could I forget, you thought, but just nodded, as you could feel Yuna’s eyes boring into you.

“Why don’t you come by the shop, we’ll finish what we started.” He said, taking off his sunglasses to wink at you, before he nodded politely to Yuna and walked away.

“Y/N, what the actual fuck,” Yuna marveled, as she watched him walk away, “you never told me your tattoo artist looked like that.”

---

You entered the shop hesitantly, rubbing your sweaty palms on the sides of your jeans. The sound of the bell tinkling as you opened the door made you jump, but as you entered the shop you were calmed again by the sounds of cascading water from the zen waterfall, and the soothing scent of lavender. Jaehyun once again appeared from behind the curtain, but made no move towards you. He just stood there, hip jutted out in a cocky stance, head tilted to the side as he regarded you with a look of pure mischief.

“Well, well. Look who it is.” The corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk, as he looked you up and down. You started to get even more nervous under his gaze, and you started to feel very hot with the way he was looking at you. “Lock the door.”

He said it almost lazily, motioning to the door behind you, but his tone was unmistakable. You did what he said, clicking the door locked and turning back around to face him. He still stood where he was, still watching you.

“Come here,” he said, and once again you obeyed, your feet almost moving of their own accord. Once you were in front of him you stopped, but apparently it wasn’t close enough for him, because he suddenly reached out, slipped his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans and pulled you towards him until you were practically pressed up against him. You inhaled sharply at his sudden action, your chest heaving, and he smiled widely at your reaction.

“Mm, always so responsive,” he breathed, eyes roaming over your body. “Let’s have a look at my work,” he unbuttoned your jeans, slipping them down just past your hips. You were breathing heavily in anticipation, arousal pooling in your core as you felt his fingers on your skin. He traced his finger along the lines of your tattoo, and you had to turn your head to the side as your breathing became more and more labored.

“Hm, this is where I was so rudely interrupted,” his finger stopped its circuit on your skin, and he smirked at you again. Leaning towards your ear, he whispered “do you want me to finish?”

The heat of his breath against your ear, the closeness of his body, and how he smelled so sexy you wanted to devour him, all had such a mindblowing effect on you that your knees went weak, and you fisted your hands into his shirt to support yourself. He just picked you up, laying you on a nearby couch and peeling the rest of your jeans and panties off.

“Should I prep you first? Make sure you don’t make a mess on my chair again?” he asked slyly, his hands on your knees as he waited for your response. You bit your lip and nodded, and given the go-ahead, he slid his palms down your thighs. You were breathing heavily but once he reached your core you held your breath, and as soon as his thumbs touched your wet folds to spread you apart you moaned loudly.

“So expressive,” he smiled, as he leaned in, watching your face the entire time. You were gripping the leather of the couch so tightly, watching him, and as his tongue met your pussy you cried out, an embarrassingly loud noise that made you slap your hand over your mouth. He chuckled at first, but as you continued to be vocal, grabbing at the couch cushions and writhing and bucking your hips, he intensified his pace and fervor, keeping your thighs apart with an iron grip.

“You taste so good, baby, so fucking sweet,” he murmured, lapping up your juices like you were the tastiest dessert he’d ever had. You paused to breathe, but not before he suddenly slid two fingers in between your folds, pumping them as he watched your face.

“I wanna see you come,” he said, because your head was lolling back as your orgasm started to build, “Look at me.”

The low, commanding tone of his voice and his sultry gaze when you locked eyes with him was enough to send you over the edge, a stuttered moan all you could manage as your pussy pulsed around his fingers. You were barely done when he slipped them out of you, pulling his own pants and boxers down and sitting on the couch beside you. He pulled you to straddle him, and once you were situated on his thighs he pumped his half-hard cock, his eyes never leaving your face.

“You’re sexy when you come,” he said, regarding you with a smirk and a tilt of the head. You felt your cheeks warm up but you didn’t know if it was because of his compliment or the fact you just had a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Th-thanks,” was all you could say, your voice already hoarse from how vocal you had been when he ate you out.

“You’re welcome,” he grinned, before he positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Now, ride me.”

You bit your lip, clinging to his shoulders as you sunk down onto his cock. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the stretch, your head falling back as you took more and more of him in.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, holding your hips, “so fucking tight for me.”

When he was all the way inside you, you paused to breathe, resting your head on his shoulder. You had a good close-up view of the tattoo on his neck, and you remembered how you had wanted to mark him up. You kissed along the lines of his ink, then traced the design with your tongue, sucking here and there to see if the marks would show up. He groaned as you worked, his cock twitching inside you, and soon enough it encouraged you to move, grinding your hips against him.

“Fuck, baby, that feels good,” he moaned, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. You increased your pace, snapping your hips and varying the angle until you found the perfect one, and you cried out as his tip hit your sweet spot. He took your cue, thrusting upwards into you as you rode him, your combined action sending you hurtling towards your second orgasm of the day.

“I’m gonna come!” you warned, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face there.

“Give it to me, baby,” he growled, reaching between you and thumbing your clit vigorously. You came with a muffled scream, your face still buried in his neck, your entire body convulsing as your pussy throbbed. He kept going, controlling the pace now, his thrusts never faltering. He lifted your shirt over your head and unhooked your bra, pulling you back so he could look at you. With appreciative eyes he looked you over, smirking slightly even as he pumped into you.

“So fucking sexy,” he mused, eyes roaming over your curves. You bit your lip as he watched you, arousal once again building in your core. He saw it in your face, your mouth parting slightly and eyes widening, so he bucked harder and faster, watching your face the entire time.

“That’s it,” he said, reaching up to tweak your nipples, “give me another one.”

His eyes never left your face as you reached your climax, watching you with lust in his gaze. He didn’t give you a chance to recover, flipping you onto your back on the couch and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, baby, you drive me crazy,” he grunted, driving deeper into you, still watching your face with hooded eyes. “So fucking sexy, so good for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, falling apart at his praise, and his cock hitting so deeply. “Oh my god, Jae, oh my god,” you panted, you didn’t think you had it in you anymore, but you felt yourself coming again, this one threatening to be a big one.

“That’s a good girl, I know you got another one for me,” he bent down and sucked a nipple into his mouth, all the while keeping his eyes on your face, not wanting to miss a single second of the look on your face as you came.

“Oh fuck! Jae!” you screamed as you came, your limbs shaking as your orgasm reverberated throughout your body. He grunted as he started to come inside you, before he pulled out and pumped the rest of his cum all over your pussy and stomach.

“Another mess,” he smirked at you, sitting back on his heels to admire his work. You just lay there, exhausted and unable to move, but he had to admit, the way you looked so fucked out was really attractive to him. Reaching over to a nearby shelf he pulled out a fresh towel and started to wipe you up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and finish that tattoo.”

[walkitoffsoldier]

One by One (S.R.)

Author's Note: Um.. Hi- I know I said months ago I was gonna work on this after I had posted the prologue and I did! Half of this was already wrote I just never finished it until today- Sorry about that lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy! DO NOT post my works anywhere else, translated or otherwise!

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, kidnapping, murder, etc., glowing eyes (part of readers powers), mention of use of powers, angsttttt.

Characters: Steve Rogers - Mentioned; Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Erik Lehnsherr

series masterlist // marvel masterlist // main masterlist

You had somehow managed to drag the two-hundred pound, six-foot something super soldier from the car to the cell in the place you once called home but what was now just a painful reminder. You sat in a chair outside of his cell, leaning back with your legs propped up on a milk crate as you waited for him to wake up. This was America’s Golden Boy after all, and you knew it wouldn't be long before someone came looking for him.

He eventually started to stir awake making you sit up, leaning your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands as you watched him. He rubbed his forehead where a bruise and a knot were forming, blinking a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light before he looked at you through the glass of the cell.

“Hey, it’s you...” He said, sitting up from the floor and staring at you. You only smirked back at him, returning to your original position in the chair. “Yeah, it’s me.” You told him and he just continued to stare at you. “Are you going to stare at me all day or are you gonna ask me why I kidnapped you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Realization seemed to hit him with your words as he sat up more fully, leaning his back against the wall. “Um... Why'd you kidnap me?” He asked. Did he really have no idea who you were? “I want revenge.” You spoke, standing up and walking towards the cell with your arms crossed. “Revenge on who?” He asked as he stood up and walked closer to where the glass separated the two of you.

“On you. Your team. Shield.” You spat out, both hands clenched into fists, one at your side as the other came up to rest on the glass. “Why?” He asked, stepping closer to the glass to observe you farther. “Because they, you, killed my family.” You stated, walking back over to your chair and sitting down. Well, the people you considered family.

Truth was you had been adopted by a pretty loving family when you were still a baby, no one knew where you came from just that you had been dropped off at the door of an orphanage. Once you turned 13 and your powers started to show, your so-called loving parents were mortified and kicked you, a lonely, confused and apparently mutant 13-year-old out onto the streets.

A man named Erik found you, taking you in and raising you as one of his own. He taught you how to use your powers and made you feel less like an outcast and more like the powerful woman you are today. The powerful woman he raised you to be. But unfortunately, he ran an anti-human mutant group called the Brotherhood which put him on Shield and the Avengers radar.

You had been out the day the Avengers attacked the place in which you stayed. You were so confused when you got back and no one was there until you seen it on the news. “THE AVENGERS HAVE OFFICALLY CAPTURED EVERY MEMBER OF THE BROTHERHOOD.” All but one, you had thought.

You knew there was no way any of your little family would allow themselves to be captured, not without leaving you some kind of message first. They had to all have died during the fight. The thought made you fall to your knees, flames coming out around you as you sobbed, punching the hardwood floor underneath you until your knuckles were bloody and bruised. You made a vow that day that you would avenge your family, even if it killed you.

“Who was your family?” His voice broke you from your thoughts. You whipped your head up to look at him through the glass, jaw clenched tightly as you gestured around the room. “What, you don’t recognize this place?” You asked him. He looked around then, the memories seeming to come back to him before he turned back to look at you.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about your family but they were killing innocent humans. We had to do something.” He stated simply. You rose so quickly from your chair that it toppled over, slamming your fist onto the glass of the cell. “SOME OF THEM WERE INNOCENT!” You screamed angrily at him, eyes beginning to glow a bright ember color as you felt yourself losing control of your emotions.

You had to calm down before your body temperature got too high. Steve stepped back at bit from the glass at your outburst. You sighed loudly and stepped away from the glass, going to lean against the wall on the other side of the room, the coolness of it helping to calm you down a bit.

“Some of them were innocent.” You repeated yourself, looking up to meet his ocean blue eyes. “But I guess that wasn’t something you were worried about when you came here and killed them all.” You let out a laugh as you shook your head at the blonde man. The media always made the Avengers out to be the good guys, ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’, what a bunch of bullshit, you thought.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I really didn’t know...” He said, sitting on the cot that when in his cell. “Of course you didn’t, because you don’t care. You all get an order from your higher ups and go in without even questioning their so-called facts.” You told him, moving away from the wall to pick up the chair that had fallen over, turning it around so you could sit on it backwards.

“Had some of the people that lived here done 'bad' things, yes, but haven’t we all?” You asked the super soldier, making quotations with your fingers when you said bad, cocking your head to the side. It was more of a rhetorical question. You knew he knew that, and that’s why he didn’t say anything.

He just looked at you through the glass of the cell. “I think you and your team have been blurring the lines between what is considered good and bad for a very long time.” You told him simply.  “Now...” You clicked your tongue after a few minutes passed by, standing off the chair and walking towards the glass of his cell once more.

“You’re going to sit in there and be a good little soldier until your team inevitably comes to find you.” You spoke, distance closing between you and his cell with each word until you were directly in front of the glass. Your eyes shone their bright ember shade as you looked at the man in the cell with a wicked grin on your face. “And then you’re gonna watch me kill them all. One. By. One.”

**Steve’s POV**

“One. By. One.” Her words echoed around in my mind but all I could do was stare at her as she walked away from me. I knew that someone would come looking for me as soon as I didn’t show up at the Tower in the morning. Hell, Sam would be suspicious once I didn’t show up for our early morning run.

I had to find a way to warn them, let them know I’m okay and give them all the information I have. I don’t know what this woman is fully capable of just yet, but I have hope they can find out. Then at least they can be prepared before they charge in to rescue me. I knew from her words that she wasn’t going to kill me, not yet at least.

If she wanted to, she already would have and that I knew for a fact. That gave me, and my friends, some time to come up with a plan of action. I just had to find a way to contact them... I heard the door to the house close letting me know she had left. I waited a couple of minutes before I started slamming my fist into the glass cell.

It was incredibly strong, but it slowly started to crack, my knuckles and the glass starting to tint red with blood. I kept alternating fists, pausing every few minutes to listen to see if she was coming back before I resumed. The glass wall eventually shattered around me in thousands of tiny pieces as I put my arms up to protect my face. I carefully stepped over what was left of the glass wall and walked towards the exit.

As I walked down the hallways, I realized that yes, I could break out of my cell, something I wasn’t sure if my captor was aware of or not, but there was no way I was getting out of the building. The entire thing was protected from the inside out with things I couldn’t even begin to understand, mostly technology.

I stepped out into the main part of the house, which was just a large living space and kitchen. Though I wasn’t too focused on my surroundings as the only thought on my mind was needing to warn my friends. I began looking all around for a way of communication, checking every cabinet, drawer and surface I could find.

I finally managed to find an old bright red landline phone in one of the kitchen cabinets and silently thanked god that it was still plugged in. I listened again to make sure that I couldn’t hear her coming back before I started dialing Tony’s number. “Pick up, pick up, pick up...” I mumbled out to myself as I listened to the ringing tone. After a few more rings I finally heard the click of the phone being answered and a groggy, “Who is this?” over the line.

I let out a breath of relief before I went to answer him, but that breath had been in vain because I was suddenly surrounded by warmth, as if a fireplace was right behind me. Shit... “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” She hissed from behind me. “Hello? Anyone there?” I heard from the phone before it was snatched from my hand, I turned around quickly to look at her just as she melted the phone into liquid. I watched as the bright red melted plastic trickled out of her hand and onto the floor below us, her glowing ember eyes never leaving my face.

Once the phone was gone and her eyes back to normal, she spoke again, her eyes drifting to my bloody knuckles. "It seems I underestimated you, handsome." She confessed with a quiet hum, a small smirk on her face. "That's okay, we live and we learn. Looks like I'm just gonna have to move you to a stronger cell." She stated with a shrug of her shoulders as she grabbed a dish towel and wiped the remaining melted bright red plastic from her hand.

I took this as my chance to speak up to try and hopefully diffuse the situation, perhaps reason with her. “I understand that you are upset about your family, and I am really, truly sorry but killing me and my team? That isn’t going to bring them back.” I told her, trying whatever I could to calm the situation down. I just had to find whatever good was left in her and reason with it.

She didn’t seem at all like the other members of the Brotherhood I had come across. “I know it’s not going to bring them back. And that’s on you, that blood is on your hands.” She retorted angrily, pointing an accusing finger at me. “And that’s why I’m not going to kill you. Death would be merciful compared to what I am going to do to you, Captain.” She spat out.

Her eyes started to glow ember again as she stepped closer to me. I stood my ground and didn’t move, fully prepared for whatever she was going to do to me. She stopped when we were practically chest to chest, and she looked up at me with flames in her eyes and a deathly serious expression on her face. “Like I told you, when your team comes for you, I’m going to kill them in front of you, one by one, slowly, painfully, until there is no one left. And then...”

She smiled sweetly at me, bringing her hand up to move some of my hair out of my face and even though I could see pure hatred for me in her eyes I still flushed pink at the ‘affectionate’ action. The same hand that had moved my hair out of my face came to rest on my chest before she spoke again. “I’m going to let you go.”