#ALSO HIGHLY AWARE THAT HES ONLY SUPPOSED TO HAVE THREE FINGERS

[slimey-wallz]

Gr💕vy

I just found out that there's a such thing as a swedish fish mojito, like what?? 😭💕

Actually it's really cute, especially the little Nerds

It's like a kids adult beverage

IM ADORING IT!!! YES!!

Heres the AMAZING creator of the AU!

💗💕@jazzzzzzhands 💕💗

[jsprnt]

meeting your boyfriend’s parents

arda güler x turkish! reader

A/N: based on this request, thank uu 🤍 my first arda fic!!

W/C: 2.175 (yes, I got ahead of myself)

"is this too much?"

you ask yourself, thoroughly examining your outfit in the mirror. you run your hands down the soft fabric, grunting in indecisiveness.

turning around, you're greeted by a huge pile of clothes on your bed. a combination of dresses, jeans and shirts crumpled up from the way you'd thrown them behind you, after trying them on.

jeans with a sweater, too hot.

a pair of trousers with a blouse, too formal.

a skirt with a cropped top, too much skin showing for a first meeting with your boyfriend's parents.

the weather was becoming warmer these days, so you also had to keep the fabric and thickness of the clothes in mind.

"fuck this.." you mumble, sitting on your bed, the clothes barely allowing you to see you pink bedding. you lay down, the clothes becoming your soft pillow, apart from the buttons on the items, digging into your neck and the back of your head.

you and arda have been together for a few months now. you had gotten acquainted with him through mutual friends when he had just transferred to real madrid.

at first, you were a little nervous, meeting new people was exactly your thing. though, your friends had convinced you to meet him, only due to the shared background you both had.

since arda was born, he'd never lived anywhere else other than türkiye. born and raised partially in the capital, ankara. only to move to istanbul to play at his childhood dream club, fenerbahçe.

the years had gone by fast, and when a huge opportunity came, he finally decided it was time for him to leave and move onto one of the biggest clubs in the world.

you had met arda at a small gathering, specifically a surprise birthday party you attend for one of your close friends. 

the night was full of fun games, karaoke, and the best of all the multiple 'halay' dance routines.

you'd found arda to be a very sweet person, the second you met him. the way he so gently shook your hand, and gave you the prettiest smile you'd ever seen on a boy, had you mesmerized instantly.

obviously, you knew who he was before you met him. it was unavoidable to not know who 'arda güler' was, especially as a turkish person.

growing up around adults who watched and played football religiously, you were definitely aware of the debate.

which football club is türkiye's biggest and best?

was it the 'lion's', galatasaray, who had won the league last year? or was it the 'yellow canaries', fenerbahçe, who were first on the 'Süper Lig's all-time table'?

some would even nominate the 'black eagles', beşiktaş as candidates.

since all three of these clubs are based in the eurasian city of istanbul, derbys were an absolute show every time.

the excitement, the nerves, the turkish anger issues revealing themselves when someone gets fouled, or the thrill of seeing players of the opposite team fight each other, after a highly emotional match at full-time.

to see arda right in front of you, after seeing him on tv all the time was incredibly weird. but, you got used to it fairly quickly after seeing how humble and kind he was to everyone around him, whether he knew them or not..

you rub your nose with your fingers, eyes itching from the amount of dust in your room. you pause your movements for a second, sniffing softly and looking at the sun shining through your window.

the combined actions finally allow you to sneeze, and you don't waste time before you stand up to and go open your windows.

you were supposed to be picked up in an hour, so you had to hurry up and choose something to wear.

you had already texted your friends asking for advice on how you should dress. it didn't help much though, because whatever they said you should wear, you'd change your mind about it last minute. finding an issue with the clothing items, and then having to chuck more clothes on your bed as you rummaged through your closet.

your mind becomes busy with getting distracted by the beautiful weather outside, and the neighborhood children playing and laughing together.

though, you immediately whip your head around when your phone goes off. processing and realizing the ringtone, the one you had specifically set for arda, you walk over.

you sigh in irritation as you look around for your phone, finally catching a glimpse of the white case, from underneath a single black sock.

you're entire demeanor shifts when you read the caller id, smiling to yourself when you pick up. propping the phone in position, against the alarm clock on your nightstand, so he can see you properly.

"aşkım?" (my love) he says, the sweet nickname falling off his lips. his phone incredibly close to his face, as he shifts and moves, from what you can see, his car.

"arda, why did you call?" you question, grinning when you can finally see his full face. he moves his arm, playing with his hair as he smiles back.

"just finished training, showered and I'm coming over right now.."

"right now?" you panic, pointing downwards with your finger to confirm. "right now? but I'm not ready yet- and you said be ready by 5:45.." you blurt, already getting up to your feet, eyes flickering around the room as you forget he's on the phone for a moment.

"hey, calm down.. we have a lot of time, I just thought I'd come over since I know you're nervous.."

you look back at the screen, brows furrowing in confusion.

"that’s very sweet, but you just gave me a heart attack.."

"I'm almost at your place, canım. (my life) don't worry.."

you nod back, your heart calming down slowly.

"I don't know what to wear.." you say, running a hand over your face.

"I'll help you, I'll be over in a minute.."

"okay.." you mumble, waving quickly before telling him you'll hang up and wait until he arrives.

your thoughts are interrupted by an annoying yell and then a scoff.

"y/n! the footballer is here!"

you chuckle at your brother's voice, it's undeniably funny how much he liked galatasaray. even though arda had almost transferred to real madrid months ago, from fenerbahçe, your younger brother had vowed not to like him ever since he heard about you two.

well, he did cave when you asked him if he'd come along to some real madrid matches..

"I'm coming.." you shout back, jumping when you come across your brother. he scoffs at you, hurriedly stomping up the stairs to probably bother your older brother.

"arda?" you question, smiling when you notice him in the living room. he looks up immediately, walking up to bring you into a tight hug.

"I've missed you, tatlım.." (my sweetie) he whispers against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

you look at him, grinning from ear to ear. you hadn't seen him since he had left for an important match in a different country, so it was practically your catch up dinner too.

"I missed you too.." you reply, planting a kiss to his cheek. without waiting for him to say anything else, you drag him towards your bedroom, showing him the disaster.

"did a tornado visit your room, and should I be concerned?" he asks, squinting at the pile of clothes.

"I don't know what to wear.." you groan, throwing yourself onto your bed.

you watch arda walk closer, his hands reaching out to grab a slightly wrinkled floral blue dress.

"this one." he firmly states, turning around to grab a pair of white kitten heels from your shoe rack.

"and this.." he says, presenting the two items like a football shirt.

muscle memory, you guess.

you sit up, fixing your posture as you analyze the combination.

"that's not too much?" you ask, getting some hope.

"what do you mean? this is perfect, my parents would love it.."

he watches your unsure expression, placing the dress on your bed and the shoes on the floor.

"try it on for me, okay?" he asks, nudging your chin up, so he can look you in the eyes.

"I'll wait for you in the living room, maybe b/n will join me.."

minutes pass, and you've pulled the dress on successfully. fidgeting with the fabric, you smile, starting to feel satisfied. already thinking of what jewelry and other accessories you'll style the dress with.

hurrying up, you walk into the living room, surprised when you can actually see both your brothers sitting with your boyfriend. and it didn't look like either of them had said anything crazy to arda.

they looked, strangely happy and relaxed..

"what do you think?" you ask, raising your brows at the three boys.

you're bombarded by compliments, and almost gawk as your older brother calls you 'pretty'.

had arda replaced him with other person while you were getting dressed?

without much more thinking, you run back to your room. pulling on the rest of your accessories and fixing your appearance.

"I'm more scared of meeting your sister, than meeting your parents.." you confess, playing with the ring on arda's finger, looking up at where the driver is taking you.

"my sister's not going to kill you.." he chuckles, looking down at your intertwined fingers.

"still.."

you've heard the horror stories. girl's meeting their 'sister-in-law', only to find out how incredibly mean and protective they are about their younger brother.

deep inside, you knew his sister would be nice. he'd told you so many times about her wish of wanting to meet you.

it was just scary to meet three new people at once. especially those closest to your boyfriend. you had to get along, no questions asked.

you fidget with the bouquet of flowers in your hand. other hand intertwined with arda's, as you waited for his family to open the front door.

"hoşgeldiniz.." hearing the welcoming greeting in turkish you immediately tense up. arda seems to notice, looking at you and squeezing your hand reassuringly, before you step in.

you try to smile when you make eye contact with his mother, her loving arms coming to wrap around you. you greet each other with two, traditional kisses on each cheek, the worries in your heart slowly melting away.

you hand the flowers to her, and watch as the smile on her grow, an exact replica of your boyfriend’s smile..

you watch as arda hands his sister the gift bag in his hand, a kilogram of baklava.

you almost drool at the thought of having the dessert with a cup of turkish tea, but stop yourself before you get ahead of yourself.

it doesn't take long before you're all seated at the dinner table. having greeted all three of his family members with a lot of affection.

the atmosphere was friendly, warmer than you had dreamt of. but, you should've expected it, especially with how loving and caring your boyfriend is.

you admire all the different types of food prepared for dinner. eyes catching on the 'manti' you, oh-so- loved. you could describe them as little dumplings, instead of soup they were mixed in with yogurt, a sauce of tomato paste, and a lot of spices.

with how small they looked, you could guess it took a long time to make. not to forget, the other types of food. 'mercimek soup', 'olive-leaf sarma', and a colorful 'çoban' salad to refresh your palate.

you almost drooled at just the sight of the delicious array of food, and the way it tasted was a million times better.

"so, what city are your parents from?" arda's dad asks, the insanely predictable question every uncle asks when they notice you're turkish. only to magically always know your dad in some way or another.

"my mother is from c/n, and my father is from c/n.." you answer, making sure you answer with the perfect pronunciation.

"oh, back when I was younger- around arda’s age. I worked in c/n. we had worked hard for our bread and butter, sending money to the family was the most important thing back then.."

and without noticing, you'd passed the 'meeting my boyfriend's family test'.

only, because everyone at the table started complaining loudly, comfortable enough with you, already- to act like that. indicating they had all heard the story he was going to tell, a million times before.

you chuckle, smile pulling on your lips, as you feel arda's hand slip onto yours. his palm resting on the back of your hand, as he pats it reassuringly.

you glance at your boyfriend, his boxy smile showing, as he calms you down.

"don't listen to him, or he'll talk your ear off, y/n. let's talk about something else.." his sister chimes in, leaning forward to ask you something to save you from the talk.

this could definitely become something you could get used to..

[neiptune]

the pull of you

cw: 1.7k wc, female reader, NSFW, highly suggestive, hinata is your closest friend natsu's younger brother, on a night out you end up learning he grew up to become ever the charismatic flirt who's always kinda had a thing for you :)

The first time you see Hinata Shoyo again, you’re both older but he’s much different.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about him ever after high school. His bright, juvenile presence came to mind whenever you’d text or meet up with your best friend, the memory of the afternoons spent in the room adjacent to his still so dear to your heart. Natsu, ever so proud of her little brother, never missed a chance to update you on his life either. The adventure in Rio and beach volleyball, all the efforts put in understanding an entirely new, different version of the sport he’s always loved. How he accepted a part-time job as a delivery guy, tried his best to learn a difficult foreign language, all while trying to juggle homesickness, inexperience, a distant roommate and a shift in his reality that almost made him drop everything and book a flight back to Japan.

But then Shoyo adapted, just like you and Natsu guessed he would. Because it’s what Shoyo did. And now he shines bright for Tokyo, Japan, the entire world to see.

When your best friend demanded you’d be ready as she was going to bring a surprise, you never would’ve guessed her little brother was going to be it. Last time you saw him, he was a 5’4 teenage boy jumping around with nothing but volleyball on the brain. While apparently his height hasn’t exponentially grown, everything else sure as hell did.

The rounded table is far too little for three people to be sitting around it and while this was supposed to be a regular friday night out with Natsu (drinks on her), it’s turning out to be something completely different.

Hinata is sitting close enough for his knees to be touching yours and at every subtle bump you can’t help but think of how hard and thick the legs wrapped in those dark jeans seemed right before he sat down. Everything else you don’t really have to imagine, it’s pretty much laid out for your eyes to see: his shoulders look scandalously strong in a plain t-shirt, chest oh so wide, swollen biceps and muscles all over that keep bulging and swelling at each subtle movement. And then there’s his smile, a charming grin or one barely outlined crescent, filled with beaming confidence and dangerously flirty.

Because he is flirting.

Eyes shamelessly fixed on you as the conversation between you two just flows. And Natsu doesn’t seem to be the least bit worried about her annoying little brother (who used to also kinda be your annoying little brother) being so interested in asking you questions and ignoring whatever gossip she has about her perfect boyfriend.

“I’m just sayin’” Natsu sways in her seat a little, cheeks pink and a few tangerine strands escaping her bun only to stick to her forehead “the secret to a healthy relationship is communication. And great sex”

“Natsu” you gracefully push a glass of water toward her but it gets brutally ignored as she takes another sip of her drink “may I remind you that your little brother is literally sitting here? He can hear you”

“We talk about everything” he shrugs “I always know every disgusting detail in sickening accuracy”

Your friend giggles. “True. And I do too. You see” she winks at you “he’s not so little anymore, is he? How’s your girlfriend, Sho? The one we could hear”

“Jesus, I’m not drunk enough for this conversation” you bring the beer to your lips and take a generous swig, condensation cool against the pads of your fingers.

“We broke up” for some reason, he’s looking at you as he replies and relaxes back into his chair.

“Aw, what a shame” Natsu’s cheerful tone doesn’t quite match her pout “that makes two of you”

“Thanks a lot” you grimace. So much for the confidentiality of the secret shared a few days back, one not even your own mother is yet aware of. It's your fault for letting her drink, really: the years spent with her in college clearly haven’t been a fruitful lesson.

“Nothing to be ashamed of” she clicks her tongue in disapproval “he was an idiot. Who the fuck refuses to…”

“Don’t”

“… pleasure their girlfriend?”

“Oof” Hinata tries to drown the chuckle into his own bottle “that’s why you broke up with him? Fair game”

“Since apparently we’re sharing everything” you sigh, exasperated “he broke up with me”

“Asshole” Natsu shakes her head in disbelief “you were together for so long, too. High school sweethearts. Remember him, Sho?”

“Ah, yeah” he cocks his head a little “Sasaki, was it? Wouldn’t have guessed it went on, that guy never seemed to be a great match for you”

“Man, you used to hate him” Natsu mischievously hides her chuckle behind her hand when she turns to look at you to whisper “Shoyo had such a devastating crush on you!”

“Natsu!” he groans and this time you’re not the only flustered one at the table, as crimson blossoms on his cheeks you finally get a glimpse of the Hinata you remembered. You offer a lenient smile.

“I knew”

His eyes are on you in a second, lips parted and brows knit in surprise “what? Really?”

“Yes, Shoyo” it feels good to utter his name somehow, it weighs comforting and familiar on your tongue “you weren’t exactly great at hiding whatever was on your mind back then”

“Still bad at that” there’s something in the way he says it, in the way he holds you level in his serious stare that makes you all too aware of his knees still warmly pressing to yours. God, he’s attractive. And the worst part is that he clearly knows.

“I need to go to the bathroom” Natsu interrupts the brief staring contest between you two “please keep an eye on my drink” she rises from her seat, a little unstable. You reach out to support her by the elbow.

“Let’s go together, I can-”

“I need you to keep that safe” she indicates her half empty glass “he’s already thinking of stealing my drink, I can feel it” Natsu narrows her eyes at her brother and he raises his hands in defense, amused. You sigh as you watch her stumble toward the back of the pub, where the bathroom is.

“I never understand if I need more alcohol or less, whenever I go out with her” Hinata’s good natured comment makes you chuckle.

“You could’ve spared yourself the agony, tonight. I’m used to it by now” you absentmindedly drum your fingers on the side of the empty bottle you’re still holding.

“I’m glad I came” he takes a sip from his own beer “I haven’t seen you in so long. You haven’t changed”

You scrunch your nose at that. “Really? I was a teenager the last time you saw me”

“Yeah” Shoyo agrees with a little smile as he quietly takes your features in, gaze lingering on your lips as he replies “you’re still just as beautiful. Always wasting your time on people who should be thanking their lucky star you’ve as little as glanced in their direction”

There’s no reasonable way to explain the shudder that runs down your spine, the tense sensation tugging at your stomach when you lean closer to him over the table.

“And you grew up to be such a charmer” the smile you toss at him is incredulous and maybe a little teasing. As if he was waiting for that, Hinata bites and leans closer in turn.

“What is it that he didn’t want to do?”

You scoff but it’s playful, evokes a smile. “C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just me”

“He never went down on me” your tone is almost challenging, as if you’re daring him to laugh or take the piss.

However, Shoyo remains serious, with only genuine surprise evident in his hazel irises.

“But” he tries to make sense of the absurdity you just shared “he’s the only boyfriend you ever had”

“Correct”

“Does that mean no one has ever…”

“It means exactly that” you shrug, attempting to play off embarrassment as indifference “he thought it was gross. I never asked again”

­In the end, Shoyo does laugh but the sound is unexpected, incredulous more than it is mocking. “Natsu was right. What an absolute loser” he smiles, confident in a way that is ridiculously attractive “some would kill for that opportunity”

You snort out a laugh in an attempt to mask how fast your heart is really beating “I think that’s a little extreme, I don’t know a single man who would kill to-”

“I would” Shoyo tilts his head as he studies your flustered features, imagination already running wild as he asks himself if you’d look the same while straddling his face.

“You don’t mean that”

“Oh, I mean that. I think you know exactly how much I mean that. I’m terrible at hiding what’s on my mind, after all” he gently unclasps your hand from around the beer bottle, places it on the table and turns the palm upwards, thumb tracing lazy figures on your wrist “I’ll tell you, if you want to know”

He’s not hesitating, only granting you a way out of the conversation. But do you want a way out? No one’s ever looked at you like that, with fierce determination burning behind warm, genuine affection. You know Hinata, he’s never been a liar and you doubt he’s grown to be one.

“I want to know” you find yourself murmuring, entranced by a stare that holds you hostage in the best way. He smiles, rough thumb applying the slightest pressure to your skin as it moves in circles.

“I’d first have you on my knees and against the wall. I’d want to see you, find out what makes your legs give out the quickest. I’m afraid that’s all the patience you’d get from me” his other hand sneaks beneath the table and closes around your knee, wide and warm “I’d turn you around, eat you out from behind until you can’t stand anymore, until I’d have to carry you to my bed and have you sit on my face to take what you need from me. I could go all night, have you cream on my tongue, on my face, over and over again. I’d make up for all the years you spent with that jerk, in one single night” and then maybe you’d never want to leave, he mentally adds. “I know you’d want that too” he says instead, mischievous glint in his eyes. Your mouth feels so dry.

“What makes you think that?” surprisingly, you manage to string five words together. Hinata smiles and he looks as beautiful as ever underneath the golden, dim lights of the pub.

“I can feel how hard you’re clenching your legs right now”

[dixons-sunshine]

Yielding Isn't My Middle Name—Chapter Three | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: Your suspicions regarding the community you were trapped in only heightened with each passing second. Daryl was mad at you, and you had confirmation that you were pregnant. Things couldn't get worse, could it?

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, blood and injuries.

Word count: 2.7k.

A/n: I feel like this is all over the place, plot-wise. However, another chapter was highly requested (by a few anons asking about it), so I stuck it out and this was born. I also feel like it ends on an awkward note, but I wanted to end it on a cliffhanger. I don't know if I did it right lol. Anyways, I hope you like this!

Taglist: @dixons-girl89 @jupiter1700 @enlightndone @shadowcitrine @ddamm @caseylicious @celtic-crossbow

“Alright, then.” Doctor Owen Miller tightly secured the bandage around Daryl's wrist. “The bandages should be able to come off in two to three days. The rope burns weren't that severe. You can feel really lucky about that.”

The doctor's suspiciously friendly voice barely reached the archer's ears. His ocean coloured eyes stared off at nothing in particular, his mind desperately attempting to wrap around that one pivotal fact the doctor had accidentally exposed to the unsuspecting father. Due to that fact, about a million thoughts were flooding through his brain—pregnant. You're pregnant. Baby. Father. He was going to be a father. He needed to get you out of there. He needed to keep you safe.

“Liam should be made aware that I expect to see the lady again tomorrow,” Doctor Owen told Mariah, subtly motioning over to you. “With the beating Peter gave her, I want to monitor the baby. I want to ensure that these two don't lose their child due to that asshole's—” The doctor cut himself off and took a deep breath before continuing. “Peter's recklessness. Please bring that to his attention.” With that, the doctor walked towards the door and opened it, momentarily stopping to add one last thing. “I'm off for the rest of day. Don't forget to lock up once your done.”

Mariah nodded as she helped you from the bed, careful not to disturb your injuries. “Of course.” She turned towards you and gave you a hesitant smile. “Ma'am, how are you feeling?”

How were you feeling? There were at least a million answers to that question: Slightly happy. Angry. Sad. Frustrated. But above all else? Overwhelmed. You were truly and undeniably extremely overwhelmed. You now had concrete evidence that you had a life growing within you, and although you were ecstatic at the news, you knew there were far more pressing matters at hand. For one, you were a thousand percent sure that your husband was pissed at you for keeping your pregnancy a secret and insisting on going with him beyond the safety the walls of Alexandria provided. On another note, you were even more certain that the supposed safe zone the two of you found yourselves trapped in wasn't all what Liam was making it out to be. That almost definitely meant that blood would be shed when you and Daryl attempted your escapes.

“Ma'am?” Mariah prompted, snapping her fingers in your face to grab your attention. “How are you feeling?” she repeated the question in a softer tone.

You shrugged and cast your eyes down towards your feet. “Okay, I guess,” you mumbled out weakly, your voice unknowingly snapping Daryl out of his trance and redirecting his fiery gaze to you. “I've had it way worse than this before.”

Mariah chuckled before she took a step back. “I bet,” she began, picking up the tray with the various tools and ointments that were used to clean and fix up your wounds. “You look like a real tough gal. You wouldn't have survived if you didn't get roughed up a couple of times, right?”

“Right,” you agreed in a mutter, your eyes hesitantly moving to meet those of your husband. You flinched a bit when you were met with a glare, but you didn't blame him. You knew he'd be pissed, and rightfully so. You just didn't expect him to be so open about his anger. Well, open by your standards. To the regular eye, his anger would be mistaken for the signature Daryl scowl, but you knew better. This was different. He was angry. And he was angry at you, which made it so much worse.

Mariah placed the tray on one of the tables before turning back to face you and Daryl. However, before she could speak up, a voice could be heard through the room; a voice that you had grown to know and hate, all within a few... Minutes? Hours? You didn't even know at this point.

“Mariah, love,” the voice of your captor, Liam, rung through the air from the walkie talkie that was sat on one of the shelves. “It was just brought to my attention that Doctor Miller is done with the new recruits. Please bring them up to the house for me.”

Mariah sighed, her steadily relaxing demeanour being replaced by that earlier nervous, mouse-like stature she had when you had originally met her. She walked towards the door and opened it. “Please follow me,” she squeaked out nervously, her eyes darting around.

You slowly walked towards her, not sparing Daryl a glance because you didn't want to see the anger behind those beautiful blue eyes of his. Besides, as mad as the archer was at you, he would never let you face that man alone. He would much rather die, that much you knew.

Daryl grumbled to himself and followed behind you, proving your point. Together, in silence, the two of you followed the woman out of the makeshift medical building and up to the big farmhouse you vaguely remembered spotting earlier—the farmhouse Liam had mentioned you and Daryl would be staying in with him. In no time at all, the three of you were walking up the steps of the majestic, white home, and in through the front door.

The inside of the home looked even more beautiful than the outside. It seemed as if though the horrors of the outside world were never heard of for this house. The floors were shining, the walls were decorated with all sorts of artwork, and there was even a television resting in the living room. However, you doubted the object even worked, because you hadn't spotted solar panels or anything that could generate power, so the thing was more of a decoration than anything else.

You were snapped out of your rather unnecessary train of thought by the feeling of someone's hand resting on your shoulder. The touch was all too familiar—it was your husband who was resting his hand on your shoulder. A subtle glance to your left proved your suspicions correct. So your husband didn't hate you. You considered that a win. However, you were confused as to why he felt the need to do that. He rarely did that in public, unless he was trying to comfort you, or to refrain himself from launching a punch in someone's direction. So why would he—

Your thoughts were cut off by the obnoxious sound of an all too familiar British accented voice. “Ah, well would you look at you?” Liam began as he descended down the stairs, his green eyes alight with invitation. However, whether or not it was genuine, you were yet to find out. “You're looking better, Y/N. Doctor Miller did a good job. A shower and a set of fresh clothes will certainly make you look rather ravishing.” Daryl's hand tightened on your shoulder, and you brought your hand to rest over his, a subtle way of trying to calm him down. Liam noticed, however, and sent Daryl a reassuring smile with a raise of his hands. “Woah, there, champ. No need to get all feisty. I already have a lady of my own. I was just making an observation.”

“Observation, my ass. Shouldn't even be lookin' at her, ya stupid fuck,” you heard Daryl mumble under his breath, and you had to refrain from giggling. Daryl wasn't a jealous guy perse, and he certainly wouldn't stop you from befriending other guys, but he definitely had his moments. Although he had other reasons to want to knock this guy out, it was rather cute to know that he didn't want Liam to look at you that way.

Liam, thankfully, was blissfully unaware of the archer's hateful words, instead turning to regard Mariah, who had been quiet during the whole exchange. “Hey, my beautiful girl,” he greeted her, opening his arms as an invitation for a hug.

Mariah hesitantly walked into his arms, tensing slightly when he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head. You were sure to make a mental note about that. You didn't know why exactly Mariah was so scared of her husband, but you knew it wasn't good. If his own wife was terrified of him for god knows what reason, you didn't even want to know what he could do to complete strangers.

After he was satisfied with the hug, Liam pulled back and turned back to you and Daryl. He was about to say something until an unknown man barged into the room, breathless and sweating. Liam scowled angrily at the man, swiftly pushing Mariah aside. “Reggie, this better be really fucking important. You know how I feel about being interrupted when interviewing new recruits.”

The man—Reggie—quickly nodded. “I know, I know.” He panted breathlessly and leaned against the wall in an attempt to recapture his breath. “There was a man who demanded to speak to you. He refuses to speak to anyone but the leader.”

Liam stared at Reggie for a few seconds, his face giving absolutely nothing away, until he nodded and turned back to you and Daryl. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I promise I won't be long. Mariah,” he began, turning to his wife and lazily waving towards the door that lead to another room. “Please make our guests something to eat. I'm sure they must be absolutely famished. Oh, and get them something to drink as well.” Liam sent the two of you a smile. “I hope wine is alright. I'd offer up some scotch, but that's really hard to come by and I don't fancy wine that much, you see.”

“Liam!” Reggie exclaimed impatiently. “We got to go!”

“For fuck's sake, alright!” Liam roared loudly, his eyes alight with a fiery glare. He roughly pushed past the man and stormed out of the door, Reggie having to jog behind him to keep up. The door closed behind them with a slam, and just like that, you and Daryl were left alone with Mariah for the second time that day.

Mariah let out a small sigh, and you could see her visibly relax without Liam's presence. It was odd to you that the woman felt more at ease with two complete strangers who could turn around and end up hurting—or killing—her, and it only fueled your reluctance to trust Liam. There was something very off about that man, and you were determined to find out what.

Mariah turned to look at you, her eyes darting between your face and your stomach. “Um, are you sure you want wine? I mean, I don't want to force you to do anything, but—”

“It's okay,” you cut her off, sending her a small, tight-lipped smile. “Water is fine, thank you.”

Mariah nodded and motioned towards the couches. “Please, feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I won't be long.” With that, she scurried off into the kitchen, leaving you and Daryl alone in the living room.

Without the company of others, the air surrounding the two of you got tense very quickly. Neither of you made a move to sit down, but Daryl did move away from you, his warm, comforting touch leaving your shoulder. He refused to make eye contact with you, and it broke your heart. You knew he was mad at you, and he had every right to be, but it certainly didn't mean that it didn't hurt. You were certain it would be up to you to clear the air, and that's what you'd do—whether Mariah heard it or not.

“Daryl—” you began hesitantly, but you were instantly shut down.

“Don't,” he muttered bitterly, his back still turned to you. His shoulders were visibly tensed and even though you couldn't see it, you knew his jaw was as well. He was trying hard not to lash out at you, and you had to give him credit for his self-control.

However, you weren't having any of it. You were nothing if not extremely persistent, so you'd stop at nothing until you'd had a chance to explain yourself. “No, I'm not gonna stop until you've let me speak my mind.”

Daryl whipped around to face you, his eyes finally meeting yours. His eyes were set in a steely glare, but you didn't back down. “Where could ya possibly start explainin' yerself to me?” he spat bitterly. “Yer pregnant and ya kept tha' from me? Ya begged and pleaded to come with me on the run today and put yerself and our baby in danger! Now 'cause'a tha', yer in fuckin' danger. If ya had jus' told me tha' ya were pregnant, maybe things would'a been different. Maybe we would'a been safe back home. Maybe I never would'a suggested the run. Maybe I would'a let Rick come with instead'a ya. Maybe—”

You cut Daryl off by pulling him into a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. He froze for a few seconds, hesitating to return the hug, but ultimately wrapped his arms around you. He rested his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes as he felt the anger drain from his body. He never could stay mad at you. However, it didn't mean that he wasn't still upset that you were in danger.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered against his chest. “I should've told you I was pregnant, I know that. I just didn't want to say anything until I was a hundred percent sure. That's why I wanted to go on that run with you. I wanted to find a few pregnancy test. I guess I could've just asked you to do that, but I didn't want you to freak out. I was... Scared. I was scared that if you knew that I thought I was pregnant, something would go wrong. I don't know what I expected to go wrong, but I just... I promise I was gonna tell you after I knew for sure. You have to believe me. I—”

“Hey, s'okay,” Daryl reassured you, pulling back to look into your eyes. Daryl was feeling all kinds of bad at that moment. You didn't deserve to be treated like that for any reason, especially not by him. You had your reasons for keeping it a secret from him, and he couldn't blame you for it. He was upset, but the two of you could figure that out later. For now, all he wanted to do was get you the hell out of that place, and to do that, he needed a clear mind. “M'sorry fer reactin' like tha'. M'upset ya didn't tell me, but there ain't nothin' we can do 'bout it now. We jus' have to figure out a way to get the fuck outta here. We can figure the rest out later, alrigh'?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you practically sprung apart when the door flung open again. However, instead of being met by Liam, you were met by somebody completely different. The man came strutting in like he owned the place. The man stopped and regarded the two of you with an indifferent look. “And you two are?” he questioned, plopping himself down on one of the couches.

You shared a look with Daryl, neither of you making any attempts to answer the question. However, you didn't need to, because Liam soon entered the home as well, sending you and Daryl a suspiciously friendly smile. “Sorry for disappearing, champs,” he began. “He was the one causing an uproar by the gates. This guy can make quite the spectacle when he wants to, don't you, brother?” The two men shared a laugh, before Liam calmed down and regarded the two of you. A look of realization dawned on his face, and he hit his forehead with his palm. “Oh, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce him. This is Lucas Davis, my brother and right-hand man.”

The man—Lucas—sent you a small smirk, his eyes trailing you up and down. And for some reason, you knew that the arrival of this man would only mean trouble.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[alkalineark]

Captive Curiosity

(A slenderman scp ficlet)

Part 1

She'd never get over the sheer size of him, the long yet stocky build of a predator laying strapped against the steel custom table, mind left to wander aimlessly in an unmovable vessel. She almost felt bad for him, especially when he vocalized his discomfort to her. A long guttural groan that rippled through her own body and made the medical tools clatter gently. She hushed him and ran her delicate fingers over the defined line of his jaw. Staring face to face with the tilted and unresponsive blank head.

"I suppose, if I was in your shoes I wouldn't like this either"

But she wasn't, and she'd never be. It was almost too easy to dehumanize the intelligent individuals here, especially when they were pumped full of sedatives. In SCP-∆∆∆∆'s case, he also got a round of butyrophenones. Highly concentrated antipsychotics to keep him calm. Most of his day on the table consisted of paralysis and sleep, only vaguely aware of what was happening around and to him. The Slenderman, though reluctant, had performed incredibly in all intelligence tests given to him. When marked with powdered sugar he was able to correctly identify his reflection and remove the substance from himself, his problem solving skills? almost unmatched throughout the entire facility, which shown through heavily when given puzzles with and without food reward. He understood cause and effect and to a degree gave yes and no answers. Still.. he never spoke to any of his caretakers. Investigation into his anatomy had shown that he was capable of producing a wide range of sounds, even some that were too low for the human ear to hear, but no speech. It puzzled researchers greatly, in many of the accounts taken in relation to SCP ∆∆∆∆ it states that he had lured young children out from the safety of their parents and the protection of parks to follow him into the nearby forested area. When the surviving children were questioned many had stated that he had spoke to them.

Some could chalk it up to a child's wild and fearful imagination, having experienced a traumatic event but even then it didn't sit well with the woman in front of him.

It was like a dream come true to be able to work with an animal such as this, he could easily be three times her height and weight, His skin was a mesmerizing black, and pleasantly warm to the touch. Her eyes traced the beautiful gradient of color that shifted from that piercing black to illustrious off white only to settle on the fading red marking that ran the length of his torso like that of a tie. It was no sheer coincidence that all the accounts they had of the white king depicted a tall humanoid wearing an elegantly tailored suit. When they had captured him all that time ago his "tie" had been a striking scarlet, like the rest of him it was deep, haunting… rich but now the color had started to fade dramatically without explanation.

A king huh? As nonsensical as it sounded. It was fitting. A king of what though, the king of the forest? perhaps. Such a ruler surely had few subjects.

Before she was even allowed to interact with him in person, she had been permitted to view him though one sided glass. The black sheen hadn't been enough to disrupt his detection of her however, in turn promoting the single instance that fueled her enthusiasm and awe towards the entity. He approached her slowly and deliberately. Each foot fall calculated and sultry. She'd seen how his muscles flexed and how he looked at her for just a second. A meer moment. Allowing her to sketch him in her notes messily before he called out her. The low gutteral noise traveled through the glass, through the ground and traveled through her organs.

He seemed kingly then in that moment, as if her walked with nobility and purpose. The fact that he dedicated that short time to interacting solely with her and made her stomach flutter.

Y/n knew all too well that this particular feeling was well out of line in her line of work and would shake it off as many times as it needed to be in order to continue her work, but still. The being scared her immensely, but there was something else, respect? Maybe.

The memory in her mind had long since fragmented and she knew, no longer held the complete truth, it still made her smile.

She reached for her tools thoughtfully, a pair of shears to relieve the being of his massive claws. His hands, like the rest of him were huge in comparison to hers yet they held the same delicate posture. Sliding the pointed tip into jaws of the clippers, she had to put all her weight into her palms to cut through the tough keratin.

The giant lurched against the table, arching his spine and struggling to keep his position before slumping back down. Startled, the woman let her cheeks puff out before shakily letting the air out again. She ran her hand through her hair before smiling half heartedly "You're so dramatic and for what? Give me that, we need to do the others"

She grabbed his pale hand and continued her work, wondering if it was fine to leave him with the ability to move or if she needed to dose him again. The woman liked to think that after being his primary care taker for so long that they'd have some sort of positive relationship, but the simple fact was that if SCP ∆∆∆∆ were to ever be without a dose that he could tear her apart before anyone could manage to dart him.

it was no secret to why SCP ∆∆∆∆ was not only in class Keter, but also an SCP who was only permitted to be studied and handled by senior researchers. One slip of a hand, one unlocked door and hundreds of lives could be lost.

She had been trained for escapee protocols before, but how did you contain something that could teleport to begin with, let alone recontain it after it's initial escape? Unfortunately for her, the only plan given to the staff should SCP ∆∆∆∆ escape was to try to sedate him, or to sacrifice yourself by running to the back of his enclosure where the monster would hopefully follow. She had not been given information about how he was captured, only assigned him. Instead of adding him to the ever growing list of patients she had already, they reassigned all of her previous studies leaving The Slenderman as her sole priority.

The sound of the metal door to the lab startled her out of her thoughts and left her nearby hand to dart to the chest of the creature and apply pressure as if to stop him from reacting. Eyes bounced between the individual on the table and the vital screen. She watched the steady rhythm of the line jump and let go of her own breath which had left to go stale in her lungs.

"Scared ya didnt I? Don't tell me that thing's got you on edge doctor"

Thomas Metts - was a spirited young fellow who looked rather out of place in the establishment he worked. He was chipper and was the first to offer a beverage or to crack a joke at someone else's expense. In comparison to her tired eyes and slumping form, he stood upright and held the vigor of his early teenage years.

"Honestly" she put down the nail clippers with some force making the metal clatter against her work station. "If you're going to come into work late the least you can do is do it quietly." She watched the young man shrug off his coat and relocate it to his designated cubby hole, finding himself a pair of discardable medical gloves and equipping himself with them.

"Relax, he's all drugged up anyways. It's not like he can startle anyways"

She thought back to the movement moments ago, this wasn't true. He could move, it was just sluggish. A sure sign that whatever work she was doing needed to be brought to a screeching halt and the creature be returned to his quarantine.

"Actually, his meds are wearing off. No thanks to you I wasn't able to get everything done"

The man made a disgruntled face, his features scrunching up as he stuck his tongue out at her childishly.

"My kid kept me up all night screaming, give me some slack. it took every bit of effort to get out of bed."

The woman did not, in fact she had very little sympathy for the man's story especially when it directly interfered with the safety of the situation.

"Yeah yeah, help me get him back before he wakes up and kills us all, oh and just so you know. His dental work and skin samplings are all on you to collect."

Thomas, less than thrilled about the assignment, opened his mouth to argue but closed it thinking better of it.

"It's been here this long and no one has gotten basic DNA samples from the thing?"

The man's lack of basic knowledge of his own job erked her to no end. Her face curled into a sneer as they rolled the table into the elevator, after swiping his ID card Thomas regretted turning around to meet her gaze.

"No, they haven’t, and I can't imagine why. I'm his leading behaviorist, you and your colleagues are scientists. Honestly! I handle his diet, environment not to mention monitoring his psychological health, anything extra I do for your team is generous. I'm not even supposed to make physical contact with him! So technically I just broke protocol by doing the monthly maintenance and screenings that you were too late into work to do yourself!"

The man recoiled, holding his arm in front of his torso and ducking his head down, smiling ever so slightly at the woman's rage.

"Jesus Doc, calm down. I figured you were my boss cause of all the yelling ya do"

"What otta happen is that I report your negligence and have you fired, or at least reassigned to a lower classed oddity."

Thomas grumbled, a worried glint in his eye that told her that he was actually worried about her reporting him. As he should. The silence between the two was palatable and was only broken when their patient started moving in the already crowded elevator. Arching his back and slowly turning his head to the side, looking behind him only to turn and do the same thing opposite.

"He's trying to turn on his belly so he can stand. We need to hurry this up before he realizes fully that we're in here with him, hey, watch the feet watch the feet!"

Thomas rounded towards the opening elevator door only for his shirt to be caught by the dewclaw of the creature’s foot which shot out in a reaching motion, extending his nails. His feet looked ancient, reptilian and at the same time bird-like in nature. With four prominent clawed toes and a dewclaw on each suspended ankle.

The woman rounded the table reached in with both hands and safely unhooked the struggling man. Regarding her patient quickly she grabbed the handle of the table carefully hoping to not catch the business end of his claws and pulled, luckily Thomas followed suit. Rushing him into the machinery that transported him back into his cell before any further consciousness could be achieved.

Both panting, they watched behind tinted reinforced glass as the table disappeared into the mechanism in the floor, leaving SCP ∆∆∆∆ to stumble to his feet and groggily look around.

"Hah, guess we did it just in time, suppose I should give him a couple of hours to break down the medication before I redose him for those samples ay?"

A hardy punch met the man's shoulder, followed soon after by the cry of surprise.

"That could have been bad, why are you taking this so lightly, we could have died Thomas, other people could have died"

"But they didn't. We didn't" the man retorted. "Also, that counts as assault,you know!” still holding his arm, Thomas can't avoid the evil glare his coworker gives him. It makes his gut curl up in anxiety.

"I'll get the samplings done. Thanks for covering for me today"

Hello, it's me, the one writing!

I just wanted to come in here and say, I've been working on this for too long, and... I'm tired of not having some part of it posted. I did have a couple of betas read over this but. Hah... Wouldn't you know it. I didn't edit any of it after. Whoops!

Anyways. I've never actually been involved in the SCP fandom, save for a couple of stories and watching a few playthroughs of the games. I worked with what I knew. Hopefully Tumblr enjoys this.

[ronearoundblindly]

U've been a literal trooper. All the drabbles are so intriguing, I could never. Can you write a fight and makeup for Steve? Since ure the angst queen this won't be in better hands with anyone else. Happy birthday, hope it's not belated yet?

Thank you for the bday wish, and it was not belated when this came in. My answer, however, is belated. Luckily, I think this is about the third- or second-to-last of the drabble asks...which rarely stayed drabbles. This is no different. >_<

Himbo (Warnings for angst, cursing, and not enough editing probably) ~1.3k

“I’m not stupid,” Steve shouts.

“I never said you were,” you push back without turning around at the sink.

“You called me a himbo.”

“It’s a joke, Steve.”

“Not to me, it’s not. Do you know how that makes me feel? I am all too aware that you have three advanced degrees and the last class I passed was in nineteen-thirty-seven. I don’t need to be reminded that you’re better than me.”

“Better than you?!” You finally round on him with a shriek two octaves too high. “You don’t get reminded every day by reporters and fans across the entire planet how lucky you are to be a complete package of cute little details that belongs to someone else. Thank god I got those three fucking degrees of lord knows I wouldn’t even deserve to be talked about much less date you!

“They go on and on about how I’m not good enough for you, but I make one completely and obviously inaccurate joke about you maybe—possibly—minutely not being good enough for me, and it’s call the fucking fire brigade?! Sorry, but welcome to my world, Rogers.”

“Yeah, but I never said those things to you. And you just said that about me in front of my friends.”

“Oh, so Natasha isn’t my friend, too? Good to know.”

“Keeps, you earned all this. You went to school. You built up your abilities and knowledge and all that.” Steve leans against the countertop, staring at the floor. “I just…didn’t die until some other, highly-intelligent, educated doctor came around and made me.”

“Horseshit, pity party.”

Steve doesn’t look up; he just crosses his arms across his chest.

“Well, the serum clearly didn’t make you better with women, so you’ve had to learn all that yourself—keep workin,’ bub. And the serum didn’t teach you military strategy. And it didn’t teach you empathy.” Your tone eases as you approach him. “It also didn’t magnify your sense of humor, so I’m gonna stick with my earlier statement of you are a himbo.”

You slowly approach and tuck your hand around one prominent and tense forearm. You can feel him breathe heavily. “And I love that about you. It’s one of the only things that makes me feel like we’re equals…because I technically stole Cap from the world. People don’t like to think you don’t belong to all of them, Steve, but if—I mean I take comfort in knowing you’re still like lots of men. I don’t feel like such a cheat then.”

“You’re not a cheat,” he moans, moving his hand to take yours.

“And you’re not dumb, Sketch. I shouldn’t have said it like that, but…I get torn down a lot. I don’t like feeling like I’m down here alone while you’re the Golden Boy on a pedestal because then I think…how can someone way up there think much of me.”

He’s soft, brushing his thumb down each of your fingers. “You know it’s not me though. I don’t say that stuff to you. It’s not true.”

“Steve. When was the last time you outright told a journalist they were wrong about me?” You let him think for a long moment. “Never.”

“Tony always advises us not to engage that kind—“

“You don’t openly defend your fiancé, but I’m supposed to grovel after saying a joke, in private, to one of your best friends who agreed with me and who—both of us—love you, as you damn well know?!”

How you got so riled up again, you’re not sure, but it feels like this is a long time coming. You’ve suppressed a lot of anger towards the media since day one of dating Captain America. You never meant to hurt his feeling or hijack his argument, but it just doesn’t feel fair to apologize for one word after being berated by thousands for months.

Steve returns to leaning against the counter. “I’ve been a media prop before. I’m not going to talk about my private life to make them a buck.”

“But they do make a buck, Steve, and they make it by saying I am the prop.” You want to scream, but instead you force the pressure far away so you can get your point across. “That’s not what I care about though. They’re gonna do or say whatever the hell they want. I can’t change that. You can’t change that. Tony is the only one who legitimately might know how, but still…

“I’m sorry. I was wrong to call you that. I didn’t mean to harm you. I meant—“ you hate admitting this is still something you need “—I only meant to build myself up a little. Just shouldn’t have done it by knocking you down, and I am sorry about that, Sketch.”

By this time, you’ve stepped back to the other side of the kitchen, hand waving to and fro to help fling off nervous energy.

Steve still doesn’t get—and has never really understood—how you can be so insecure. He sees you be confident one minute and then experiences your deflation as your energy fades. He’s gotten to know a much wider swath of humanity than most, and he struggles constantly with the right words to explain why you are so special to him.

Because it’s everything about you.

It’s anything about you that teaches him something new or shows him a different perspective or reminds him of the good and joy in life. It’s his most desperate wish that he show you what you mean to him, and with any luck he’ll succeed someday. He still doesn’t know how to do that, and it makes him feel like he never will when you call him that name.

People lash out. They aren’t perfect. You aren’t perfect, and he does know that. Hell, he just lashed out because he’s not perfect. He wants to be in your eyes though. He wants to see a magnificent reflection of himself so that he can believe it, too, and tonight, he saw the opposite. He felt small again, he felt rejected, and the worst part was that he felt rejected by you.

Except he’s learning something in the process. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Steve finally says, reaching for your waist. 

The more he thinks about what you’re saying, the more he recalls his own life in the ‘30s. He would watch girls at the dance hall while Bucky flirted. He saw them sit hopeful and ram-rod straight trying to catch the eye of a fella…but Steve’s now thinking about how so many girls didn’t look around at multiple guys. They focused on one, and when that particular fella didn’t make his way over, when each girl felt rejected, she deflated. She wasn’t really interested in just being nice to everyone who did approach for niceness’ sake. She just wanted to feel seen by the guy she was interested in letting see her.

It’s exactly the same thing he always sought out: the right partner. Steve may not have been as active searching for her, but they were all looking for something real.

No one wants to accept less.

No one wants to be less than what the right partner deserves.

“Call me whatever you want, doll. I can take it.” Steve relish how different it is to be around you versus everyone else. You make him so excited and so nervous and so calm. You’re just right for him, and he hates to think you don’t know that every second of every day. 

“Just please, Keeps, promise me something?”

He waits until you whine a little in acknowledgment.

“Tell me when you feel this way. I’ll talk you right back up to the sky.” He nudges you to raise your head and look at him. “I’ll do that all day…for you.”

And then Steve captures your lips for an oh-so-tender, bone-rattlingly passionate kiss that only a bimbo would mistake for anything short of true love.

[chaoticevilbean]

Another Star Wars AU, TBN*

*To-Be-Named

I love time travel. A lot. So here is a time-travel au, with the CW trio.

Somehow, perhaps by touching a Sith artifact, perhaps by the Force deciding they should, perhaps from some sort of weird ritual the locals were performing that the trio didn't know about, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Anakin, Rex, and Cody travel aback in time.

[Please keep in mind that Canon Timeline has died tragically in a fire, and I am but the weeping widow with an inheritance.]

Due to whatever happened, they all also end up (technically) deaging. They still have their memories and their knowledge and skills, just stuck in smaller bodies. They can think and act like adults, but they also have to struggle a bit more to implement Older Skills in Younger Bodies.

Ahsoka is 2. She's nubby. She's emotional. She's tired and sore from her deaging.

She wakes up in someone's office. She's in a spinny chair, a big one with leather padding. It's kind-of chilly in the room.

She's not thinking, because all her brain is putting together is that she's still tired. She grabs the jacket off the back of the chair and pulls it over herself. She goes back to sleep.

Rex and Cody wake up together.

They are their actual age, which is to say they're both about eleven.

They find themselves on Mandalore. In the more wild areas.

(let me believe that there are parts of the planet that aren't covered in city)

(also, this is the Mandalore in the cartoons)

They find a teen trying to wake them both up. Rex has absolutely no clue what's going on. Cody has a vague idea, because this girl looks very similar to a picture he once saw...

Obi-Wan does not fare as well. He is 3.

He wakes up in someone's arms. He's just as tired and sore as the other three. However, he's also got more awareness because he's in someone's arms.

He looks up to see who's carrying him.

He looks around at the people walking with them.

He starts crying. He cannot help this, as he is suddenly flooded with Emotions, and he is Smol. Smol = harder to handle Emotions.

Because Qui-Gon is walking right next to him, tapping away on a holopad as they go. Dooku is on his other side, on a comm call where both parties sound very tired.

And Obi-Wan is being held... by Obi-Wan.

So, yeah, not that great for a suddenly Smol Obi.

Now, Anakin is 8, so he's better off in that perspective.

But he wakes up on some remote planet without anyone around. He just was in the middle of a group, so he ends up kinda panicking.

Then he hears something coming towards him, and he panics more.

He's Tiny! He's Smol! He's massively at a disadvantage against attacks! He can't fight off whatever is on a planet like this!

It's Mace (and Depa).

Anakin, however, doesn't realize this. He has gone Feral.

Back to the beginning

Jango Fett has been very busy w/Important Mand'alor Paperwork all day. He finally has time to go and relax a little, and he makes it all the way down to the exit before he realizes:

It is really cold outside. He is not in armor bc he was planning to only do paperwork today (though he still has many weapons). When one plans to stay in the same room for almost the entire day, one does not wear normal garb.

That said, he has no protection from the cold. He forgot his jacket upstairs. He rushes back up to his office.

He distinctly remembers that he left the jacket on the back of his chair, not on the seat.

He also is wondering what that lump is.

He arms himself, grabs some of his "emergency" armor plating, and walks over to the chair.

He lifts his jacket up, expecting a bomb or some paperwork that fell off the desk, or something logical.

He does not expect to find a tiny Togruta child clinging onto the fabric, whining as they're woken up by his yanking of the jacket.

Jango's brain stutters for a moment, then he kicks into action.

First things first, he wraps the jacket around the Togruta. They thankfully stay asleep. Then he turns up the heat, because he knows the office has gotten colder in the twenty minutes or so he's been gone, and Togruta are from warm temperate zones.

He decides to call, in this order, a guard who can help him watch the Togruta (they did break in, after all), a medic to check the Togruta’s health, and the first person he can find in his contacts that might know an adult Togruta.

Next group

Rex and Cody manage to get the teen to stop fussing over them for long enough to ask for her name.

Her, clearly lying, but that’s understandable: My name is Ine.

Cody, who knows exactly who this is now: Oh, kriff. You’re Duchess Satine, aren’t you? Kriff.

Rex: Wait, Satine? As in the General’s Satine?

Satine, now very suspicious and reaching for her stunner: I think you need proper medical attention.

Cody, looking down at their eleven-year-old selves: Yeah, I think so, too.

They agree on one thing, at least.

Next

Obi-Wan is crying. Loudly, uncontrollably, w/too many Emotions to even care that he’s supposed to be an adult rn.

Other Obi-Wan is very uncomfortable, bc he doesn’t know how to handle children too well.

They found this kid unconscious in the middle of a ruined, abandoned town.

Obi-Wan was meant to hold this kid while Qui-Gon did research and Master Dooku tried to convince the Council that it was entirely necessary to bring the kid back to Coruscant. Granted, they can still give the child to the locals at any time before they make it back to their ship, but apparently the Force is Being Loud.

The Force was Being Loud when it told Master Dooku to come along.

The Force was Being Loud when it led them to that town.

Qui-Gon and Dooku have argued fifteen and a half times on this mission, and an additional six times on the flight here. Obi-Wan is trying to mediate but also doesn’t want to overstep. The Force is Being Loud, sure, but the kid is also Force-sensitive so it might be something off that.

He didn’t argue with holding the kid bc he thought that it was better than being caught between the Masters.

Holding a crying child and trying to get two adults to stop arguing bc they can’t decide how to comfort the kid is not better.

Obi-Wan keeps walking past them to the ship with this baby. He does what he’s seen some crechemasters do to the younglings. The kid eventually calms a little, and he belatedly realizes that both Masters are still behind him, not with him.

NEXT

Anakin is panakin.

He is currently in a state of Feralness. His instincts have kicked into overdrive, full-on Survival Mode.

Depa and Mace do not know this. All they know is that there was suddenly an extremely powerful Force presence that started fading quickly (bc Anakin started shielding).

They burst into sight of Anakin and are suddenly attacked by all four feet and some of Feral Force Child.

It’s all they can do for a good minute or so to avoid losing their fingers, eyes, or untorn clothes.

Mace puts a few things together very quickly.

This planet is uninhabited by any sapient life. Therefore, this child is utterly alone. This child also is clearly strong in the Force, and knows how to hide their presence, for whatever reasons. Mace is a Jedi, and therefore is bound by certain duties.

He decides it is his Duty to get this kid back to Coruscant safely.

Back to the beginning

Ahsoka wakes up to find a familiar face looking down at her. She’s still tired, but not as much. She’s very aware of her size, and does a few quick observations.

She does not fully know who Jango Fett is. She does know that some clones run off bc they hate war and weren’t given a choice an- no. Not going down that path yet.

Ahsoka assumes, semi-incorrectly, that she was shrunk or deaged and somehow found by a rogue clone.

She knows it’s a rogue clone bc they’ve got weird armor.

So she does the logical thing and tries to comfort this clone bc he looks really worried and kinda panicked. She stands up on the spinny chair and tries to balance and he practically lunges to help her and she can’t help but giggle, but it comes out in a bunch of chirps instead.

The clone picks her up and looks really awkward so she pats his face bc that’s the best she can do bc she doesn’t want to disprove the fact she’s two yet.

For all she knows, this rogue clone has no idea she’s actually a Commander in the GAR.

He doesn’t, but for different reasons than she thinks.

NEXT

Rex and Cody go with Satine to the city. They have introduced themselves and said that they were separated from their aliit. They don't know where said aliit is.

Satine is highly suspicious by this point, bc these two kids recognized her with only part of her name, and they were alone, and they speak Basic with Mando'a thrown in.

Basically, she thinks that they're children of people like Death Watch, but she's too young to know that Death Watch isn't really into children.

Rex and Cody get checked over by a medic, but also start trying to get access to some working comms. They are refused on account of being suspicious children (which makes them a little upset bc they're not children)(Well, they are, but not those types of children)

They have not yet figured out that they are in the past, bc Cody and Rex only know that General Kenobi talks about Duchess Satine, and they know about Padme Amidala from General Skywalker, so clearly this Duchess is really young and the General simply viewed her as someone he wants to protect.

They are very very very wrong.

NEXT

Obi-Wan manages to calm himself somewhat now that it's just him and... him.

He is three, and he knows roughly what's happening, so he knows he should probably act like a 3yo.

Unfortunately, he has very little understanding of how child ages work. 3 is smart enough to go up the stairs and communicate with adults, but def. not old enough to speak sentences that are 15 words long with at least 2 5-syllable words.

Fortunately, his older (younger?) self doesn't know children either.

So when this 3yo starts telling him that he needs to leave the two Masters on the planet and head to Tatooine really fast, Obi-Wan is more concerned about the idea than the strangeness of "this is a 3yo suggesting this".

Obi-Wan is really good at convincing people. Including himself. He manages to get Padawan Kenobi to leave supplies where the ship is supposed to be and head towards Tatooine.

He says that the Masters will be fine, they know how to survive, and they need to be alone together in order to work through all the tension. Plus, it gives them plenty of time to talk to the Council.

Toddler Kenobi also tells himself that he'll take the blow and say he used a mind-trick.

Padawan Kenobi doesn't believe him yet, but Toddler Kenobi smiles like a very smug adult and says "you'll get there eventually". What he truly means is up in the air.

NEXT

Anakin, since waking up, knows much less than everyone else. Which is saying something.

He knows he's Smol. He knows he's Alone. He knows Someone has come and they are Strangers.

One thing about Anakin's instincts is that they are very much Survival Based. He was Feral when he joined the Jedi, only he had to hold those instincts back for most of his life bc of being a slave.

A slave cannot bite someone who approaches and Vibes Wrong.

By the time he felt okay with being Feral Out Loud, he also felt safe enough that he didn't need to activate his Survival Mode.

What I'm trying to say is that Anakin does not realize how strong his Feral Instincts are. He has absolutely no control over them rn.

When Mace decides to Help this child, this child is trying to Maul them.

Mace makes a small ruckus to draw Anakin's attention to him so Depa can move back. Depa pulls out her saber now that she won't hit the kid. The kid notices Purple and Bright and Lightsaber.

Lorge Jedi Mind says this is Good. Safe. Jedi.

Smol Feral Brain says this is Dangerous. Mean.

Anakin freezes on sight and just starts tracking Depa's saber. She does one of those things where a snake or something is focused and the person waves the fire or the food slowly to make sure the wolf is watching it and usually they toss the thing away so the snake follows it.

Mace instead takes this opportunity to wrap Anakin in his cloak. And Depa's cloak. And the spare ones in their bags.

Feral Child is not happy with this. Feral Child is also unable to scratch or Maul or do things other than bite and snarl.

Depa carries Feral Child while Mace comms the Temple and they walk back to their ship.

The Temple is having a field day.

First, one of their Shadows reports that a well-known bounty hunter got an emergency message from a pal of theirs that said Jango Fett needs help learning Togruta childcare.

Then they get a call from Dooku, which is not the mission report they wanted.

Yoda: Mission report, you have?

Dooku: Of a sort. We successfully spoke with the locals, then went to investigate a rather large disturbance.

Mundi: A disturbance?

Dooku: We found the source to be a Force-sensitive child.

Mundi: So you are here to ask for more time on the planet?

Dooku:...

Yoda: Bring the child back, you wish to?

Dooku, unapologetic: He is of an acceptable age to be admitted into the Temple, and no other beings were around at the time to entertain the idea of there being guardians.

The Council is sighing and muttering bc this is a Disaster Lineage (and they haven't even met the other two yet). Their call is interrupted by the sound of crying and Dooku saying the child's woken up.

Then there's another Shadow who sends a message saying a set of twins that seem like Death Watch were found by the heir of Clan Kryze.

Finally, to top everything off, they get a call from Mace Windu and Depa Billaba. Two very dignified, not-at-all chaotic Jedi from a perfectly respectable lineage.

Yeah, most of the Council and the Order itself forgets that Yoda had a hand in raising Windu. Yoda "Feral Grandpa" who throws children at every problem. Grandson isn't doing too well? Throw a child his way. Other grandchild is struggling to cope with grief? Throw another child their way. Oh, there's a war going on and newest grandchild is angry a lot? Here's a child!

The entire lineage has a soft spot for children.

Anyways...

Mace: Our mission was a success. We found the artifact and both specimens.

Koth: How long until your return?

Mace:...

Yoda: Found a child, you did?

Gallia: Master Yoda, that's a rather illogical guess. Once is unusual, twice is-

Mace: Oh, did Qui-Gon find a child as well?

Yoda, smugly: Bringing the child back, are you?

Depa, from the background, after a rather loud snarl is heard: We do not bite things, young one.

*more snarling*

Mace: We have no reason to believe he was not alone.

Tiin: *deep sighing*

Mundi: *mild confusion noises*

Koon, eagerly: Please send photos of this youngling. For the archives, of course.

Mace, nodding sagely: Of course.

*extremely loud yowl* *sounds of Mace turning*

Mace: DEPA!

Depa: He nearly bit off my finger!

Mace: That doesn’t mean you pinch him!

Depa: What else am I supposed to do?!

*sudden exclamation filled solely of Mando’a, Huttese and Twi’leki curses*

Mace: So, I don’t know if he speaks Basic, but Master Che should be able to talk him through a check-up.

Yeah, several Council members are experiencing headaches now. Normally, they would have some empathy for Mace and his own stress-induced migraines. They currently do not.

Right after that call, Dooku calls back to say that Obi-Wan has left without them.

Mundi: He left the child with you, right?

Dooku:

Mundi: He left the child with you, right?

Obi-Wan did not leave himself with the Masters. Obi-Wan has listened to Mini-Obi and is off on some wild space adventure to a criminal-run planet.

The toddler won’t stop staring at him. He asks for a name. The kid says to call him Ben.

OW: Is that your name?

“Ben”: It is a name I am called :)

OW: That isn’t what I meant.

“Ben”: I know :)

Ben also keeps staring at OW’s lightsaber. OW decides to make sure the kid doesn’t start playing with it when he isn’t looking.

MEANWHILE

Ahsoka has figured out that she was really very oh-so wrong. She’s on Mandalore. As in, the Mandalore that is under Jango Fett. Bc she’s with Jango Fett. He’s holding her hand bc she was nervous about the strange looking medic (who was just wearing armor, but not clone armor and civies don’t wear armor.)

Ahsoka knows very little about Jango Fett. Clone Buir, Mandalorian leader, tried to kill Master Kenobi. Also dead.

He asks how she got in. She shrugs. She is too small to fight back so she can’t let him know anything. Whatever everything is right now. But also, he doesn’t seem mean or evil or anything.

Oh yeah. Skyguy said that Mandos love children. That's why the clones were so protective of her, even with Skyguy on her side of the argument.

She decides to use this to her advantage. She can probably get herself a comm, and enough time to call the Temple. If she can convince them she at least knows a Jedi, then they can come get her and she'll work from there.

ELSEWHERE

Rex and Cody are getting really upset. This Duchess is really nice, but she's acting really weird and keeps insisting she's not actually called Duchess. No one will give them a comm, they keep getting weird looks for speaking Mando'a even though they're on Mandalore, and Satine's father keeps mentioning a Fett. Maybe Boba's set a bad example again.

Rex starts to fall asleep, to his chagrin. He's too bored, sitting and getting some abnormally extensive check-up. Cody is fine, but he's used to the calm that is General Kenobi. Rex usually has a Togruta teen in the vents and a Human that is never where he's supposed to be.

Rex does, in fact, fall asleep. His "twin" starts glaring when a doctor goes to wake him up. Cody makes it clear that his brother is like Cat: once asleep, you do not wake.

Satine is giggling, but trying not to let the others hear. Cody does. Cody looks at her. They have a stare-off.

Cody goes back to glaring at the doctors. He will not admit to any emotions besides Protect™.

BACK TO

Obi-Wan and Ben have made it to Tatooine.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing vii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 4, 627

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

Despite being friends with three (well, now four) people on the football team—you didn’t fancy attending football games at all. It was highly unlike the usual scene you were comfortable with. It was loud, rowdy and people didn’t understand the concept of personal space when they’d shove and push others aside just to get a better glimpse of the players on the field.

Yet, you attended every single one of the football games—and you were a familiar enough face that the coach smiles at you when you hover outside the changing rooms; a simple request from the captain himself.

You’re a little shocked at yourself at the fact that you had no idea who Namjoon was prior to his introduction. He was the captain of the current football team, which apparently, throughout your college’s history—brought the most wins ever. And, he was also well-known that lecturers applauded him for his impeccable work-to-life balance.

Somehow, the divulgence of your own thoughts makes you frown. Because perhaps you were truly anti-social. You weren’t even acquainted with common school affairs in spite of being apart of the student council.

Maybe Jungkook was right.

You don’t dwell too much on your thoughts because you’re unable to, not when the door slams open and bodies of college men pour out with large shouts and their padded shoulders—looking very much prepared for their game.

The anxiety settles into the pit of your stomach when you realise you stick out like a sore thumb. The jeans and white top you were wearing was quite a typical outfit to wear to a game, with the addition of ironically—a baseball jacket. But when you were definitely smaller than the footballers; it was hard not to feel out of place.

Especially when they look you over before continuing out to the field. While you attended games before, you were never asked to meet in the changing rooms. Jimin and Taehyung knew well enough not to ask you, and Jungkook … well. You were always his dirty little secret, weren’t you?

And you see Jungkook first, grinning like a madman when another footballer brings him into a headlock and hollers something you assume is their hype-cheer.

It isn’t supposed to feel like this. Things were meant to have been settled, but the tight feeling in your chest when you look at him only reminds you that some things were hard to erase.

Before you can look away, Jungkook spots you—and he pushes the arms of his teammate off ever so slightly before turning to him and muttering a few words before he’s stalking towards you.

Your eyes widen, definitely not expecting him to pay you any mind.

“You’re here?” He furrows his brows.

You clear your throat, and you realise navigating a conversation with him after what’s transpired is much harder than you expected it to be. The fact that he was so casual about it when he left you with a kiss on your forehead makes you even more conflicted.

“I am.” You mumble. “I told you, remember?”

Jungkook blinks as if he remembers something, and his expression hardens ever so slightly before he’s schooling his features.

“Yeah.” He breathes. “I knew that. Just didn’t know you’d be … here.”

Here was probably referring to standing outside the changing rooms, and you can’t help but flush at the declaration.

“Um, yeah. Namjoon—” Before you can finish your sentence, you see the captain heading towards you with a large grin; looking over Jungkook for a brief moment.

“You’re here!” His words are exactly the same as Jungkook’s, but it evokes a different set of emotions in your chest.

You smile as sincerely as you can, which is proven difficult when you can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you.

“I am.” And you repeat the same thing you said to Jungkook. It feels odd, but you push the feelings aside. “Good luck, you.”

You offer a small punch to his shoulder, an awkward attempt at supporting him and you almost apologise but Namjoon smiles even wider.

His hand reaches out to your hair, gently patting it as he looks at you fondly. You don’t think anyone’s ever treated you so … tenderly before, not upfront and after one meeting at least. And you’re definitely flustered.

“Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here.” His dimples are on full show when he looks down at you with a kind gaze.

You clear your throat and look away, hoping the dim lights didn’t amplify the blush on your cheeks.

“Of course. We have that exhibition next to look forward to if all else goes South.” You grin cheekily up at him, words still soft.

You hope that your joke doesn’t rub him the wrong way, and it doesn’t because he snorts in response. All while Jungkook is silent.

“That’s a win itself, isn’t it?” He says smoothly, and your eyes widen at his blatant—or at least you think—flirting.

And before you can splutter a response, Jungkook is nudging Namjoon’s arm with his shoulder, the movement slightly rougher with his shoulder pads in place.

“We gotta go, Cap,” Jungkook says stiffly.

Namjoon doesn’t realise the hostility in his tone, but you do. And you frown ever so slightly, but you cover it up when Namjoon looks over at you with an apologetic expression.

“I’ll see you after the game?” He asks, eyes lighting up.

Your lips tilt upwards and you nod your head.

“Yeah.”

Namjoon jogs off first, not before grabbing his protective gear as Jungkook lingers ever so slightly, stuttering in his feet as you have the vision of his back towards you.

You’re about to head towards the bleachers, a spot that Namjoon purposefully reserved for you with help of his coach; but Jungkook turns around and his face is hesitant.

“Will you …” He swallows as you raise an eyebrow at his uncertainty. “Will you cheer for me?”

The question is odd, especially when you know that he’s aware that you were here for Namjoon. Usually, that would imply that you were rooting for him. But, you’ve never been able to say no to Jungkook. Not even when you want him to feel the same hurt you’ve felt.

“What friends are for, right?” You mumble, eyes darting to the ground for a second until you look back up at him again.

What you don’t say is that friends don’t do the things we did, or that there was no manual to teach you how to navigate the throes of your relationship after everything that’s happened. Nor do you tell Jungkook that you’re always cheering him on, but you can’t do it outwardly. Not tonight. Not for a while, too.

Jungkook’s face falls obscurely, but he forces a tight smile before grabbing his protective gear too.

“I’ll look for you,” Jungkook says.

Then he’s off, with a squeeze to your shoulder that leaves your heart feeling a lot heavier.

You ended up sitting next to the school photographer, who you now know as Yena. Prior to this, you’ve heard the student reporter club have a few intense individuals apart of them—word you heard from Yoongi, the President himself—and he was already as intimidating as one could get. But there was Yena, who essentially made people cower in fear when they’d make eye contact with her.

“What are you doing here?” Is the first thing she asks when you slide into your seat. Her tone isn’t condescending, neither was it purposely made to make you feel uncomfortable. Rather, she asked it in a rather bored tone—as if there were better things she could be doing.

“Um.” You squeak.

Yena rolls her eyes, “Relax. I’m not going to bite your head off despite my grotesque appearance. Ever heard of a conversation starter?”

You blink.

“You’re very pretty.” You say softly.

Yena narrows her eyes at you for what seems like forever as you clear your throat. Then, she snorts before patting you on the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean objectively ugly, sweetheart.”

The tilt of her lips make your ears flush and you never found yourself downright intimidated by someone, but there was something about her that made you want to listen to her.

“O-Oh.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re too nice, _____. Has anyone ever told you that?” She emphasises her point with a tilt of her head.

“N-Not really …” You mumble.

She sighs as she kicks her feet on top of the railings in front of her while her eyes follow the line of footballers that pour onto the field, already moving towards a group huddle.

Her camera is already in her hands when she snaps the shot like second nature, before plopping back into her seat.

“Well, you are. People are gonna eat you alive, you know?” She says pointedly.

You fiddle with your fingers before you find the courage to look at her.

“How did you know who I was?” You wonder out loud with furrowed brows.

Yena scoffs before turning to look at you with a blank expression. And it’s the worst part in you that makes you think that you’ve said something wrong.

“You’re kidding, right?” She deadpans. “Girl who made honours three years in a row? First female student council president? Lecturers pet? Curve-setter? The list goes on, really.”

You flush as you turn your head away.

“I didn’t mean …” You mutter.

She waves you off. “You don’t have to sound so guilty about it. You’re smart and you’re capable. Own it.” She shrugs.

You blink up at her with wide eyes, and for the first time; she properly looks at you and your surprised expression.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

When a whistle blows, the game has somehow started and you have half the mind to begin cheering like the rest of the crowd. But the awkward part of you remains rooted in position.

“So.” Yena leans in with a grin on her face. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

It’s … odd. Purely because you’ve never spoken to her before and you’ve briefly heard about her in passing when you communicate with Yoongi on pastoral affairs. And for someone to speak to you so freely and casually, like you’ve been friends for years—feels nice.

And it’s probably also because you didn’t have any girl friends that you could really trust. People on campus were … they were mean and they usually wanted something from you, whether it was to get to one of your friends or get insights on events so they’d get a boost on their reputation.

“Earth to _____?” She drawls.

You snap your head towards her and your ears turn red once again.

“There’s isn’t … any guy.” You confess.

Yena snorts as if she doesn’t believe you.

“Really now?” Her grin approaches a smile when she rests her chin on her palm. “You know not just anyone sits here, right?”

You shrug. “What about you? Who’s the lucky guy?”

She blinks, then leans back before kicking one leg across her other.

“Photographer pros. Or cons. Especially if you consider watching disgusting men sweat and chase after balls is something to be grateful for.” She rolls her eyes.

You laugh when she complains, and it’s likely the first time you’ve relaxed your shoulders around her.

“That does sound kind of gross.”

She nods her head as if to say right, before offering you a cheeky grin.

Then, her eyes zero onto the field, then back to your face—and eventually back to the field before she hops off her seat once again; waving her camera to signal you that she was going to carry out her duties.

You think Yena’s cool. A little intense, and kind of scary—but a nice person nevertheless. Maybe you were a blind optimist that saw the good in everyone, but there was something about her that you really liked. The kind of person you wish you could become.

The cheers get immensely louder, especially when you note that Jungkook’s scored a goal—his beaming expression displayed on the big screen while you hear girls and guys alike cheering his name.

It’s times like this where you’re reminded of how different you were from him. While he received praise and approval from the masses and was born to be loved by them. You were quite the opposite; the cheerer and the supporter but never quite the one receiving it.

His eyes skim the crowd, and you can see from the screen that his brows furrow ever so slightly. But he’s quick to return to his groove, fist-bumping a teammate along the way.

You sigh because even when you weren’t intentionally looking for him it’s like your heart only wants you to see what’s familiar. And funnily enough, the hurt is familiar too.

In the middle of it all, you try your best to smile—and throw in a small whoop on your own, hoping to blend in but be present enough to be heard.

Yena returns only when it’s half-time, her own body covered in sweat while she huffs, slapping a stray strand of hair away from her face.

“God. You’d think they’d slow down after fifteen minutes but nooo. They have to go flex on their fragile masculinities because they think growling and ripping off their shirts is peak alpha male character.” Yena mutters and it’s the first thing you hear from her.

You offer her a sympathetic smile before digging into your bag and pulling out a handkerchief, one that you always carry around.

“Here.” You smile at her toothily.

Yena eyes the fabric sceptically before looking at your face and back to the handkerchief.

“You sure?”

You nod your head, jutting out your hand once more to emphasise your point.

“Ah. I can see why Namjoon nabbed you up.” Yena coos, ruffling your hair as your eyes widen.

“H-How—?”

“How did I know? Well besides the fact that my job is to literally stick with the team and capture moments and make them look pretty—I’m nosey.” Yena shrugs and your face pales. “Oh, and I saw you guys at the changing room too.”

If she saw … that meant—

“Thought you were with the meathead Jeon for a moment.” Yena snorts.

Your eyes dart down to your lap, and Yena picks up on your silence immediately. But unlike the conventional person; despite her curiousity, she respected your privacy more. So she doesn’t, she just offers you a smile and a nudge to your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Yena assures, sighing as the voices of the footballers fill your area as they come up for refreshment. “He’s nice.” You weren’t sure who she was referring to so you just nod.

“Yena—pass me a bottle!” A boy calls, and you half expect her to do so, but instead, she delivers him one better—a middle finger.

“Get it your self you dickwad!” Yena calls back.

Your eyes widen when you turn your head to look at her, completely unbothered when the footballer shoots daggers at her nonchalant figure.

“Men. Think you always owe them something.” She scoffs.

You find yourself unconsciously nodding your head, and once again Yena recognises the gesture but doesn’t mention anything.

Instead, she turns towards you and levels you with a wide grin of her own.

“You’re cool. We should hang out.”

The declaration makes your eyes widen even more and you realise how much you’ve fumbled and made yourself look … stiff the entire time you were attempting to converse with Yena. But she seemed to be unbothered, and the thought makes you excited.

“We should?” You parrot with a squeak.

She nods and you’re still finding it hard to process the fact that she’d brought that up out of the blue.

You weren’t bad company. But you were … you.

“You’re like Ms Bona Fide.” Yena tuts. “People these days are either out to please or to receive.”

You furrow your brows.

“And I’m … not?” You say softly.

“You’re present.” Yena shrugs and throws you an easy-going smile.

God. She was so cool.

Namjoon scores the final goal.

You expect him to call the hangout off because, well, he’d closed the game and he was the captain. It was only normal that he’d want to celebrate.

So when Yena nudges your shoulders while your head is bent and focused on your mobile device, you slowly looked up with furrowed brows to see her cocking her head to the side with a knowing grin on her face.

And you see Namjoon, out of his gear and in a plain t-shirt and sweats while he waves at you.

You can’t help but gape at him.

“I see you’ve surrendered to good company instead of a zoo.” Yena greets Namjoon first with a snort.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and you gauge that they’re at least well-acquainted. Acquainted enough that Namjoon subtly tries to flick her off, but you catch the gesture as soon as it comes.

“Promises are promises.” Namjoon shrugs as if he wasn’t aware that you were still gaping at him. Mouth open like a fish out of the water.

“Well—be nice, captain.” Yena whistles, throwing her camera into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder before she turns to look at you, a gentle nudge with her shoulder to yours as she levels you with an intentional look in her eyes.

“Don’t start any fights, Yena.” Namjoon gently chides, but his tone is joking.

Yena waves him off, then waves at you one last time, leaning down to whisper something into your ear that has you flushing.

“Tell me how it goes when we hang out.”

And she leaves you with a keen sense of excitement on the prospect of a new friend like her to look forward to hanging out with.

Namjoon looks over at you, and gently reaches for the tote bag you’ve slung over your shoulder as he tugs it off you with a soft pull.

“Let me.” His smile is all teeth and dimpled grins when you reluctantly let him take your bag from you.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyes attempting to look at him but his gaze is so focused on yours that you find it difficult to make eye contact.

“We’ve got an exhibition to go to, don’t we?”

You nod your head enthusiastically as he chuckles, allowing you to lead the way as you find a little prep in your steps. It was nice. Having a friend like Namjoon.

“Captain’s not coming?” Yugyeom groans, ruffling his hair with a towel as the rest of the footballers filter out of the changing room.

Jimin snorts in response. “No. He’s got a date.” The emphasis on the word date is obvious in the immature sense, evoking wide eyes as responses.

“He bailed on us for some pussy?!” Yugyeom cries.

Jungkook has to clench his fists by his side when he hears how his teammate casually referred to you as just some pussy. You weren’t just … that.

“Watch your tone,” Jimin growls, and Jungkook’s thankful that Jimin was more of the confrontational type and didn’t allow shit like this to slide easily. Especially when it came to you. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

Yugyeom’s eyes widened before gawking at the blonde boy.

“You mean Namjoon is going on a date with _____?” The rest of the footballers murmur in response, possibly out of confusion. “How did they—doesn’t she not … date?”

Jimin sighs, already ready with a response on the tip of his tongue but Jeonghan, the keeper interjects.

“Wait, I was under the impression that she and Jeon were a thing?”

At the mention of his name tangled with yours, Jungkook, who has been relatively silent throughout, freezes as his hands stop rummaging through his duffel bag while he tries to ignore the inquisitive stares he’s receiving from his teammates.

“W-What?” Jungkook stutters caught off guard.

Yugyeom narrows his eyes at the boy, while Jimin silently observes with an unreadable expression.

“Now that you mention it …” He trails off, head tilting upwards as if he was deep in thought. “I did always see the two of them alone with each other.”

Jungkook clears his throat as he lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

“We’re friends,” Jungkook says stiffly and he hopes it’s believable, despite his hoarse voice. “Friends hang out.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Or she’s a two-timer.”

This time, Jungkook can’t keep his face neutral.

“Talk about her like that one more time and I’ll make sure you never speak again.” He growls to the other boy, whose eyes widen in response.

“I was kidding—” He raises his hands in defense but Jungkook is shoving the remainder of his belongings into his duffel bag before hauling it over his shoulder and storming out of the room, ears burning in both frustration and anger.

“You don’t joke about this type of shit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath right as he leaves the rest of the members brewing with confused expressions as they look at one another with concerned expressions.

Namjoon, as expected, is a museum enthusiast. That much you could assess when he was excitedly chirping about how much he appreciated all types of art, abstract, modern and contemporary and vintage—you name it and he could likely give you a break down of the nuances behind styles and techniques.

He is also great company. Namjoon is a comfortable line between involved and chivalrous, never pushing farther than what you were able to offer but engaging you in insightful discussions that you found yourself being intrigued by.

While you expected more … forward gestures, Namjoon is respectful and you’re surprised but not really. He was mannered encompassed into human form.

So, when the security guard informs you that the exhibition was over and that the two were the last guests in the hall—the two of you reluctantly had to bring your night to an end.

“That was fun,” Namjoon says once the two of you exit the hall, just two figures in the night who have thousands of words to say about the masterpieces you’ve witnessed.

“Honestly, I was already looking forward to it but seeing the pieces the art students curated in person was just another type of euphoria.” You confess.

Namjoon nods in agreement. “I totally agree. You can just tell that they’ve really dedicated all their free time to the work they’ve displayed.”

“Art is beautiful, isn’t it?” You mumble, eyes looking back to the museum as you grin up at Namjoon who’s already looking at you.

“Yeah.” He breathes, and the way he’s looking at you under the dim moonlight makes you irrevocably flustered. “Beautiful.”

You clear your throat as you shift on your heels, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t too apparent. The night was still wondrous, and you feel a type of comfort in Namjoon that you haven’t felt in a very long time. But there’s still a lingering thought in the substandard part of your mind that reminds you of doe-eyes and a bunny smile.

“Thank you for your time, Namjoon.” You say shy, fiddling with your thumbs.

When you find the courage to look at his face, he’s already beaming at you.

“No. Thank you.” He reassures. “I know you’re super busy so for you to find time out of your schedule to hang with a virtual stranger really means a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen, but then your face neutralises as you flush.

“I’m not that busy …” You mumble.

Namjoon chuckles. He doesn’t even snort or offer a sarcastic remark in response. He just acknowledges it with a kind smile and doesn’t comment further.

He’s different from what you’re used to. A challenge. A burst of rebellion that loved to roll remarks off his tongue.

You don’t want to think of him just yet.

“Regardless. You’re here. And I’m grateful.”

You nod your head lamely, clutching your bag into your chest (after relentlessly whining to Namjoon to allow you to hold it yourself when you felt a little useless).

“I should—I should head back.” You cock your thumb towards the direction of your apartment.

Immediately, Namjoon steps forward and is ready to head the same way you are.

“Let me walk you back.”

“I can’t possibly—”

“I’m not asking this time, ______.” He frowns.

You snap your lips shut. Though you did feel a little bad, it was late and the rational part of you knew that it was best if Namjoon walked you home.

“Okay.” You say softly.

Before you can begin walking, he tugs you by the elbow so gently, but firm enough for you to nearly stumble into his chest.

And he’s so tall, so you’re peering up at him with wide eyes as you gauge his nervous expression.

“I-I’m sorry if this is a little forward but—” Namjoon clears his throat. “W-Well I think—I really think you’re nice. And great. Like—good company, you know? So I’d r-really—I’d enjoy—”

You blink at him as he attempts to find his words.

“Namjoon.” You whisper gently, tugging the hem of his shirt.

At your gesture, his mind blanks but he remembers that you’re still looking up at him with a confused gaze.

“Okay. Fuck.” He whines as a giggle escapes your throat when he peers at you with an exasperated expression. “I’m not usually this much of a mess. You just make me nervous.”

“O-Oh.” You breathe, “I do?”

Namjoon sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know if it was obvious but I’m kind of into you.” He says softly, rubbing his hand over his neck.

You don’t expect it, not at all. So you can only muster gawking at him at his sudden confession.

“And you don’t need to—you don’t need to say anything about it. We can pretend like I didn’t just confess to you. We can just be friends.” He rambles, eyes wide. “I just wanted to let you know … yeah. So I really hope we can still continue to hang out even though you might think I’m a creep and I really didn’t offer to walk you home because I had intentions. Really just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You continue looking at Namjoon with wide eyes. Because you’ve never been on this end before. The one receiving the confession. You’ve never really given a confession either, and you try to suppress the bitter memories of the confession you tried to give Jungkook that wasn’t verbal but with your presence.

With you giving up certain parts of yourself for him so he could see you.

“Please say something.” Namjoon chuckles nervously.

“I—…” You choke. “I don’t know what to say.”

“We can pretend like I didn’t just say that.” He winces.

You shake your head. “No. No. It’s fine, Namjoon. Really.” You reassure him gently. “I really appreciate it … I just didn’t … expect it.” You finish lamely.

“You’re a very interesting person,” Namjoon tells you, lips twitching in an attempt to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

Interesting? You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone call you interesting before. Not outright, at least.

“I’m really not.” You say sadly.

Namjoon furrows his brows but doesn’t reach out to you further, his hands still remaining limp by his sides.

“Hey.” His voice calls out. “You are. You’re definitely one of the most interesting people I’ve met in my life.”

You blink.

“T-Thank you.”

He waves you off, gesturing towards where you gestured towards earlier.

“Shall we?”

And somehow, Namjoon has a way of making everything feel easy. Like a temporary space for you to feel safe, to feel wanted.

So why doesn’t your heart flutter?

[writingtoforgetreality]

I’m Only Me When I’m With You (Sam Wilson x Reader)

Request: Hello! Hope this ask finds you well! May I request a Sam Wilson x reader in which the reader is very stubborn but finds herself falling for Sam despite trying to resist those feelings? Thank you so much! I hope you stay safe and healthy during these crazy times! (by @agentmalfoy24601), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You liked Sam. Was it a secret? You hoped so but your team would state otherwise. While the teasing was funny & all, it actually made you distance yourself from your feelings even more. Luckily, there was a certain someone who could see right through you.

Words: 1,990

Warnings: language, feels, fluff, this is a cute one, I love Sam but barely anyone writes for him :(, slight TFATWS spoilers, (Y/E/C) = your eye color, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

“Nope, forget it.” you argued with the three men in front of you. “I understand that this mission is important but I will not pretend to be his wife.” your finger pointed at Sam while your eyebrows raised.

“You could always pretend to be my partner.” Zemo reasoned. Shaking your head, you let out a scoff.

“(Y/N) & Zemo? Makes a cute couple.” Bucky spoke up & earned a death glare from not only you but also Sam. Though you did not see what Wilson was doing. Not in this moment.

“I hate every single one of you.” you snarled through gritted teeth.

“Sure.” Bucky mumbled almost inaudible, followed by a low chuckle.

The thing about this mission was that you knew if you played pretend next to Sam, it would not actually be pretending from your side. Truth was, you were falling for him. More than you would have liked to admit. You were not born yesterday, you were aware that relationships did not work out. Not with a job as dangerous as yours. Besides, this was Wilson you were talking about. Hell, he could have anyone, he would never choose someone like you. And you did not want him to choose you. Relationships complicated things. Complications led to danger & danger led to death. The rest of the team, especially Bucky, had picked up on the fact that you kind of liked Sam. And they teased the shit out of you. They even made bets on how long it would take the two of you to start dating. No way would you give in. Nope. That was not in your nature.

Though you had to admit that Sam did not make your plan of burying your feelings deep down any easier. Most of the times, he did not even realize the effect he had on you. It was simple things, really. The way he moved his body. How his shirts fit just right. This heartwarming smile of his that had you weak at the knees. His efforts to make you smile constantly, especially after failed missions. He was a good guy. And good guys never chose people like you. An acquaintance. That was what you were to him. Maybe it was for the better anyway.

“(Y/N)?” you heard Bucky’s voice coming from the closed door to your room. Jogging over there, you slowly opened it for him, checking if it really was him & not a threat or something. He entered after you stepped aside as a silent invitation.

“What’s up?” you were fixing up your appearance for the upcoming party you all had to attend. The outfit you wore made you feel like a strong goddess. The colors complemented perfectly, hugging every curve in the best way possible. It was not often when you got to dress up like that but when you did, it definitely paid off.

“Tell Sam you like him.” Bucky wasted no time with his words. Spinning around in order to face him, you gave him your best dumbfounded look. It made him roll his eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“How much money do you win if I do?” you asked curiously, knowing that this was most likely just part of one of their stupid bets.

“Zero, actually. Because I said you’d get together after this mission.” you gave him a look that he gladly ignored. “But that’s not the point…I do believe that the tension between you guys will be unbearable, though.”

“Oh, come on, dude. You’re totally exaggerating.” you gave an awkward chuckle to hide your embarrassment.

“I’m afraid I’m right.” he sat down on one of the chairs, then looked into your eyes. “I don’t know why you make such a big deal outta it. You like him. He likes you-“

“Which is not true. You’re just assuming shit.”

“He likes you. (Y/N), you’re not the same when you’re not with him.” his words were soft, the sincerity clearly shown.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” your arms raised in confusion. Plopping down on your bed, you sighed loudly.

“He completes you. I didn’t think it was possible, actually. I used to laugh at people when they said stuff like that.” he chuckled. “You & Sam deserve to be happy. You belong with each other.” when there was a long pause from you, Bucky got up & approached the door. Stopping briefly after touching the doorknob to turn around & face you. “Please think about it, (Y/N).” shooting you one last warm smile, he exited. Leaving you alone with the silence being your only company.

Bucky was one of your best friends. You knew he would not lie to you. Not about something like that. And even though he loved messing with you, he was serious when he talked to you just now. Yes, you liked Sam. Of course you did. How could you not? His broad shoulders, muscles that you only ever got to see when he decided to change in front of you (which did not happen often enough for your liking). But why were you even thinking about that? If you were honest, you were not even sure if you would go on a date with him if he decided to ask. Was it to protect him & the others? Or was it to protect yourself from possible heartbreak? Or was it just to show yourself & the others that you were not someone who gave in easily? Not when everyone around you pushed you to do something. Wanted you to do something.

There was another knock on your door. This time, your head was thrown back in frustration. Bucky was a pain in the ass sometimes. He did not even give you enough time to go talk to Sam if you planned on doing so. Which you were not. Walking over to the door, you prepared a speech for Barnes.

“You know you’re actually an awful frien-“ you stopped dead in your tracks when the door opening revealed that it was not Bucky who came to invade your privacy again. It was Sam. Realizing what you just said, you started stuttering out an apology. “Oh God, Sam. I’m so sorry. I thought Bucky was-“

“No worries.” his laugh warmed your heart as much as you disliked to admit it. “Can I…?” he gestured to your room. Quickly stepping aside, you motioned for him to enter, apologizing once more. Why were you even saying sorry? There was literally no need to.

“You-You look gorgeous.” he eyed you up & down, taking in your appearance. Training your eyes down to the floor, you regained your composure a second later. You were not the embarrassed type.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Wilson.” winking at him & his black turtleneck. Sam wearing this? Well, it did things to you. He patted the spot next to him on your bed. Getting the message, you walked over & seated yourself right beside him, body facing his. The most gorgeous brown eyes locked with your (Y/E/C) ones. It was hard to look away. Like you were trapped in them. But truth was, you did not want to look away. Sam was the first one to speak up. Voice only a whisper.

“What are we doing?” he asked & you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“W-What?” you really had no clue what he was talking about.

“This.” he gestured between you two. “What are we doing?”

“Well, Zemo said we’ll have to pretend to be married, right? So I guess we should just stay close to each other at all times & then see-“ you got interrupted by him shaking his head frantically, a smile still on his lips.

“I’m not talking about the mission, (Y/N).” his eyes met yours once more, an expectant expression on his face.

“O-Okay?” your head tilted to the side.

“Why are you making this even harder?” he sighed frustratingly but you could hear the sarcasm in his tone.

“I’m sorry?” it was more of a question, really. Quickly, he shook his head, one of his hand moving on top of yours.

“No, please don’t apologize. You do that way too often.” he chuckled. “Am I the only one thinking that there’s something between us?” your face changed in realization. No. Whatever he was doing, you hoped he would not go that way. If he did, it could ruin your entire friendship. And you were not sure if you could live without him. You did not want to live without him.

“I’m- I mean…I think we shouldn’t-“ you started only to be interrupted by him again.

“Why shouldn’t we?” he asked, voice raising just the slightest bit. You gave him a shrug in return, eyes focusing on his hand on top of yours in your lap. “Oh, I think I get it.” Sam started again when he realized that you were not planning on giving him an actual answer. “You’re scared.” this statement made you glance at him. He smirked at your expression because he knew that he had you now. “You’re scared that this won’t work out. And you don’t wanna give in.”

“Don’t wanna give in?” you played dumb but actually, it shocked you how well Sam knew you. Yeah, you had been close friends for a while now but still, nobody else could read you like he did.

“People have been bugging you to go out with me, haven’t they?” his eyebrows raised while waiting for you to confirm this. After a few moments, you nodded slightly. “That’s one of the reasons we aren’t dating yet.” he was straight forward with all of this. Like he had been preparing this speech for ages. Maybe he had, who knew?

“Yeah? You seem pretty damn sure about this.” you smirked at his certainty. Deep down, you knew he was right. But a little teasing never killed nobody, right?

“I know I’m right.” he pointed out, mimicking your smirk.

“Is that so? And why do you think that?”

“Because you’re too stubborn for your own good sometimes. “ you should feel hurt by him calling you out on this but you felt the exact opposite. It just showed you how much he actually paid attention to you. “You’re too stubborn & you like to do things your way. So when people tell you to do something…you tend to do the exact opposite.” his bright smile plastered one on your face as well.

“Guilty.” suddenly, it was way too silent. Not the usual silence but one that was uncomfortably quiet, even more so than normal. His hand cupping your cheek brought you back to reality. Leaning into his touch involuntarily, you closed your eyes briefly. Sam took the chance & closed the gap between you two. You were frozen in place at first but found yourself melting into the kiss soon. It was better than you ever imagined. And you were glad that he was the one who took that first step. Because you were, you had to agree with Sam here, way too stubborn to deal with this yourself.

After breaking away from each other, he rested his forehead against yours. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes. You simply enjoyed being with each other. Bucky’s words made their way into your mind again & you could not help but start laughing.

“What?” Sam pulled back, looking at you with that charming smile of his. Oh, how he loved when you laughed.

“Just…” you shook your head. “Bucky told me earlier today that I’m only myself when I’m with you. And I think I finally know what he meant.”

“Yeah? What did he mean?” he inquired.

“You know me better than I know myself.” this made him smile even wider. Leaning in one more time, he pressed another loving kiss to your lips. Wherever this was going, you could not wait for your journey with Sam.

Published (04/29/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @bibliophilewednesday, @msmarvelsmain, @babygirlwilly, @patricexirene (thanks for your support <3)

[twistedmusings]

A Midnight Prank

[Set during Chapter 5] 

Ace figured that if you were sleeping so peacefully in your bed while he had to spend a good portion of the night on the floor, why shouldn’t he try to get his revenge? A small midnight prank would be a good way to teach you about leaving him laying on the floor like that~ 

Warnings: Lime. Very mild somnopholia and food play with Ace slowly starting to realize that he might have taken a prank a bit too far. 

A/N: What better way to start this writing blog than to reveal myself as an Ace stan. I barely blinked when I first started with this game but the moment he popped up in Ghost Marriage I guess my eyes just suddenly saw the light because this boy has such yan possibilities as well as being a tease about everything. So enjoy this self indulgent drabble, I’ll see if I write more like these ò uó. 

“Oh Great Sevens…my back.”

Ace stands up and stretches, looking down at his best friend’s and Grim’s position on the floor. Of all the things Vil could do, poisoning the food? 

Well not really poisoning but cursing the food? Who the hell cursed food? Especially Trey’s baked goods?! It was a late-night snack, a team bonding exercise! To him, Ramshackle was the place he could get away with being himself without having to follow Riddle’s sometimes ridiculous rules! Yet he had just spent the good half of the night laying on the cold, hardwood floor with Deuce and Grim like some punished first year despite the fact that he was best friends with the prefect of this dorm! 

And speaking of you. 

He glares at the stairs, remembering the helpless look you had sent him as you went upstairs with Vil following short after. You, better than anybody, knew how the floors of Ramshackle were! If you had been laying on the floor paralyzed, Ace would have brought you at least a pillow!

 Maybe!

A grin spreads on his face as his brain plans out a pretty simple prank. He goes over to the chocolate cake he had taken a bite out of and scoops up some of the whipped cream frosting the cake was lavishly decorated with , grinning as he grabs  a napkin and makes his way upstairs.

“This is for betraying the First Year Loyalty Pact, [Y/N]. Get ready to get yelled at, dear manager~”

His steps are quiet on the stairs, knowing where each and every creak would be in the old, wooden stairs. It had been a while since he had pulled a prank on you, the both of you teaming up to pull pranks on others and quickly running away as soon as the plan was executed. A part of him always thought that you, the favourite of Riddle whenever you came over to Heartslabyul, would not be as on board with his pranks but seeing you come up with your own little plans as both of you hid away from your rose garden duties was unexpected and highly welcomed.

Your excited tone, the way you moved your hands. It would get Ace riled up and ready to execute absolutely anything under your orders. 

Cater had described him as being 'whipped' but Ace didn't even know what that meant so jokes on the upperclassmen, he supposed. 

He snickers as he gets to your door, praising the Queen of Hearts that it was only ajar instead of fully closed. Ace had gone over a few scenarios in his head, maybe covering your entire face with the frosting or putting the frosting on your hand while tickling your nose so that you would slap yourself. Nothing too big since he still wanted to keep his friend status with you. 

Yet his best idea had popped up once he reached the side of your bed, looking down at you sleeping so peacefully. 

"Not for long~" 

If he took a peek at the clock he could see that it was three in the morning. He guessed that Vil's curse lasted around four hours. Practice started at eight so they would usually be awake around six thirty to eat a meager breakfast and start walking to Pomefiore-- 

Which meant that if you happened to take a bite out of this delicious frosting that he held in his finger, you would wake up unable to move and miss the entirety of breakfast altogether. He would also add the extra bonus of closing your door so you would have to scream for someone to come get you. 

"Essentially two birds with one stone, right [Y/N]?" he sits down at the edge and leans over you, "Your screaming will piss Vil off so much, probably throw him off his whole morning routine. Heh, even in this scenario you are my partner in crime…" 

Ace moves to trace the chocolate on your lips, a smile on his face as he wonders just what words you would be yelling out first thing in the morning. After this maybe he should go set up his camera to record Vil lecturing you while you were stuck in your bed. 

Ah. 

His fingers weren't moving. Why weren't his fingers moving? 

"Haha...ha. O-Okay, I got this. [Y/N] say 'ahh'." 

A warm hand cupped your face as he used the one not holding the sweet confectionary, pressing his thumb against your lips and swallowing down the rather huge lump in his throat as it slowly made its way past them. Ace pressed down lightly, your mouth parting slowly as his nail scraped against the top of your teeth which allowed him to press down and watch as your mouth parted open for him. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

He was sweating, why was he sweating? A normal prank would have him smiling as adrenaline rushed through his body but this wasn't the kind of rush he was expecting. 

Ace was nervous. 

Thumb pressing against your tongue, he stopped his exploring there and not daring to go another step. He remembers back in his dating days during middle school, his girlfriend always insisted on doing the 'cutesy' thing and feeding each other. Strawberries, cotton candy, anything that was just cheesy and picture perfect enough to make him sigh in annoyance. Back then it had all just been a bother. 

But with you, why was it making him feel so--

"Augh!" 

Ace pulls his finger away, your lips still parted slightly as he grabbed his hand as if it was burned. 

Come on Trappola! What the hell is wrong with you!

You! You with your soft lips, warm tongue and inviting face that looked so so peaceful while sleeping. As if nothing would wake you! Just leaving the door open so anyone would come in and take advantage of the opportunity right before them. 

The infamous prefect of Ramshackle...looking so defenseless. 

"[Y/N]." 

Ace leans over you once again, the finger covered in chocolate this time making its way past your lips with no shame as his eyes seem to glaze over with unprecedented confidence. This was all for the sake of a good prank. Hell, he should one up it and sleep next to you tonight. You would wake up to Ace looking over you, unable to move as he teases you for not noticing his presence sooner. 

"You should really lock your door at night." he shivers when he feels your tongue lapping at his finger, "Otherwise next time I'll have to pull an even naughtier prank." 

He presses down on the slimy muscle, eyes widening when he starts getting a reaction. His finger moves up and down, tracing your tongue as your body starts to slowly respond to the attention of something sweet teasing your tastebuds. 

"Mmnnn." 

The chocolate was all gone when Ace pulled his finger back, licking his lips as he saw a faint trail of drool connecting his finger to your lips. You should have the taste floating in your mouth as your body slowly took in the curse. 

Ace barely notices himself panting until he takes a deep breath, fingers toying with the sheets covering your body as he leaned in ever closer. Maybe he should check? After all he wanted to prank you so good that you wouldn't forget about it. The thought making you squirm and open your mouth, begging him to put something inside-- 

"Ace?" 

Blood nearly rushes all the way back up to Ace's head as he hears Grimm's voice, the little creature looking at him tiredly as it floated towards him. 

"G--Grimm?! What--!" 

"My tail and ears hurt! I can't believe [Y/N] just left us there. When they wake up I'm going to--" 

Grimm yawns as he makes his way over to you, gently laying on your chest as the Heartslabyul student quickly stands up and makes his way through the door. He doesn't waste any words on saying good night as he steps out into the hall, gently shutting the door behind him and sliding down to the floor. 

What the hell did I just do? 

He looks at the finger that had done the act, staring at it as if it had a mind of its own. Your mouth had been so warm and now his entire body felt cold. Anf you weren't even aware that you had just left him feeling like this! 

Ace sighs as he runs a finger through his hair, standing up and making his way downstairs to check if Deuce has woken up. 

Not necessarily noticing how he bit at the top of the finger that had become so intimate with you. 

                                                        ~~~~~

Omake 

"Kalim? It's four in the morning why the hell are you awake?" 

Ace blinks as he supports a sleeping Deuce, the other still snoring away as Kalim smiles and places a finger to his lips. 

"I'm going to see if I can sneak in a cuddle with [Y/N]. Grimm mentioned how warm they were yesterday and I've been curious ever since!"  

"Oh, cool. Have fun then." 

The Heartslabyul student keeps walking as the Scarabia dorm leader opens the door to your room, whispering a goodnight. It was only when he heard the click of your door did he nearly drop his fellow student. 

"WAIT WHAT?" 

[theartofdreaming1]

Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch are slowly becoming a proper team! No more secrets! (for the most part)

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 4-6 are below the cut.

heart

Losing that comfort of sleeping in each other’s arms after the Victory Tour must have been hard for Katniss and Peeta! Up until Katniss hurts her ankle, they probably didn’t really do much about it, just trying to make it through on their own... After she hurt her ankle and Peeta’s spending more time over at her place, I can easily imagine him staying over, at least until she’s fallen asleep, which might help a little... Since they are living only three houses apart from each other, I like to imagine that they can see each other’s bedroom windows from their bedroom (how else would Katniss know that Peeta sleeps with the windows open? I can’t really imagine that they would be able to open the windows of the train they were on - y’know, for “safety reasons” (i.e. making sure nobody can escape)); maybe they’d both light a candle and put it by their window, as a signal they are going to sleep... It’s not the same, but it helps a little 

mind

I mean, aside from the systemic rigging of the reaping system (i.e. poorer people generally having more entries, so they can have some food), I can easily imagine there being a manipulation of the “odds” when someone becomes too vocal or troublesome for the local authorities, such as someone trying to unionize a district’s workforce, for example

soul

In the districts, their impact has to be big - their win alone was a huge defiance of the Games as they used to be... sticking together and sticking up for each other ultimately led to them defeating the Capitol’s rules! In-between the Games and the Victory Tour I don’t think there was much noteworthy going on (although maybe the fact that, so far, none of the new victors’ loved ones had been hurt - Prim, Mrs. E., but also Gale and his family would be visible during the celebrations, I’m sure, same probably goes for the Mellark’s - might tell the people in the district that Snow and his cronies were aware of the attention any assassination attempt would gather and that this, in turn, might actually could become the last straw that would spark a revolution. In a way, that was proof that the people on top were at least a little afraid of what the people in the districts would do...) And then, especially during the visit of D11, with Katniss expressing her thanks and Peeta reaching out to share their winnings with the people from D11, another district than their own - it must have provided a lot of inspiration, I’m sure. 

As for the Capitolites, maybe some of them would notice for once how unhappy/riled up the people in some of the districts were... or at least stop to think about how this time, a show of love and companionship actually provided more “entertainment” and intrigue than the brutal gore and bloodshed from previous Games (also, longer lasting - there is actually much more “story” to be had from the star-crossed lovers from D12 than from any individual winner of previous Games, if you think about it... Their “love story” is still on-going, with an upcoming wedding and the promise of a family... it’s still creepy and voyeuristic as hell, though)

Chapter 4

Everything he [Haymitch] said was true about the Capitol’s expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn’t really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. - God, this sucks so much! As Katniss rightly points out, her misery isn’t about Peeta at all - it’s about her (and also his, just pointing that out) agency being taken away! She’s being stripped even of that little sliver of agency that inhabitants of D12 usually have (choice of whom to marry, or whether to marry at all)

I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. - Eugh, just the idea of Snow being the one to have the last word on that subject... 🤢 The invasion of privacy here... - The only person who should get to decide whether Katniss should have children or not is Katniss herself! Period!

My mind searches frantically for a way out. I can’t let President Snow condemn me to this. Even if it means taking my own life. Before that, though, I’d try to run away. - Boy, Katniss is even contemplating taking her own life, rather than to submit to the life the Capitol wants to force on her; it’s not her first choice (she’d rather run away), but it shows the desperation she’s feeling

Could I even manage to take everyone I love with me, start a new life deep in the wild? Highly unlikely but not impossible. - Later we will see that Peeta and Haymitch also belong into the category of “people Katniss loves” 😊(as well as her family, Gale, and his fam, of course)

“And Peeta’s team is probably still asleep.” “Doesn’t he need prepping?” I ask. “Not the way you do,” Effie replies. What does this mean? It means I get to spend the morning having the hair ripped off my body while Peeta sleeps in. I hadn’t thought about it much, but in the arena at least some of the boys got to keep their body hair whereas none of the girls did. - Gotta love that everlasting sexism that, even far into the future, still won’t allow women to have frickin’ body hair (y’know, like most humans do 🙄)

I can remember Peeta’s now, as I bathed him by the stream. Very blond in the sunlight, once the mud and blood had been washed away. Only his face remained completely smooth. Not one of the boys grew a beard, and many were old enough to. I wonder what they did to them. - Katniss seems to have committed every single detail about Peeta to her memory, including how his body hair looked when she cleaned him in the last Games... okay 👀😏 On a more somber note, what is it that the Capitol is doing to these poor kids?! The boys couldn’t grow beards and - I’m assuming - the girls wouldn’t get their periods while in the arena (since the Games can last for weeks, it would be a huge disadvantage if any of the girls also had to content with cramps + periods  - aside from worrying about getting murdered, I mean); it’s such a violation of one’s autonomy over one’s own body, yikes

Flavius tilts up my chin and sighs. “It’s a shame Cinna said no alterations on you.” “Yes, we could really make you something special,” says Octavia. “When she’s older,” says Venia almost grimly. “Then he’ll have to let us.” - Eeek, no thanks!😦 And frankly, it really shouldn’t be Cinna’s call to make but, y’know, Katniss’s!!! I don’t know, I get real panick-y just reading this exchange (I have never even gotten my ears pierced - my mom wouldn’t let them be pierced until I could make my own decision on that subject matter and as someone with skin issues and bad experiences with needles, I really don’t feel the need to have any unnecessary metal inserted into my body, so... I’m good)

His [Peeta’s] apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Game was something of an act. But I don’t hold it against him. [...] “I’m sorry, too,” I say. [...] “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were keeping us alive.” - That apology of Peeta’s... *chef’s kiss*; it was totally understandable that Peeta was upset and needed some time apart from Katniss after her confession, which had caught him completely by surprise, not even Katniss blames him for that... But his apology shows that he really made use of their time apart to work out his emotions and to reflect on both their situations - that’s some emotional maturity to be envious of! Plus, his apology is a good move to get their communication channel opened up again

It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. - Come on, Katniss, cut this boy some slack! He can’t read minds - how is he supposed to know about these things if you don’t tell him anything? It’s nice that you’re glad that you guys are on speaking terms again, but communication isn’t a one-way street, y’know?

I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. - Katniss really should have listened to her instincts here - Haymitch might have a better idea of how the Games/Capitol works, but he knows little about teamwork, which is an important factor in their specific (and unprecedented!) situation; I’m not blaming Katniss for relying on her mentor here, but this entire approach is going to crash and burn in the next chapter

It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand. - Not to say that you can’t have friendships where you frequently hold hands - you totally can - but it is noteworthy that I don’t think I can recall Katniss holding hands with any of her other friends... (somehow, I can’t really picture Katniss holding hands with Gale casually like that... nor with Madge or Finnick later on) 

At the door, I remember, “I’ve got to apologize to Effie first.” “Don’t be afraid to lay it on thick,” Peeta tells me.- There is something about this exchange that speaks to me... maybe because it reads like some sort of an inside joke between them? Or because it shows that, despite being on good terms with Effie, Peeta’s totally aware of how high-maintenance/over the top Effie is... I dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peeta has painted the Games. Some you wouldn’t get right away, if you hadn’t been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. [...] Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. [...] And me. I am everywhere. [...] “What do you think?” he asks. “I hate them,” I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. - These are the pieces Peeta meant to exhibit in the Capitol, right? I wonder if he hoped that these paintings of his impressions/memories of the Games might actually connect with some Capitolites and might even move them to feel some empathy for the Tributes? Maybe he hoped that they would be more receptive for that kind of thing if he packaged it in art?

“All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you’ve brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?” “I see them every night,” he says. [...] “Me too. Does it help? To paint them out?” “I don’t know. I think I’m a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am,” he says. “But they haven’t gone anywhere.” - I do wonder, whether and how painting out these moments could have therapeutic value for Peeta - on the one hand, the act of painting out specific intrusions/flashbacks might be helpful because he’d end up focusing on the more technical side of painting, y’know? Focussing on mixing the right shade of a certain color might help create some emotional distance from the moment itself... also, since painting usually takes some time, Peeta would actually spend a considerable amount of time facing these moments head on, rather than trying to avoid them (avoidance tends to increase the frequency of flashback/intrusions) and maybe spending so much time on them could also help him contextualize them within the broader narrative of his life, which is the basic principle behind Narrative Exposure Therapy, which is said to be pretty effective at treating PTSD... just my two cents

I can’t believe the size of District 11. “How many people do you think live here?” Peeta asks. I shake my head. In school they refer to it as a large district, that’s all. No actual figures on the population. - Perfect example of how tightly the Capitol controls the information the people in the districts have about the other districts... which is basically nothing. Let’s keep them in the dark so they are less likely to connect with each other and band together...

Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. - Lol, Katniss bringing everything back to Peeta because she definitely hasn’t a crush on the guy, I see 😉

And then he [Peeta] hesitates before adding something that wasn’t written on the card. Maybe because he thought Effie might make him remove it. “It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we’d like for each of the tributes’ families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives.” - Peeta, the rebel! Talk about an act of radical kindness! I’m so proud of him. But also, I think this is another excellent example of how he and Katniss are on the same wavelength (this took me some time to find, but here you go): I silently say good-bye to Thresh and thank him for my life. I promise to remember him and, if I can, do something to help his family and Rue’s, if I win. (Ch. 23, THG)

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift... it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all. - Peeta: does anything that exemplifies his sense of morality; Katniss: *swoons* - but honestly, it is so beautiful how Katniss is so attracted to Peeta’s goodness and kind heart - it also tells us a lot about her (she is quite pure, as Peeta will point out later in this book) and what she values

“Wait, please.” I don’t know how to start, but once I do, the words rush from my lips as if they’ve been forming in the back of my mind for a long time. - And then Katniss launches into one of her spontaneous, heart-felt, and inspiring speeches/acts, expressing her thanks, sympathy, and a sense of kinship with people beyond the borders of her district, beyond the superficial barriers the Capitol has been trying to maintain in order to weaken the ‘common folk‘ and keep the exploitation going

The full impact of what I’ve done hits me. It was not intentional - I only meant to express my thanks - but I have elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of District 11. - Again, Katniss has done something that will solidify her as a symbol of the revolution without intending to do so and that’s the point, I think - she inspires people through her genuine displays of caring for others (which, in Panem, is already rebellious on its own)

Chapter 5

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. - Protective Peeta! Also, I think it’s interesting to note the wording of Peeta’s arms “encircling” Katniss and then “guiding” her - his arms surround her, and he’s leading her away from harm (at least to the extent that is in his power - can’t really be safe from harm in Panem, can you?), but it doesn’t seem smothering or oppressive  to Katniss in any way -”guide” has more of a connotation of giving direction without force, imo; in contrast, when Katniss talked about her kiss with Gale she mentions she’d never imagined how those hands [...] could as easily entrap me. (Ch. 2, CF); granted, these are two very different situations - the phrasing just stood out to me

“What happened?” Effie hurries over. “We lost the feed just after Katniss’s beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!” - Very telling how a clueless Capitolite like Effie wouldn’t register the rebellious aspect of Katniss’s speech; by keeping the Capitolites in the depths of sweet, sweet ignorance while simultaneously harshly trying to curb any spark of rebellion by cutting off the feed, the government is actually drawing the attention of the ignorant Capitolites to the act of rebellion itself (and also letting the people in the districts know that there was something censor-worthy going on); kind of shooting themselves in the foot here

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staricases and increasingly narrow halls. [...] Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. - I wonder how Haymitch has come to know this part of the Justice Building? Has he been to District 11 more often than Katniss supposes (he is friends with Chaff, after all), did his mentor take him there for some private conversation, or was there a moment during Haymitch’s Victory Tour where he felt so overwhelmed by feelings of guilt and powerlessness that he fled to the most desolate, solitary place he could find?

“I was supposed to fix things on this tour. [...] Calm things down. But obviously, all I’ve done today is get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished.” I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a couch, despite the exposed springs and stuffing. - Obviously, all of this is awful and no one - especially a traumatized, 16-year old girl - should have to suffer carrying such a burden... But also, here we see one of the downsides of Katniss taking sole responsibility for everything - she totally forgot that Peeta might feel responsible too, only that he didn’t even know what’s at stake - which leads us to-

“Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money,” says Peeta. Suddenly he strikes out at a lamp that sits precariously on a crate and knocks it across the room, where it shatters against the floor. “This has to stop. Right now. This - this - game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.”"It's not like that, Peeta-" I begin. "It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. - When kind, gentle Peeta’s mad, you know shit has hit the fan 😳 But also, being passed over/kept out of the loop seems to hit pretty close to home for Peeta (while I would like to know what his home life looked like before the Games, I have to admit that at this point, I’m somewhat afraid I might not be able to handle the truth...). I just think this scene is an important moment that leads to an end of (most of) their detrimental secrecy (hello end-of-CF-Haymitch!) and establishes their little team as such (hence the drawing)

“You’re always so reliably good, Peeta,” says Haymitch. “So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn’t want to disrupt that.” “Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today.” - Remember the last time someone overestimated Peeta (Foxface and the berries)? That ended in someone’s death as well... And, Haymitch? ‘Never assume’ applies to you, too!

“Do you think I gave them [Rue’s and Thresh’s families] a bright future? Because I think they’ll be lucky if they survive the day!” Peeta sends something else flying, a statue. I’ve never seen him like this. - Considering that his rebellious act of kindness is now threatening to become a sword of Damocles, hanging over those towards which he wanted to extend his kindness - simply because he’s been kept out of the loop (again)- Peeta’s anger is quite understandable

“Look, boy-” Haymitch begins. “Don’t bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I’d have wanted it to be her. But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we’re very good.” - Peeta doesn’t really care if it’s just his life on the line, but if other people’s lives are at risk? He takes no shit (it’s admirable in one way and deeply concerning in another); also, Peeta is right - while there still is a game to play, it’s not the Games, so different circumstances and rules apply

“From now on, you’ll be fully informed,” Haymitch promises. “I better be,” says Peeta. - Peeta generally is a very cooperative fellow, but don’t ever think he can’t be forceful and stand his ground when it matters!

“Did you choose me, Haymitch?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? You like him better,” I say. “That’s true. But remember, until they changed the rules, I could only hope to get one of you out of there alive,” he says. “I thought since he was determined to protect you, well, between the three of us, we might be able to bring you home.” “Oh,” is all I can think to say. - This is such a quiet, sweet moment and also shows that Katniss, Haymitch and Peeta have been some sort of team from the start (also, in their team effort they actually managed to get the both of them back home!)

Everything is happening too fast for me to process it. The warning, the shootings, the recognition that I may have set something of great consequence in motion. The whole thing is so improbable. And it would be one thing if I had planned to stir things up, but given the circumstances... how on earth did I cause so much trouble? - Lol, you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here, Katniss ;) Frankly, the Capitol has been the one to create this powder-keg they are sitting on in the first place - all it needed was a little spark... All these injustices, the humilitation, the pain inflicted... it’s like an elastic rubber band that’s been stretched and stretched - until it snaps

“I’m something of an expert in architectural design, you know?” “Oh yes, I’ve heard that,” says Portia before the pause gets too long. - Bless Portia’s heart, making sure they avoid that awkward silence 😂

Effie looks so distressed that I spontaneously give her a hug. “That’s awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn’t go to the dinner at all. At least until they’ve apologized.” - Aww, Katniss doing something nice for Effie!😊

Peeta and I join hands. “Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions,” says Peeta. “And it isn’t as if I haven’t kept things from you in the past.” - Peeta sorta apologizing, even acknowledging that he also had kept secrets from Katniss? We love to see it👍 - [...] “I think I broke a few things myself after that interview.” “Just an urn,” he says. - Peetaaa... stop diminishing your own physical injuries! Good thing that Katniss won’t let him: - “And your hands. There’s no point to it anymore though, is there? Not being straight with each other?” I say. “No point,” says Peeta. - Gasp! Honest, open communication as a good basis for a successful relationship? It’s more likely than you think!

“Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?” I’m so startled I answer. “Yes.” With all that has happened today, has that question actually been preying on him? - Peeta, you sly dog! Your priorities 😂

Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects at the victors’ ceremonies. But in others - particularly 8, 4, and 3 - there is genuine elation in the faces of the people at the sight of us, and under the elation, fury. - I do think that it’s interesting how D4 is one of the districts being elated to see Peeta + Katniss and displaying such fury, despite being a Career district; just goes to show that, just because their odds are better at winning the Games, doesn’t have to make them more simpatico with the Capitol’s cruelty... (Considering how Finnick knows how to perform CPR, it’s highly likely that people in D4 are also used to awful and precarious working + living situations... maybe that’s exactly why they generally are so robust and do well in the Games; and maybe they are simply not that above joining the other Careers as long as it improves their chances of survival, like Katniss or Thresh had been... worked for a while for Peeta, too)

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. [...] Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms. - 😭 Also: Very telling how Capitolite Effie just throws pills at the problem (with the best of intentions, I’m sure), which is an immediate, unpersonal, and superficial solution at best, whereas Peeta holding Katniss, offering comfort, understanding, a sense of safety, and human connection is so much more personal, intimate, and effective (for both of them!)

I personally killed the girl, Glimmer, and the boy from District 1. As I try to avoid looking at his family, I learn that his name was Marvel. How did I never know that? - You know why, Katniss -  I suppose that before the Games I didn’t pay attention and afterward I didn’t want to know. - Still, not knowing his name didn’t stop you from humanizing him, Katniss, and that’s important, too

Whatever we do seems too little, too late. Back in our old quarters in the Training Center, I’m the one who suggests the public marriage proposal. Peeta agrees to do it but then disappears to his room for a long time. Haymitch tells me to leave him alone. “I thought he wanted it, anyway,” I say. “Not like this,” Haymitch says. “He wanted it to be real.” - Come on, Katniss, don’t be so callous; Peeta’s just as much of a prisoner here as you! Also, it’s all about being real or not real with these two, isn’t it?

Chapter 6

... you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair. Here’s what’s strange. The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. [...] That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I am free to act as desperately as I wish. - Honestly, I think it was pretty short-sighted of Snow to let Katniss know so clearly that she didn’t succeed in her task; she did her utmost and it wasn’t enough - might as well fling caution to the wind now. All bets are off. If there had been still some small chance she could have ‘made things right’, she probably would have been trying harder to comply to his expectations. (I’m sure Snow thought the upcoming implementations of his stricter regime would be enough to keep Katniss in check, but pride comes before a fall ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It’s essential to get back to District 12, because the main part of any plan will include my mother and sister, Gale and his family. And Peeta, If I can get him to come with us. I add Haymitch to the list. - For such a ‘loner’, Katniss sure has a lot of people that are important to her... And how ironic that Peeta, who she isn’t sure she’ll be able to convince in following her will be a much more willing participant that Gale, who Katniss is pretty much banking on joining her

“You’ll probably have to pass a new law,” I say with a giggle. “If that’s what it takes,” says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh the fun we two have together. - The dynamic between Snow and Katniss is so strange; despite the obvious antagonism there is definitely some vibe of interacting with each other at eye level and it’s weird (Sidenote: Is there any law in Panem preventing minors from marrying?)

“I want to taste everything in the room, “ I tell Peeta. [...] “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says. “Okay, not more than one bite of each dish,” I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups - couldn’t have happened to me; I hate soup (like, thick soups I maaaybe can get behind, but clear soup/broth is just flavored water to me, no thanks - then again, I’m a picky eater)

Peeta and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food. - Well isn’t that a mood for every social gathering ever (one person I enjoy talking to and lots of food I like? Perfect.)

I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce. Delicious. But I make Peeta eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things - Katniss seems to like the combination of meat and fruit, huh? (the lamb and plums, now bird and orange sauce) Personally, it’s a combination that’s on thin ice for me; there are only a few dishes with that component I actually like and it took me forever to tolerate them (I don’t know if it’s the texture or the taste, but something makes me apprehensive about it); anyway, Katniss making Peeta eat the rest is such a casual, couple-y thing to do (or at least something you do with someone you feel very comfortable with, I think)

Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. “You mean this will make me puke?” My prep team laughs hysterically. “Of course, so you can keep eating,” says Octavia. “I’ve been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?” I’m speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply. - Oh boy, I have a lot of thoughts on this part: A) I just noticed how this is the second delicate/fancy glass/drink that’s bringing about a jarring revelation: first that orange juice with the frilly straw in THG, now these tiny wine-stemmed glasses, B) “Everyone does it” + “how else would you have fun?” are the shittiest reasons I’ve ever heard at a party for doing something stupid you probably don’t want to do (I’m having flashbacks to all the times I had people trying to pressure me into drinking alcohol as a teen - it was even legal, btw - although I insisted that I didn’t like the taste (which I still don’t, to this day); it was tiresome 😑), C) “everyone does it” - the people in the Capitol must have some messed up teeth if that’s a regular occurence (sure, they probably bleach their teeth all the time, but also... they’d really need to, D) the obvious: how effed up that they just puke to stuff in more food when in the districts people literally are dying from starvation?! (and yeah, unequal distribution of resources sadly isn’t just a thing in Panem, I know... but there is something about actively purging yourself just for funsies that’s just extra, well, sick)

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of the children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parents cannot give. More food. - God, how awful! How powerless they must feel 😟

And here in the Capitol they’re vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and again. Not from some illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. - Ooh, I’ve never noticed before how this passage not only recognizes physical reasons for purging, but also mental reasons! Wouldn’t have necessarily expected Katniss to acknowledge eating disorders like that, tbh... She has become a lot more cognizant and sensitive when mental health issues are concerned

One day when I dropped by to give Hazelle the game, Vick was home sick with a bad cough [...] he still spent about fifteen minutes talking about how they’d opened a can of corn syrup from Parcel Day and each had a spoonful on bread and were going to maybe have more later in the week. How Hazelle had said he could have a bit in a cup of tea to soothe his cough, but he wouldln’t feel right unless the others had some, too. - Aww, Vick is such a sweetheart! Hazelle is raising her kids right!

“Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment,”I say. “Really, this is nothing by comparison.” “I know. I know that. It’s just sometimes I can’t stand it anymore. To the point where... I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He pauses, then whispers, “Maybe we were wrong, Katniss.” “About what?” I ask. “About trying to subdue things in the districts,” he says. - Peeta’s rebellious nature coming through again!

“Sorry,” he says. He should be. This is no place to be voicing such thoughts. “Save it for home,” I tell him. - I know Katniss means D12, but her phrasing of “home” evokes a more domestic, couple-y connotation again 😊

I don’t want to dance with Plutarch Heavensbee. I don’t want to feel his hands, one resting against mine, one on my hip. I’m not used to being touched, except by Peeta or my family, and I rank Gamemakers somewhere below maggots in terms of creatures I want in contact with my skin. - It’s telling that, while Katniss is not big on being touched aside from her family (does that include Gale? probably? although they hadn’t even really hugged until Katniss had been reaped, so... I dunno), she’s totally fine with Peeta touching her (more than that: remember how good she felt holding his hand again in Ch.4 and how she’s feeling safe in his arms when they are sharing a bed), it says a lot about how comfortable she feels around him

Plutarch steps back and pulls out a gold watch on a chain from a vest pocket. He flips open the lid, sees the time, and frowns. “I’ll have to be going soon.” He turns the watch so I can see the face. “It starts at midnight.” - Honestly, this very subtle hint/foreshadowing of the clock setup of the Quarter Quell arena is simply brilliant! And also, midnight is going to become an important point in time as well from here on out (lightning tree, in the hanging tree song, saving Peeta and the others from the Training Center in the Capitol)

It’s another mockingjay. Exactly like the pin on my dress. Only this one disappears. He snaps the watch closed. “That’s very pretty,” I say. “Oh, it’s more than pretty. It’s one of a kind,” he says. - The disappearing mockingjay on the clock is interesting because A) Plutarch can’t really be flaunting the symbol of rebellion as Head Gamemaker, duh, but also B) the clock arena will be the place where the Mockingjay will disappear (until the rebellion will be able to use her for their cause); and that last comment by Plutarch clearly is aimed at the Mockingjay (Katniss) herself

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. - Okay, Katniss must feel hella safe and used to Peeta joining her in her bed, because apparently she didn’t even wake up when he did, like... I’m a fairly heavy sleeper, but I can’t imagine sleeping so deeply that I wouldn’t jerk awake if someone crawled into my bed while I was snoozing

“No nightmare,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. - Telling how the first time Katniss sleeps through the night is after Snow let her know her performance wasn’t enough; she’s must have been so tense and on edge, desperately trying to calm down the districts and convince Snow, that she hadn’t been able to sleep properly, aside from the obvious sleeping issues she’d have from the PTSD (I’m often that way before an important exam - especially if it’s an oral exam; I get tense just thinking about it 😓)

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay though the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” - Interesting how in Katniss’s dream, the mockingjay is Rue - lending further credence to the hypothesis that maybe Rue was originally meant to be the Mockingjay (would make Plutarch’s comment of the mockingjay being “one of a kind” a bit more hypocritical/exaggerated/dramatized, which still fits with his flair for propaganda/showmanship... and ultimately, Katniss as the Mockingjay was unique, but that doesn’t mean that the rebellion couldn’t have made someone else their symbol if they needed to); also, Peeta brushing Katniss’s hair off her forehead is so sweet and intimate 😊

After I got home, we [Madge and I] started spending time together. [...] It was a little awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do. Other girls our age, I’ve heard them talking about boys, or other girls, or clothes. Madge and I aren’t gossipy and clothes bore me to tears. But after a few false starts, I realized she was dying to go into the woods, so I’ve taken her a couple of times and showed her how to shoot. She’s trying to teach me the piano, but mostly I like to listen to her play. - Honestly? I’d love to read a fanfic about Katniss and Madge figuring out their friendship (let me know if there already are some!); it’s cute how they end up including each other in their hobbies 😊 Ah, the classic “I’m/We’re not like other girls”, which often is especially prevalent during your teen years (I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been gulty of this in my past 😅)... Katniss might actually would have benefited from talking with Madge about her boys’ troubles, though... And it’s so funny how Katniss admits that she has no interest in clothes, despite it being her supposed “talent”, while she also admits that she does admire Cinna’s work

... there’s a mob scene. The square’s packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and homemade masks, throwing bricks. Building burn. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd, killing at random. I’ve never seen anything like it - I... I have. At least on tv... In different places, at different times, but... yeah...

[kisekinodrabbles]

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him. 

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works. 

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point. 

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin. 

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.” 

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?” 

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.  

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine. 

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips. 

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.” 

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras. 

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so. 

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?” 

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress. 

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.” 

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later. 

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.” 

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?” 

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one. 

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room. 

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours. 

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs. 

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs. 

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts. 

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm. 

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment. 

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point. 

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him. 

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again. 

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.” 

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort. 

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture. 

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.” 

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.” 

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge. 

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then. 

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps. 

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin. 

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms. 

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth. 

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.” 

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second. 

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms. 

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time. 

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

[datenightfright]

Infamous

As always, this story is dedicated to the memory of Oiwa, thank you for letting me tell your story, and may you find the peace you deserve.

And, a big thank you to @mlmdarkfiction and @doodleferp who are always willing to lend me their ears and ideas. Without your constant encouragement, this story wouldn't continue.

Previous/Next

Pairing: Kayako Saeki x WOC Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The warmth of the tea seeps into your fingers. The tingling runs up your hands and stops just below your wrists. Detective Tanaka is back in your home, sitting across from you once again. Fujiwara is by his side, ever present notebook in hand, writing furiously. The child you stowed away in the closet sits next to you, his tea untouched, clinging to you as though his life depends on it. “This is...very strange Mrs. Kubo,” Tanaka tells you.

“I’m aware,” Your voice shakes, you’re close to tears. You just killed a man, and the authorities weren’t exactly on your side despite the overwhelming evidence. “There are signs of forceful entry,” Fujiwara states, nose stuck in his stupid little notebook, “and one of the officers found evidence of someone living in the abandoned house next door. It looks as though he stayed there for a few days, weeks even, watching and waiting for the right time to strike.” You wince at the discovery while Tanaka shoots Fujiwara a warning glance.

“Is this going to be a recurring problem?” You ask, trying to keep your shit together. “Mrs. Kubo,” Tanaka begins, gentle, always so gentle in the way he treats you. “You do live in a very infamous house. The legends that surround it...well there are too many to count really. You do realize you and your daughter are an anomaly when it comes to this place, don’t you?” You nod slowly. “We’re the only ones that have lived for this long,” You whisper, your eyes flitting towards a window. Kayako is there, watching you intently.

“Didn’t you notice anything strange?” Fujiwara asks you, “Seeing the same man over and over again, the same car on the street? In the grocery store? Didn’t you feel like someone was watching you this entire time?” Tanka sends another glare to his partner, meanwhile you scoff. “This isn’t a movie Detective,” You spit, “I spend my days just trying to survive, for the sake of my daughter. I’m an American living in the heart of Japan, so everyone is staring at me no matter where I go. So no, I didn’t notice anything strange, I didn’t notice anything different. So sorry to disappoint.”

Fujiwara is going to say something snippy, you can tell, but Tanaka cuts him off. “You must be tired Mrs. Kubo, we’re sorry for all the questions. Once the team is done, we’ll leave.” You nod, thankful someone had a good head on their shoulders. You hear sniffling and look down at the boy next to you. “What about him?” You ask, “What’s going to happen to him?” Everyone stares at the little boy, he only buries himself in you further, trying to shy away from being the center of attention. “A social worker will come to collect him tomorrow.” Tanaka says. “Until then, you must keep him safe.” You nod silently and go back to your tea.

*

“Why do you keep defending her?” Fujiwara snaps, “This is the second person she’s killed and you’re going to let her get away with it, aren’t you?” Tanaka glares at him, but the young detective is undeterred. “We still don’t know if she killed her husband,” Tanaka points out, “But-”

“And tonight’s case was a case of self defense. He broke into her house, tried to kill her.” Fujiwara scoffs. “A case of a lover’s quarrel gone deadly.” He mutters. Tanaka simply shakes his head. His partner was young, yet. He’d eventually learn that not everything was as it seemed.

The car is tense and silent. Fujiwara is too wrapped up in his own bigotry of foreigners to think straight, Tanaka, well, he had to admit he was wrapped up in his own hero complex to admit Mrs. Kubo might really be guilty. He felt bad for her, she was a new mother, young and pretty. Her famous husband, the source of her income, had been killed by an unknown assailant, leaving her all alone. And tonight, she’d been attacked by some madman that believed in the curse.

Tanaka grips the steering wheel tightly. His resolve to do something about that damnable house is even stronger than before. He’s been keeping a close watch on those that have entered it months ago, but so far, nothing has happened. No mysterious deaths, no unexpected suicides. Everything had been quiet. This just made him more nervous. He has a bad feeling that the house is gearing up from something really terrible.

*

You find out the hard way that blood does not like coming out of tile, not completely anyway. You throw the sponge into the bucket, growling with frustration. The house is deathly quiet once again. The boy sits on the counter, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and drinking milk, watching you struggle. You haven’t been able to get one word out of him since last night. You expected as much, though. You simply can’t imagine what hell he’s been through.

You pick up the bucket and dump the blood water in the sink. You fill it up once more, wiping your forehead of sweat. A little nudge on your arm gets your attention. You look towards the boy, he’s handing you a paper towel. “Thank you,” You say, smiling gently at him. You take off your gloves and dab at your forehead. “So,” You say, shutting off the water and filling it with bleach once more. “What should I call you, hm?” You set the bucket on the ground and replace your gloves.

You smile encouragingly up at the kid, hoping he’ll at least say something. He simply finishes his sandwich and watches you scrub the tile. You decide not to pester him. Rather, you begin to hum a lullaby to yourself to fill the silence of your home.

You work at the stain for another thirty minutes or so before deciding you’re done with it. It’s just going to remain a permanent mark on your kitchen floor as long as you’re concerned. You pour the water down the drain once more, then begin to wash the bucket. “Koji,”

“Hm?” You look over to the little boy, smiling. “Koji,” He says again. “Koji? Is that your name?” He nods. “I like that name, very fitting for such a brave boy.” He gives you a small smile, which you return with one of your own and a ruffle of his hair.

The color drains out of his face as he looks wide-eyed and terrified behind you. You whip around to find Kayako and Toshio looking at you. You let out a surprised yelp. Clutching your chest you glare at them both, “Listen, I understand this is your house, but please, can you make noise before you enter a room? I’m tired of all the jump scares.” They simply look at you as you gather the boy in your arms. He wraps around you tightly, too terrified to look at the ghosts.

Before you can say anything else, a knock is heard at the door. “None of your funny business,” You say to both of them. They move out of your way as you walk towards the door. You stop for a moment to check on your sleeping daughter. You see the rise and fall of her chest, then move on. You open the door, blinking in the sunlight.

“Hello!” A cheery girl greets you. She has a badge stuck neatly to her shirt pocket, you read her name easily. “Ms. Fujiwara,” You say, with a smile and a small bow. “No relation to Detective Fujiwara, I suppose?” The girl giggles. “Yes!” She says, “He’s my older brother.”

“Ah,” You say noncommittally. Normally, you would move out of the way and let her in, ask her if she wanted tea, but not everyone that came into your home could be spared from Kayako’s curse, not that you’d ask her to. You think it would be highly unfair of you to ask such a thing of her. As such, both of you stood awkwardly for a few moments, not really knowing what to say.

“Is this the boy?” she finally asks, looking at Koji. You follow her gaze. “Yes,” You say, setting him down with some difficulty, he didn’t seem to want to let you go. He still clings to your legs when you straighten. “My name is Fumiko,” The young girl says, squatting down to his level. “I’ve come to-”

“No!” he says, interrupting her. She blinks in shock, but then smiles gently at him. “It’s ok, you can trust me,” she reaches out to him, “No!” He says louder this time. You hear a faint rumbling in the background. “Koji,” You say, also kneeling. “I know you don’t want to go, but you have to, this nice lady will find your parents.” He shakes his head and throws himself at you. “No! No, no, no!” Your heart breaks as you hug him back. “Koji,” You say, trying not to tear up, “I’m not allowed to keep you.” You have to tell him the truth, as much as it hurt, you didn’t think lying to him would help matters. Besides, kids like Koji could read through an adult’s lies in seconds.

You pull back from him, giving him a sad smile. “Believe me, I would if I could. You’re such a cute and brave little boy, but you have to go with Ms. Fumiko, ok? She’s going to help you.” The boy sniffles. “I’ll come visit.” You find yourself blurting out. “Tomorrow.” You nod. “Ok?” Koji looks at you, and, seeing that you mean to keep your promise, returns the nod. “Here, I’ll help you get your shoes on.” You turn behind you. Kayako hands you his shoes, you smile at her, then help Koji put them on. “Visiting hours are from noon to three.” Fumiko informs you. “This is our card.” You take it from her after straightening. “Thank you,” You mutter tonelessly. Fumiko takes Koji’s hand after he gives you one last hug. “You’ll be ok, Koji,” You call after him, “Just be brave, like you were last night.”

You watch them walk out of your yard, and let a blustering man with an arm full of papers in. He bows to Fumiko, muttering a quick ‘hello’ then waddles up your sidewalk. “Professor Sato?” You walk out to help him with all the papers. “Mrs. Kubo!” He says, huffing. The glasses on his face askew. “I’ve done it!” He says, smiling at you, “I’ve found a way to get rid of Kayako for good!”

You help him straighten all the papers in his arms. “Um, I’m sorry Professor, but, I don’t think I’ll be getting rid of Kayako anytime soon.” You look at him sheepishly as his happy features turn to one of confusion. “Eh? What? Why? You were so adamant the last time-”

“Perhaps we should go to brunch?” You say, “I...I have a lot to tell you.” He nods slowly, “Oh, brunch, yes, ok. I know a place around here. It’s small, but private.” You smile at him. “Let me go get ready, I’ll be right out. Please, don’t enter the house.” He nods, watching after you as you slip into the house. He drops his papers, not noticing Kayako watching him from the window, wary as always.

*

You watch as Professor Ibuki Sato bounces your baby on his knee, talking about his crazy theories for ghosts and goblins. She’s giggling, happy and engaged. You smile softly at them. This is what you’d hoped Haru would be like. You shake your head, that was the past, this was the present, you had nothing but the future to look forward to. “So, you decided not to get rid of her.” Sato says, You grunt in affirmation. “Because a man broke into your house last night and tried to get rid of her on his own.”

“I can’t explain it,” You tell him, “It’s like the dynamic has shifted or something.”

“Perhaps you have feelings for her too?” Sato teases. You glare at him. You answer him honestly, “I don’t know.”

“Oh wow,” He says, sitting back in his chair, letting Sakura grab at his plate of food, “You must really like her then, if you’re confused about it.” You shrug. “She was so terrified last night,” You tell him, “You could see it in her eyes, her and Toshio both. I...I don’t think I could live through that again.”

Sato studies you for a long moment. “What?” You ask, a little irritated. He shakes his head. “It is possible that you’ve come to care for Kayako in your own way. It may not be love, but perhaps companionship?”

“Perhaps,” You mutter, unsure of anything anymore. Your life has been turned upside down so many times you couldn’t even figure out which way was up. You just wished for some stability. “Are you going to publish your husband’s papers posthumously?” Sato asks out of the blue. “What?” You frown, looking at him. “Your husband’s book. Wasn’t he going to publish one on the house? Are you going to complete it for him? Surely you need the money.” You huff. He has a point, you do need money, or rather, you will need the money, eventually. You have no plans to go back to the states soon, not that you thought Kayako would let you. “I’ve never written anything before.” you told him, “I don’t think I could imitate him.”

“Well, write for yourself,” he suggests. “I’m sure people would love to read what you have to say about the house.” You worry at your lip. For a long time you stare off into space, wondering about what sort of job you could have. “Tell you what,” Sato says, feeding your daughter a noodle. “You can be my assistant.”

“Your what?” You mutter. You didn’t much like the idea of becoming his assistant, but there was little else that was open to you. “Yes,” Sato says, nodding. “My assistant. There’s a lot of research that goes into my job, believe it or not. I could use the help. Someone to read over things for me. It wouldn’t pay much, but I highly doubt your rent is that high to begin with.”

You sit back and look at him, wondering if he’s serious. Deciding that he is, you simply shrug. “I’ll get back to you.” is the only answer you give.

[princeandcrow]

Highly Irregular

Excerpt from the most recent chapter of my fic The Prince and the Crow - The Year of the Snake.

*A/N: This is a severitus fic. Harry met Luna between his 1st and 2nd year. Pandora was a potioneer and died in a potions accident. Petronella is my ofc.*

‘Luna.’ Harry hisses, trying to get her attention before the Potions Master sees her and probably berates her for being in the wrong class. Harry was used to Snape’s acerbic comments now, but Luna seemed so soft and innocent, she would surely be upset by his manner. ‘Pay attention Mr Potter.’ Snape drawls, picking out Harry’s whispered voice instead, as he waves his hand at the board. But as he turns to check that everyone is looking, he pauses and squints. Oh no. Harry thinks. He’s spotted her.

‘Miss Lovegood.’ Snape says. ‘You are aware that this is second year potions?’ He intones silkily. The whole class turns around to look at Luna, who simply smiles back, swinging her legs under the bench. ‘Yes sir.’ She says sweetly. Snape squints again. ‘And that you are a first year.’ He drawls. Many of the students titter and whisper. ‘Yes sir.’ She says again. ‘Then may I ask what you are doing here?’ ‘Well as I told Petronella, Wednesday afternoons are not the right time to be divining dreams.’ She says plainly. ‘Divination is a third year elective.’ Snape growls, becoming a little frustrated. Harry wants to tell Luna to quit while she’s ahead, but he thinks his interference will probably only make matters worse. ‘Silence!’ The Professor snaps at the growing giggling amongst the class, as if proving Harry right. He pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘You will all familiarise yourselves with today’s instructions. Do not touch anything until I return.’ He intones firmly. ‘Miss Lovegood.’ He crooks his finger and leads her into his office.

Severus leads Luna into his office and closes the door. ‘Firstly, what is this about you taking divination?’ He asks. ‘Well, Sybill always said my mam had the gift, and she wanted me to start taking classes right away, so Filius arranged my timetable to fit it in, but really I can’t imagine why she would have me studying dreams on a Wednesday afternoon, it really is the worst time, nobody ever dreams on a Tuesday, and…’ Severus cuts her off by holding up his hand. He is going to need a headache draught at this rate. ‘Miss Lovegood, firstly it is Professor Trelawny and Professor Flitwick.’ ‘Yes sir.’ She says. ‘Secondly, far be it from me to actually encourage anyone to take Divination,’ He sneers derisively, ‘but if special accommodations have already been made for you to study the subject two years ahead, do you not think it rather rude to simply not turn up?’ ‘Oh, no sir, I’m sure Professor Trelawny won’t mind.’ Severus opens his mouth to dispute this, then realises that it is probably true. That’s if the Divination Professor even noticed that the girl was missing. He observes Luna for a moment.

‘What are the three main ingredients in a swelling solution?’ He asks. She looks questioning for a moment and he is about to send her packing when she answers. ‘Well, I suppose you are looking for Nettles, Puffer-fish eyes, and Bat spleens, though really the water is equally important. It wouldn’t be a very good solution without it now would it?’ She laughs.

‘Hmm.’ He scowls. ‘This is highly irregular.’ The Potions Master observes the young witch. From what he has seen of her so far in classes she is indeed quite skilled in potions. Unsurprising in a way given her mother’s talent. She has also shown great caution when it comes to accidents. A little too much at times. ‘You will be expected to keep up. You will not be receiving any special treatment. One mistake and you’re out. Is that understood?’ ‘Yes sir.’ She repeats politely.

‘Petronella will literally gut me if anything happens to you.’ He mutters as he leads the way back into the class.

Read the full fic here.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Protect The Queen Pt 2 (Geralt x Reader)

So I saw you guys really liked the first part so I decided to make a part two of this so I decided to make a part two, if you want a part three let me know. Enjoy!

PART 1

-

Geralt was free to leave after that night, he just chose to stay, linger around town and secretly wait for her to call him. He felt foolish, a mutant running around town and hoping a queen will invite him, she probably regretted her words after she walked away from him. One more night, he gave her one more night and the next day he was going to disappear, he was running out of coins and Jaskier was getting more and more annoying.

“Is he still in town?”

“Yes, staying at the inn. My queen you know I would never question you-”

“But you are and it’s not a good look for you. I want you to send someone to go get him in the morning, as early as possible”

“Yes my queen, as you wish”

-

“You know I was hoping she would come and see you, such a great love story for my ballad”

“If you wrote a song about her she would have your head on a platter the next day”

Geralt growled at the barb. The sun had barely rise but Jaskier was wide awake and full of energy, it was bad enough that Geralt had felt his ego get wounded, he had to deal with Jaskier reminding him that he walked away from this town empty handed and covered in shame for letting himself to believe he had a shot with someone of her status.

“Sir Geralt! Wait”

He heard a female voice call for him as he was about to get on his horse. It wasn’t her, the voice had a hint of anxiety in it’s tone, she would have never let her tone of voice waver. It was a young girl, probably in her teens, she was dressed in clean and what seemed expensive dress. As she stood next to the men she gave a light bow. Jaskier and Geralt were not used to this kind of respect, if anything they were happy if a day passed and they hadn’t heard any insults.

“Sir Geralt, our queen is asking for you”

“ohhhhhhh what a powerful twist, I knew she was planning something”

“Shut it Jaskier”

“Her highness said to bring you to her as fast as possible, she doesn’t appreciate waiting”

The girl tried to regain her breath, she was probably terrified of letting down the queen. Hell she probably had to go back and tell (y/n) she didn’t find her if she came a minute later and it wouldn't look good to go back without getting what her queen needed. Geralt hesitated for a moment, trying to process the idea and also asking himself why she waited until the last day to call for him, to be fair it sounds like something she would do.

“Jaskier wait here, take care of Roach”

“Of course, go get her Geralt”

It only took one look from Geralt for Jaskier to shut up and look away. Geralt followed the girl silently, although he internally hoped the girl would pick up her pace, a sudden eagerness to see her consumed him. He became aware that he was kind of underdressed to be entering a palace, he wasn't even wearing his armor, he was just in regular commoner clothes, for the first time he cared for his appearance while meeting someone royal. She wasn’t just royalty, she was (y/n), she was radiant, she exuded this untouchable aura and her stable tone of voice made others focus on her.

As they entered the palace he got to take a look at the decoration. A smirk was brought in his lips as he looked around, she had definitely changed a lot of things, there was no portrait of the late king, only hers and other females, it had so many different and bright colors mixed together and complimenting each other, the curtains were of light pastel color on the contrary of the heavy dark curtains the other palaces he had been in had. The girl walked up to a woman more older than her, yet still youth was a way to describe her, she was dressed in a gold dress, long light brown hair framing her face and a tall figure.

“Miss Chiara, I found him”

“Very well Mina, run along now, you are dismissed”

“Right away Miss Chiara”

Geralt looked at the woman, she seemed to have the same sense of authority and seriousness (y/n) had, however she did not have the little splash of warmth (y/n) possesses, this woman was just as cold as ice. Geralt took notice how the young girl became nervous around her, she was probably a woman of status, someone that worked directly with the queen, you could tell by her proud posture and sharp tone that she took her position seriously.

“Sir Geralt, welcome to the Queens palace”

“Thank you”

��Follow me please”

It was weird that Geralt had not seen any other male in here yet. (Y/n) had probably kicked out any of the late kings favorite people, she spoke very highly about the female gender, it was only a matter of time her staff was dominated by them, there was not trace a king ever existed, everywhere you looked it was something that had her sense of choice, even the scent that carried around the palace, this light vanilla with a hint of fruit, no heavy musk smell the kings adored, it was her palace now.

The woman stopped right in front of two big wooden doors before she turned to Geralt, a harsh look on her face and also a slight side of a dissapointed manner, she was probably worried about her queens choice of visitor.

“The queen is a very private person, that barb of yours isn’t, whatever words you exchange with her stay in this room”

“I understand”

It didn’t surprise him that the woman asked for some type of privacy around her queen, he was annoyed that people worried that Jaskier would open his mouth, which was a possible scenario however that meant Geralt would let him know anything about (y/n). No, he was not willing to share anything that had to do with her. The woman knocked a few times before pushing the doors open enough for the two to walk in.

“My queen, Sir Geralt is here... like you asked”

“Excellent, thank you very much Chiara. Could you leave us alone please?”

“At once my queen”

The woman gave one last look at Geralt before she left, shutting the doors behind him. He gulped as he took a look at (y/n), her hair were loose, like a waterfall running down, her skin was covered by a silk pastel robe, tied around her waist as it accentuate her figure, the only glimpse of skin were her feet and arms.

“You asked for me”

“Indeed, I was astonished when I discovered you where still here”

She walked over from her bed to the center of the room, she seemed at ease, comfortable with the situation. Yet her sensual energy oozed out more than last time, it almost took over him and forced him to ran to her and kiss her.

“I like the inn, comfortable beds”

“I’m so glad to hear that, I want our travelers to feel like home here”

She started to proceed towards him, her eyes and intense look on her face strained him from moving, freezing like the prey looking at it’s predator. He felt her eyes on him, fixated on his face as she took him in, she could tell that he was quite nervous, it excited her that her presence alone brought such a man unease.

“I told you, I don’t like feeling lonely”

Her voice was low, promiscuous. As her hand to his chin, her delicate fingers felt like a feather was touching him, everything about this woman was made to make him feel weak in the knees.  Her perfume was like a drug to him, slowly sipping into him and becoming something so familiar yet he craved to be around it.

“Will you help me Geralt?”

“gladly”

Before he could taste those lips of hers, she moved away and turned her back to him. (Y/n) wanted to jump on to him as soon as he walked in, nonetheless she wanted to play a tad bit of a game. She reached for the knot on her robe and let it loose, her hips swaying from side to side as the robe moved past her shoulders and on to the floor, she was aching for him, she had spent days imagining him sharing her bed, a man like that was definitely more than capable to please her bodys needs. She wanted the first time that he took her to be like that one dream she had the first night after meeting him, that left her to wake up covered in sweat and panting for air.

She stood in front of the window and turned to look at him while leaning on a desk that had scattered papers on it. It didn’t take a genius to realize what she was insinuating, Geralt’s eyes went wide as it dawned of him, you could see the entire garden and the street from the open window, no curtain stood between that view.

“Someone could see us”

“And? I am their queen, it’s my reputation on the line, it can either happen my way or you are free to leave. What will it be Geralt?”

It only took a second for him to make up his mind, his feet guided him to her one in front of the other at a slow pace. When he had finally come close enough for her torso to touch his, he felt her hands touch his arm, caressing his flesh 

“You know the only man I’ve ever shared a bed with was my late husband. I hated it, it was only for him to get the heir he craved, it left me to wonder what it feels like to be lusted after, wanted, to feel... pleasure. Are you the answer to those questions?”

Her voice was now barely a whisper, as her eyes locked on his. She didn’t know how she held it together, the simple touch of his hands on her waist was enough to drive her wild, she needed to feel him, to let him show her what being intimate was supposed to feel like. Geralt chose to not answer verbally, he just leaned in and finally felt her lips to hers at a passionate kiss. In a blink of an eye the caress became more aggressive and you could hear the tear of his shirt as she ripped it apart to reveal his torso. It only took one simple tuck of a strap for her dress to drop and show her naked body. 

He took a good look of her, she was truly amazing, that goddess like beauty that men dreamt about. His hands went to her breasts and massaged them, feeling them was enough for him to become impatient. A small moan left her lips as he started leaving kisses along her neck, she sat up on the desk and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“You’ll be the death of me”

“It will be- it will be worth it”

she breathed out, her mind was gone and she was just glad she got the words out in the right order. His hot skin against her naked body felt heaven like, she thanked herself for making the right decision and choosing him. Her touch was needy, as felt his pants drop and he grabbed her by the neck, forcing her to look at me

“The queen of the land, naked before me”

“Can you please her?”

After that a moan was heard, as they became one. Both of them moaning loudly as (y/n) laid back on the desk, giving him a good view of her figure, she was breathtaking, as she moved her hips and moaned his name again and again. He couldn’t help and lean down, feeling the need to touch her, kiss her, her arms reaching at his back, leaving scratches as he guided her to road of immense pleasure.

“My queen, submission becomes you”

He whispered in her ear before biting her earlobe. She was better than any of the fantasies he had of her, she was as hot as volcano, exploding and destroying anything on it’s path. Her back arched as she hugged him tightly, for the first time she was truly enjoying the act of sex, she cursed herself for not killing her incompetent husband earlier, her new life was filled with pleasure, pleasure only Geralt could bring her. Her legs started to shake while she felt like a fire was spreading on her body, the moans becoming louder and louder by the second. 

“Geralt, that’s it”

“Come on (y/n), let it go”

She felt like her body and mind exploded with glee, the passion he brought out of her in a mix of his skill with women was now pushing her over the edge, as she unraveled and came undone underneath him, biting his shoulder to refrain herself from yelling.

The enjoyment he felt seeing her like this was indescribable. This amazing and confident queen was now shaking and latching on to him, the power (y/n) held over him drove him to insanity. As he felt the orgasm reach him and take over he kissed her as he slowed down and relaxed in her arms. No woman had made him feel such intense satisfaction, her allowing him to take her was truly an out of body experience.

“You.... are an amazing woman”

“You’re not so bad yourself”

both of them were out of breath, sweat dripping over their body and the light of day made her skin shine, like diamonds were decorating her torso. He laced one hand underneath her and lifted her off the table, her head went on to his shoulder as she started kissing his neck. He laid her on the bed and went on top of her, finally kissing her lips.

“I see you’ve gotten comfortable being inside of me”

“It’s very cozy”

Her chest erupted as she laughed at his comment. It was more of a “not wanting this to be over” situation, she didn’t mind though, she didn’t want him to leave either, the idea of having him here all day was delightful. She let her fingers roam on his back, going up and down as he relaxed, the weight of him was a lot but comfortable, she liked feeling his body against hers.

“When will you have to leave?”

“Tomorrow”

“I’m sure the barb will be very happy to spend the night in the palace. Your horse can be safe in the stable”

“Want me all for yourself?”

“As I said, you are free to leave.... tomorrow”

He pulled away from her and laid on his side, as she went under the covers but made sure to let her breast exposed and covered his lower body. It was his turn to reach for her, caressing her face as she beamed with satisfaction.

“And I will, until I can come back”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“A declare of my addiction towards you”

“Really? Then let’s see how intoxicated I can get you in a day”

[silvercrystalwhump]

The Death of a Tyrant

Vincent Shield belongs to @ashintheairlikesnow

TW: antagonising, bbu content warning, owen grant

-

The lights shine down across the stage, three cameras spin and whirl in the shadows beyond. Vincent can feel the eyes beyond the camera watching every hair on his head. He can almost feel the millions of eyes on the other side of the lens.

Today was a long day of interviews for the first television show that he’s ever been in and Ann’s, the young actress to his left, first-ever adult role.

Vincent can almost feel her anticipation through his skin. The poisoned nostalgia freezes the air in his already tense lungs. The interview boasts eyes of venom and they are poised directly at him.

This interview was supposed to be about the show.

It turned into a drama cast very quickly.

“So,” The interview leans back, eyes scouring across Vincent’s face. He can feel the resignation behind his eyes. Simmering coals eat under him. Vincent can feel the question before it leaves his lips, “How has the recent tape release affected you, Vincent. It must be rather hard to deal with the aftermath of being forced to come out.”

Vincent pierces his lips. Watching the lens on the camera pointed at him shift, Vincent draws up the mask, “While I would rather we keep this conversation on Iscariot and the Strings of Time, I will say that there has been many people who have been very helpful during a time that has been definitely stressful.”

The interview looks almost disappointed, eyes dropping into shadows before perking up as the focus returns to him. Vincent can really tell in these moments that this man sitting across from him and Ann was once an actor. Every movement in his face is planned and Vincent can see Ann’s gaze trying to avoid his.

She’s not used to this.

“Vincent, how do you feel about the Director’s new Box Babe, Kat?”

There it is.

Vincent sighs, “Han and I have had a conversation about this. He did not want his decision to get in the way of professionalism. He is aware that I will not hesitate to contact the Commission if I see any sign of abuse.”

The interviewer pauses, waiting for more words to come. They do not.

Then, Ann laughs, shifting in her seat, “It looks like he pulled an Owen Grant, Kat looks so much like his ex-wife to the point where it’s almost uncanny.”

The air stills for a second as the words settle into the floorboards. The sound of the lights quietly can be heard above. Those few heart-chilling seconds seem to eat at the very fabric of his turtleneck. It suddenly feels just a little too tight.

The interview picks up again, “Well, I believe that all of us can say that we are looking forward to seeing how you two work together in this new dynamic.”

Vincent draws a smile onto his face with an invisible sharpie. Ann scrambles to scoop up her own as the camera does doubt pans out to view them all.

“Are you allowed to reveal a date?” The interview leans in, the side of his face away from the camera twitching slightly.

Ann nods and nearly bounces out of her chair. Vincent remembers the excitement when he was younger that came with being the one to say the date. He used to itch for it when he was with his old studio. Something else I’ve lost.

“The first episode will be available on Netflix on November 1st!”

The interviewer sits up straight and clasps his hands together, “I cannot thank you enough for your time out here today, thank you everybody for tuning in and we all anticipate the debut of Strings of Time.”

Vincent watches as the cameras are shut off and pulled away. He holds himself in the chair until all of the cameras have been pulled away and the interviewer stands. In one movement he is off of the stage and talking with someone. Vincent brings his hands on the armrests and pulls himself to his feet.

Vincent floats for the door, plans to go home, and just passes out on the couch already bubbling across his vision. He hates the air conditioning here.

Why did he have to get brought up?

Vincent adjusts his blazer and steps out of the recording studio. Regretting wearing a turtleneck, he makes his way towards his dressing room. The sound of his shoes clicking against the tiled floor echoes around him. Air catches in his throat as the faint memory of a different set of oxfords walks down a hall only a wall away from him. The memory tastes like Coke.

Just grab your paperwork and go home.

A hand grabs his arm, “Excuse me, Vincent.”

Vincent spins around, panic, like an ivy spreading up his veins. Ann stands behind him, looking a bit flustered, “I need to apologies to you.”

“For what,” Vincent asks, forcing his muscles to relax.

Ann smooths out the edge of her blouse and forces her eyes, “Once the words came out of my mouth I realized how insensitive it was to just… nonchalantly mention the Owen ordeal as um.”

“Hey,” Vincent says, “I- You were nervous I could tell, I’m not offended.”

“Yeah, but especially since his mother just passed and he’s going to be working with us I- it feels wrong, I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry, what!

“I accept your apology, Ann. Don’t think too much of it. This is your first gig since moving into adult acting, right?”

Ann nods, leaning back on her heels. It is painfully obvious that she is very new to interviews that ask unscripted questions.

“It’s alright,” Vincent reassures, “Honestly Ann, don’t stress about accidentally stumbling over words. It happens.”

Ann relaxes just a little, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay, thank you,” Ann smiles, letting gallons of air escape her tense lungs. She turns around and trots for her room a few halls down. As he watches her walk away the nostalgia hits him like a truck. The people-pleasing, the desire to be perfect, to be without controversy, makes him flash a piteous smile and shake his head.

He straightens his spine and turns around.

A very intense woman is standing behind him.

“Oh, hello,” Vincent nearly exits his skin as she draws her gaze up to him, “I didn’t realise you were there.”

“Vincent Shield, am I correct?”

Vincent nods, squirming under her very intense gaze, “Yes, you are.”

She holds out her hand, “Keira Harker.”

He takes her hand and shakes it, “Pleasure to meet you Ms. Harker. How can I be of service?”

“You’re known to be very active in the Pet Lib movement and you were basically responsible for the creation of the Commision correct?”

Where is this going? “I wouldn’t say that I’m responsible, there are many people who helped put in place the building blocks that would lead to the Commision.”

“I am aware,” she responds, holding her gaze firmer than Vincent does, “However you have a lot of knowledge about the underground and many of the safehouses.”

Vincent raises a hand, feeling himself freeze under the delicate mask, “Ma’am, everything I have done has been within the limits of the law. I can assure you all of my associates are also performing their actions under the law.”

Her face hardens and she takes a small step towards him, “I am not accusing you of breaking the law.”

I have just gotten out of multiple interviews and a press conference and in the press conference, I was called a felon at least four times. I wanna go home and eat Dmitri’s chicken and rice soup.

“All due respect Ms. Harker that is what this is beginning to sound like.”

Keira sighs and relaxes slightly, “I am asking for your help, if I were to accuse you of being a criminal that would not be very productive.”

Vincent lets his body de-tense but he is in no way relaxed, “My apologies Ms. Harker. I have been on the butt end of those accusations for a better part of today. Just on my toes.”

“I understand,” she responds, almost mimicking his behavior, “My brother was… voluntold to join the pet program. I tried everything in my power to find him and I found out that he was sold to the son of a very powerful senator.”

“He was sold to Owen Grant.” Kauri.

Keira nods, glancing over Vincent’s shoulder, “While I wish not to speak ill of the dead, now that she is deceased. I believe it will be easier to discover his whereabouts without WRU getting involved.”

The weight of her words start to weigh on him. If she is looking for her brother, how many others are now looking for their family?

“Well, I agree in that sentiment,” Vincent gestures forward, “If I can have a name, I might ask around to some more of my well versed colleagues.”

Keira reaches into her purse and pulls out a white card, “So, shall we keep in touch.”

“Of course,” Vincent takes the small card and glances down at the contact information, “We’ll be in touch.”

-

Vincent steps inside and can smell something good. He faintly hears Dmitri moving about his kitchen, making dinner. The aroma of fresh bread makes his house feel alive. Dropping his stuff at the door to his office, he floats over to the kitchen.

Dmitri stands in front of the stove, wearing a faded Kiss the Cook apron. Vincent finds a small smile blooming on his face as he steps up to him.

“Soup should be done in five minutes,” Dmitri asks as Vincent leans up onto the counter next to him, “How was the interview?”

“We cannot be doing that the night before an interview,” Vincent mutters and he fusses with the turtleneck. “I have been paranoid that someone has seen this all day.”

Dmitri smiles and chuckles, “Vincent you can barely see them, I highly doubt they would notice.”

“Dmitri, the media would go batshit if I had hickies in an interview!”

Dmitri swills the spoon around in the soup before turning towards Vincent, “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

Last night, probably one of the first where he was both sober and relaxed. Dmitri had showered him in deep kisses. The two of them practically laughed themselves to sleep that night. They were so close yesterday.

Vincent had felt so. damned. cherished.

“Yeah,” Vincent pouts slightly while he leans into Dmitri, “I didn’t but I did this morning.”

Dmitri laughs, his chest rumbling against Vincent. His finger rests on Vincent’s hips and drums on his belt.

Vincent squints up at Dmitri, “If we get caught because of stuff like that I’m going to wring your neck.”

Dmitri leans down and places a soft kiss on his curls. His breath brushes across the strands and Vincent’s muscles relax. “I would love to see you try, cariño.”

The oven buzzes and interrupts their little moment.

“There’s the bread.”

-

Dmitri and Vincent sit out on his back porch, eating chicken and rice soup and just enjoying the crisp fall air.

“Can I ask you for advice?” Vincent says as he dips some of the bread into the broth.

Dmitri nods and leans in, “Always.”

Vincent rests his head back on the back of the seat, “Let’s say someone approached you and asked you to help them find someone. This someone has been missing for years but you’ve known their whereabouts for a while now. You want to reconnect them but you’re just not sure about what said ‘missing’ person would think? But you also don’t want to just completely cut of the person who asked for your help”

“Ask them,” Dmitri answers as he sips at his broth, “I’d just ask because they may not want to. They could have been trying to leave a difficult situation and don’t want to approach those who could have harmed them.”

Vincent sighs and tries to melt back into his porch cushions, “But what if he tells me not to talk to her at all, how am I supposed to explain that to her?”

“Improv,” Dmitri shrugs, “Lie.”

“Lie to someone who’s looking for her family?” Vincent blinks, “Isn’t that just cruel.”

“How do you know that she’s looking for them to be kind?”

Vincent pauses and lets his eyes wander upwards towards the dusk sky. The sky matches the color of the bottoms of the trees. The reds and oranges ripple above him and a sinking feeling eats in his gut.

“I don’t.”

Dmitri takes a final sip of his soup and gives Vincent a gentle smile, “Just ask them first, they might just wanna meet her and do it themselves. All else fails, just give them her contact information.”

I don’t think Kauri will. “Alright, okay.”

-

Vincent stands at the door to the safehouse. The sounds of the town around him drape the porch in waves of white noise, masking the sounds from within. Reluctantly, he raises his hand to knock on the wooden door frame. His knuckles barely tap it before two sets of locks are unlocked and Kauri opens the door.

They make eye contact and Vincent watches Kauri’s expression shift.

“Make this quick, I have stuff to do.”

Kauri lets Vincent step inside the safehouse. The air of the interior feels heavier than before, solidified by the sound of the deadbolt locking.

“I’m so-”

“If the words I’m sorry leave your mouth at anypoint, I’m gone,” Kauri says as he walks over to the kitchen, “Just get this over with.”

Vincent follows in his footsteps, glancing over at Jake who lays asleep on the pull-out couch. The makeshift IV step sits on the table next to him, out of use.

Remind me to send Nat money over to cover that.

Kauri places his hands on the counter behind him and shifts his weight into it. Crossing his arms out in front of his chest, he looks up over at AJke before returning his gaze to Vincent.

He looks exhausted.

“How has-”

Kauri raises his hand and presses his fingers together, making a “close your mouth” gesture, “Cut to the chase, I have errands to run today.”

“Alright then. A few days ago I was approached by a woman named Keira Harker who asked for my help in finding her brother, Liam Harker, who was taken by WRU. She said that she thinks the person he was sent to was Owen Grant and, now since Carlotta is no longer alive, she can try and find him without her getting in the way,” Vincent says, leaning his weight into the kitchen table, “She gave me her contact information and asked me to help her in finding-”

Kauri spins around and opens the cabinet behind him. Pulling out a white bottle, he sets it down on the counter and mutters, “So she’s looking for me?”

“Yes.”

“What else did you say?” Kauri asks as he pours himself a glass of water, “Did you tell her where the safehouse is? If you did I swear Vincent I’m-”

It’s Vincent’s turn to interrupt, “No, I didn’t say anything. All I said is that I would keep in touch.”

“Good,” Kauri says as he pours two pills out of the bottle and into his hand, “Cheers.” Kauri tosses the pills into his mouth and tilts the glass of water towards Vincent before drinking.

“What are you doing?” Vincent asks, tugging some at the sleeves of another turtleneck.”

“Migraine meds,” Kauri answers, pouring the rest into the sink, “I get them when I hear Liam Harker.” Just like clockwork, Kauri winces and rubs his temple, “Just something else to deal with.”

“I’m sor-”

“I will leave until Nat gets back.”

Vincent purses his lips and watches Kauri walk over to the fridge. The air stills around them in the way the air in a freezer is still. Something hangs over the room, could be the tension, could be the unease, could be the new presence in their lives, Vincent can’t tell.

“I have her contact information if you want it,” Vincent speaks, trying to shoo away the stillness, “On your time.”

Kauri pauses mid-reach. He rests his forehead against the fridge handle and says, “I- maybe later. I have far too much on my plate right now, running to the safehouse almost by myself. Nats with Jameson at her house, Jake is still recovering, the whole issue with Chris and Laken, the Oly- I just can’t take on something else right now.”

“I get it,” Vincent nods, shifting his weight onto his back foot, “I’ll keep it if you want it when all of this blows over. But, if she does try to press me for information-”

“Pretend you have no idea who me, Nat, and Jake are,” Kauri answers while pulling out a plastic pitcher of what smells like cold brew, “If I ever decide to contact her I’ll deal with it, okay? I’m just not ready or have the time right now.”

Vincent leans back on one foot to try and see the clock on the wall, “Um. what time is Nat supposed to get here, we have money stuff I have to talk to her about.”

“Around four,” Kauri answer while pouring himself coffee.

The sound of the deadbolt unclicking sounds softly crosses the room. Kauri barely glances over his shoulder.

“Is Nat back already?” Vincent asks as he tries to see the door.

“Nope,” Kauri says, popping the p. “Just Chris.”

“I- I’m back and I have Laken,” Chris beams as he dashes past with Laken in hand, “Oh hi Vince.”

Vincent gives Chris a small wave, “Hi Chris.”

“Wait- is that Vinc-”

But Chris has already whisked Laken away before they could get the last words out. Vincent follows them with his eyes for a moment before looking back at Kauri.

Kauri looks relieved. A tired smile adorns his face as he takes a sip of the cold brew.

Vincent doesn’t ask, he puts enough of the dots together to know something just fixed itself. Good for them.

“Anywho,” Kauri chuckles, looking back over at Vincent, “A turtleneck won’t hide your sins Vincy.”

“Shit, how obvious has it been?!” Vincent panics and readjusts the hem of his shirt.

“I was just joking...” Kauri’s smile deepens as the mischief returns to his face. He gives Vincent a look over and sing-songs, “...So, what’s Dmitri like?”

“We just kissed Kauri!”

“Sure, and I just kiss Jake.”

“Kauri!”