#I already have jump rings and earring hooks too

[seventeenpins]

new rules

pairing: ex!Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader word count: 2.7k summary: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away. content/warnings: smut, angst, Logan's a disaster alcoholic, suicidal ideation, unhealthy relationships, big dick a/n: I didn't expect the Logan bug to bite me, but here I am, horny for this old man, writing a songfic in the year of our lord two thousand twenty four. Dua Lipa's "New Rules" came on shuffle and I needed to make it about our big boy. Thank you to the loml @ozarkthedog for being the best human alive and also for hyping me up, reading it thru, and telling me "it made me actually want to try to fix him" 😅

You’re in your pajamas, toothbrush in hand and moisturizer shining on your face, when the screen of your phone lights up. You wince when you see the contact name.

DO NOT PICK UP

You watch as it rings out, and you exhale when the comfort of the black screen returns.

And then it lights up again.

Just ignore it. Just ignore it.

As you’re spitting your toothpaste into the sink, the screen lights up again, DO NOT PICK UP flashing across.

It’s a bad idea. It’s always a bad idea. 

But as it lights up a fourth time, you hit accept. As you bring the phone to your ear, you already know what you’re going to say; you need to stop calling like this; have you been drinking?; this isn’t going to happen again–

And then you hear his voice. It’s just a single word, and comes out more as a croak than anything else.

“Hi, baby-”

Just like the first time. The third. The five hundredth. It makes you fucking melt, makes your body heat and your stomach flip.

“Hi Logan.”

—

“It’s been too long, sweetheart-” 

“Yeah, well-” you sigh. You know how this always goes. “I told you not to call.”

“But you answered.” 

Even over the line he sounds smug. You wish you could punch him, god, if only. But you knew from past experience that his adamantium bones and entirely unfair regenerative powers would leave him perfectly unblemished, while you nursed a broken hand.

“Sooo-,” you venture, “Is there something you need?”

It was better to play clueless, you reasoned; You weren’t gonna jump the gun. You would make him spell it out.

"Just you, hon,” his voice is low and dangerous and you think you might really hate him this time.

“You know it’s nearly midnight, don’t you? Are you ever gonna call me when you’re sober?”

You hear a noncommittal grunt on the other end.

“What do you want, Logan?”

He takes a deep breath.

“Can I come over? I’ve just been missing you. Been a rough day.”

“No.”

“Please, baby? I need you. Please?”

You close your eyes and exhale. Ten calls ago, you might have tried to hide the frustration, but you’re well beyond that now.

It’s always a bad idea. Always makes you remember the bits of him you miss desperately. Your nights together. How you still fucking love him.

“Can take care of you, princess-“ he pleads.

“I hate when you call me that. And no, you can’t. You can’t even take care of yourself, Howlett.”

He huffs a laugh. “Been doin’ alright a couple hundred years. Keepin’ myself alive.”

You don’t want to say the question neither of you will acknowledge.

Is this really living?

“Fine. You can come over.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Motherfucker-! Have you been on your way this whole time, Lo?”

With a snort, he ends the call.

He’s on you before you can even get the door closed behind you. His hands are cradling your head as he kisses you deeply. You were right; he tastes like cheap whiskey. And cigarettes, you realize. Fucking cigarettes. And then you remember– he’s all but abandoned his cigars, as though the pain of losing a vice was part of his penance. 

With an awkward foot you try to hook the bridge of your foot along the edge of the door, pull at it, but instead of closing it you just overbalance, tumbling further into him.

He catches you as if it was nothing, as if he were so innately steady he’d always be there to break your fall.

When he has you back on your feet, he gets right back to it, tearing at your clothing and his, pulling your top over your head, fumbling with the drawstring of your bottoms. He cups your breasts, pinching and teasing, and walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the foot of your bed and you tumble. 

Logan tumbles with you, his hold on you never ceasing, and now you can feel how hard he is against you.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

You’ve missed this. Fuck you’ve missed this. What kind of self-destructive dumbass judgment were you letting rule you? 

You need to gain some control back.

“Condom,” you tell him. 

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not joking, Logan. Should still be in the top drawer.”

He exhales with a chuckle, but pulls his beater over his head and lets you get an eyeful of his toned chest before leaning over and sliding the drawer open.

Then, he rummages around, pulling back with a shit-eating grin. 

In his hand is a roll of condoms, classic fit.

“You got a little boyfriend?” he asks, and you feel your face heat.

“Shut the fuck up, Logan.”

“Now I’m not seeing the Magnum’s in here. You sure you still have them? Or are you so busy fucking dumbass boys with little pricks that you can’t even bother to pick up the phone?”

“The condoms are just in case– better to be prepared– and besides it’s none of your fucking business if I’m sleeping with anyone else!”

“You know I can’t get STIs, right?”

You do know. You remember that first conversation years ago. You grit your teeth.

“And if you’re so worried,” he continues, “I’ll buy you Plan B.”

“Move,” you tell him, and he scoots back so you can look in the drawer yourself. Much to your chagrin, he’s right. Not a single gold packet in sight.

You groan, and he laughs.

You should tell him no. Should tell him that if he wants to fuck you, he needs to go out and get some. Because it’s not even the risk of any sort of transmission, or even the risk of pregnancy that gives you pause. It’s the intimacy. The way you can hardly bear it when you can feel him dripping out of you. The love you still have for him, even after everything. 

The way you know he still needs you, too. More than you need him. But after everything he’s done, everything he’s been through, everything he’s lost– you can’t bear to be another thing he loses, not fully.

But now he’s straddling you, scooting you backwards towards the head of the bed. His cock presses heavy against your thigh, and you’re so overwhelmed by the way he’s pressing kisses along your jaw and nibbling behind your ear, you barely notice as he lifts your hips to pull your panties down. His nails scrape down your back and the angry scratches start to bloom with heat. 

You don’t realize you’re both fully naked until you feel the heat from him press against you, the slick of his weeping cockhead dragging a trail just below your navel, down down down-

He strokes himself twice and lines himself up, pressing against your opening. You wait for the feeling, for the way he always slams inside you, but he surprises you. Presses the tip in and rocks himself gently, easing you open.

After a moment (and hardly a single inch) he pulls out and sits up.

For a gut-wrenching second, you think he’s changed his mind, and how fucking dare him? He’s not the one who gets to back out of this. Fuck.

But then his cock is replaced with his hand, and he pumps himself with his left, while pressing inside of you with his right, scissoring his fingers open, pulling whine and moan and gasp out of you, coaxing you along with his filthy mouth the whole way.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, letting out a groan when you squirm against him, “You’re tight as the first time I fucked you. Clearly no one’s been takin’ care of this pussy, huh?”

Two fingers become three, and you’re overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure taking over any rational thought.

“That’s it, honey, open up for me. Such a shame no one’s been fuckin’ you right. Would make you feel good every damn day if you’d let me.”

He rubs against your clit in unyielding circles and pulls you right to the edge. You feel yourself dripping, thighs trembling, and tears rolling down your face, but just as you’re about to cum he stops. He guides your arms upwards and pins you down by the wrists with one rough hand and leans over, caging you against the bed. In a second beat, he knocks your legs wide, baring you fully, and he presses himself in. You’re beyond slick and the glide is exquisite. The feeling of his bare cock pressing into you makes you shudder with arousal. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock grind against you, making you shake. 

He fucks you deep and slow. The drag is exquisite. He pulls almost the whole way out, before rocking back in again, his foreskin adding to the delicious glide. With every thrust he’s burying himself so deeply you’d swear you could feel him in your belly.

“You’re openin’ up so nice, takin’ it so good,” he growls, and you feel a thrill of pleasure bloom through your body at the praise. “Been missin’ this. Miss how soft you feel around me. Have you been missin’ your old man, too?”

You don’t even register he’s asked a question till his palm is swatting your jaw. It’s not painful, it doesn’t even sting. And it does exactly what he’d hoped; it refocuses you on him.

“Wha- What?” you ask, coming back to him, whilst feeling your peak build and build and build-

“Have you been missin’ your old man, princess? 

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes-”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes I’ve been missing you. Stop looking at me like that, Lo. C’mon now, fuck me like you mean it.”

You can’t deal with him being sincere right now. You need it rough and you need it mean.

It takes him a moment to pull himself away but then he does, obliging as if he can read your thoughts. He pulls out, leans back, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and makes you moan as he folds you in half. He’s pressing so much deeper now than he had only a moment ago. Any gentleness that had been there disappears immediately.

He’s panting, letting out heavy grunts as he slams into you and sweat drips down his temple. 

As he fucks you, he drives into you cruelly but you match each thrust. Every time he knocks you back, you press against him harder and heavier. Make sure it hurts, for both of you.

He’s never been a selfish lover and makes you scream on his cock, cumming three times in rapid succession, each peak that little bit higher. Each peak is a little bit harder. 

You’re boneless and spent. When he cums inside you, his claws shoot out, angrily splintering existing notches on your headboard. Blood trickles down between his knuckles. One drop lands on your lips, the perfect kiss from this mess of a man. Another drop lands on your new linen pillowcase.

At least you got those tide pens. 

You want to tell him off about the headboard–the splintered edges are ugly and ragged. But the fact you hadn’t gotten a new headboard is kind of on you. It may as well be an invitation.

You add a note to your shopping list. Plan B.

—-

You wake up alone in a dark room. The first thing you see is your bedside alarm clock, red blinking numbers telling you it’s 3:12 AM. Then, you hear a rustling in your living room.

You step out to investigate, bleary-eyed, to find Logan silhouetted in front of your liquor cabinet, bottle of amber liquid in hand. He raises the bottle and takes a swig.

Back to this-

"Go home, Logan.” You tell him, and he startles at your voice.

"Baby- I been havin’ bad dreams-” 

You cut him off. "I’ll call you a cab. You’re not staying here, trying to drink yourself to death on my sofa-”

"Sweetheart,” he cuts in, “You know it never sticks-“ 

He says it with a grin like it means nothing, and it’s mean. Makes your stomach flip.

This is the closest either of you had ever gotten to the depths of it all. You’d both been pretending for so long.

You leave the room.

A minute later, you’re back, and Logan has emptied the bottle.

"Get dressed.” You toss his shirt at him. It smacks him in the face and falls unceremoniously to the floor. “Cab’s on its way. You owe me for the whiskey.”

He nods. His movement is loose, and you can see the booze is finally affecting him. More than just making him gutsy, it’s making him sloppy. Every movement is sluggish as he redresses.

"You wanna know why?” He asks, and it comes out slurred.

You ignore him. “I’ll walk you down. Get home safe, okay?”

He nods again. Looks like he’s trying to put on a show to prove just how sincere he is.

You kick his shoes towards him, and help him with his jacket when he struggles.

A horn honks outside, and you both look to the window. When you turn your head back, though, he’s only inches away from you, whiskey-breath across your cheek, and a wearier frown than he’s ever let you see before.

"When I drink I don’t dream-,“ he tells you, “Claws don’t come out.”

Then he kisses you on the cheek, turns on his heel with an unsteady sway, and leaves your home.

You struggle for hours to fall back asleep, the bed suddenly much too big.

You ignore his calls for a week. They come through later and later. Nine PM, ten. Midnight. Two.

And then one night you get a text. 

He’s rarely one for texting, so to see the notification makes your heart speed up and your stomach flip.

DO NOT PICK UP - Attachment: 1 Video

With a single, hesitant tap, you open it.

You’re not sure what you expected. Something dramatic, maybe? Something miserable? You hope to god he’s not figured out some way to make himself an adamantium bullet. It’s a fear that’s bounced around in your head for a while now, but you’d never ask just in case he hasn’t thought of it yet himself.

Whatever it is, though, it has to be something that will make your heart ache and your head spin and–

It’s anticlimactic. Kind of.

It’s just a video of him, phone angled to show him in his steamed-up mirror.

There are dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes, but besides that, he looks as perfect as ever. You can’t see below his hips, but you know Logan and you know he’s fully naked. His body hair is slick, his skin glowing from being freshly showered.

This fucking asshole knows exactly how to get you.

You hit play. 

At first, you can barely tell it’s a video. And then you see the way his arm is moving. He’s holding his phone with one hand, his other casually stroking himself just below the frame of the video.

“You gonna stop ignoring me?” he asks, his voice a throaty purr. “Quit playing games. Get your ass over here and let me take care of you.”

AND, you realize with a twinge, you text with him so rarely, you never turned off read receipts.

Three dots appear and you know that he knows you’ve seen it. 

A moment later, the text comes through.

“Ready for you, princess.”

God, if only it would take more than that.

As if overtaken by a horny ghost, you’re already slipping your panties off and putting on your favorite skirt. 

You’re at his house an hour later. 

You let him guide you. Taste you. Fuck you. Fight with you. 

You let him devour you, and let yourself fall in with him, in with the guilt and the anger and the hate and self-pity.

And fuck, it’s the love, too. It never went away.

[ghostickle]

I’ve made jewelry before but it’s normally kinda childish fun colorful stuff but I don’t wear things like that and anyways I just ordered a bunch of stuff to work with leather and spikes and chains n everything instead

[gor3-hound]

BARK OR BITE - TOJI FUSHIGURO

ft. toji fushiguro x fem!reader

a/n: anonymous commission :3 this is just smut oops. brat tamer toji has my whole heart and i got a lil carried away x

cw: 18+ content, daddy-daughter incest, pet play, degradation, excessive use of mutt, gagging, collaring, oral sex(m!recieving), face humping, mild scent kink, face slapping, light breath play, he's mean, creampie, orgasm denial, p in v, breeding kink

word count: 2.5k words

You've been really pissing Toji off recently. Granted, it's not the hardest thing to do, but it doesn't mean he's getting any less frustrated with your antics. You got too used to his dick, and even spanking your cute ass raw only seems to leave you dripping all over his thigh by the end of it. Sluts like you need creative punishments, but he doesn't have the strength to ignore you, not when one look from you has his cock twitching against his briefs.

You already start yapping his ear off as soon as he brings up the topic. Saying shit like "I'm an adult now, and I can do whatever the fuck I want". Unlikely, when you're still living under Toji's roof. Good thing he already has a back-up plan, specially tailored for girls like you. He shifts forward, his eyes narrowed as he looks down at you.

“One more fuckin’ word, sweetheart. I dare ya. Always wanna act like a bitch with Daddy, huh? You're gonna get fuckin’ treated like one.” He hisses, grabbing you by your hair to tug your head back harshly. “Pretty mouth like yours should only be used for one thing, but mutts like you love to bite. Daddy's gonna have to make sure ya can't.”

He snaps the collar in place first, and that's already enough to get you begging. All the 'no, daddy's and 'please, I'm sorry's in the world couldn't stop him now, not with how rapidly his cock is filling out. It's hot, almost gets him as worked up as when he squeezes that little throat with his hand. The bone gag comes next, and he even got you a pretty one, the pink leather straps matching the collar. He sees your jaw clench, and then you're tugging your face away disobediently. You're even a fucking brat being face with your punishment.

"Open." Is all he says as his free hand cups your jaw, his fingers and thumb pressing down almost painfully on your cheeks, forcing your teeth apart enough that he can manhandle the rubber of the gag between your lips before fastening the strap at the back of your head. If he thought the collar was hot, the sight of you gagged and scared has his dick leaking so much he feels like he came in his pants.

Toji can hardly ignore his pants straining as he looks at you with that bone gag in your mouth, spit sticking the rubber already as your lips stretch around it. It takes all his willpower to pull away from you to sit on the couch, his legs spread. He would love to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck the brattiness out of you, but he's starting to think his little girl loves Daddy's cock too much.

“C'mere.” He bites out, his sharp tone ringing in the room. It makes you jump a little, and that's enough to bring a smirk to his face. You can barely meet his eyes as you shift towards him, your hands hooked in front of you. You already looked embarrassed, head hung in shame. Good. You should be.

He snorts out a laugh as you go to sit next to him on the couch. He hooks a singular finger into the space between your collar and your neck, yanking you down onto the floor at his feet. “Bad girl. No mutts on the furniture.”

You look so dejected at his words, a soft whine building in your throat that has his brows frowning. He's trying to make you feel like shit, but he should have anticipated the puppy dog eyes making his heart ache. With a sigh of frustration, he pulls his cock out of his pants, tugging them down to his mid-thighs. He can see the change in you instantly - your eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas, and your body perking up.

“When did I raise such a cock-hungry slut?” He hisses, fisting his hand in your hair and pulling your face towards his crotch. He can see your confusion as you realise you're still wearing the gag, another low whine building in your throat. But this isn't about what you want - it's a punishment. And he'll be damned if he goes soft on you just because you're his little girl.

He tilts your head to the side, letting his thick shaft rest against your cheek. His thumbs move to the top of his length, pressing down so it's resting more firmly against your face as his fingers wrap around what they can of your head to hold you steady. With a low grunt, he starts to thrust his hips forward, humping your cheek.

Toji grunted as he began to rut his thick cock against your flushed cheek, smearing pre-cum over your skin. He leans down to spit a thick glob of spit onto your face before rubbing his length against it, letting out a low groan at the slick sensation. His calloused fingers tightened in your hair, keeping your face firmly pressed against his shaft as it slid lewdly across your features. The sloppy sounds of his movements filled the room, mingling with your pitiful whines around the gag stretching your lips obscenely.

"Yeah, that's it pup. Get a good whiff of Daddy's cock.” He rasped, voice thick with arousal. "Fuckin' mutt always beggin' for it. Should be grateful I'm even givin' ya this much attention after the shit you've pulled."

He punctuated his words with a harsh slap of his cockhead against your cheek, leaving a sticky streak of pre-cum across your skin. Toji drank in the sight of you - flushed and drooling around the gag, hair dishevelled from his brutal grip, eyes glassy with need. A deep rumble of approval rolled through his chest as he drank in your desperate form.

"Such a needy lil' bitch. Can't even go a day without wantin' Daddy to breed that tight pussy, can ya?" His hips snap forward, the thick shaft of his cock sliding across your spread lips. "Keep beggin' mutt, maybe if ya convince me enough I'll let ya taste it later.”

That seems to get you going, muffled please spilling from your gagged mouth as he coats your lips in pre-cum, using you as nothing more than a toy to hump for him to get off. His eyes are dark as he watches you, his breath growing a little shallow as he stares down at your desperate, ruined face.

"Fuckin' hell..." He growled under his breath, voice low and gravelly. "Ya really are just a cock-starved lil' mutt, ain't ya pup?"

With a harsh yank, he pulled your face flush against his crotch, hearing your sharp inhale as his thick, heady musk assaults your senses. Toji groaned shamelessly at the sight of you, his hips giving an involuntary buck forward.

"Look at ya, beggin' for Daddy's cock like the needy bitch ya are." He sneers, though his taunts only seemed to spur your desperation further, your whines rising in pitch.

Toji's free hand trailed down the line of throat, thumb digging in just enough to make your breath hitch. He drank in every little reaction, committing each of them to memory. With a rumbling chuckle, he finally pulled back enough to let his aching length hang free, twitching helplessly against your face.

"You're lucky Daddy's feelin' generous enough today to give ya a taste." He murmurs, reaching out to unbuckle the gag and let it fall, the wave of drool that was collecting on your tongue spilling past your lips. He rubs the length of his cock along the mess before slotting into your mouth with a moan.

Toji let out a deep, rumbling groan as he finally slotted the thick length of his dick between your drool-slicked lips. Your cheeks hollowed instinctively, tongue lapping at the underside of his shaft in a desperate attempt to please him. You really were a natural cocksucker. He was sure you were never happier than when you had a dick buried in your throat - except for when your tight cunt was stuffed.

"That's it pup, get a good taste..." He rasped, hips canting forward to feed you more of his thick cock. "Been too fuckin' lenient with ya lately."

His free hand slid up to grip the back of your skull, holding you in place as he began to rock his hips in a lazy rhythm. Each thrust buried his cock deeper down your convulsing throat, making you gag and splutter.

"Look at ya... chokin' on Daddy's fat dick already. Can't even take it properly without gaggin' like a bitch." He grunts, emerald eyes glinting with sadistic hunger as he watches you struggle.

With a harsh grunt, Toji pulls you forward until your nose meets the hair at the base of his cock, letting his length rest heavy on your tongue for several beats. He relished the way your throat constricted around him, desperate little moans vibrating along his shaft in a way that made his balls tighten.

"That's it pup... gonna use this fuckin' sleeve 'til I'm nice and ready to breed ya like the needy lil' mutt ya are.”

You desperately try to suck in a breath as he breaches your throat, swallowing around his length to try and adjust to the intrusion. Your hands reach up to attempt to claw at his thighs, tears stinging your eyes.

Toji's grip on your hair tightened as you gagged around his thick cock, your delicate fingers scrabbling uselessly against his muscular thighs. A low, rumbling chuckle reverberated in his chest at the sight, his lips curling into a cruel smirk.

"That's it, pup. Choke on Daddy's dick like the fuckin’ whore ya are." His hips rolled forward in a slow, punishing rhythm, relentlessly burying his shaft to the hilt in your convulsing throat.

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, your vision swimming as you fought against the urge to black out from lack of air. But Toji didn't relent, holding you in place with an iron grip until your struggles weakened, your body growing pliant under his unyielding assault.

"Fuckin' knew ya couldn't handle it." He growls, voice thick with arousal as he pulled you off his cock with a wet pop, leaving you coughing and gasping for air, strings of saliva connecting your mouth to his leaky tip.

With an almost predatory grin, Toji drags you up by the collar, his eyes glinting with wicked intent as he manhandles you onto the couch beside him, reaching down to yank your shorts off your body. Your legs spread on instinct, drawing a soft chuckle from Toji as he gazes down at your glistening folds.

“You want Daddy to make ya feel good, sweetheart?” He coos, his voice sickly sweet as he slides a thumb between your folds from your clit to your entrance, dipping it in for a moment before pulling his hand back.

“Such a silly pup - dumb little girl thinks her old man is gonna be all sweet to her after she's been a brat all week. Poor thing. Your puppy brain can't think right, hmm? Just wants to make sure you're stuffed full at times.”

“You’re nothin’ more than a breedin’ bitch, made to take daddy’s cock.” He grunts as he grips your hips, flipping you over and pressing down on your upper back so your face is pressed against the cushions, ass up in the air for him. His jaw clenches as he presses his tip into your cunt, thrusting shallowly.

“Dad, daddy. Please-” You're cut off by two of his thick fingers forcing themselves past your lips, the pads pressing down on your tongue and making you gag.

“Dirty fuckin’ mutts like you don't speak. I made this pussy, and I'll decide when she gets filled.”

You whine as he slips out of you completely, shifting to rub his cock between your slick folds instead, groaning as you coat him in your arousal.

“Gonna breed that tight little puppy cunt.” He grits out, pulling your face up by the jaw, giving your cheek a couple of light taps until the skin starts to warm before drawing his hand back and giving you one harsh smack, grinning at the yelp you let out. “Cute.”

He sinks to the hilt in your cunt, slipping his fingers out of your mouth to grab the back of your head, shoving it into the couch cushions. His pace is relentless, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the room as he rocks into you desperately.

“Dad-” You croak out, voice muffled as you try and pull away from his thrusts, your hands pressing against the sofa in an attempt to lift yourself up slightly. “Daddy. S'too much…”

“Too much?” He repeats, scoffing slightly as he presses you further into the couch, his free hand shifting to your hip to hold you steady with a bruising grip. “You're gonna take every inch, and you're gonna be grateful for ‘em.”

“You're mine to use however I like, pup. I don't take complaints, not from filthy little mutts like you. You're gonna want to shut that mouth of yours, pup, or I'll give ya somethin’ better to do with it.” He grits out, grinding his cock deep into you, the tip bruising your cervix.

He can feel you clenching around him, your walls fluttering as your climax builds, making him clench his jaw. He hesitates before pulling out, fisting his length as his own release builds. “You were a bad girl, y'think Daddy's gonna let you cum?” He scoffs, ignoring your pleading and whimpering.

He keeps stroking himself as your tremors fade, tears streaming down your cheeks as the heat in your stomach dissipates, leaving you needy and twitching in front of him. He hisses as he feels his balls tighten, dropping his head as he fucks his fist faster.

“Still gonna breed that needy cunt. All you're good for, huh? Daddy's little breeder, made to take his fuckin’ loads.” He groans, slipping inside of you once more, thrusting twice before stilling inside for you, thick ropes of cum filling you up.

He huffs out a deep breath before pulling out of you, flopping back against the couch. He looks over at you after a moment, patting his thigh. “C'mere, baby. Come.”

He waits until you settle on his lap, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. He softly wipes the tears away with his thumbs before drawing you in close, tucking your face into the crook of his neck.

“Daddy's good girl. Took it like a champ, baby. Take a nap, yeah? I got ya.” He murmurs, his hand running up and down your back. He holds you tight against his body, his hand never easing up on rubbing the tension from your back until you pass out in his arms, cuddled up against his chest.

[babygirlispunk]

Summer Fling - PART ONE

Pedro Pascal X f!Reader

Summary: living in a completely different hemisphere, you didn’t expect to bump into Pedro Pascal at a music festival.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Reader is not physically or ethnically described but is Australian. Honestly inspired by my own summer romance I experienced when I was younger with a guy who happened to be Latino lol. This is just quickly written to get over my jitters and get confidence to post other stuff SO ITS PROBALY A BIT MESSY SORRY.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

The ground is vibrating beneath you feet, your ears are ringing from hours of listening to loud music for days. The temperature has cooled down from the summer sun with the night sky. Bodies glisten with sweat, dancing in the crowded space as you're all harmoniously vibing and singing to RUFUS. Everyone's either drunk or high, sloppily hanging off one another or shouting aloud enthusiastically.

It's New Years Eve, 10 or so minutes from midnight. You can't believe your seeing one of your favourite bands live and an absolute banger of a song is playing right now and you can't help but raise your hands into the air and dance your heart out, shouting the lyrics not caring how scratchy your voice is from singing along with different singers and bands for the past 3 days.

You manage to hear your name being called out next to you. It's your best friend Syria. You two managed to lose the rest of your group when squeezing your way further to the front wanting to get into the heart of the crowd and the vibe.

She leans in closer so you can hear her over the pounding music. "I reckon we should get to the very front before midnight hits."

"Why don't we ask someone if we can sit on their shoulders?" you yell back.

You both look around to find any guy or girl that would be willing to hold you and Syria up but most people are already paired up or in groups leaving the creepy looking ones left that would probably feel you up.

Bodies keep dancing around you as you duck and weave your way through to the front. You quickly make it, motivated by the words 'You were right' booming from the speakers and the singer announcing that New Years is drawing in. As you emerge to your new spot you bump with some guy passing a quick sorry and turning your attention to the stage. Both happy with how close you are, you wrap your arm around Syria's shoulder and she wraps hers around your waist. You scream-sing, jumping up and down together getting hyped, probably sounding like squealing pigs, when you just hear a laugh next to you.

(Highly recommend listening to You Were Right - RUFUS DU SOL for the next part, for the vibe)

You look where it came from and connect with gorgeous chocolate brown eyes accessorised by glasses, paired with a wide cheesy grin framed by a scruffy, patchy beard and unkempt curly hair. He must've been the guy you bumped... Being polite, you smile back and turn back to the stage singing with Syria.

But it hits you like a brick wall and you double take. You look back to see the guy talking to their friend, up close as they talk into each others ears. Colourful lights bounce off him from the stage and you focus on his face, confirming who it is.

"Syria!" You hiss into her ear but she's too entranced by the music to notice so you give her a shake under your arm and gives you a 'what' face.

"You would not believe who is next to me!" She gives you a confused look then peeks in front of you to look at him, returning to face you with eyes as big as an owl.

Without wasting a breath she shoves you into his direction and you trip over yourself and bump into him again, basically landing on him but he ever so gracefully catches you, hooking his hands underneath your armpits.

"Woah there, had a bit too much to drink have we?" he chimes out loud.

You're embarrassed and can only blurt out a no.

"Sorry about that, those guys next to us knocked us over." Syria covers for you.

"Assholes." he looks at you, still held in his strong hands, smiling sweetly.

He brings you back to your feet and you turn around to say your thanks but your close. Really close. Face to face. Your eyes flicker at every point of his face, really soaking in every detail your buzzed out brain can retain till you land on his eyes. They're looking down at you're lips before they flick up and lock with yours. They're so deep and gorgeous, you could just dive and swim in them

"Thanks." you manage to say despite your heart is beating violently inside your ribcage. He winks back with a cheeky grin making you blush as you turn back to face the stage. The song keeps pumping around you and Syria is dancing and singing her little heart out.

He stands right besides you now and you can feel his hand brushing against your arm as you both dance on the spot. You can feel the goosebumps travelling up your arm as he keeps touching and nudging you. You can't help yourself but steal a glance at him only to see him doing the same, biting your lip, saving yourself from giggling like a little girl. That damn smile hasn't left his face.

The massive crowd surrounding you start screaming out the minute countdown and you join in trying to distract yourself from the closing proximity between the two of you. Try as you might, you still keep looking at him in the corner of your eye only to see him doing the same.

30 seconds left.

A hand gently glides around your waist followed by a body pressing against to your side sending a chill through your body and the butterflies are released, fluttering wildly in your stomach.

20 seconds left.

You look up at him, he's looking forward at the stage bobbing his head pretending like he isn't pulling your body towards him right now. He's clearly showing his interest, there's no point chickening out now.

You snake your hand underneath his loose tee and wrap your arm along his back, placing your hand on his hip using your thumb to caress the skin on his back.

He turns his gaze to you with a smirk on his face and squeezes his hand holding your waist making you gulp down.

10 seconds left.

He bends down so that his mouth grazes your ear ever so softly.

"I was wondering if you would be my new years kiss?"

He moves his face in front of yours, just a breath away, waiting for your answer.

5.

"Are you sure?" was all you could manage.

4.

"Why not start the year kissing a gorgeous girl?" he inches closer to you, nose tips brushing.

3.

You're both breathing heavy, both of your eyes fliting between each others eyes and mouth. Breaths brushing each others skin.

2.

You turn your bodies to face one another. Moving your arms around his neck, his hands not losing contact with your waist, squeezing your lower half closer to his, pelvis' coming in contact inciting a flutter down there.

1.

The song drops and lips crash into one another, the impact cushioned by his plush lips, you feel euphoric. This all surreal even with Syria screaming her lungs out behind you along with cheers from the masses.

You feel the heat of fireworks and sparklers set off from the stage as everyone celebrates the new year but it doesn't compare to the fire burning inside you as he pulls you in tighter making your chests rub against each other as you two are hungrily trying to taste one another. He swipes his tongue along your lips as an invitation to deepen the kiss and you let him in immediately. As your tongues dance together, tasting each others choice of alcohol, you feel his nose tickle against your cheek.

Not wanting to pull away, you inhale and exhale through your nose and you are enveloped by his smell, his sweet musky smell. He is like a damn drug and you're already addicted. Wanting more you tangle your fingers through his hair, desperately trying to bring him in closer, deeper than physically possible.

You're becoming overwhelmed by it all that a moan slips out of you, passing though and exchanged to his lips. You try not to over think it but you feel a slight smile form on his lips as he devour you, returning the moan back for you to inhale. His hand drops to your ass, kneading them in his fists and pulling you even closer than you thought possible letting you grind up his hard rump forming underneath his thick jeans and your core slickens fast.

Not wanting let go but starving for oxygen, you eventually pull back, not letting go of your bodies. He is also out of breath, shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

“What’s your name?”

You say your name through shallow breaths and he repeats it after you. You feel excitement hearing him say it out aloud, making your own name sound like liquid gold oozing from his mouth. Still getting your breath back, be gently nudges his nose on yours, pecking you and not wanting to lose the space between you, eyes never leaving yours.

“Would you come back to my tent* with me? Get away from this crowd and prying eyes…” he says almost desperately asking as his lips keep pecking yours, knowing exactly what he’s really asking.

You nod in agreement and he smiles that sickly sweet smile. Moving his hands from your ass, he threads his hands into yours and turns to his small friend group speaking with each other. You then realise they had watched the little show you two had put on. Then you feel like something is missing.

Syria.

You look all around in the surrounding crowd of singing and dancing bodies but you can’t find her. She’s missing. Letting go of his hand, you continue looking around getting on your top toes, jumping to look over peoples heads. You call out her name but she’s no where to be seen. Every worse case scenario runs through your head. Your group made one rule to follow during this festival.

Never ditch your buddy.

A wide hand grips around your wrist, giving you a slight fright till you remember who it was connected to, following his body till your met with his puppy dog eyes.

“My friend is missing, I need to find her, make sure she’s okay.” You say frantically.

“Let me help you.”

“No no it’s okay.” There was no way you were going to drag an A-list celeb around massive festival grounds swarmed with thousands of people that could horde him, away from the safety of his own friends.

“Are you sure?” He brings you in closer wrapping his arms around your waist as if locking you to him and you hold onto his arms, getting a good feel of how toned they are. You look at his lips, swollen from your kiss, hungry for more but you had priorities…

Giving him one last kiss, you keep it sweet and simple, lingering there for a moment fighting the urge the stay. “It was nice meeting you Pedro.”

As you pull away he give you a sad smile to pair with his puppy eyes. Turning away, shattered your moment was cut short, you weave through the crowd looking for Syria.

You circle round the crazy crowd, desperately looking for Syria but to no avail. You whip out your phone fumbling fingers on the screen trying to call her. Reception on its last bar unsurprisingly but by some miracle she answers. You hear your name from the other side but it’s staticky and broken, repeating over and over again as you try to call her name on your end.

Barely making out the words over the static and loud music pounding around you before it eventually hangs up. You look at your screen, call failed.

You growl in frustration, till a hand grabs your shoulder. Twisting around hoping to see his face, you’re sadly met with your friend Joey.

“Hey we’ve been looking for you!” He yells over the music.

“I’ve been looking for Syria!” You yell back.

He rolls his eyes and grabs your hand and leads you.

Once you’ve reach the back of the crowd, the music is less rattling and people are more spread out, laying on the grass, too drunk or too high, you spot of friend group with Syria.

“There you are! I thought you were kidnapped or something.” You give her a big hug, relieved.

“Oh my God no! I spotted some of the group in the crowd and went to get them so they could witness you getting with your celeb crush!”

“I still don’t believe it. Could be a look alike” Huffs Joey.

“Well luckily I took a pic.” Syria proudly unlocks her phone and shows everyone the photo.

It’s blurry and all you can see is your back facing the camera with the top of Pedro’s head next to yours. The butterflies from before flutter again as you see he’s arm wrapped tight around your waist and his hand gripping your ass.

“Can’t see shit Syria.” Someone else says.

“Fuck off.” Syria shoves the person and turns her attention to you. “I’m sorry I ditched you. Didn’t mean to scare you and ruin your moment. Literally the one time it really mattered. Now you probably won't see him again.”

You give her a big hug knowing she didn’t ditch intentionally. “All good. Just glad knowing you're alive and not kidnapped by weirdos.”

“You hot bitch, you hooked up with Pedro fucking Pascal!” She squeals his name and jumping like an energized puppy, overly excited for you.

You laugh out loud, still not quite comprehending it actually happened despite your skin still hot from his touch, the tingle lingering below and your lips swollen from your intense pash. You bite your bottom lip, reminiscing.

“What a way to start the year.”

MASTERLIST - NEXT

check out my recs list for stories written by people with actual talent ♡

A/N: Multiple day festivals in Australia, typically, people camp at the festival site with tents, camper vans etc. and depending on the festival, they sometimes have the VIP tents with working facilities that cost an extra pretty penny AKA glampin' so he’s chilling in that 👍🏼

[iocaisaint]

Azriel BC

Decided to come back to this (only doing the second half for my sanity)

"He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.

He found it already occupied. His shadows had not warned him.

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running"

Why is this man rizzless, maybe he'd be less bitchless (gender neutral) if he interacted with people outside of the incestuous ass friend group! Also love the shadows being sentient and just doing whatever they feel like.

His shadows peered over his wings at her

The young priestess smiled--and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows. But she just hooked her coppery-brown hair behind an arched ear."

Az's shadows doing the heavy lifting is... Azriel my brother in Christ maybe it's time to resort to poetry.

Also I'm gonna bet exactly 2 cents that smile was directed at Az (and I say this with love because he's just...yeah) because there's no reason to have it questioned?

"Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he'd been the one who'd found her that day at Sangravah. "Happy Solstice," she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.

He snorted. "Are you kicking me out?"

Az is so....sir you wanted to be alone 5 paragraphs ago? You were genuinely bemoaning the fact that you couldn't run, the power of the mere presence of Gwyneth Bedara I guess.

"Gwyn's teal eyes flashed with alarm. "No! I mean, I don't mind sharing the ring. I just...I know you like to be alone." Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. "Is that why you came up here?"

Sort of. "I forgot something," he reminded her.

The amount of times in which Gwyn gives Az an out to leave in this conversation alone....take it!

Fine,"he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. "It was nice."

Not much better. So he asked, "Did you and the priestesses have a celebration?"

LOSERRRRR (affectionate)

They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?"

“I am a shadowsinger--it's not a title that someone just made.”

She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. "Do you, though?" she pressed. "Sing?

This genuinely got a chuckle out of me, gonna touch on this later.

"Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer"

I wonder if Azriel's shadows hold a conference about being attached to an idiot. You are a spy master, where are those skills of deduction???

"Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he'd do something he regretted....He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need"

VS

"Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch"

Lowkey hate the "she's his peace" trope but I'm also not gonna ignore the writing on the wall.

"Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly."

Wouldn't consider Gwyn a friend (fair) but the thought of her reaction to the necklace brings a smile your face which you have to consciously erase AND you have to bury that image you 🫵🏾 conjured up deep down 🧐

Not going to touch the most notable comparison "secret thing of lovely beauty" because it does not move me and when necklacegate happens I hope Gwyn throws that fuckass necklace into the Sidra a la Cassian and Nesta jumps Az for 3 chapters straight.

Also Gwyn light singer theories do not move me, I'd actually just end up loving her more 🤷🏾‍♀️

[cascowriteswords]

hi everyone 👋 i wrote something  [[the one where i found this in my google docs from months and months ago and finally finished it and accidentally created a teeny tiny fwb au]]

“Is this why you invited me over?”

Lexa humphs. She tries to take her phone back from Clarke’s grabby little hands but no luck; Clarke uses her shoulder to block her, shoulders rounding as she leans over the phone possessively like Gollum with a ring. 

“It’s not, but - oh, wow, Lex. These are - these are really bad.” Clarke can barely get her words out around the laughter bubbling up from her chest. Lexa’s ears burn and her cheeks pink as she collapses back against the couch, half wishing the cushion would just swallow her whole. She crosses her arms and tucks her chin against her sternum, the definition of sulking while Clarke ridicules her dating profile. She swipes through profile pictures - the main one with Lexa proudly holding an 8lb bass she’d caught last summer, the next of her locked in an arm-wrestling match with Anya, another posing with Lincoln’s golden retriever puppy in the middle of a baseball diamond. 

Lexa thought the pictures were good, making her look attractive and showcasing some of her personality - outdoorsy, athletic, good with animals. 

Clarke apparently doesn’t share her opinion. 

“The fish pictures. What is it with the fish pictures? I thought it was a straight white boy thing but. Well, you don’t quite fit that bill.“ 

“I’ve gotten a lot of matches and compliments on my pictures, thanks. Especially on the one with the bass. Can I have my phone back now?”

“Yeah, I see that. Hm, here - Kylie Jones. Has a boyfriend but wants to experiment if you can be discreet. She’s excited to have found a lesbian that isn’t so ‘butchy’ - her words, definitely not mine. And then Dana Walters, who has a Let’s Go Brandon t-shirt on in her profile pic. Really reeling in the all-around 10s I can see.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Lexa lurches forward and catches Clarke by surprise enough to wrest her phone out of her hands. She promptly hits the lock button and slips it back into her pocket. “They’re not all like that. I’ve gotten plenty of perfectly nice, fully vaccinated girls replying too.”

“Why are you even on Tinder?” Clarke changes her line of questioning. “I’ve never heard of anything good coming from it. People just use it to hook up.”

Lexa shrugs. “Maybe that’s all I’m looking for. I’m not searching for love.” 

Because she’s already found it. She exchanges a meaningful look with Clarke, who undoubtedly picks up on her unspoken thought. But Clarke had told her she isn’t ready to be with anyone, not yet. 6 months ago. And Lexa’s willing to wait - she knows that Clarke’s ex-boyfriend had cheated on her and understands that she isn’t ready to jump back into dating right away. But she’s also human and has needs and 6 months is a long time. So, Tinder.

Clarke looks thoughtful. She keeps staring at Lexa and Lexa stares back, not quite sure why her heart is beating a little faster in her chest. “So you’re just looking for meaningless sex? No strings attached?” 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I can do that.” Clarke looks completely serious but Lexa���s certain she must be joking. She’d rejected her when she'd asked her out on a date all those months ago and they’ve been platonic friends ever since, and now this? She’s offering sex? Cannot compute. “You don’t need to go out and meet these random strangers. That doesn’t sound safe, or fun.”

Lexa can think of a dozen reasons that’s a horrible idea, starting with the fact that she’s in love with Clarke and Clarke is not in love with her. It’s a recipe for a disaster. “Uh, it’s nice of you to offer but -” 

“Are you horny right now?” Clarke interrupts, effectively shutting Lexa up. “Because if I’m honest you’ve been driving me nuts in those jeans all day.” Her eyes rake up and down Lexa’s body and Lexa swallows, mouth suddenly dry. Clarke’s hand is on her knee now and she isn’t sure how or when it got there. 

“Clarke, we really shouldn’t,” she says, but she’s unable to keep the hitch out of her breath when Clarke scoots a little closer, slides her hand a little higher. It could be a trick of the light but it looks like her pupils have gotten bigger, infiltrating normally-blue territory. 

“You don’t want to?”

“You know I do,” Lexa laments. “It’s just that -”

“Feelings. I know,” Clarke sighs. She’s rubbing circles over the faded denim covering Lexa’s inner thigh now, absentmindedly. “So you’d really rather fuck some stranger?”

“Not at all,” Lexa admits. “But…” 

“Maybe it would be easier than you think. To separate the physical from feelings?” Clarke suggests. Lexa’s pretty sure sex would just compound her feelings. She bites her lip, torn and uncertain. Her heart and her body want one thing but her head is warning her against it. “Okay. Okay, I’ll stop pushing, I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole. You said no.” Clarke says, smiling in a sweetly apologetic way. She pulls away and returns to her separate space on the couch, sighing, looking adorably flustered. 

Flustered because she wants Lexa. Fuck. And Lexa wants her. So what are they even doing, sitting here feeling tortured? Her resolve breaks quickly. “Okay,” she says. Clarke’s eyes snap up to meet hers, full of question. “I know you said you’re not ready for a relationship right now, but if you feel like you’re ready to sleep together then we can try -”

Clarke is across the couch and in Lexa’s lap so quickly it almost knocks the wind out of her. Lexa had thought she was the only one pining and wanting and lusting after her best friend but despite Clarke’s rejection, she seems equally as desperate and frantic as she crushes her lips to Lexa’s. And fuck, it’s even better than Lexa had imagined it would be. Clarke’s lips taste like her vanilla chapstick and she winds her fingers through Lexa’s hair and Lexa has never felt so consumed by a kiss. So wholly unable to think of anything else, her pulse fluttering wildly as her hands find and settle on Clarke’s hips. Clarke reacts to the touch and grinds down and Lexa is briefly embarrassed by the moan that flies out of her mouth, until Clarke mumbles, “Fuck, that’s so hot,” against her lips. She nips at Lexa’s lower lip then, pulling it between her teeth and biting down just hard enough to sting, eliciting another moan. 

Lexa normally prefers to maintain a little bit more control during sexual encounters, but with Clarke in her lap kissing her furiously and rocking her hips she finds herself more than willing to relinquish some control. Things move fast and slow simultaneously from there, time blurring as they lose themselves in one another, all roaming hands and hungry mouths. After an indeterminate amount of time Clarke reaches down and deftly undoes the button of Lexa’s jeans. Following a quick check-in to which Lexa very quickly consents, Clarke slips her hand under the elastic of Lexa’s underwear and runs her fingers through her, finding her already slick with anticipation. 

“Fuck, Clarke,” Lexa gasps at the sensation, hips jerking involuntarily. 

“I’ve got you,” Clarke murmurs softly, stilling long enough that Lexa opens her eyes, not quite remembering when she’d shut them in the first place. She’s not prepared for what she sees; the softness in Clarke’s eyes as they search hers, the lust and want clear in them but also something…else. Something she can’t quite put her finger on, and she doesn’t have time because Clarke starts moving again and renders her incapable of thinking of anything other than how fucking good that feels. 

“I’ve got you,” Clarke says again, before leaning back in to swallow Lexa’s groans.

Lexa is fucked - literally and figuratively. Because the more Clarke says that, and the more Clarke keeps touching her like that, the more she realizes that ready for her or not, she’s already very much Clarke’s.

[heavenlyfay3]

Workplace grievance pt.2

By Sawyer-Summary: part 2 of you getting your scolding from Mr.O’Hara

Miguel x reader

@lostpirate79 @thel0velykey190 @angel-xx-1

Warning: smut oral f and m receiving fingering

Never in your life had you thought this would ever happen to you sure you may have had some fantasies about fucking your boss but for it to come true?!

After what felt like hours but what was probably only seconds you got the courage to speak in a small voice “Mr.O’Hara I want you to-“ but just as you started you stopped at the sound of his office phone ringing. The phone ringing made you jump, you completely forgot anything outside of the two of you existed and you snapped back to reality

“What could they possibly want now” he said annoyed rolling his eyes and going to pick up the phone “Yes what is it?” he said putting the phone to his ear placing his other hand on your cheek and moving his thumb on your chin

While in your thoughts thinking, about how all of this was probably for nothing about how this could've been just a hook-up to him that he would probably never want to see you again that he probably did this with all his employees and you weren't special. You soon realized he was taking off the jacket of his expensive black suit and loosening his tie

You start unbuttoning your blouse, taking off your skirt and panties following his lead. He grabbed your face and pressed his index and middle on your bottom lip and you opened your mouth giving him access

He quickly put his fingers in your mouth and you immediately started sucking and licking them making sure to get them wet. he moved the receiver of then phone away from his mouth “Fuck you’re good at that” his said taking his fingers out your mouth and kissing you.

The kiss was hungry but passionate he already had you but the kiss made you feel like he wanted more..

he pulled away from your mouth and his hand immediately went down to your pussy that had been begging for attention. his finger started rubbing slow circles around your clit teasing you

“Mmmh- Sir!” you said leaning back on your hands and arching your back. He looked at you biting his lip “What? yea i’m listening, actually i’m gonna put you on with my assistant.” he said smirking giving the phone to you “what?! Mr.O’Hara i’m not your-” you whispered but before you could finish your sentence he put the phone to your ear and someone was taking to you

“Helloooo do you know blah blah blah….

You had no idea what the person on the phone was saying the only thing you could focus on was that somehow Miguel's face was in between your legs and he was sucking on your swollen clit.

You had to hold your breath to keep yourself from moaning into the phone so the person on the line wouldn’t know that their boss was going down on you while you were on the phone with them.

“Um Hello”

Again you tried to focus on what the person was saying but now Miguel was licking and kissing all over your cunt. you grabbed his brown hair causing him to moan into your pussy sending vibrations all over your body. At this point you had threw the phone away from your ear not exactly sure if you hung up.

you let out soft moans as he began sucking your clit, your body melting into the desk as you feel his hot breath on your core. you arch your back and tug on his hair more as he continues to drive you wild.

he adds two fingers to your throbbing pussy as he focuses on your clit again circling his tongue around it

you gasp loudly, biting your lip as your toes curl as he continues to eat you out. A small cry escapes your mouth as you cum, your juices pour out of your tight hole as you hold onto the edge of the desk tightly.

He laps up all your cum with his tongue swallowing it as you try to catch your breath and come down from your high

He places sweet kisses all over your face and lips “You think you could do one last thing for me?” he says whispering in your ear “Or are you too tired to get on your knees and suck my cock?”

“I’d do anything for you Sir” you say looking up at knowing that this would be the last time you got the chance to be with him so you should enjoy while you can.

“You are being such a good girl for me,” he says helping you stand to your feet. As soon as you are on your feet you are on your knees again face to face with his huge and hard throbbing cock you didn’t get a good look at it before but at this angle, you see how massive it was. It was thick and had two veins along the shaft just remembering the way it felt inside you got you wet again.

you were so deep in your thoughts about how his cock looked in front of you, you didn’t realize until he slapped it against your face “earth to y/n~”

You snap out of your daze and reach forward slowly taking hold of his shaft gently and wrap your warm tongue around it. It twitches under touch making you blush as you start sucking the tip softly.

He grabs the nape of your neck and pushes your head slowly down his cock making you choke and gag on it.

He grips your hair and starts thrusting into your mouth you moan quietly around his cock, your hands gripping his thighs as you struggle to breathe. your breathing becoming heavier as you begin to choke on his cock, saliva dripping off your chin as you keep trying to take every inch inside your mouth.

He pulls it out of your mouth and grabs the base of it as he starts to slap it all over your face groaning in pleasure the feeling of your throat closing makes you cough as you try to catch your breath while doing so he cums on your face.

After all the work you both just put in to give each other pleasure you both sit in silence trying to catch your breath.

Eventually, he helps you up and takes you to his office restroom to clean yourself up When you come out he's cleaning his desk.

After everything that happened you had no idea what to say so you walk toward the door to leave

“Hey Y/n,” he says before you open the door “Yes sir?” you say turning to look at him “Please at this point you can call me Miguel,” he says chuckling

He walks up to you and gives you a ripped piece of paper with a number on it “I hope next time I see you it will be under different circumstances” he says giving you a peck on the lips “Me too Miguel” you said smiling at him

A/n: i have no idea what it would be about but lmk if y’all want a part 3 and im so grateful y’all liked the first one and it got the attention it did!! thank you all so much💕😘😘😘😘

[64yrsold]

ugh!

“Want to swim?” he asked, arms locked around me as we stood at the edge of the water.

“Don’t throw me in this pool,” I warned, giggles crawling out of my throat as he swayed me back and forth.

“I wouldn’t,” he laughed, and let go of me, my skin cold at his absence. He took a few steps back, eyeing up the still water. “Watch out!” he said, sprinting to the edge and jumping in the water with a shattering splash. I was soaked, wiping water from my eyes as he resurfaced, shaking out his hair. I sat down, dangling my feet in the deep end. He swam up to me, grabbing at my ankles. His pink mouth was pulled into a smirk.

“You, keep away,” I kicked my feet, but his grip was strong.

“C’mon, sweetheart, it’s very warm,” he begged, pouting and resting his chin on my knees. He pointed at my shivering jaw, and I rolled my eyes, sliding off the edge and into the water. I sunk to the bottom, the muffled silence intensifying the ringing in my ears. He joined me at the bottom, crossing his legs, bubbles curling out of his mouth. He waved at me slowly, his hair rippling in a flaming halo around his head. I waved back, hand slow as my lungs burned. He pushed up to the surface first, and I followed, taking a quick gasp of air.

“Beat you,” I bragged, and he stuck his tongue out, pulling me to his chest. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he held me lightly. His skin was warm, and he surrounded me with his touch, kissing my neck softly.

“You did,” he mumbled, catching beads of water with his lips, “Just this once.”

“You’re forgetting our recent game of tic-tac-toe,” I chimed, pushing an escaped strand of hair back on his head.

“Right, you did win that,” he laughed, hands fumbling with the fabric at my hips, “I like this.”

“My swimsuit?” I asked, watching a cluster of droplets crawl down his neck.

“Mhm,” his thumb pulled at the black fabric, “It’s a little slutty.”

“Too slutty?” my bottom lip rolled against my teeth, his black irises watching me closely.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he shook his head in vehement denial, “Would never say that.” I laughed, draping over his shoulder.

“I feel like a teenager,” I giggled, watching water rise up his endless back, “Isn’t the pool closed by now?”

“It must be two in the morning,” he hooked his chin over my shoulder, throat buzzing against my collarbone, “Don’t worry, nobody’s going to kick us out.”

“What if someone does?” I turned to look at the entrance, half-expecting to find a stranger’s eyes. His hand pressed against my neck, guiding my head back to his shoulder.

“Then I’d tell them to fuck off,” he pressed circles under my ear, “I’ll take care of you, darling.”

“I’d feel bad, if you said that to someone,” his skin was wet against my lips.

“I’d tell them to... go away. Better?”

“Better.” I sighed as his thumb found an ache in my neck, “Thanks, baby.”

He chuckled.

“Think you should take me back to the room,” I yawned, “Or you’ll have to carry me.”

“Are you tired already?” he gasped, pulling his head back to look at me. He frowned when he saw my heavy eyelids, “Shit.”

“Better hurry,” I closed my eyes, and he giggled.

“I’ve got you, love,” he pushed us through the water, taking long strides, “Hold your breath a second.”

“Don’t,” my voice shook, spilling over with nervous laughter.

“Three, two,” he bounced with every word, “One!” He sunk under the water, popping up once I was thoroughly soaked. I gasped, spluttering at his antics.

“Not funny,” I bit my cheek, hiding a smile, “I was nearly asleep.”

He pushed me higher onto his waist, grinning against my lips. “Forgive me?”

//

[akradekra]

Passionate Resuscitation Pt. 2

(Apologies for the delay. I suffered a bit of writer's block writing this part. But now, on with the show.)

It's been three months since I revealed my resus fetish to my girlfriend, and we did our first CPR role-play. In the weeks that followed, we had done it again numerous times, usually followed by passionate sex. After a couple sessions, we both thought we should enhance the experience. Sure, mouth to mouth and chest compressions were fun, but after a while, doing just those two became a bit boring. And so, we went online to purchase some equipment: An ambu bag for ventilation, a stethoscope, an EKG monitor with electrodes, an oxygen mask as well as a oxygen tank for good measure, and finally, a defibrillator.

The first night we used the equipment, I was so giddy, she had to calm me down a couple times. I couldn’t believe it the first time we’d done a CPR role-play, but this? This was beyond even my most wildest dreams. Once I’d finally calmed down, we set the scene. She laid down on the floor like she did the first time, her long curly red hair pooled about her head, her eyes closed, lips parted. The only difference this time was that she was already topless.

The first thing I did take the stethoscope and listen to her heartbeat

Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect. I hooked her up to the EKG, which was pretty simple as I attached the sticky electrodes to her chest and stomach. Immediately, the EKG sprung to life, showing her resting heart rate with the familiar "beep, beep, beep" sound ringing in my ears. It was like music. Once everything was set, I began as I normally did by stating the general information:

"24 year old female in cardiac arrest. No breathing, no pulse. She's been down for five minutes. Begin CPR."

I started with the usual mouth-to-mouth, lifting up her chin and pinching her nose as I gave her two breaths. After that, I turned to her bare chest. Her breasts as pretty as ever as I put my hands between them and began chest compressions. With every compression I gave, the EKG would have an additional spike, as her heart was compressed under my hands. After completing the set of 30 compressions, I took the new ambu-bag we’d purchased and placed it over her mouth and nose, squeezing it twice to give her oxygen into her lungs, her chest rising and falling with each squeeze.

I turned to the monitor, which read a normal sinus rhythm. I used the stethoscope to hear her heartbeat.

Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum.

Despite her heart still beating like normal, since we were in role-play, I saw things differently:

"She's in V-fib. Charging the paddles."

This was what I was most excited about. Since the beginning of my resus fetish, Defibrillation was what REALLY got me going. The way the body jolted as volts went through them in an effort for their heart to return to a normal rhythm turned me on more than anything else. I of course, wasn't going to turn the defibrillators on, since this was just role-play, but I treated as if it were a real scenario. I took the paddles from the dock, applied the gel, rubbed the paddles together, and placed them on and below her beautiful massive chest.

"Charging at 100... CLEAR!"

Her chest arched upwards like it would in a movie, before coming back down with a thud.

"Still v-fib. Charging again at 200... CLEAR!"

Her chest jumped higher as the "voltage" went through her body.

"Still nothing. Charging at 300... CLEAR!"

Her whole torso lifted off the ground before crashing back to the ground, her breasts jiggling. I was absolutely rock solid now, and I could tell she was also turned on too. I leaned in to kiss her, but before we could lock lips, she stopped me, breaking character.

"Wait, not yet. I'm enjoying this a lot."

Of course who was I to turn down more CPR roleplay? And so, we continued. She closed her eyes and I looked over at monitor.

"She's back in asystole, we're losing her. Resuming CPR!"

We continued our role-play for the next hour or so as I continued pumping her chest and switching between mouth-to-mouth and the ambu-bag, as well as on occasion calling that her heart had gone into v-fib and "shocking" her with the defibrillators, watching as he chest arched up and her head snapped back. Finally, she gave the signal to end the roleplay, gasping for breaths as if she'd just been brought back to life. I looked back at the monitor, then back to her.

"Sinus rhythm, we got her back."

With that, she practically pounced on me as began our traditional post role-play sex. After we were done, we laid my bed catching our breath, chatting about the experience.

"So how was the experience this time? More authentic?" I asked.

"Oh definitely. You were right, the heart monitor really did add to the immersion, even if my heart was beating normally. I get now why you like defibs so much. You liked how my chest would jiggle from the shocks, didn't you?"

"Oh I most certainly did. You're quite the actress you know?"

"And you're quite the doctor. I don't know how many times you've saved my life, but trust me, I will pay you back one of these days. Maybe I'LL be the one giving you CPR, hmmmm~?"

"Oh I'd love that. I really would."

We began making out on the bed, her arms wrapped around each other. We looked into each other's eyes and stared for what felt like centuries. Then she asked me something.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"What if... You actually shocked me with the defibrillators?"

"What?"

"Yeah, like if you actually shocked my heart?"

"Baby, you know how dangerous that is."

"I know, but still, I wanna know what it would feel like to actually be defibbed."

"Even if I set it to the lowest voltage, the shock could damage your heart or even KILL you. I don't want either of those to happen."

"I guess you're right. But at the same time, I think you're underestimating yourself. If I wasn't in your care, I wouldn't ever be asking to be defibbed for real. I trust you, and if my heart were to stop beating, I know I'd be in good hands with you."

I moved on top of her, hovering just above her chest.

"You're right about that. I would never stop until your heart was beating again."

I leaned and press my lips onto her chest, kissing her heart. I then laid down on her chest, listening to her heart as she wrapped her arms around me.

I guess that little talk was sign of what would happen later down the road.

To be concluded...

Next >

< Previous

[charcadett]

Hi! I really like how you write, it’s very good.

Can I request an angsty situation where Rika finds her partner being attacked and jumps in to help them but for a moment it seemed like she was too late and the damage was too severe even if her partner does survive?

Thanks, you’re awesome!

Ohhhh yes I love angst heheh. I hope you enjoy this one! Time to feel some agony Rika, I’m not sorry about it.

CW: Injury and hospitals

Rika’s Partner Gets Hurt By A Pokemon

- After the events of Area Zero, more and more paradox Pokemon have been leaving the Great Crater into general Paldea. To take care of this, the Gym Leaders, the Elite Four (minus Poppy), and Geeta herself are dispatched periodically whenever a sighting is reported. Rika gets a call from Geeta to take care of an unruly Paradox Pokemon. Given that she has dealt with them many times by this point - out of everyone she somehow has the most free time - she’s more than confident in her ability to take care of this. So, she invites you along. Consider it a date with a short work interlude. Plus, you get to see how cool she looks taking this thing out.

- You giggle and lean against her, feigning fear as she wraps you into a firm hug. Rika presses a kiss to your cheek and gallantly decrees, “You don’t have to worry about a thing, not with me here to protect you.”

- As you walk both make your way to the location Geeta provided, you’re laughing and roughhousing. Rika knocks shoulders with you as you try to catch her off guard with a kiss. The two of you are too caught up in each other to notice the shadow overhead until it’s too late. Roaring Moon descends directly towards you with a terrifying cry as you fumble to grab one of your Pokeballs. Clodsire is already out, both it and Rika ready to defend you. Roaring Moon opens its mouth to release a powerful Dragon Breath towards Clodsire. When you stumble to your feet, the movement catches its eye as it snaps its head towards you. You barely have time to blink before the full force of its move knocks you against a boulder with a sickening crack.

- She never wants to feel like that again. Seeing you crumpled against the ground, not knowing if you’re still breathing. It was like her world shattered. Adrenaline-fueled panic had her rushing to your side and hoisting you into her arms to get you far away from the furious Pokemon. When she finally gets you to a hospital, it’s all she can do not to break down when she’s told moving you was dangerous. You’re in critical condition, your ribs are broken, and all she can do is sit here and try to get a hold of someone to do the job she should have finished an hour ago. She should have never brought you along. What has she done?

- Rika blames herself. If only she was faster, if she was paying more attention, if she hadn’t brought you, every single variable is clogging up her head. You would be fine if it wasn’t for her. She finally gets in contact with Larry, who tells her he’ll go take care of the Roaring Moon. After forty-five minutes, Hassel comes jogging into the waiting room. He apologizes for not getting her calls, he has his phone off during the school day. If it wasn’t for Larry dropping by, he wouldn’t have had a clue.

- She doesn’t cry. No matter what, she doesn’t cry, but Arceus, she wants to more than anything. When a nurse steps out of the back with a grim frown, all Rika wants to do is vomit her breakfast all over the clean linoleum floor. “They’ll be okay, but-“ She can’t hear the rest over the relieved ringing in her ears. It’s a miracle Hassel is there to catch the rest of the conversation as she slumps back into her seat. The adrenaline she’s been running on since the encounter with Roaring Moon has been sapped out of her, but when the nurse says she can go visit you in your room, she’s on her feet in an instant.

- Seeing you in that hospital bed, hooked up to machines and engulfed by the stench of blood and chemicals, makes you look so terribly small. You’re alive, though. Hurt, but alive. Finally, she breaks down, gripping your hand like a lifeline as she silently sobs into the side of your bed. Rika’s apology is incomprehensible and gurgled out between rattling cries. You run your shaking fingers through your hair. “It’s okay. I forgive you, it’s okay. We’ll be okay, Rika. I love you.”

- She takes off work to spend every second she can with you so you’re not lonely in the hospital. When you’re finally discharged, she waits on you hand and foot. No matter how many times you voice your forgiveness, it’ll take a long time for her to forgive herself. With your insistence, she starts going to counseling to help work through her mess of emotions. It’ll take a while for you to heal physically, but even when you do, Rika is always checking up on you to make sure you’re okay. She loves you more than anything, and time really does heal all wounds. Both you and Rika will be more than fine in the end.

[luvrhyune]

-; ✧˖*°࿐ HOT GIRL BUMMER . BANG CHAN .

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ SORRY, I LOVE YOU !

AUTHORS NOTE ; this is a fic from my smau, hot girl bummer. if you choose to read as a stand alone i can't promise it will make sense.

CONTENT WARNING ; reader has a panic attack. please be cautious while reading.

series masterlist.

“oh shit, i’m sorry,” upon hearing the voice, you froze, your heart was beating in your throat and your ears started ringing. looking up, you saw the one person you were trying so desperately to avoid.

bang chan.

seeing the brunette before you, your voice was caught in your throat — mouth opening and closing as you stuttered, stumbling over your words as you struggled to get out a response. a frown fell upon chan's face, eyes scanning over you, watching as your hands waved around to help your speech, watching as your body slowly grew more tense, watching as you closed in on yourself. “you okay?” he quizzed, his hand reached to touch your arm, wanting to ground you, wanting to let you know he was there. he could sense you were overwhelmed, not realising he was the reason, “let's go get some air, yeah?”

before chan’s hand could even touch you, you jolted away from the movement, “don’t–!” you gasped, eyes wide with panic, “don’t touch me.” you started to get overwhelmed, everything suddenly became too loud, too bright, too hot – you had to get out of there.

you backed away from the brunette, heading for the doors of the club, though the cool breeze of the night did nothing to help ease you, instead making everything worse, and all you could do was pace back and forth – tears welling up in your eyes and your emotions seemed to progressively build up.

you sucked in a deep breath, trying desperately to calm yourself down, only to choke beating on your chest as the tears fell, painting your emotions on your cheeks, making you completely vulnerable to any passersby.

chan followed you outside, not wanting to leave you alone while you were spiralling. “y/nnie,” he called out to you, slowly approaching, “you’re okay, i’m here, breathe.” he smiled, his arms open.

you shook your head, backing away from him, “i can’t—”

ignoring your protests, he came closer, his hands finding place on your cheeks — cradling your face in his hands, “i’m here,” he murmured, watching your body language. “breathe with me, okay? in and out, deep breath in.”

the two of you continued the breathing exercise until you managed to calm down. feeling exhausted, you rested your head into his chest, “i’m sorry,” you muttered, hands gripping his t-shirt.

his own arms came to wrap around your frame, a soft smile on his face, he missed this, he missed you, “theres nothing to apologise for.” his hands ran up and down your back, wanting to keep you calm, “you okay now?”

“yeah, just,” you sighed, pulling away from his touch ever so slightly, studying his face. he had the same soft, adoring smile he always had when looking at you, his eyes seemed to hold the stars that the dark blanket known as the sky was missing, “just tired.”

he nodded, already having figured — you always used to feel that way after a panic attack. the brunette moved from your hold, “lets go for a walk, hm?” he held out his pinky for you, smile widening, forcing his dimples out of hiding, as you hooked your pinky finger onto his.

the two of you walked the streets in a comfortable silence, ignoring the constant buzzing of both phones. “channie?” your ex boyfriend paused hearing your old nickname for him fall quietly from your lips, turning to face you, mouth parted in a silent gasp, eyes wide. “can i—,” you sighed, not knowing how to get your words out.

“let’s sit down, and talk,” he led you towards a brick wall, placing you upon it, before jumping on it himself, “whatever you wanna say, take your time.”

as you thought of the words, you sat and stared at the man before you — the reason for you being out at some shitty club, trying to have a good time with your friends. “i’m,” you huffed, embarrassed by what you’re about to admit, “i’m only here to get over you.”

the last few moments of your relationship with chan was messy, to say the least. the once loving, supportive relationship had turned cold, and hurtful — the two of you no longer being able to see eye to eye, or make compromises for one another.

at the time, you were frustrated with being the only person bringing in money for the two of you, you were frustrated that all chan could seem to care about was making music in a rented out studio with two of his friends — he didn’t have seem to have time for you or your relationship.

chan, on the other hand, knew his music would work out, he knew 3racha would take off — putting all of his time and effort into that. he wanted you to give him time, time tor bring in money, time to show you how much he loved you, time to give you what you deserved.

the ending of your relationship was filled with miscommunication, hateful words, and misunderstandings.

chan huffed out a laugh at your confession, his hands rubbing over his face before he turned to look over at you with a lopsided smile, “me too.” he laughed as you blinked at him in shock, his arm finding purchase on your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. “i never wanted to break up, you know.” his voice was low, sad almost as if your break up was running through his mind, “it’s just what was best at the time.”

your mouth twisted in thought, “i’m sorry,” you muttered, “for not believing in you, and you’re music.” you pulled away slightly — only so you could see him, still wanting to be within his embrace, “you’re doing so well now, i’m proud of you… and the boys.”

chan’s face was lit up with the bright smile, you loved so much, at your praise, a small giggle tumbling from his lips. “i’m sorry too, for neglecting you.”

“i still love you,” you sighed, falling back into chan’s chest in embarrassment, “i never stopped, channie.”

your ex boyfriend smiled knowingly, squeezing your waist in affection, “yeah?” you nodded the best you could, causing him to laugh, resting his chin on the crown of your head, “would you…” he swallowed, fighting his nerves, “would you wanna try… us, again?”

you looked up one last time, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. you smiled, hand moving to cup his cheek, thumb stroking over the bone in a pattern the two of you knew all too well, “let’s see how it goes?” chan placed his hand over yours, leaning into your space, pressing his plush lip’s against your own in a soft, delicate kiss filled with multiple emotions.

“i love you.”

chapter ten — sorry, i love you.

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

AUTHORS NOTE ; hello! i’m so sorry this took me so long to complete :(( i really struggled with certain scenes, and i was super unmotivated so it was hard for me to bounce back! i know this is super sloppy and all over the place but i hope you can see the real love and the connection between chan & y/n!!

TAGLIST :

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@cosmic-railwayxo , @might-be-a-rat , @ddazed-lhs , @djeniryuu , @beatr2x , @choiwonder , @yeonjunszn , @t4ste , @sunnibearr , @beautifulgashinaxxxi , @yongi-lee , @seungbinbin , @aloverga , @nebulousbookshelf , @luvsooby

[aerodaltonimperial]

7 [whispering] encouragement to them

(Hookhausen; usual warnings apply)

He's supposed to go down and meet Orange, Chuck, and Trent in the lobby, supposed to head out and get a late-night snack. He was supposed to be jumping into a quick shower, and that had plan had been demolished as soon as Hook had slipped in behind him. And...well, it could be quick, still, given how Danhausen's stomach is already coiling, his veins quickening, how Hook's hand around his dick has already picked up the pace.

"What is Hook doing?" Danhausen asks, even though, yes, it's obvious, but Hook is not always so loose with his touch, his time, his energy. "Is he—"

"I know you're worried," Hook murmurs, his mouth trailing a line down from Danhausen's ear to his mouth, pressing kisses into the corner. "You've been staring at your phone all day."

Oh, no. Danhausen had thought he was being relatively subtle, but if he hadn't been... "It's nothing."

"Listen to me," Hook whispers against Danhausen's ear, just loud enough to pick out over the roar of the shower head. "I don't care what they say."

Hook never has; that's what works about him, that's what makes him so untouchable, unflappable, unstoppable. Danhausen wishes he could find that for himself. That calm, that confidence...he wishes he had a fraction of what Hook carries with him every time he steps in the ring. "Hook doesn't—"

"You're amazing." Hook's breath tickles along the shell of Danhausen's ear even as his wrist twists, fingers sliding up, thumb curving over the head. "Do you hear me? They don't know you, but I do. And you're worth everything."

Hook must have been online, then—must have seen the comments. The tweets. The Reddit posts. He normally doesn't go looking for things, so if he did, if he went out on purpose, if he's here now... "Hook," Danhausen tries. It's fairly well mangled; he's too close to the edge to get the tone flat.

Hook's teeth come down on the lobe of Danhausen's ear, just enough to sting, to bubble a gasp up out of Danhausen's throat. "You're the best person I've ever met." He licks a stripe along Danhausen's jaw. Oh, this won't last long—between the water, and Hook's pace, and his words— "You're the only person worth really knowing, you hear me? Nothing they say matters. I believe in you."

"Hook," a second attempt, even weaker than the first. Danhausen squeezes his eyes shut. His hands scramble to find something to hold, and the only thing is the tiny rod for the wash cloth. His toes curl against the porcelain.

"You are everything to me," Hook whispers, and that's all it takes for Danhausen's world to go white as his muscles seize. Hook keeps his hand where it is while Danhausen rides it out, still peppering tiny kisses into the juncture of his ear and jaw.

Danhausen sighs, slumped against the side, boneless. "Hook."

"Still wanna go get that snack?" Hook asks.

[aliseaaah]

"Oel ngati kameie"

Neteyam x Fem!Reader

‼️Warnings‼️: massive angst, death, memories mentioned, broken English. NETEYAM IS 19 AND SO IS READER.

Summary: Neteyam's last moments and his funeral.

Words: 2,1K

"Neteyam come on! We have to go!" I hurried him as we hid behind a wall from the RDA. My hands shook from fear and I was sweating. Neteyam peeked and fired the gun.

"Y/n. On three!'" He said, in a panicked and rushed voice. I nodded as I clung onto his arm. "One..two..three!" He fired again and dropped the gun as we ran to dive into the water. I held his hand as he helped me jump over the railing. I heard a grunt but I already hit the water, I desperately searched for my mate's body and when I spotted him, he was clutching his chest. I reached out to him and he desperately enveloped his hand into mine. We swam for what felt like eternity, my body was aching and my thoughts were all over the place. I gasped for air when I finally made it to the surface, it felt so good to breathe. My eyes scanned neteyams body. 

"Teyam what's wrong?" I demanded, I was breathing heavily and when I saw blood coming from between his hands my heart stopped beating.

"I'm shot, Y/n.." his face was scrunched in pain as I stuttered over my thoughts and unspoken words.

"No, no, you-you're okay-" I cooed, my heart was clenching and beating rapidly as I held tightly onto his hand. 

"Get him on!" Lo'ak's voice rang in my ears, it was painful, why is it so quiet? Why..? I let out a sob as I got on the ilu and they helped Neteyam get on. My hands shook as I hooked my arms around his waist, letting him lean on me, but before that I saw the bullet hole. My ears flattened down and my bottom lip quivered.

"Y/n? I..it hurts." He coughed out in a shaky voice all I could do was hold onto him. Hold onto my lover, my mate, my everything. The ilu came to a stop and I helped Neteyam down slowly. My vision was blurry and somewhere deep within me all I felt was pain. Excruciating pain.

"Slowly.." Lo'ak said as we swam to the rock, my eyes were glued to my mates face and he was looking at me too. His eyes took in all my features as it will be the last time he sees them. My ears kept ringing and everything was quiet, all I could see was Neteyam. I grasped Neteyams torso as we lifted him carefully and laid him down onto the rock. I dropped next to him and sobbed. 

"Press down here…" I heard someone speak but it was hushed. 

"Dad- Y/n..i-i want to go home" my eyes shot open and I blinked the tears away so I could look at him. He was breathing heavily and he looked pale.."i-i know.." Jake said softly. I reached my free hand to touch his cheek and it barely held any warmth I was so used to, warmth I was looking forward to when I came home from a long day of training. 

I heard Neytiri's ikran roar and voices that didn't catch my ears. 

"Please.." I whispered to Eywa, please hear my prayers. His beautiful yellow eyes never left mine. 

"Jake we can..save him, yes?!" My eyes snapped to Jake who opened his mouth yet nothing came out, then to Neytiri who was praying and holding onto her firstborn. "We have to do something!" I yelled. 

"Y/n" my mate said as I once again stared at him. "Y/n I love…you so much." His hand cupped my cheek and I grabbed his palm and leaned into him. 

"I love you ma 'Teyam so-so much." It came out wobbly and weak. The corner of his lip turned upwards as he wiped away my tears that kept falling. I kissed his palm and then leaned to kiss his forehead.

 Oh Eywa, please don't take him away from me. Please, I'll do anything. My shoulders shook from the extreme pain I felt in my heart and soul as I let out a strangled sob in my throat.

"Y/n i-" I froze as Neteyam exhaled his last breath and his eyes became relaxed and lifeless. 

"No..no, no!" I screamed. My body furiously shook as I heard muffled screams next to me. It's so painful..so so painful. I swayed back and forward as I wailed into my mate's hand. He Is gone and I couldn't do anything, I didn't fucking do anything about it. My sobs got stuck in my throat.

"Lo'ak where are your sisters?!" 

"They- they're on the ship." Tsireya sobbed out.

I slowly opened my eyes and I searched for his. Gone. He's gone. I leaned into him, searching for something, for anything, for him. I want him back. I let my  palm rest over his non-beating heart and I put his palm over my heart. My head dropped, my shoulders slouched as I cried in pain, pain of losing him. His body was becoming cold, cold against mine. What if I forget his voice? His face? What if one day I forget his soft touch, his pretty laugh, his smile that lights up my mood. 

I opened my eyes and out of the corner of my eye I saw Tsireya slowly approaching but I never looked away from his face. I blinked away tears that made my vision blurry just so I could burn his nose, eyes, jaw, lips, his stripes into my memory. Tsireyas hand reached out to his face and I found it hard to swallow the huge lump in my throat. She closed Neteyams eyelids. While my fingertips traced his face stripes as if It was my first time. My bottom lip quivered and a painful sob escaped my mouth. He can't be dead, he's not dead. This is a nightmare and I'm going to wake up cuddled up with Neteyam.

I flinched when a figure hugged me, I looked over to Tsireya who was also crying. She and Neteyam were good friends, he saw her as his little sister and wanted to protect her. But who protected him? Why did I have to dive first into the water? It was completely my fault.

 I leaned into her, listening to her thumping heart that I wished was Neteyams.

By the time everyone came back I had neteyams head in my lap, I played with his braids that I had braided many times. While caressing his hair I zoned out and it was torture, my mind kept replaying the moment where i saw something was wrong, how i couldn't do anything. Could I have saved him? Tears spilled from my puffy and red eyes, staining my already wet cheeks. Neteyams body has become cold, no warmth radiating off of him, even his bioluminescent freckles are faint.

"Y/n." I looked at Jake, it seemed like they were standing here for a while. "We should go back to the reef." He said softly, his large hand squeezing my shoulder. Neytiri was seated by Neteyams torso, she was holding his hand to her cheek. 

When we all slowly lifted Neteyams body I was holding his hand tightly, scared that he's going to disappear into thin air but he already has. 

I sat in front on Jakes skimwing, while Jake was holding him from behind. I looked at our intertwined fingers.

"Y/n. Come on, it's just a little further." Neteyam held my hand as he led me through the forest, some leaf smacking my face in the process. "Neteyam." I warned but he laughed and I couldn't help but hide my blush and my own small smile. We came to a halt and I bumped into his back with a grunt.

"Ops" 

"Neteyam! You!" I smacked his shoulder to which he pouted. I rolled my eyes and rubbed the spot where I hit him. "Look" he said. I was met with a lake that had vines hanging from the tall trees. My mouth dropped as I looked in awe of everything. He squeezed my hand and I realised I never let go so I fake coughed. 

"It's beautiful." I replied and slid my hand out of his to scratch my head. He hummed "yeah, so pretty" what i didn't realise was he was looking at me. 

We talked, played catch and even swung through the vines jumping into the lake. I dropped down on the soft grass, out of breath. Neteyam laid down so our shoulders were touching and my eyes widened. We have been dating for two weeks and it was normal to have skin contact but he made me so nervous that sometimes It was hard to be around him without stuttering over my words or making a fool out of myself. I decided to look at him, instead he was looking at me. He smiled so brightly that his eyes squinted a little and his canines were showing. He was gorgeous. I smiled back and I felt a little bold so I intertwined our hands. 

I smiled at the memory. That was four years ago, though it feels like yesterday. I want to go back to the start. 

I leaned into his chest trying my hardest to feel, imagine his heart beating. His heart he gave to me when we started seeing each other.

"No! Please, don't take him away. Jake, Neytiri please!" I screamed as I desperately clung onto Neteyams cleansed body that was ready to be one with Eywa. He can't, I can't let him go like this. Neytiri crouched down and put her hand on my back. I hid my face in the crook of his neck as I sobbed, my heart breaking in a million pieces.

"Ma child..Neteyam won't be at peace if we don't do this. It…breaks my heart too, we loved him and I know he loved you deeply." She said as her voice trembled. I shut my eyes as my whole body ached. My hands untangled themselves and I looked at him, my hands rested on his chest as I wailed. Tears rolled down one after another, my breathing heavy and coming out short. Great Mother, what did he do to deserve this? Everyone adored him, wanted to be like him, he was one of a kind. But he is gone.

 I leaned back on my heels, my posture slouched, my trembling weak hands hiding my face. Someone small hugged me and i knew it was little Tuk, it must be so hard for her, for everyone. I pulled her in my embrace, she caressed my hair to which I allowed her shoulder to support my head. 

"I'm sorry Tuk. Im sorry, so so sorry." I whispered, her own little shoulders shook and her chest tightened as she cried for the loss of her brother. 

Few Metkayina men helped carry Neteyam to the sea and tuck him in a huge leaf. I squeezed Tuk's hand, my free hand clutching my chest that felt empty. Jake squeezed my shoulders and kissed my temple. I called an ilu and shortly he appeared squeaking happily. I patted his head and turned to lift Tuk on him. I was about to swim to Neteyam, but something bumped into my calve, Neteyams ilu. I remember how my mate adored his ilu, 'Teyam adored every creature. His soul was pure.

I patted him and he happily circled me. I swam to Neytiri and Lo'ak who looked devastated, absolutely heartbroken. The Metkayina all stood with their hands out, praying. Some are holding torches. In the leaf there are pretty purple flowers, hand picked by Kiri. We swam, Jake led the way on his Skimwing, Kiri and Spider shared an ilu and Tuk was on my ilu. My heart was thumping against my chest, my hand holding Neteyams. Jake and Tuk swam to us as we gently pulled his body from the leaf. My nose scrunched and I couldn't help but bite the inside of my cheeks. 

My trembling hand let go of his and sobbed. I will never be happy without him by my side. He was the light to my darkness, the key to my locked heart. Please come back, please Neteyam. 

I quickly wiped my eyes with my palms and sucked in a breath, my head went underwater and I opened my eyes. I tried to reach my hand out, to reach him, to pull him in my embrace on more time. I want to tell him 'it's okay', 'I love you', 'I need you'.

 They let go of his body and he sunk lower and lower. . My hands took a handful of my hair as I sharply exhaled, air bubbles making their way to the surface. When I bonded with Neteyam I always felt him even when we were apart, right now it feels as if my soul or my heart is ripping itself out of me and leaving with him. I try to feel him in my chest, however it's not there, I can't feel my mate. I curled myself into a ball when he was already at the bottom, my soul was crying or what was left of me. 

May Eywa be with you my mate. Oel ngati kameiei.

[sydney-grimes10198]

Low Iron

Winchesters x sister reader

Warnings: almost fainting, minor angst? Idk lol

I got an idea about my own experiences, with getting up too fast and not bring able to see and getting dizzy. How would Dean and Sam react to you almost falling or not being able to move and see them because you got up to fast?

You Sam and Dean were all in a motel room for the week, looking into a mysterious murder. Sam was researching on the desk by the door, while Dean was eating pizza on your shared bed beside you while watching some stupid rom com.

You could hear in the background Sam clicking away at the computer, while you could see Dean still eating away laying down on his stomach watching the TV beside you. You were also laying on your stomach beside him almost falling asleep but still watching the program on the TV.

You heard a shuffle from where Sam was and you could hear him speak out, "I got a lead."

Dean grumbled an "okay" as he continued to eat another slice of pizza.

You didn't even move an inch since you were already drifting off to sleep.

Sam let out a huff and started to talk about the supposed "lead" talking about how the family was killed or slaughtered in their own home with no forced entry or struggle, they were just..dead or in another way multilated.

You heard Sam say, "well we gonna check it out?" Dean said between bites, "nah not this one, if the spirit or whatever is angry enough it'll happen again and soon."

Just after he finished his little speech, the radio went off that was beside the table where you and Dean were laying. The radio was hooked into the police channel and they were talking about how another murder happened inside of locked doors, all personal come immediately as well as giving off the location.

Dean groaned but looked at Sam, and Sam yelled " what are you waiting for? Come on!"

Dean jumped up and nudged you to get up to " come on kiddo we gotta go."

You groaned and got up, continuing to get out of bed and stand up.

While they started to pack up and head to the door, you suddenly couldn't see too well. Your head got dizzy and you had to hold onto the TV stand for support. You couldn't see anything in front of you nor Dean coming up to you asking if you were okay.

You felt a nudge at your shoulder and a presence in front of you, you still couldn't see anything and you heard your ears ring. You clutched your head and went from the TV stand to grabbing the shirt of whoever was in front of you for support. Eventually while you were blinking trying to get your eyes to work again, your sight started to come back as well as your hearing.

You blinked a few more times and you could see Sam standing behind Dean worried, while Dean was crouching in front of you trying to get you to pay attention to him.

"Y/N! Hey kiddo you with us?!"

You averted your attention to Dean and nodded at him.

"There you are."

Sam walked up to you asking, "hey what was that?"

You steadied yourself and spoke out, "I just got up too fast is all, I'm fine."

Dean chuckled and said " how about you and Sam stay behind, I'll check this out."

I shook my head and told Dean, "no! I am perfectly fine this is normal! Sam!"

I turned my attention towards him and he looked at me confused.

"This happens to you right? You get up too fast and you get dizzy?"

Sam looked down at me and said " Y/N the only reason people have this is because of iron deficiencies."

I smiled and told the both of them. " see! I am fine it's just a deficiency! I've dealt with this for awhile but can we just go?."

Dean glanced towards Sam while Sam just shrugged his shoulders saying. "It isn't an issue, if she doesn't walk while this happens she won't pass out, so it's not an issue."

Dean yelled at Sam " she can pass out with this thing??!"

Sam chuckled "well, yeah, people with this get dizzy and they lose their balance and they can't see or hear for a few seconds. "

Dean looked at you then Sam again. " she was out of it for like a minute." Dean dryly spoke.

I laughed this time and told Dean, "that's because I was half asleep and then jumped up into action of course I'd be delirious for a bit."

Dean pointed at me and then at Sam, "she is definitely not sleeping by the door since if something comes in she'll like pass out and die on us."

I dead panned him and said " Dean I ain't gonna die."

Dean spoke "you could!"

Sam intervened and yelled "guys! We aren't going to get anywhere with this case if we continue to argue, we gonna go or not?"

Dean grumbled and spoke out. "Fine! But if she dies it's your fault!" He pointed his finger to Sam.

Sam laughed and pat you on the back while you threw your arms up in the air. "I ain't gonna die just cause I get dizzy!" You yelled out to Dean.

Yup and that's the end of sleeping near the door or Dean not eyeing you every time you get up.

[wild-houseplant]

Have Warden, Will Travel- Chapter 10

I’m as astonished as you are that another one’s out so soon, believe me. In which the party FINALLY reaches Honnleath-- with a bit o’backstory and odds and sods. More under the cut, and link to the AO3 here! No real content warning except an infected wound and mention of time in the oubliette. Nothing graphic. Fantasy racism and fetishising of elves is present throughout this entire story but is quite obvious in this chapter. Please drink your water and you are very important!! :D :D

§

Zevran gave the blacksmith an appreciative nod as he took his dagger back and hung it off his hip. With a wave to her and her deliciously muscular arms, he left the forge and sauntered down the sunny corridor toward the spice gardens where Rinna and Taliesen awaited him. 

Master Claudio appeared from around a corner up ahead. Flanking him on either side were two humans clad in silk and privilege. Tevinters, no doubt: no-one else carried staves so proudly. 

Zevran checked behind him. His back was clear; Zevran’s muscles relaxed halfway. He smiled and inclined his head to a half-bow at the Master and his company. 

The younger of the guests, a woman in turquoise and silver dress robes, ran wide blue eyes over Zevran. “Claudio, you’re horrible. You didn’t show us this one!” 

The older mage’s impatient sigh went unacknowledged as she made a beeline for Zevran, her hands already out to grab at him. Zevran arranged his face into a demure smile. The smell of her warm, sweet myrrh was turning his stomach when she was still two steps away. 

“Ah,” she hooked a jewelled finger under his jaw and dug her thumb into his cheek, angling his face this way and that. “What a pretty thing you are! Lovely lips, and those eyes! Gorgeous.”

He ignored the bite of ring prongs in his chin and peered up at her through his lashes. The platinum, aquamarine-eyed snake adorning her ear was alive, he’d have sworn it on his grave, writhing and coiling like someone was tormenting it with a hot branding iron. Not even a trick of the light explained it away.

“Cynthia, don’t touch it,” the elder mage reproached wearily. He stepped over and towed her hand away, his face scrunching with disgust as Zevran feigned a curious smile. More words, this time in, Tevene; Zevran managed to make out ‘your brother,’ ‘a child’, and ‘these rats’.

Master Claudio drew up beside the woman. “My apologies, my Lady,” he purred. “I am afraid Zevran is in the middle of a long assignment and cannot be spared.” 

“You will let us know if he is free later, sic?” She bit her lip and eyed Zevran ravenously. “If not for guarding the house during parties, I think I could find another few uses for him.”

“The very moment he becomes available, my Lady, I assure you.” The Master turned to Zevran, the agreeableness in his face flickering out ever-so-briefly as their eyes met. “Now, Zevran, I believe you have somewhere else to be, not holding up beautiful ladies, no?”

Zevran nodded once and smiled at the woman. “Forgive me, my Lady, I would have jumped at the chance. Next time, no?”

He excused himself with a deferential hand to the heart, stealing a last glimpse at the agonising snake as he went.

§

Tegrin declared his roadside shop officially open for business the next morning. Surprisingly, Sten had proved the keenest shopper of them all. In his silence, he managed to silently outdo even Leliana’s adulations of a pair of garish, powder-blue silk shoes. For the entire time the party browsed, his gaze had remained fixed on an oil painting of a regal-looking woman with a shock of fiery hair, depicted mid-battle and, most unfortunately, with all of her clothes on. 

Even Rhodri hadn’t missed the display of pining. When it was revealed that Sten was short on funds (he mumbled something about the absurd price of cookies and ended the conversation abruptly thereafter), she bought the damned thing for him, and then the shoes for Leliana, too. 

A dust-caked tome that had snared the Warden’s fascination made the final purchase. What wisdom it contained was unclear, but if Rhodri was setting out to learn the art of attracting particulate matter to herself, she couldn’t have chosen better. The price was slashed for her– or perhaps for Old Tegrin, who sneezed fitfully whenever the book came too close to him– to a mere six silvers.

Along with the goodies, Tegrin handed Rhodri a fistful of letters to be delivered to the Dace House in Orzammar’s Diamond Quarter. The exact location within the Diamond Quarter was laid out on a hand-drawn map– and a small paragraph with the same instructions. With quiet thanks and a less-than-quiet clap to the back, Tegrin sent the Warden, and thus the rest of the party, on their way.

§

Much of the day passed in silence– at least for Zevran. The only person typically willing to make civil conversation with him on the road was the Warden. Other members’ addresses were, by and large, suspicious questioning regarding his former employers. These were quickly deemed to be uncivil conversation by the same Warden, who quickly and firmly put a stop to them. Zevran couldn’t decide if he disliked the snide interrogations more or less than the deafening silence.

Especially on a day like today, when his sole conversation partner had spent the entire day with her head buried in the map. Even over lunch, the only words to voluntarily come out of her mouth were mumbles pertaining to the party’s itinerary, which the Orzammar debacle had apparently cast into disarray. When she would re-emerge to join the Living again was anyone's guess.

In the background he pretended not to hear, Leliana had occupied herself by stroking her new shoes with a passion that bordered on publicly indecent. She had vigorously denounced, called it criminal, even, that splendid footwear as a whole was incompatible with the rocky Fereldan earth. From his periphery, Zevran had watched Leliana fix Alistair and the Warden with the largest, flutter-lashed eyes available to her. Had such assets been directed at anyone else, the cue would have been taken immediately, and the Chantry Sister would have been swept off her feet and carried like a bride for the rest of the day. 

This was decidedly not the case with Rhodri and Alistair. With identical good-natured smiles, the two Wardens registered her remarks with sympathetic nods– genuine ones, it had to be said– and turned back to the road. And what a sight the Sister was at that, scuffing her practical boots into the ground and looking as miserable as a wet cat. Unfortunate, really, but the truth of the matter was that Leliana had brought this fate upon herself. Not least because this was nowhere near the first time she had made such a display. 

Indeed, from Zevran’s observations over the last nine days, it appeared that Leliana was experiencing a revival of urges her Chantry had frowned upon, and was very much in the mood for indulging them now. 

The catch, however, was that she only sought to do so with people who failed to notice her overtures. And as fate (or rather, Leliana) would have it, her flirtations lacked the brazenness required to make them sufficiently obvious. That had not changed over the entire period Zevran had been forced to witness it.

It was likely the Templar who had her attention the most. She would pause whatever she was doing to steal glances at Alistair during any and every training session. When he wasn’t available, though, she seemed content to make eyes at the other, equally oblivious Warden while she trained. Always wanting, never pursuing.

But it couldn’t be said that Zevran was unfeeling or dismissive of the poor woman’s plight. In fact, in a moment of sympathy he had offered to help relieve Leliana’s needs on a generous no-strings-attached basis, but the good Sister had assured Zevran his services were unnecessary.

Which meant, of course, that there was nothing to do but watch Leliana suffer on, with nothing to comfort her but another bout of involuntary abstinence as she cradled a pair of shoes that couldn’t be worn. If nothing else, it was quite poetic.

§

The good thing about the oubliette was that it was impossible to drown in it. That, aside from staying in the filthy water too long, posed the most immediate danger, and dying from either of these were things Zevran had managed to avoid through a little tricky climbing and bodily twisting.

Ah, but the infections from falling into the water, those were harder to stave off. Impossible, in fact, as he had discovered upon being hauled out of there. For the first time in three weeks, he stood in the room he shared with twelve other recruits and scanned his body with a tiny, cracked hand mirror. The one on his leg was by far the most painful, and had developed an offensive purulence that would need prompt attention if he planned on keeping the limb.

He left his face for last. The cuts around his eye were already infected, possibly even burnt from the poison on the blade that had given them, by the time he’d been thrown down there. By the grace of the Maker and judicious applications of Zevran’s own saliva, they had healed by the time he was hauled out of the oubliette. But with his predisposition to uneven skin tone where wounds had been– as numerous scars elsewhere had revealed– a blotch of any size on his face would be unappealing to a seduction target. Anywhere but there.

Zevran gingerly tilted the mirror upward, his heart sinking as two patches totalling the size of a hundred andris coin came into view. One started by the crease of his eye and the other splashed halfway down his cheek. Unevenly healed, poorly-located, and impossible to conceal with any hairstyle. His grip on the mirror handle tightened until the embossing pressed on a nerve; he threw the glass onto a bed and stormed to the tattooist as fast as his limp allowed.

“So, uh… Zevran…” Alistair began slowly.

From the corner of Zevran’s eye, Rhodri turned and fixed her gaze on the Templar. 

Alistair put his hands up. “I’m not going to ask him when he’s going to kill us, I promise,” he said quickly. “Really. I’m just curious about the… um… designs you’ve got.” He waved a vague hand over his own shoulder and up to his cheek.

Zevran shelved the temptation to count how many days it had taken to be approached with a query about anything other than his murderous intentions. A smile came to him with merciful ease.

“These?” He tapped his cheek with one finger, returning the nod that Alistair gave. “They are called tattoos, and I have them in many more places than just my face and back, my friend.”

“They have a certain appeal, I must say,” Leliana chimed in now. “They remind me of how we used to paint our faces in Orlais.”

“Ah, but these are not paint, dear lady,” Zevran said with a chuckle. He turned until he was walking backwards and waggled his brows at the pair of them. “They are ink, poked under the skin with many needles.”

There wasn’t a sum Zevran wouldn’t have been willing to part with to see Alistair’s face blanch the way it did now. If any more blood drained from the man’s head, they’d be peeling him off the ground. 

Alistair gulped audibly. “Oh,” he croaked. “I heard that, but I didn’t think it was true. Didn’t it… you know, hurt?”

“Oh, yes,” Zevran waved a hand in airy dismissal. “But it is not so bad, truly. In fact, many enjoy it enough to come back for more. I certainly did.” He hummed animatedly. “You know, I could give you a tattoo, if you like! I learned a bit of the art myself back home in Antiva. What say you, eh?”

Alistair’s body locked briefly enough that he lost his balance and stumbled forward. Zevran threw a hand out to keep the Templar from planting his face into the ground, and the prospect of being touched by an Antivan assassin, former though he was, was apparently enough to magically upright the man. Alistair rolled his shoulders back and frowned at him, pawing at his reddening face as he did.

Leliana drifted a little closer to Zevran, running her eyes over his face. “Do they mean anything to you, these symbols?”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Some. Some of them are sacred to the Crows, and I cannot reveal their story. Others are there to make me even more beautiful than I already am.” He gave her, and then the scowling Templar, a rakish grin. “Accentuates the curves and musculature, you understand.”

“Huh,” Alistair chewed on his cheek. “Don’t think I’ve seen any of those kinds of tattoos on you.”

Zevran chuckled. “No, well, I would have to get into quite the state of undress to show you. I can, if you like, once we are somewhere a little more private.” 

Correction: Alistair’s face was not reddening. It was, in fact, purpling. He spluttered incoherently, attracting the attention of the other Warden again. She turned sharply enough to slice the air in two (mercy, was she jealous?) , and watched the two of them carefully.

“No. Nope,” Alistair choked to him. “I’m fine.”

Zevran gave a small but flourished bow. “As you like.” He turned to Rhodri, who was still staring them down– but especially him. He smiled at her and showed his palms in a tiny shrug. “He said no. I am not one for disrespecting boundaries.”

A firm, pleased smile came to Rhodri and she gave him an approving nod, though for what, Zevran couldn’t imagine. She peered over at her fellow Warden solicitously.

“You are all right, Alistair?” she asked gently.

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze, and with a smile to him and then Zevran, faced front again.

“I thought about getting a tattoo,” Rhodri declared to the road ahead.

Zevran whirled around on one foot and fell into step with her again. He chuckled delightedly. “Oh-ho-ho! What tattoo can improve perfection, I wonder! Ah, but perhaps you have imagined an adornment beyond my comprehension, no? What is it you desire, my Grey Warden?”

Lavish praise went apparently unnoticed as the Warden wobbled her head from side to side. “I wanted lines across my wrist while I did my mandatory hospital wing training in the Circle.” She held up a robed arm and drew her fingertips across her forearm. “Kept running out of paper, see, so I had to write on my arm. You wouldn’t believe the way it sloped.”

It took all his effort to quash the urge to snort. After all, beyond being socially imprudent, his reaction was a little unfair– the Warden’s idea was a perfectly serviceable one.

“Ingenious,” he purred. “Tell me when you want your little lines, my dear, and I will get my needles ready. I will be so gentle you’ll hardly notice a thing!”

She smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, but Tevinters aren’t allowed tattoos. Besides, with the Taint in me, I’m not sure when I’ll stop growing, if ever. I think that might make it look odd."

Alistair groaned. “I think I grew overnight again, you know. My shoes are getting tight. Agh, and they’re only new, too!"

"Ah?" Rhodri peered over at him worriedly. "You're in pain? We can stop."

“Nah, not in pain yet.” He sighed. “I will be if I grow again before I can get these changed, though.”

“Mmm,” she paused mid-step to give her foot a little shake. “I need another pair, myself. We’ll see if there isn’t something in Honnleath, sic?”

Zevran kept his eyes straight ahead and privately pondered the growth rates of the other parts of a Grey Warden.

§

Alistair and Leliana each knew a little about the town of Honnleath. 

The former of them undertook Templar training alongside a fellow who had hailed from a small farm there, and advised the village was situated on a lake that boasted a small but well-used dock. Given the general sparseness of the surrounds, said dock was undoubtedly, then, the pride of the hamlet and a not-to-be-missed attraction for anyone visiting the village.

Oh, now he was just being cruel. 

Leliana, on the other hand, had been rather more secretive about how she had come by her information, as she was about how she came by most anything. What was revealed was a snippet about the Sulzbach family. 

The Sulzbachers, so said Leliana, had a long and proud lineage of magical ability that had somehow not incurred the wrath of the Chantry. Indeed, one of the recent descendants, Wilhelm, was a former Circle Enchanter with a penchant for visits to the Deep Roads, and had apparently been of some service to the late King Maric on the battlefield.

At this information, Rhodri looked over her shoulder. 

“Did you hear that, Morrigan?” she said. “The Deep Roads! Golems are dwarven-made, I know, because the Juggernauts guarding Minrathous were a gift from the Orzammar Shaperate." She rubbed her fingers. "Maybe that golem belongs to the Sulzbachers…”

The witch shrugged. “If that fool merchant possessed the control rod, then this family must be truly pathetic. Anti-theft glyphs are perfectly simple, and very durable when cast correctly.”

“Hm. I’m not sure what to think. We still don’t even know if they’re sentient yet, let alone safe.” Rhodri tsked softly. “Never would’ve been this ignorant about golems with a Tevinter education, I know…”

“To be fair though, Rhod,” Alistair piped up now, “if you’d been educated in Tevinter, you would’ve probably learned about blood magic, too.”

“Eh? I don’t have a problem with blood magic, so long as it’s practiced ethically– ah come, don’t look at me like that, Alistair, of course ethical blood magic exists. You either use your own blood, or someone willingly donates a little. In fact,” Rhodri’s chest puffed out. She regarded the party with a proud, warm smile, and hands all but smacking her thighs, “my father has been using some of his own blood each week for years to enchant a lyrium-free staff for me! He got special permission from the Magisterium for it and everything!”

Morrigan snorted as Alistair’s mouth fell open and Leliana frowned deeply. Zevran’s own chortle died in his throat when he caught a flash of hurt passing over the Magewarden’s face. 

Without thinking, he addressed Rhodri with a flourished sweep of the hand. “Hmm! That would amount to quite some blood over the years, my Grey Warden, no? I imagine your staff would be worth a small fortune now!”

The Warden brightened immediately. “It is!” she enthused. “Tata has put in the equivalent of around six human adults’ worth of blood so far, and it’s ethically-sourced mage blood, which would triple the value.” She started counting off on her fingers. “Made from top-quality dragonbone, too, and heirloom status which would double the price again… I believe Tata said Mr. Tethras valued it early last year at… oh, it’d equate to about forty thousand Fereldan sovereigns.”

Alistair had somehow descended into a coughing fit by the time ‘Fereldan’ had left the Warden’s lips, and Leliana wasted no time in supplying the man with water, coos of support, and gentle strikes between the shoulder blades. In Zevran’s periphery, Morrigan bore witness to the spectacle with a disgust that matched his own sentiments. A flutter of luck prompted him to meet her eyes and steal a moment of rapport born of mutual suffering. Their gaze locked briefly; the witch’s revulsion grew. He summoned a flirtatious smirk to hide the pang of disappointment, and turned away.

“Mercy, Alistair,” Rhodri shook her head. “Are you all right?”

“Forty thousand gold?”  the Templar gasped, gingerly straightening up again. "That's… a lot of money."

Rhodri nodded. "Well yes, and the sentimental value is indescribable, but it isn't the most expensive staff in existence, by any means. Besides, what matters is it's one I can actually use, since most staves contain lyrium." She chuckled and held up her own staff. "This isn't even a proper staff, just a branch they broke off a sylvan tree. Barely does anything, but it'll make a nice hat rack once it's retired."

“So useless?” Zevran didn’t bother holding back a chuckle now. “Why have it at all, then?”

“One has to look the part,” she replied with a grin. “A mage without a staff? It’d be like leaving the house without pants on.”

An odd moment passed as Zevran tried to picture the Warden without pants, only to find that her lower half became a vast nothingness in the absence of a robe. He was almost grateful when Alistair’s voice, now much more serious, interrupted the musings.

“Rhod.”

“Yes, I feel it.” She turned to the rest of the party. “Darkspawn ahead, up in the village. Fifteen or so. We should hurry, before the villagers come to any harm.”

The Wardens broke into a sprint, with Rhodri’s last instruction of ‘Stay behind me’ shouted over her shoulder to the rest of the party.

§

Much in all as Zevran hated to be insensitive, if it weren’t for the Blight ravaging the little hamlet, Honnleath would have been nothing to write home about. Not least because there was nothing in Honnleath to write about.

Oh, there were houses there (though the word had to be used very loosely), and a windmill that looked like it hadn’t seen a day off since the Exalted Age. And, of course, there was the suspiciously golem-esque statue standing in the middle of it all, looking like it had been frozen mid-scream. After mere moments in the town, Zevran was already certain he could empathise with the urge.

That said, with the throng of Darkspawn burning things and murdering half the residents out in the open, nobody was wanting for something to do. And indeed, they were forced to do something as a battle promptly ensued. 

And of course, the Fereldan weather spoke for itself. Halfway through the fighting, the clouds made enemies of all that walked the land, person or Darkspawn irrespective, by opening and releasing enough icy rain to fill the Frozen Seas twice over. 

Still, though, the Warden’s party was not to be stopped. Not even Zevran curled up and died from the damp– though if anyone cared to ask him, it was a terribly close call. Hurlock mages were frozen and blown to bits; keen knives unzipped the throats of many a genlock; and a few clever arrows from Leliana (‘armed Chantry Sister’ indeed!) handled the pests up on the hill before anyone could become a pincushion against their will.

The (presumed) locals who had been fending the beasts off were all dead by the end of the scuffle. Most had already bled out, and a few who had sustained bites or contaminated wounds were already weakening from Blight sickness. Leliana prayed and Alistair looked miserable while Rhodri (who denied Zevran’s offer of assistance again!) put them out of their misery. 

Alistair blew water everywhere as he puffed out a breath. “It’s so quiet now. Creepy.”

Zevran chuckled and wiped his neck with one shivering hand. “I do not suppose this is usually a bustling sort of a place at the best of times, my friend.”

A shrieking sneeze pierced the air from the back of the party, loud enough to make the dog startle with a yelp. The offender, a drenched and displeased-looking Morrigan, glared at anyone who turned back to look at her.

“HA!” Alistair cackled richly and pointed at her. “Your mother sneezes just like that. I heard her do it in the Wilds while we were waiting for you and Rhod to come outside!” He threw his head back and let out a shrill, unnervingly accurate imitation of Morrigan’s own sneeze, only to give in halfway through and let his laughter buckle his knees.

“I sneeze nothing like my mother!” Morrigan snapped, visibly bristling as Alistair made another breathless attempt at parodying her.

The Warden, who had been stopping her ears and grimacing the entire time, stomped a goodly distance away from the spectacle. “If you people want to make a career of being noisy,” she yowled over her shoulder, “take up opera singing or something useful!” 

She moved her hands away and surveyed the party from her place further up the hill. “You’re all shivering. Well, except you of course, Alistair. We should find some shelter and warm up before you all catch your death. Perhaps one of these houses here.” Rhodri smiled wryly at Morrigan and Alistair as she added, “With a separate, soundproofed room for the screechers, if possible.”

Zevran, who was no longer able to feel his nose, jogged up to the Warden and swept his damp hair off his face. He shot her a winning smile. “Where will you lead us, my lovely Warden? I hope it will be a house with a lively party.” He sighed dramatically. “These small towns are terribly dull.”

Rhodri grinned as she cast her eyes up the lane. “Well, nowhere near that one on fire,” she gestured off to the right at the former inferno, still with enough guts to it to spite the cloudburst. “I think the rain will stop it before it spreads, but better to stay away from it anyway.”

The Warden squinted and waved a hand at a house off to the left. “You know, I think there’s purple light coming out of those windows.” She looked at Zevran. “Do you see it?”

Zevran glanced up at the modest little building and hummed in agreement. “I do, yes.” He swallowed. “That… does not strike me as the site of a party.”

“No.” 

Another call over her shoulder, first to Alistair, second to rally the party, and third a directive to stay behind her. This was beginning to become quite a theme in life. At least indoors it would be dry.

Oh, Maker, hopefully indoors would be dry.

§

Indoors, as it happened, was dry, and contained two things: Darkspawn, and the other half of the population of Honnleath. The latter of these was encased in a large, lilac bubble, and given they weren't dead despite their proximity to their murderous room-mates, it was presumably a protective shield. When he had a moment to, Zevran marvelled at the vivid glow of it, whatever it was. 

The room itself must have been nice once. Solid, wooden desks and burgeoning bookshelves lined every wall in the place, but the layer of grime made it impossible to know what colour anything was. The cobwebs outnumbered the people, and thick, daggerpointed crystals sat on the fixtures like they had grown out of them. 

A tallish human stood at the front of the group, watching the Warden carefully as she approached. In the light, his hair could have been blonde or grey, and he looked tired enough that not even Zevran would have begged pardon for mistakenly thinking him a man of fifty. 

“Is… is it safe?” he asked Rhodri in a hollow voice.

She nodded. “The Darkspawn outside have been handled. Are there more in here?”

The man shook his head, and with a flick of his fingers the purple blockade vanished. Hushed thanks to him and the Warden’s party came from the townspeople as they fled the building and left them alone. 

He strode over with a weary smile on his face. “Thank you for your help, all of you.” He inclined his head gratefully. “Was it the Bann who sent you to save us?”

“The… Bann?” Rhodri frowned. “No, we came here because we were given a control rod for the golem outside.” 

The man stiffened. “That bloody golem,” he growled.

Morrigan let out a laugh from the back. “I think, Warden, we have found the Sulzbacher mage.”

Oh, and what a frown that got from him! Morrigan was lucky not to have had him march up and knock her sideways. Or perhaps he was lucky he didn’t appear game to try his luck with her.

“You find my family’s suffering funny, do you?” He gritted his teeth. “The story about our golem gets out and we’re now the subject of ridicule!”

Rhodri quickly put her hands up. “Apologies, ser, we know nothing about the golem’s story. A merchant gave the control rod to us after getting it himself in Orlais, and told us to come to Honnleath and say ‘dulef gar’ to activate it. That’s all we know. If you’d like your rod back, we’ll gladly hand it over– Alistair, if you wouldn’t mind…”

The Sulzbacher shook his head hard. “No, no, keep it. Sooner that bloody thing’s out of here, the better. The golem murdered my father, Wilhelm Sulzbacher, right outside where it stands now. My poor mother found him lying out there with every bone in his body shattered! She barely recognised him!” 

Were the Wardens related? Or did Wardenhood simply confer the same set of facial expressions to all its members? It had to be one of them; Rhodri and Alistair both had their hands clapped over their mouths– both left hands, no less! It was like watching a pair of Orlesian mimes.

“How awful,” Rhodri breathed. “Oh, ser, I can't imagine your pain. I’m sorry.” 

Sulzbacher chuckled bitterly. “So am I. Right as he was about to retire, too. No, you have that golem and good luck to you." He paused and rubbed his chin with one bloodied finger. "I… wonder, though, if I might ask a favour first.”

Fights and favours, Zevran decided then and there, made the three-word summary of his new career. Morrigan's disgusted sigh was barely drowned out by Rhodri's matter-of-fact hum of interest, and her eyes narrowed dangerously as the Warden invited the man to elaborate. 

And then, as Sulzbacher proceeded to beseech the party to retrieve his missing daughter from a trap-laden laboratory further downstairs, the same eyes appeared to attempt murder several times, first on the man and then on the Warden when she readily agreed to assist. Well, at least she was consistent.

[lostyetfinding]

cold without you

Hoseok is in Chicago to perform alone for the first time, Lollapalooza is a huge event and his nerves plus the distance from Jimin means he is not eating well. Also spending a lot of time in the studio. Jimin isn't much better, struggling to sleep in an empty bed. So he decides to hop on a plane and support his boyfriend in person.

read on ao3 or below

 Jimin has never been a big morning person. Unless he avoided sleeping the night before, those mornings he felt energetic and prepared to take anything on. The only other way he would enjoy a morning is if he woke up to sweet kisses on his forehead. Silly puns whispered to him.

     As he opens his eyes, the empty cold bed makes his morning worse. No sound of the shower running and no note to explain the absence.

     Oh. Right.

     Hoseok is in Chicago, Jimin kissed him goodbye and promised to cuddle Mickey everytime he missed his hyung. Jimin forgot how hard it was when Hoseok wasn't in the same country as him. Spending years together, in the same apartment or hotel room or tour bus makes Jimin feel like he is missing an arm.

     So he closes his eyes and decides to stay in bed until he feels better.

     Jimin knows this is just temporary, Hoseok will be home in a week. But the hiatus and push from the members to take a break and breathe has left him feeling a little untethered.

     *whine*

     Mickey jumps onto Jimin's back and starts licking his ear while he continues to whine.

     "Okay okay I'm getting up I promise," Jimin grumbles. The pillow muffles his words bit he does stick to them, sitting up as Mickey hops around the room. "Do you want to go outside? Is that what you want?"

     *Bark*

     "Hoseok should have never taught you to answer in bark form."

     *Bark*

     Jimin rubs his face and swings his legs over the bed, feet dangling over the side. "Ugh your appa is an evil man, he trained you this was because he knew one day I would try to sleep in, the evil mastermind."

     Mickey seems to agree, leaping into Jimin's lap with a bark. The dancer let's the little dog lead him to his slippers and a thin hoodie to slip over his head. Jimin blindly grabs his phone off the nightstand and heads to the door.

     Mickey already has the leash in his mouth, waiting for Jimin to catch up with him. Like father like dog.

     By the time they are on the rooftop garden his phone starts ringing. Hoseok's smile fills his phone screen, bright and beautiful. Jimin let's Mickey roam free since no one else is in the area made for resident's dogs.

     "Hi hyung."

     "Hi baby, good morning!" As always Hoseok is smiling and happy, even without being on the roof with Jimin he already feels more alert.

     So jimin smiles, "How did you manage to know exactly when I woke up?"

     "I may not be in the country but the camera on the doorbell is still hooked up to my phone Jimin. I got a ping when you left the apartment and thought I would call and say hi, anything wrong with that?" His hyung's face is too adorable to even try to pretend being mad. "Nothing wrong at all hyung, just think you are silly. What time is it for you?"

     "It's only 6:30pm, I'm in the dance studio trying to make sure my new choreo works." Hoseok pans the camera to show a large wooden floor and walls full of mirrors.

     "So you have already had dinner or you are getting ready to go eat dinner?" Jimin knows he hasn't eaten. Mickey runs into his legs to grab his attention before Hoseok can respond. He throws the rope toy that the dog had somehow found up here and brought to him.

     "Well I was just taking a break, I think I'm gonna get a bit more practice before fo-"

     "Nope." Jimin doesn't even want to let him finish.

     Hoseok whines, "Jimin I'll eat I swear but I need a few more reps before I call it a night!"

     That makes Jimin sigh. "You remember when we first started training? How we were the only 2 who refused to leave the studio until the others had to force us out? We promised each other that we would keep each other in check. Making sure we both eat and sleep and take breaks."

     "I know! But babe I will eat this is not the same, I have left the studio today, multiple times," they both know how excuse is not going to change anything.

     Jimin sits himself down on the single bench on the roof, throwing the toy Mickey brings him again. "You got to say I would take 2 months off from everything so I get to force you to leave that dance studio right now and eat something. Something nutritious."

     He doesn't need Hoseok to say anything, already hearing the shuffling of his duffle bag.

     "Fine, I will go eat but I am coming back right after to get a few more reps, happy?" Hoseok pleads his boyfriend.

     "If you go back it will only be for an hour, or I will call Soobin and tell him to come find you." Jimin states. If he has to wake up to an empty bed then Hoseok has to promise to rest some too.

     "How is Soobin going to enforce anything? I'm his hyung!" Hoseok sounds exasperated and a bit muffled, slipping a mask on. Jimin can see him starting to walk and placing his earbuds in.

     "Soobin is stronger than you hyung and I am going to give him permission to throw you over his shoulder and put you to bed." Mickey has gotten bored of his freedom and climbs back into Jimin's lap, watching the phone.

     Hoseok grumbles something that Jimin cannot hear but he waits for his boyfriend to provide an actual response. "Ugh Jimin there is a vegetarian place on the corner and I am headed there for something with lots of vegetables, and then I want to practice for an hour and a half."

     "Deal, I'm going to text Soobin now that he needs to check in on you in about 2 hours and you have to go to bed then. Please eat well hyung and I miss you." Jimin gives him a big smile and blows a kiss.

     Hoseok blows a kiss back, "Mickey you better take care of my boyfriend."

     Jimin giggles, "I love you hyung."

     "I love you too baby, you eat breakfast and rest for me. I'll call you before I go to bed," Hoseok tells his boyfriend.

     As soon as the call ends Jimin shoves his phone into the hoodie pocket. Now that he is more awake he realizes it belongs to Hoseok. He looks at Mickey and sighs. What is he going to do with his day? He has spent the last month or so being in charge of feeding and putting Hoseok to bed when he stayed in his studio to long. Now Jimin has to find something else to do with himself.

***

     "You cannot be serious."

     Jimin simply says, "I'm dead serious."

     25 hours, that's precisely how long Jimin lasted before he went stir crazy. He tried playing the video games that Hoseok has set up but he finds no enjoyment playing them alone. He went and grabbed the kit to make your own jewelry at home. He broke his pliers on the first earring he tried to make. Mickey and him have even been on 2 walks and watched a grand total of 5 romcoms.

     In fact he is proud he even lasted this long, being on a break has driven him crazy.

     Being on a break and missing Hoseok? Not possible, if the members are going to keep enforcing this "Jimin must rest" rule they cannot expect him to willingly be separate from Hoseok.

     "Look, Taehyung I know this makes me seem needy and honestly I feel needy but I miss him. And I miss performing and having a set schedule, having my full day planned and all the free time spent in a studio."

     Jimin can hear Taehyung sigh even if he also knows that his soulmate tried to hide it. "You know why you are taking a break right? Jimin we had 2 years of a pandemic without huge performances and somehow you managed to stress your system the same amount as before. You know what the doctor said, you are not in the danger zone or anything but you are always stressed. We are just trying to help you."

      Jimin has heard the speech.

     He has heard the speech from all 6 of them. From the management team. From his mother when he spent his 1st week off at her house. The reason the members were so supportive of him and Hoseok was because they both overworked and together they somehow forced each other out of it.

     "Okay I get it, but I agreed to your terms okay? 4 months with no more than 2 hours of dance practice a day and avoiding any and all studios. I just feel like I'm missing an arm and now Hobi-hyung is gone so I guess I'm missing a heart and an arm." If Jimin knows anything, it's that his best friend in the whole world is a suckered for romantic sentimental shit.

     "Ugh fine buy the damn plane ticket," Taehyung concedes. To be fair he lasted much longer than was expected but they both knew he would cave.

     "Oh I did an hour ago, but I needed to tell you because I'm dropping Mickey at your place." If he can get Taehyung to dogsit and his bodyguard to take him to the airport he will be good.

     "Of course, I mean what else would I do since you don't need me to help you make decisions!"

     "Aw you know I love you, I'm just excited. I mean he is going to perform alone for the first time."

     Taehyung let's out a loud laugh, "Wait, you have to call Bang-pdnim!"

     Crap.

     "Oh no I forgot he was there too, do you think he will try to stop me too?" Jimin asks.

     "No but I do think he will tease you and give the whole 'be careful boys' speech again which I need you to record this time," Taehyung sounds giddy as he talks.

     Jimin can handle that. As long as he gets to hug his boyfriend while it is happening.

***

     Hoseok grumbles at the ringing phone. It's too far away for him to shut it up. He would have to move. He doesn't want to move. After a minute it stops and he sighs back into the pillow he has over his face.

     *RING*

     And there it is again.

     Resigned to his fate of a lack of rest he throws the pillow away, paying little attention to where, and moves towards the phone with as little movement as possible.

     This results in a very ungrateful rolling off of the bed paired with a short crawl to the coffee table. Of course he does not raise his body off the floor, instead just grabbing the phone and bringing it down to his face. Proud that he never even opened his eyes.

     "Hello?"

     "Ah, hello Mr. Jung, I apologize to disturb you but you have a guest waiting for you in the lobby."

     That gets his eyes open. "A guest? Is it Mr. Bang?"

     The concierge politely says, "No. He told me to tell you his name is Christian. I'm terribly sorry, I know you have a strict no guests policy but Mr. Bang brought him in and told me he could be trusted."

     "Did you say Chirstian?" Hoseok is still groggy, crashing from his long morning in the studio. He sits up.

     "Yes sir. Should I tell him to go or come back later?"

     "No no, send him up. And um, could you just give him a key to my room, he will be staying here."

     "Of course sir."

     Hoseok is left sitting there with the phone in his hand. He must be hallucinate from the lack of sleep. Or maybe he did fall asleep and this is all just a dream. These are the logical explanations he can come up with, because why would Jimin be here?

     That's why when Jimin does enter the room he finds one Jung Hoseok slouched over a coffee table in front of a king sized bed.

     And it's only 10am in Chicago.

     "Are you serious?" Jimin chuckles.

     All Hoseok does is hum into the glass surface.

     Jimin grumbles, "How come I was the one put in practice jail while you got to work at all hours of the night to release an album and exhaust yourself practicing the day before the performance?"

     Another mumble, this time the words 'silly dream' are intelligible.

     Jimin just sighs and drops his handbag bag at the door, his suitcase is in the small living room area that attaches to the bedroom. His hat gets thrown to the ground and his sleeves get rolled up. Jimin steps closer to the exhausted man and crouches down next to him.

     "Hyung," he says softly. Kissing his boyfriend's head and combing his fingers through the sweaty hair.

     "Jimin-ah," Hoseok whines. His voice is low and scratchy.

     Jimin smiles, softly saying, "Hi there hyung how about we get you into the shower and then to bed?"

     "Hm kay jimin-ah but you are in Seoul."

     Jimin holds back a giggle as he says, "You are right hyung, I was in Seoul but I got on a plane to come see you. Now stand up for me."

     Jimin slings Hoseok's arm over his shoulder to hoist him onto his feet. Of course first he needs to lift up his head which means Hoseok actually sees him. His eyes grow, mouth forming a big O.

     "Wait Jimin?" He asks, his voice is a little more focused but still low.

     "I told you hyung, wanted to test out the whole plane thing, thought it seemed sketchy to fly," Jimin jokes.

     He gets his boyfriend to a standing position and starts walking him towards the bathroom. Ignoring the confused looks on Hoseok's face as he leans him on the counter. Jimin leans down to wiggle the bright tennis shoes off and throw the smelly socks as far as he can.

     Suddenly there is a hand in his hair, gently tugging him up. "Wait you are actually here?" Hoseok asks once Jimin's face is level with his.

     "Yes hyung, I'm really here and now I'm really going to put you in a shower because you smell." Jimin kisses him quickly before turning and pulling his boyfriend into the bathroom.

     He opens the shower door and turns on the water, trying to adjust the temperature as fast as he can. He does have to kick the pillow that somehow made its way into the bathroom door and then further when Hoseok and him shuffled in.

     Hoseok does his part and undresses himself, throwing the clothes willy nilly. Eyes trained on his boyfriend's back the while time. Once he is down to just his boxers he steps forward, wrapping his arms around Jimin.

     "Why hi there, are you ready for your shower?"

     Hoseok just nods into his back, starting to lift Jimin's shirt up as he does.

     Jimin turns around, "What are you doing?"

     "If we go into the shower you need to undress too," Hoseok pouts. He may be the hyung but he knows Jimin and him care for each other equally.

     "Why would I get into the shower?" Jimin smirks, looking up at Hoseok's face.

     Hoseok knows that means yes and just starts undressing him without responding.

     Jimin smiles and says, "I am only going to shower with you hyung if you promise to take a nap with me after, deal?"

     Hoseok smiles at that, "Deal."

     And he keeps to his word, they shower, maybe a little slow and maybe they kiss a lot but it remains just a shower. Then they both end up in the bed wrapped in soft bathrobes and curled up together. Hoseok falls asleep first, his soft snores fill the room and make Jimin smile.

     "Sleep well hyung, I love you." He kisses his boyfriend again and rests his head so Hoseok's snores move his hair around.

     That's how they both fall asleep.

***

     It's hot, so much so that Jimin worries the sun will never leave the sky. He seriously regrets going along with Hoseok and wearing all black. Jimin was too distracted by making sure Hoseok ate after their 2 hour nap to argue when his boyfriend dressed him to go to the festival.

     Of course Hoseok is now talking to some music producers and American artists, the English is too difficult for Jimin's basic knowledge.

     Hoseok seems to be shining, he is in his element. Even with limited ability to communicate he is networking with some of the biggest names. Said man does his best to involve Jimin in every conversation with the help of the translator who is tagging along with them.

     Right now Hoseok is getting to talk to his idol J. Cole. He makes Jimin stand next to him and keeps gripping his forearm to keep from vibrating.

     Jimin just does his best to follow along and ancor Hoseok without being too boyfriend-y. Mr. Lee, their translator, does tell him the bullet points of the whole conversation. So Jimin keeps his nerves at bay, this isn't about him. The festival is important for his boyfriend.

     "Omg Jimin, he noticed my album Hope World is named like his Cole world!" Hoseok's grip tightening grabs his attention. His boyfriend is smiling so big and Jimin can see his feet shifting back and forth. The need to move intensified through the excitment.

     "Of course he did hyung, you are so talented," Jimin tells him.

     This does the impossible and makes Hoseok smile even more.

     "He said he wants to get some photos with us, is that okay?" Jimin just smiles back and nods, it's the real reason he let Hoseok talk him into dressing up.

     Mr. Lee and J. Cole's assistant take the photos for them. Jimin only let's himself be in one photo and pushes Hoseok to take more.

     Mr. Lee comes to stand next to him while Hoseok says goodbye. "Tomorrow x together are performing soon. Bang Si-Hyuk just asked me to remind you."

     "Thank you so much, we will head over now. Do you remember where we can go to watch?" Jimin asks him. He knows the wristbands they were given are full access but Bang PDnim said something to them about how to watch the younger boys perform.

     Mr. Lee nods. "You can go stand in the barricade area with other VIP guests. You will be close to the stage so it may be louder than expected."

     "What will be loud?" Hoseok asks as he joins them again. Jimin is hyperaware of how he stands next to him and avoids holding his hand.

     Dating in secret sucks.

     "Mr. Lee reminded me that TxT are performing soon and we get to stand in the barricade area." Jimin brushes his pinkie finger against his boyfriend's.

     Mr. Lee nods and checks his phone again. "Would you like me to accompany you?"

     They make eye contact and Hoseok answers. "I think we will be okay, thank you so much hyungnim for helping us out."

     "Of course, please contact me if you need me. Until then I am going to help out backstage with TxT." Mr. Lee bows to them. They both bow back.

     "So let's head to the barricade, or do we need to get anything first?" Hoseok turns to face him.

     "We should probably go grab some water," Jimin responds.

     So they do. And they watch their dongsaengs kill their performance. They keep talking to each other about how they are proud.

     Afterwards they make sure to go congratulate the boys. Both of them do give a couple of critiques on their performance. Although they are things probably only Jimin and Hoseok would notice.

     When Bang Si-Hyuk joins them he suggests a company dinner and the couple cannot say no.

     Of course the whole night they try to be normal friends and not boyfriends who want to kiss. Bang PDnim may know but they haven't told the younger boys yet, they are still new to the secret keeping side of this business. Plus even in an empty restaurant someone can photograph them.

     Which means when they manage to get back to Hoseok's hotel room they both collapse onto the bed and...well let's just say it was not PG13. Not to be a very descriptive narrator but Hoseok does need to let off some steam. Afterall, Jimin doesn't want him to be too nervous for tomorrow. 

***

     After crashing the night before (and other activities), Hoseok having to place his boyfriend in bed early. He may have let Jimin drink a little bit. Which always leads to Jimin flirting at him loudly while he tries to brush his teeth. And Jimin's teeth.

     Surprisingly Hoseok slept well too.

     He even allowed himself to be cajoled into a lazy(ish) morning. Which equalled about an hour for breakfast, coffee, and chatting before he headed to the stage. Soundchecks always made him feel both nervous and goofy. So small of a crowd that it feels more intimate.

     Jimin claimed to want to stay behind and sightsee a small amount. Hoseok happily predicted it would not last. So he found himself 10 minutes into soundcheck when his boyfriend appeared on stage next to him.

     This led to the performer's attempts to just be serious to fail.

     Jimin was handed a mic and they may have gotten goofy.

     May have. Now that he is getting into position for the performance, he focuses on that memory. Allows the goofy morning performance to battle with his nerves that grow with the sounds of the crowd.

     Then of course, he jumps.

***

*cringes in unsmooth transition*

     Jimin has watched so many performances in his life. Varying from small dance performances to huge stage productions. Last night he got a feel for how the crowd is so varied and loud.

     Still he feels that this is the one performance he looks forward to most.

     Apparently dating the person on stage brings you to the same emotional state as performing on one. Hoseok had asked him to be objective and provide critism.

     That was not going to happen. No, because the moment his hyung popped up on stage Jimin felt himself fall in love again.

     He saw the serious man who he would spend hours in a dance studio with. Hair thrown everywhere and eyes full of passion. Hoseok's voice was even deeper somehow, than it ever sounded on a recording.

     Jimin felt pulled towards him. The beat filling his ears.

     He even found himself singing along, he cannot always rap as well as Hoseok. But he has heard all the hours if practice so he is decent. Jimin also notices the crowd. He thought they would be very diverse. People who may not know who his boyfriend or he are.

     Instead he sees it filled with army bombs, hears them chanting the lyrics along with him. That's why Jimin is proud. He is proud of his boyfriend who looks effortlessly gorgeous on stage and proud of army who support them no matter what.

     Jimin misses the stage.

     He misses practice.

     And he really misses cuddling Hoseok even though he was just kissing him good luck an hour ago. So Jimin jumps up and down he sings and raps. He responds to Hoseok's banter while his hyung catches his breath.

     When dynamite starts playing he mimics the dance moves. Playing around since he doesn't exactly know the new moves. He has no critique. He loves every moment. He loves every glance in his direction.

     Jimin is as much of a fan as everyone in the crowd. He wishes for an army bomb.

     Jimin also wishes to run his fingers through Hoseok's sweaty hair but all in due time.

     Then Becky appears on stage. Jimin knows this dance, although he is aware he is in a crowded space.

     Becky makes eye contact with him a few times and he always gives her a big smile.

     Then he watches as Hoseok finishes off his set. His boyfriend is definitely sweaty so Jimin will be forcing him to take a LONG shower. Sweaty boyfriends are only attractive so long into a relationship.

     Jimin even leaves a little early to be waiting for Hoseok back stage when his boyfriend gets there.

     "So..." Hoseok pants. There is a makeup artist handing him a hand towel for the sweat.

     Jimin just smiles. "Hyung I love you." And then he grabs his boyfriend and gets him to the privacy of the trailer they have been using as a changing room. He kisses his hyung.

     Hoseok laughs when he is allowed to take a breath. "That good huh?"

     "Jung Hoseok you belong on that stage. I have nothing I would change. I loved it, I was singing and dancing and I just love you," Jimin says. He keeps his hands wrapped in Hoseok's shirt to hold him close.

     His boyfriend seems to smile brighter than he has all night. Of course this means Jimin needs to kiss him. Like a lot. Maybe sweaty boyfriends are attractive after years of dating.

     Also maybe he really likes watching Hoseok perform in front of thousands and get him alone after.

     Jimin does his best to convey his feelings to Hoseok through the kiss. When they finally pull apart neither feels the need to talk. Maybe Hoseok chuckles and maybe he giggles.

     But it's theirs. It's private and special and Hoseok is with him, his.

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