#I can’t stop quoting his silly voice lines

[rddykilowatt]

“Hm. I’m a decent man you know, are you really gonna touch me like that?~”

[mayhem-neverending]

The Big Bad Wolf

Part XXIII

Word Count: 3,251

Warnings: none

“I see self isolation in your eyes and I’m going to tell you right now that you better not even think about it,” your voice was laced with irritation, though it wasn’t at all directed at him.

“But it’s obvious I’m an issue and your mom is right about me,”

“My mom is probably worried about her reputation at work. She’s been there fifteen years and they only stopped looking at her immigration status when Pain came and destroyed the village,”

He opened his mouth, likely to remind you of his involvement with Pain, but you waved a hand and gave him a look to silence him. He reluctantly shut his mouth. 

“My mother’s anger has nothing to do with you or me, really,”

“How? It sounded an awful lot like it had everything to do with ‘us’,” He used air quotes with his fingers.

You gave him a deadpan expression. You could still feel your adrenaline pumping from the call and lacked your normal delicacy. “You can’t control a person’s actions or emotions unless they’re under a Genjutsu. Maybe what she thinks I’m doing influences her emotions, but that damn well didn’t make her essentially call me a whore,”

“I can’t believe she said that to you,” Obito blurted. 

You were grateful he decided to focus on you rather than turning inward. You thought for a moment before you waved a hand, although you had some level of disbelief, too. “She’ll apologize once she’s calmed down enough to realize what she said,”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you agreed. You inhaled deeply, willing the frazzledness to dissipate. As soon as you felt everything calm inside of you, it struck you how very wrong your mother was to do that. She had never been good at handling her emotions, and you usually gave her some grace, but she had really crossed a line this time.

“I don’t… I don’t know that I want to associate myself with her after that,” You looked anywhere but at Obito, who was agreeing with you wholeheartedly in your peripheral vision. 

“Okay, well. I guess that’s decided then,” you looked over at him and shrugged.

“Wait, it’s just done, just like that? You’re not going to rant or… get angry or something?”

“No,” you said slowly, raising a brow.

“You’re just.. Making a decision and letting it go,” he stated unconvinced.

“Yes,”

“How?”

“Uh, with practice. A lot of practice. Works better in some situations than others,”

 “With practice,” he imitated you poorly, rolling his eyes.

You looked at him where he was seated with his back against the wall, a small twinkle in your eye. “You sounded mean just then, what a big bad wolf you are,”

He shot you a dirty look. He reiterated, “She was right about that,”

You got up, stretching so that the shirt you wore rose and just barely covered your behind. You weren’t going to let him start into a spiral, not after the shitty night you had last night. The two of you were going to at least have a nice breakfast beforehand. Damn Toma and his big mouth for making what you were hoping would be an idyllic morning into a whole show.

“Obito, ‘The Big Bad Wolf’. Y'know, if you're a wolf I’d be happy to be Little Red Riding Hood,” you winked. 

He spluttered. You started towards the door, a little extra sway in your step. The door swung open and you left it ajar as you walked out. 

“Hey,” he called after you. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean,”

He came after you, catching up just before you reached the kitchen. “What’re you trying to say?”

“Nothing, Obi, I was just being silly,” you said as you dumped the old grounds out from the coffee maker. 

You rinsed it out and replaced the piece and turned towards him. He was thinking awfully hard, scrutinizing you and then looking out the window when you went to catch his eye. You almost hoped he saw right through you and knew that you had just outwardly flirted with him. 

“Now, what do you want to eat?”

“You don’t have to make me anything, it’s your day off,” he stepped close and reached over your head to grab the coffee grounds, pressing lightly against you.

“I want to,” you replied, looking up into his dark eyes.

He didn’t move away from you or break eye contact when he set the coffee grounds beside you on the counter. 

“Really,” he said. “You don’t need to. I’ve caused you enough trouble, I can at least make something for you on your day off,”

“I’ve caused you way more trouble than you’ve caused me, I’ve got it,” you said testily.

“You haven’t. Let me,” he leaned down a little more into your space to argue. 

You got on your toes and pressed a finger to his firm chest. “I have. I’ve got it,”

“Y/n,” he warned, coming closer still.

“Obito,” You moved closer until you realized how close you really were. Your eyes flicked down to his lips that were now mere inches away. He did the same, and like magnets the distance began slowly closing without either of you aware of who leaned in first. Your chakra started to intermingle, excited and unbidden. You were a hair’s breadth away, eyes half lidded and a fire already blooming against your lips from where his uneven breath brushed against them. Your phone started ringing loudly from the bedroom and the two of you jumped apart like you were struck by lightning and you excused yourself to scurry to the bedroom.

Obito waited for you in the kitchen while you answered, catching his breath. His heart pumped loudly in his chest, the sound of it thumping in his ears making it impossible to hear anything else. He thought he must still be dreaming because there was no way you were about to kiss him. Absolutely not, you were one hundred percent not interested in him like that, he thought to himself in full denial. That’s why you trusted him to be around you in just his long sleeve shirt and nothing else, right? Because you trusted him not to do anything like that. Oh Kami, had he just breached a boundary?

He pinched the skin of his left forearm, and the pain indicated that he was indeed awake. His heart beat harder at the realization. Were you really going to kiss him? Was he really going to kiss you? He recalled in vivid detail your soft lips inching closer, your lashes fluttering closed as he pressed in. It was like an invisible force had taken over for him, he knew if whatever it was hadn’t he would have never been brave enough to do that. 

He looked down the hallway, only to see you coming out with your outfit from the previous night back in place, acting like nothing had just happened. He was immediately confused, and hurt flashed in his chest. He was right. He breached a boundary and you were so uncomfortable you had to leave. He deflated, shoulders slouching. 

“Hey, Kakashi called and said I needed to go down to his office NOW. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” 

“You mean Monday,” he said dispiritedly. 

You paused, one arm halfway through your coat sleeve. “Uh, no. I meant today. So we can have breakfast?”

“Oh, uh,” Obito looked confused, brows pulled together, heart rate starting to pick up again.

“Do you.. want me to wait until Monday?”

“No,”

“Okay, good. I’ll see you after this, then. Have breakfast ready for me, okay?”

“Sure, yeah. Will do,” 

You zipped your boots and straightened out. You waved to him and he waved back a little awkwardly, relieved he was wrong. And wondering what the hell he was going to make for you. 

…

Kakashi was about to jump up and start pacing when your knock finally sounded at the door. He called you in and you made your way to his desk. He gestured for you to have a seat, so you took one. He reluctantly sat down across from you, his hand landing atop an open scroll. 

“I’ve received a letter from Akujia’s military committee,”

His features that had struggled to stay neutral in his worry smoothed into that of marble, cold and expressionless. “You and Hina were not only spotted, but recognized by a man who could name you. It’s lucky he couldn’t identify Obito, too,”

Your whole body tensed and you sat stock still, eyes wide as you processed the information. Who? Who recognized you?

“The head of the committee, a General Casus, is demanding Hina’s return. He explains in length that they have a right to finish what they have started, by law, because she is an enemy of the state by association of the Zen’in and avoidance of ‘fair charges’ brought against her. You and Obito have also been charged in aiding her escape. Their terms are that charges will be dropped against the two of you if she is returned,”

Your jaw dropped. “No!”

Kakashi held out his hand. “It’s okay, I’m not turning her over to be executed for false crimes. No one here is facing charges from the Akujian government. I brought you here to explain the situation and to let you pick where you’ll be staying,”

“Where I’ll be staying?”

He nodded. “I can’t let you stay unguarded in your current apartment. I also can’t afford to put you in another safe house and thin out my Anbu ranks. You and Hikaru can either stay with Hina or Obito for the time being. They both already have a barrier and I’ve just assigned an Anbu guard to Obito’s location,”

Hina’s place was cramped from visitors and she didn’t have an extra room. Plus… you wouldn’t say it out loud, but you could only take the newborn stage in doses when it came to other people. Your eyes roved the room as you tried to make a decision. Would it sound weird if you asked to stay with Obito? A part of you was almost anxious that he knew about what had just transpired between the two of you.

He did have the extra room across from his, and it was your job to care for him so it made sense to pick his home. Would you tip Kakashi off about your crush by asking to stay with him?

Very slowly you replied, “Obito. I’ll stay with Obito,”

He nodded, satisfied with your decision. His face didn’t betray any emotions as he called out for an Anbu. A behemoth of a man entered the room and stood in the center. You couldn’t help but think he was definitely someone you wouldn’t want to mess with. 

“Ox, please escort her to her apartment for her things and help her move them to Obito Uchiha’s home,”

He held out two extra large scrolls to the man. “These are sealing scrolls. I don’t know how much time she will have to stay there, so get as much as you can in these,”

That statement surprised you. If he didn’t know how long, you were concerned about what was in the Akujian scroll that he had chosen not to mention to you. What he said was pretty cut and dry, something that shouldn’t take too long to figure out, especially between Kakashi and Shikamaru who was a master strategist. 

Kakashi turned to you and picked up a smaller scroll from his desk. “This is a message to Obito, detailing some of the information I have shared with you,”

You nodded and took it from him, standing from your chair and actively keeping your suspicion from your expression. “And Hikaru? Will I be able to pick him up?”

Kakashi shook his head. “I’m going to personally go get him. A rumor his father has started is spreading like wildfire,” His penetrating gaze made you wish the floor would crumble beneath your feet. “I know that it’s not true, but I can’t have him starting fights with you out in the open after receiving this… request. I need you secure as soon as possible,”

“Of course,” you said quietly, completely mortified. 

“Who will take Hikaru to and from school?” 

“We can discuss the details later,” he dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

You nodded and you left with Ox trailing closely behind you. The walk was silent and rushed. You knew better than to try to start conversations with Anbu while masked, not that you particularly wanted to at that very moment. The first thing you did was change your outfit once inside. Then, you took your own sealing scroll and piled your clothes and shoes on top of it. You told Ox to use one of the scrolls to get Hikaru’s bedroom cleared out, and could hear him moving things around while you worked. 

You felt a little dazed as you went along, pulling blankets and some odds and ends into your pile. You sealed the scroll and pulled out another from your bedside table. You went into the kitchen to grab some things before you forgot. Who knew when you would be going to a store again. Ox followed you in, tucking the used scroll in his uniform. 

“What else, ma’am?” he asked in a deep voice befitting his stature.

“The rest of what’s in my bedroom, if you could, please. I think I have anything else covered,”

He nodded and walked back to where you had been while you emptied the fruits and vegetables you recently bought from the refrigerator. Whatever you thought would fit ended up in the scroll, and you hoped it would be plenty. Obito’s fridge was pretty full as it was, but the man ate, well, like a man, and there would be three of you to feed. 

You also hoped he wouldn’t be upset or overwhelmed by this sudden change. Living with you would be one thing, you were obviously familiar enough with each other. Which might also be an issue, but you digress. Adding Hikaru to the mix was a whole different beast. You loved him very much, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still a two year old. 

You were a little nervous walking through the woods to his house. And by nervous, moreso excited. It had dawned on you that you would be staying with someone that you really liked, if almost kissing him this morning indicated anything. It was hard to accept before, but running to him for safety really opened your eyes to the idea that it might be okay to like him. And what your mom had said to you made you want to be with him more. It had only solidified to you your belief that he was a good person. Obito being a wolf in sheep’s clothing was a ridiculous notion. From what you had seen first hand, he was actually a scared sheep in wolf’s clothing. 

Ox didn’t have access to the barrier, so he handed off the scrolls at the clearing before joining his team in the trees. You walked through normally, feeling a little odd knowing that you now had an audience. You noticed that the snow had almost completely melted, a shame for Hikaru who would now have a yard to play with it in. Konoha was never cold enough to keep snow for very long, it was lucky you had had it the past few weeks. 

You opened the door and the smell of coffee and eggs wafted straight to your nose. Obito had already stood from the couch, his own mug set on the floor next to it. You couldn’t help but grin at him. 

“I have some news,” you related a little more excitedly than appropriate.

His brow raised. “I’m guessing good news by the way you’re smiling at me,”

“Both!” You pulled the scroll Kakashi gave you out of your coat pocket and handed it to Obito. 

While he read it, you went ahead to the spare bedroom down the hall. It had been awhile since you had opened the door, and it was probably in dire need of dusting. Your suspicion was confirmed by your sneezing the moment the door was yanked open. You left it ajar and went to the linen closet for a duster and some rags. 

You had just walked in when Obito appeared in the doorway. “How is any of this good news? And what are you doing in here?”

“Oh,” you said and put the duster down. Of course you had gotten ahead of yourself. “The good news is that I’m moving in with you for the time being. Kakashi wanted me safe inside a barrier. Lucky the place I work already has one, right?”

Obito blinked at you in surprise. “You’re moving… here? With me?”

“That is what I said, yes,”

“And you’re okay with that?” He shifted on his feet.

You had a very strong urge to roll your eyes. You placed a hand on his arm. “I’m okay with it if you are. I mean, who knows how long I’ll be in lockdown. It could be months before we see each other again otherwise,”

“You mean you could be stuck here for months?” Despite his wording, his features became more animated, almost like a child about to receive a birthday present.

“No need to get too upset about it,” you joked. 

He shook his head, but the light shone in his eyes despite his best efforts to look neutral. You imagined yourself kissing him to make him give you his goofy lopsided grin again. You cleared your throat as soon as it passed and tried to think of anything else. “Uh, you made breakfast, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” He remained in the doorway for a moment longer before willing his body to move away from you.

You followed him out. He poured you a cup of coffee and handed it over to you before stepping over to the oven where he had been keeping the food warm. He opened it and pulled out a plate with two egg sandwiches. 

“I don’t really know how to make anything else breakfast-wise, so, ta-da. I hope it tastes okay,”

You reached out and he placed the warm sandwich in your hands. He took his own and you could tell he was waiting for you to take the first bite before digging in to your own. You held yours out towards him. He looked between it and you, quite confused. 

“To our new living situation. I think it’ll be quite the adventure,”

“You want me to like, touch my sandwich to yours?”

“It’s a toast, Obito,”

He blinked slowly at you. You waved the sandwich at him. “A toast, get it?”

“Do I… have to live with you?” There was a slight curve to his lips.

“Hush up and toast with me,” 

He rolled his eyes while his smile grew. After an eternity, he touched the corner of his sandwich to yours. You grinned, satisfied, and he couldn’t help it that he broke out into a crooked grin to match yours. 

He took a slow bite of his dry sandwich. Internally, he repeatedly thanked whatever universal force it was that decided it was finally time to have his back. Maybe he could have a little something good, just this once.

Part XXIV

Taglist: @mostlyunsure, @humongousdreamlandbear, @ichaichahatake, @mandy-yeager, @detectivestucks, @faces-ofvenus

[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 8

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

When they sat, he unclipped Damen’s leash, wound it around the handler’s rod, then tossed it to one of the attendants, who managed to catch it with only a slight fumble.

craft note: great little tension-breaking moment that doesn’t feel too silly

Torveld, evidence of a small coup for Laurent.

context: i think this just means that he is a useful tool in the power struggle against the regent? like, that’s how laurent regards him? which damen would understand at this point

Nicaise also sat well. His beauty at close range was striking. So was his youth. His voice, when he spoke, was unbroken. It had the clear fluting tone of a knife tapped against crystal, without cracks. ‘I don’t want to sit next to you,’ said Nicaise. ‘Fuck off.’

craft note: describes him as sweet, makes him say something vulgar. nice. 

also, laurent parallel!

His huge blue eyes were fringed like a whore’s, or like a doe’s.

craft note: GREAT line. highlights the deranged way sex and innocence are regarded in vere.

‘I made your pet jump,’ said Nicaise, smugly.

context: he did this to get laurent’s attention, not to hurt damen. i mean he definitely thought it was funny to stab damen with a fork but that’s just extra

Not sounding at all displeased: ‘Yes, you did.’

laurent respects the fork thing. birds of a feather etc

Laurent immediately lifted his cup and inclined it towards Nicaise in a little gesture sealing the bet. Damen tried to shake the bizarre impression that they were enjoying themselves.

context: nicaise is the closest thing laurent has to a brother, or maybe even a friend. this is one of the first glimpses of Real Laurent that we’ve seen in this book—funny, competitive, supportive in a backhanded way. damen just doesn’t know that this is the Real Laurent, and neither would a first-time reader. so from his perspective, laurent’s behavior is bizarre.

In a miracle of restraint, there were only nine courses, served ribboned and artfully arranged on jewelled plates by attractive pages.

Laurent went very still; then he deliberately shifted in his seat and leaned in, bringing his lips right to Damen’s ear. ‘I think I’m out of stabbing range, he’s got short arms. Or perhaps he’ll try to throw a sugar plum? That is difficult. If I duck he’ll hit Torveld.’ Damen gritted his teeth. ‘You know what I meant. He heard you. He’s going to act. Can’t you do something about it?’ ‘I’m occupied.’ ‘Then let me do something.’ ‘Bleed on him?’ said Laurent.

a glimmer of their future dynamic :’)

Damen opened his mouth to reply, and found his words stopped by the startling touch of Laurent’s fingers against his lips, a thumb brushing his jawline. It was the sort of absent touch that any master at the table might give to a pet. But from the shocked reaction that rolled over the courtiers at the table, it was clear that Laurent did not do this sort of thing often. Or ever. ‘My pet was feeling neglected,’ Laurent apologised to Torveld.

i am not immune to whatever the fuck this is

context: laurent was getting a little too comfortable talking to damen like they’re friends, which then made him switch gears. and/or he was feeling a little silly

‘He looks combative, but he’s really very docile and adoring,’ said Laurent, ‘like a puppy.’

freak

To demonstrate, Laurent picked up a confection of crushed nuts and honey and held it out to Damen as he had at the ring, between thumb and forefinger. ‘Sweetmeat?’ said Laurent. In the stretched-out moment that followed, Damen thought explicitly about killing him.

FREAK

i’m guessing the strategy here is to assert his own power and maybe make torveld feel frisky so he’ll support laurent and take the deal, but also. freak

She was saying to the noblewoman, ‘Of course, the idea of one of us keeping males is grotesque.

“i can excuse keeping a human pet, but i draw the line at heterosexuality”

Damen had assumed that pets, like slaves, were sexually submissive to their masters, as was the custom in Akielos. But he could only guess at the arrangements between Vannes and this woman in bed.

so is the pet/master relationship consensual? veretian pets are essentially full-time prostitutes, being paid to larp a specific power dynamic. so i suppose the matter of consent here rests on whether prostitution and sex work can be considered consensual, at all. which… is a very difficult question to answer, although my gut says that it isn’t. like, it’s consensual on paper between the two parties, but i still think that the inherent power imbalance of a person who is paying for services that make another person vulnerable is shaky at best. and the way vulnerable people (women, gay men) often turn to sex work as a last resort, because our real-life patriarchal society wants women to be disempowered and dependent, makes it really not seem like a choice at all. 

that said, vere isn’t the real world. and while bdsm is real, it is meant to include protections for every person involved. i thiiiiink i’d probably feel comfortable calling the master/pet thing in this fictional society consensual if i knew 1) that an indisputable safe word was built into the contract, and 2) that financial compensation wasn’t an aspect of the arrangement. like, if this was simply for fun and pleasure, without money or status on the line, i don’t think i’d have a problem with it. that basically just makes the veretian court a sex party for informed and consenting adults.

which, yeah, adults. even with all of that in place, i still don’t think informed consent can be given by a minor, which distinguishes nicaise’s situation from the contract-holders of age. that’s fucked up, no matter what. no wonder they hide it from torveld. 

‘We are waiting. Ancel will perform. He is popular, “in fashion.” You’ve had him.’ She didn’t wait for him to confirm this statement. ‘How was he?’ Well instructed. Damen’s mind supplied the answer, sly as a suggestion murmured in his ear. He frowned at it. He said, ‘Adequate.’

“well instructed” SCREAMING (yes this is level-headed analysis but also AHHHH)

"adequate” :)

‘The Prince?’ said Talik, scornfully. ‘Everyone knows the Prince does not keep pets.’ ‘None at all?’ said Damen. She said, ‘You.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Perhaps the Prince has a taste for men, not these painted Veretian boys who squeal if you pinch them.’ Her tone suggested that she approved of this on general principle.

this is charming in a way i can’t quite describe. the girls and the gays having a chat. also interesting—veretians seem to call damen a pet, more than they call him a slave. and there is a huge difference between the two positions. damen, however, seems to hear them as the same thing. just another little hint that his perspective isn’t exactly accurate, even though he is a noble and trustworthy character. 

The Regent gazed at him for a while. ‘I’m almost disappointed, if it’s no more than that. Laurent could benefit from a steadying influence, someone close to him with his best interests at heart. A man with sound judgement, who could help guide him without being swayed.’

careful what you wish for, fucker

‘My nephew is charming, when he wishes it. His brother was a true leader, he could inspire extraordinary loyalty from his men. Laurent has a superficial version of his brother’s gifts, which he uses to get his own way. If anyone could have a man eating from the hand that struck him, it’s my nephew,’ said the Regent.

way to tell on yourself

He badly wanted to step across the chasm that separated the two factions of this court: on the other side was this man who had long since won his respect. It was grittily painful for him to realise that it was not in his nature to do that—not while Laurent was acting on his behalf. If Laurent was acting on his behalf . . . even if Laurent was acting on his behalf, he had so little stomach for the drawn out game that was being played tonight. And yet. ‘I’m not the man you want,’ he said. ‘I don’t have influence over him. I’m not close to him. He has no love for Akielos, or its people.’

context: big damen moment! loyalty! integrity! good choice!

(although, respecting the regent… gross)

actually, putting a pin in the idea of “respect” here. it seems like damen respects the regent more than laurent, but chooses loyalty to laurent anyway. that’s partially out of fear, but also… not exactly. so what is, and is not, “respect” for these characters?

‘Go and fetch me my nephew. I prefer him not to be left alone with Torveld.’ ‘Yes, Your Highness.’

awful. the double meaning here—first-time reader thinks “laurent is working behind his uncle’s back, and that’s why the regent is annoyed that he's with torveld.” but it’s been twice now that there’s been a moment like this, where it’s almost implying that the regent is jealous of torveld for taking up laurent’s attention in... other ways. i don’t think it’s accidental, especially since torveld was described as similar to the regent. gross. 

‘—told my advisors that I was past the age to be distracted by beautiful young men,’ he heard Torveld say, and it was suddenly eminently clear that they were not discussing trade negotiations.

sharp objects quote again: “if you let people do things to you, you’re really doing it to them.”

That a man of Torveld’s honourable reputation would choose Laurent as the object of his affections was difficult to swallow, but perhaps Torveld admired reptiles.

‘And then I met you,’ said Torveld, ‘and then I spent an hour in your company.’ ‘More than an hour,’ said Laurent. ‘Less than a day. I think you get distracted more easily than you admit.’ ‘And you not at all?’ There was a slight pause in the rhythm of their exchange. ‘You . . . have been listening to gossip.’ ‘Is it true, then?’ ‘That I am—not easily courted? It can’t be the worst thing you heard about me.’ ‘By far the worst, from my perspective.’ It was said warmly, and won a breath of insubstantial amusement from Laurent. Torveld’s voice changed, as though they stood closer together. ‘I have heard a great deal of gossip about you, but I judge as I find.’ Laurent said, in the same intimate voice, ‘And what do you find?’ Damen stepped forward determinedly.

context: torveld is trying to figure out if he can get into laurent’s pants (he can’t, but laurent is in improv mode right now), damen steps in before the flirting can progress any further

Laurent, reclined elegantly against the balustrade, did not react at all except to shift his gaze in Damen’s direction. They were indeed standing close together. Not quite kissing distance.

laurent lean #4. also what a funny thing to notice, damen! “not quite kissing distance.”

‘You took your time,’ Laurent murmured as he passed Damen.

context: laurent wanted OUT of that situation

‘He is a prize,’ said Torveld, warmly. ‘I’ll wager you never thought a prince could be jealous of a slave. Right now I would exchange places with you in a heartbeat.’ You don’t know him, thought Damen. You don’t know anything about him. You’ve known him one night.

“you can’t like him because you don’t know him. i can’t like him because i do know him, and he sucks, yet i still feel protective of him for some reason. we are not the same.”

Damen was back on the leash, being used very possibly as a chaperone. Laurent was acting with the carefully bland manners of one trying politely to manage a difficult suitor. Damen thought with some amusement: boxed in by your own cleverness. As Damen watched, Torveld’s servant produced a peach, then a knife, then cut a slice at Torveld’s instruction, offering it to Laurent, who blandly accepted. When he had finished the morsel, the servant brought forth a little cloth from his sleeve with a flourish for Laurent to clean his immaculate fingers. The cloth was transparent silk, edged in gold thread. Laurent returned it crumpled.

this is as close to sitcom as we’re getting in vere

‘I’m enjoying the performance,’ Damen couldn’t resist saying. ‘Torveld’s servant is better supplied than you are,’ was all Laurent said. ‘I don’t have sleeves to carry handkerchiefs in,’ said Damen. ‘I wouldn’t mind being given a knife.’ ‘Or a fork?’ said Laurent.

banter!! it’s them!! <3 

also, i think the “performance” in question is laurent trying to spam romance interactions with torveld until he unlocks the diplomacy cutscene, rather than the actual performance at the party. clever. 

To Laurent: ‘You let him speak to his betters like that?’ ‘Not to his betters,’ said Laurent. Nicaise flushed at that.

context: laurent implies to nicaise that he respects damen more than he respects him. this is, of course, not a compliment towards damen, but a slight towards nicaise, who takes the joke seriously because he is a child

Damen looked at Laurent, who had simply let all of this unfold before him. He could see what had made Torveld transfer his affections. There was a superficial resemblance between the Prince and the slave. Erasmus’s fair skin and burnished hair were the closest thing in the room to Laurent’s gold and ivory colouring. But Erasmus had something Laurent lacked: a vulnerability, a need for caring, and a yearning to be mastered that was almost palpable. In Laurent there was only a patrician coolness, and if the purity of Laurent’s profile drew the eye, Damen had the scars on his back to prove that one could look, but not touch.

he’s expensive.

‘You had a choice,’ said Laurent. ‘You didn’t have to show me your claws.’ ‘You tricked me,’ said Nicaise. ‘I’m going to tell—’ ‘Tell him,’ said Laurent. ‘All about what I’ve done, and how you helped me. How do you think he’ll react? Shall we find out? Let’s go together.’ Nicaise gave Laurent a look that was desperately, spitefully calculating. ‘Oh, will you—enough,’ said Laurent. ‘Enough. You’re learning. It won’t be as easy to do next time.’ ‘I promise you, it won’t,’ said Nicaise venomously, and he left without, Damen noted, giving Laurent his earring.

context: it’s only a play-threat from laurent that he’d tell the regent that nicaise accidentally helped, which he then rescinds as not to scare nicaise, and even follows up with a compliment. he is trying so hard to look out for nicaise within these circumstances, and it’s especially obvious compared to how he interacts with literally everyone else.

Laurent had delivered all Damen had asked for, tied up neatly in a bow. All within the space of a day. If you put everything else aside, you had to admire it for sheer organisational efficiency.

hot

Laurent seemed, bizarrely, to be in a good mood. He leaned a shoulder rather casually against the wall. His voice was not exactly warm, but nor was the ice edge polished to cut.

laurent lean #5

‘I thought you and Torveld would have other plans.’ It just came out. Laurent said, ‘No.’

there’s no way damen actually thought that. so why did he make the comment? hmmm 

‘You are permanently disgusted by us, aren’t you?’ said Laurent.

the mutual moral arbitration continues

Laurent detached his gaze from the Regent and turned it back on Damen, his blue eyes showing neither his usual hostility, nor arrogance, nor contempt, but instead something that Damen could not make out at all. ‘I warned you about Nicaise because he is not Councillor Audin’s pet. Haven’t you guessed yet whose pet he is?’ Laurent said, and then, when he didn’t answer: ‘Ancel is too old to interest my uncle.’

“you are permanently disgusted by us, aren’t you?” laurent certainly seems to be, and i think he actually trusts damen to feel the same way. as in, he thinks damen has the same morals as he does, about this subject at least. progress!

[jade-kyo]

RvB 20th rewatch: s6

And here it is- possibly my favorite season? At least it was the very first time I watched the show but my favorites for everything in this show have changed so much over the years it’s hard to say. Either way season 6 goes hard and I go feral.

Omega at blood gulch: silly goofy villain who wants to rule the universe // omega at Valhalla: straight up horror movie shit

KAKAINA MY BELOVED

“Good luck with your empty base and raging insanity” heavily quoted line

Added to Sarges list of superpowers: he can turn into cardboard

I think it’s very funny that Sarge recommends Wash find Caboose but not Doc who arguably has way more experience with Omega

GAVIN

“How sad would it be to not have a brother and lose a brother all in the same day” i once saw someone apply this quote to Church and Carolina and I am in agony.

Rip joahnness

The way Wash almost drops the ai reveal in casual conversation

Honestly Wash is kinda dumb for not realizing Church was the alpha the moment he heard the same name as the fucking Director

“We don’t! That’s part of our charm! Quit fucking it up!” Quoted line

CACKLING there’s an error in the dvd version where one of Caboose’s lines doesn’t have audio so his head just silently bops and Church responds to nothing 😂

“THAT WAS FUCKING BULLSHIT”

“WHAT PART!? HOW BOUT THE PART WHERE I GOT THROWN EIGHTY FEET IN THE FUCKING AIR BY THE GODDAMN THROWING THING!!”

NOT MY FAULT SOMEONE PUT A WALL IN MY WAY

Ah yes the moment Washington became one of my favorite characters- shooting South. Listen I like my men a little unhinged

I mean Wash’s logic is pretty sound tho- South had established a habit of betraying people so making sure she couldn’t do that again wasn’t a bad idea…

“I am completely and totally sane… now if you’ll excuse me I need to go blow up this dead body” he’s so sexy

GOD WASH IN THE BACKGROUND JUST DESTROYING SOUTHS BODY AKSHKAHSKDHKS CACKLING

“Wow what a ringing endorsement *explosion* I am filled with confidence” another quoted line

CONTROL F U

RED TEAM!!!!!!!!

Simmons was gonna confess his love obviously

“I AM THE VOICE OF GOD” Church just like me fr

Wash is so sexy

FREELANCER POWER ACTIVATE

WASH SARGE VOICE MY BELOVED

“You can’t copy an ai” Simmons single handedly smarter than every single freelancer

Wash is so done with everything… man doesn’t know he’s gonna find his inner silly again

I cannot get over the silent “you suck” as Wash is looking for Epsilon- these are definitely Church fragments alright

“You are the Alpha” is possibly one of the greatest and most well executed plot twists I have ever seen. Even to this day, after 20 rewatches, I lose my mind every time. I feel actual chills every. Single. Time.

The first time I watched it will also always be one of the most memorable moments of my life. My jaw was on the floor. I literally had to stop the episode and go outside and scream and freak out for a whole 30 minutes.

I genuinely believe this was the exact moment that Red vs. Blue became my favorite show ever. Of all time.

Anyway Grif and Simmons are gay

Church truly drinking that denial juice. Just like me fr

BOO MOTHERFUCKER

TUCKER VOICE CAMEO

“What’s a matter daddy didn’t love you enough” thing is for Carolina that was literally actually the case

Okay but if Church did have full access to his ai powers could he show them some porn?

Emp

What would have happened if the emp hadn’t gone off… would the alpha have fully reformed sans his memories? G o d. I am in agony.

I hold onto one solace and that’s that Alpha and Beta were together in the end. Chex my beloved. My new headcanon is that Alpha and Beta actually got a similar ending as Chex did in restoration- reunited, with time relative to them, maybe not perfect but together.

Church being the director was also a masterfully done twist. God it’s so fucking good. I love this show so fucking much.

S6 my beloved… it is always so good to watch this season I love it so much.

[offthefieldsmau]

⚽ 1.90

“Stede?”

“Yes, darling?” Stede pulled the phone back to his ear, blushing and replaying the quotes in his head as he tried to focus back on his conversation with Sam.

“Are you watching TV on the phone with me again?” Sam chided harmlessly into the phone. It was a bad habit, but Stede was sitting on his couch, tableside lamp on as he wrote more thorough notes onto sticky notes and into the pages of his well-loved book.

Stede smiled, “Something like that,” he played with the ends of his shirt.

“I can come over Saturday night for movie night, right?” The door to Sam’s fridge opened, “We’re doing Bridget Jones?”

Stede stopped playing with his shirt’s hem, “I was wondering…maybe we could watch something else?”

Condiments rattled as the fridge door shut on the other end of the line, “Like what?” 

Stede glanced at the opened book to his left, “Maybe we could try Lord of the Rings again?”

Sam was quiet. There was budding hope — in a way similar to how it felt to watch the sunrise over the horizon on a new day. Stede held his breath, knowing the longer Sam waited to respond, the more his resolve fell. This was it— Stede was finally going to get him to try it again! Unless—

Sam sighed. 

“You know I want to enjoy it—”

That’s not a no, “You will! I promise,” Stede sat up, “just give it one more chance, and I’ll stop,” he felt his body meld back into the couch cushions as he tacked on a soft, “please? It’s— it’s silly, I know, but I really think you’d enjoy it if you gave it another chance.”

It felt as though Stede lived a thousand lives before Sam responded. In his heart of hearts, he knew there was no way he could promise Sam would like it. Inside that same heart, there was a thin thread of hope that wanted him to find a love for the thing Stede adored so badly.

“Okay.”

Stede had to take a deep breath and calm the excited thrum of his heart, “It’ll be great!”

“And you don’t have the kids this weekend?” The hope in Sam’s voice was not lost on Stede.

He almost wished it was, though, as he responded, “I mean, no, but you should know that could change at a moment’s notice,” he heard a sigh from Sam, but kept talking, “Alma and Mary have been…’at odds’ doesn’t really do their spat justice, but I guess that’s just how it is with teenage girls and their mothers.”

“You don’t really get a break, do you?” Sam asked, and Stede smiled at the genuine sound to his voice.

“No,” Stede thumbed the pages of his book, “not really.”

“Then let’s make the most of it, okay? I can’t for sure say I’ll love it this time around, but I’ll watch it if it’ll cheer you up,” Stede’s heart had that tiny thread pull and tug at Sam’s words, “you deserve to at least pretend you have a break.”

“Thank you,” Stede brought the book back into his lap, “I look forward to it.”

[becomingmina]

BECOMINGMINA'S M-LIST

KEYS : {F} FLUFF {A} ANGST {M} SMUT {S} SUGGESTIVE

BANG CHAN 방찬 / CHRISTOPHER BAHNG:

You, you silly {M} You would definitely get super embarrassed and probably conceals all your noises from then on if he ever admitted that he loves how vocal you are. — Which is why he’s keeping quiet in this situation.  

Mad {F, S} “I can’t believe I rather sleep than go out with you today..” he planted a kiss to your shoulder making you giggle. “..I’m such bad boyfriend..” he continues and you nod.

LEE KNOW 리노 / LEE MINHO 이민호:

Fuckboy Min featuring Hyunjin {A, M} "Hey baby," Minho speaks from behind you, his voice so deep, hands find their way to your hips sending chills down your spine. He used to call you that all the time, and your heart never fails to beat out of your chest from it.

Fuckboy Min 2 featuring Hyunjin {A} You continue to move in, giving him a peck to his cheeks. Hyunjin freezes in return, the sudden affection makes him flustered. "Goodnight Hyune."

SEO CHANGBIN 서창빈 :

Mad {F, S} He must've been so confused patiently waiting at home for you to come over the whole day. "I'll come home now, I'm sorry."

HWANG HYUNJIN 황현진 :

Fuckboy Min 2 featuring Minho {A} You continue to move in, giving him a peck to his cheeks. Hyunjin freezes in return, the sudden affection makes him flustered. "Goodnight Hyune."

Fuckboy Min 3 - Hyune’s ending {F, M} His eyes carry so many regrets and guilt and you know he was taken back when your eyes flicker back to meet Hyunjin’s.

Crush {M} “Yeah I do..” he confesses breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop thinking back to gym class yesterday.. how you eyed it all lesson..” Oh, so he caught you staring but didn’t say anything?

HAN JISUNG 한지성 :

Nothing yet..

FELIX 필릭스 / LEE YONGBOK 이용복 :

Take your own photos, baby {S} “-Take your own photos, baby,” you handed him the camera. He looks down at the object before meeting your eyes again, this time his pupil are blown wide open at what you’re suggesting.

My good girl {M} Felix chuckles running his hand through your hair stopping at the back of your head to lift you up so he can get you to look up at him. It was just like how you imagined - his hand in your hair guiding you - expect your mouth isn’t on him yet.  

Mad {A, S} You stay up a bit longer, unable to stop replaying the situation in your head and also hoping he’ll turn around to hug you. But he never did and eventually your body gave in to sleep as well.

“Are you sure it’s not hate?” {A} “You can leave when I fall asleep,” you surrendered, eyes wavering waiting for his answer. “Please,” you beg.

Mommy {M} “Mm- I’m close Lixie,” you egg him on with the nickname, one you use only when you find him cute in bed, which was rarely.

KIM SEUNGMIN 김승민 :

Just hold me {F} You find yourself smiling a little bit at his voice, but you don’t answer. “Princess?” He speaks again, now a little cautious if it’s even his princess who entered the apartment.

I.N 아이엔 / YANG JEONGIN 양정인 :

Mad {A, M} “Yeah true,” he rolls his eyes at you now. “We aren’t even dating. But then go ahead.. Go ahead and tell me why you are missing me so much then? Spamming my phone with “I miss you”messages?” He scoffed, lifting his hand to air quote you.

SERIES:

Mad masterlist (OT8) {F, A, M, S}

Fuckboy Min (Lee Minho + Hwang Hyunjin)Part 1 {A, M} Part 2 {A} Part 3 Hyune {F, M}

REACTIONS:

OT8

Favourite time and place for you to go down on them {M}

How would SKZ ask Y/N to be their girlfriend on Valentine’s Day {F}

SKZ reaction to being asked what they would do if they woke up in Y/N’s body {S}

Getting caught in a sweet moment with Y/N by the public - ChangLix (F)

HYUNG LINE:

Favourite time and place to eat you out - HYUNG LINE {M}

How they would react to Y/N being clumsy/ embarrassed during... - HYUNG LINE {M, A}

MAKNAE LINE:

Favourite time and place to eat you out - MAKNAE LINE {M}

How they would react to Y/N being clumsy/embarrassed during... MAKNAE LINE {M}

[fruitcoops]

Hi Eve! Just wondering if you could write a coops smut where one of them wears lingerie? You sort of explored the concept in the Valentines Day smut where Sirius wore thigh highs, but i was maybe thinking a fic where one of them wears a full set. Its all completely up to you!

How about both? Happy smutty Monday, folks! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for smut, subspace/ subdrop

It was Friday, and Remus was learning the glory of stockings on hockey thighs.

It was Thursday, and he began to wonder how to repay his lovely fiancé.

It was Sunday, two weeks after Valentine’s Day, and between flashes of thunder outside and damn near howls of pleasure into their traumatized pillows, Remus was still thinking about the socks.

It was Tuesday, a bye week, and the last piece of his plan clicked into place as Sirius hefted him further over the countertop by the muscle of his thigh with one hand keeping his chest flush to the cool marble.

It was Wednesday, and Remus smiled to himself as Sirius snuggled closer in the darkness of a quiet night in. He ran an absentminded hand through inky curls, relishing the soft puffs of Sirius’ breath on the hollow of his throat while their legs remained comfortably tangled. You have no idea what’s coming, he thought, letting his lips linger on Sirius’ forehead. No idea at all.

It was Sunday, and Remus had spent two minutes hyping himself up in the bathroom mirror. The rustling from their bedroom had stopped long before. “Alright, you can do this,” he murmured, leaning his hands on the edge of the sink. “You look hot. This isn’t weird. He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.”

“Mon loup?”

Anxiety leaped in Remus’ stomach. “One second!” he called back through the closed door. He stared at himself for a moment longer, then sighed. It was a stupid idea—there was no way Sirius would want to see him in something as silly as this. He looked ridiculous, and it wasn’t even worth it; any clothing would be off in a heartbeat anyway. Sirius always preferred skin-to-skin contact.

The lacy edge of the garter belt itched the peak of his hip as he blew out a slow breath. Did Remus still dream about Sirius’ thigh highs over a month later? Yes. Did that guarantee Sirius would have a similar reaction to seeing him in actual lingerie? Not necessarily.

Remus liked guarantees. They were safe. Soothing. Unquestionable.

“Are you alright?” Sirius’ voice floated through the door on a wave of concern.

Fuck it. The bathroom lights caught the silver buckles. It’s now or never. “You can’t laugh, okay?” he warned, closing a hand around the knob.

“I won’t. I have a surprise for you, too.”

That bit of curiosity gave him that last push of courage he needed to open the door and step out of the safety of the bathroom. His pulse skyrocketed, though whether it was from the sudden feeling of absolute exposure or the sight of Sirius waiting on their bed in some sort of sheer, lacy top, Remus couldn’t tell. Sirius stared at him, lips slightly parted. Remus cleared his throat and spread his hands. “Surprise?”

“Oh.”

“You look—you look great,” he managed lamely. There were a million better words to describe the lavender fabric cascading over the planes of Sirius’ chest, but his brain had been replaced by the blush prickling up his neck and face. Going for the basic black garter belt and underwear suddenly seemed subpar instead of classically sexy.

Sirius shifted on his knees and reached for him. “Viens ici.”

“It—” Remus faltered. His chest and legs were bare, save for the satiny clasps holding the garters in place on his thighs. Sirius was just staring, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. It had been a long time since he felt self-conscious around Sirius; every bit of missed embarrassment flooded back at once as he sat on the foot of the bed. “I liked your socks on Valentine’s Day, and I figured—I dunno. This is the surprise, by the way.”

“C’mere.” Sirius’ eyes finally flickered up to his face without a trace of judgement.

“I’m here.”

“Here,” Sirius repeated, tugging him over to straddle his lap with an arm around Remus’ waist. He kissed him, soft and slow but undeniably wanting, before he leaned back. “You look so handsome, mon coeur.”

“Yeah?”

“Ouais.” And, god, if Remus didn’t love the way his voice curled around that word, turning it into a million perfectly lazy syllables.

He rolled the hem of Sirius’ top between his fingers and hummed against his mouth. “This is new.”

“You like it?”

“Mhmm.” It was hard to tear his eyes away from the shadow of muscle beneath the delicate fabric.

Mischief flickered over Sirius’ face. “It’s called a ‘babydoll’. Thought you might get a kick out of that.”

“Babydoll for my baby,” Remus teased, kissing his nose with a playful tug to the lace edges. Sirius’ gaze slipped back down to his lap—no, his legs—and his fingers toyed with the seam of the accompanying underwear. Remus placed a light kiss to the shell of his ear, watching every twitch of his hands. “What do you want?”

“To look at you.” There was nothing but honesty when Sirius glanced back to him. The intensity of it sent a spark up Remus’ spine; he had grown so used to Sirius’ general aura of focus that he had nearly forgotten what it felt like wholly directed on him.

“And…?”

“And nothing. Just to look.” Nervousness flickered across his fine features as he settled back against the headboard and pulled Remus with him. “Just for a minute, and then we can do whatever you—”

Remus silenced him with a kiss, bracketing his waist with his palms. The babydoll was like water under his touch, but Sirius was as solid as ever. “This is for you,” he said when they separated. “You can look for as long as you like.”

Except Sirius didn’t only want to look—he wanted to touch. That fact was made clear within seconds, when the hands smoothing up and down Remus’ thighs in rhythmic motions began dipping beneath the straps of his garter belt and sliding up to his narrow hips, then hooked around the backs of his bent knees. Sirius pressed one palm flat over his abs and Remus shivered, trailing his lips down his neck. He wasn’t aroused in the lightning-fast please please I need you now kind of way, but more of an I’m about to float into space if you don’t keep touching me like a treasure buzz.

“Re, honey,” Sirius murmured. It was only then that Remus realized most of his breaths were coming in short pants instead of kisses. The nickname was one of his favorites, reserved for the times when he was well and truly gone; it was more tender than mon coeur, and worlds more intimate than his own name or even sweetheart. He nipped the edge of Sirius’ jaw and felt him gasp.

Remus licked his lips as he pulled away just enough to speak. “D’you want me to take it off?”

“Never.”

He smiled. “It has to come off if you want to fuck me.”

“Deux pièces.” The arm around his lower back tightened as one hand came to rest on his ass, which was still fully covered by lace-lined black fabric. Remus had opted for the ‘boyshort’ choice, as it looked to be the most likely to prevent slippage.

That, and it had fewer strappy bits. The buckles were hard enough to figure out—adding an accidental wedgie into the mix seemed like a poor idea.

“Yeah, but the important piece can only come off if I take the fun one off first,” Remus explained, snapping one of the ties. Sirius stared at it for a long moment before blinking slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“Giving me puppy eyes isn’t going to flip this inside out, babes,” Remus laughed. “Two seconds.”

“But you’ll keep the fun part on, right?” Sirius slid down to lay next to him while he wrestled with the garter belt, hissing curses each time the buckles pinched his fingers. It was, quite possibly, the least sexy thing he had ever done. That did not seem to deter his fiancé—if anything, watching Remus struggle with black satin strips in the dark while laying flat on his back appeared to be the highlight of Sirius’ day.

The fog in his head cleared a bit as he worked his underwear down his thighs, being careful not to mess with the garters too much. It had taken him five full minutes to get the damn things on in the first place, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to waste another five that could be spent in much more pleasurable ways. “The ‘fun part’—” Remus couldn’t spare a hand to do air quotes, but he hoped Sirius got the gist. “—is a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Nope.”

He paused. “You’re not the one losing a fight to a few scraps of fabric.”

Sirius met his eyes, looking every inch the fallen angel with his hair splayed over the pillow and his lavender whatever-the-hell-glory pooling at his mid-chest. “Do you want me to take it off for you?”

“I thought you wanted the fun part to stay on.”

“Here.” Remus barely managed to kick the underwear off his ankles before Sirius shuffled over to lay between his thighs and attach his mouth just beneath the left garter.

“Oh, fuck me,” Remus huffed, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“Gimme a minute,” Sirius said into his skin while he licked a stripe up to the first buckle and carefully pulled it down to hook into its proper place. Remus arched his back, only to be pushed down a moment later as Sirius electrified patches of skin he didn’t even know he had. Teeth slipped along the curve of his muscle and nibbled just above the back of his knee; Remus clenched his hands in the sheets with a shuddering inhale and tried his best to keep his wits about him.

By the time Sirius moved on to his other thigh, he was a goner. He could practically feel his pulse through his dick and the fog had returned with a vengeance, blurring the world at the edges while he let go of the tension in his back. How could he possibly be stressed when Sirius was saying such pretty things? The warmth of lips on his thighs disappeared and he stretched his arms above his head, relishing in his own contentment and Sirius’ light laugh. “You’re lovely,” he mumbled. Really, it was the only appropriate word for the occasion.

There was a rustling sound next to him, but Remus didn’t bother paying attention to what it was—Sirius’ weight all around him was more than enough to occupy—

“Oh.” His eyes flashed open as a lube-slick finger pushed into him to the first knuckle. “Oh.”

“Were you listening?” Sirius sounded faintly amused. Remus smiled lazily; he must have missed a joke (or a warning) somewhere in the tumble of words from that lovely pout. He rocked his hips onto Sirius’ finger, stretching one leg out as the other remained bent and tilted away. It was only kept in place by Sirius’ free hand, but even the idea of being held sent a tingling feeling all the way to his toes.

“How many?” Remus asked, looping his arms under Sirius’ to pull him closer. He needed warmth, and the smooth familiarity of Sirius’s chest against his own. He needed the encompassing feeling of being covered, which had yet to fade, no matter how much more muscle he gained.

Sirius smiled into the side of his neck. “Two.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Are you still with me?”

“Sure.” The world zoomed back into 3D focus when Sirius’ fingers brushed his sweet spot and Remus gripped his shoulder blades with a hitch of breath—his free leg jerked inward at the sudden shift. “There. There, now.”

“I have other plans, sweetheart.”

“Now,” Remus insisted. He would give Sirius anything he wanted if it meant he could feel that thrill again. Their bedroom was dim, but the lights popping at the corners of his vision as Sirius closed a hand around his shaft and continued sliding two fingers into him were so very bright. Remus moved his hands down from Sirius’ shoulders to his hips, then lower to give him a hint. “Now?”

“I was going to do three—”

“Now,” Remus said, brooking no room for argument. He pushed Sirius’ chest until he rolled onto his back—bless the man for his quick thinking skills, because Remus’ new muscle still wasn’t enough to manhandle him properly—and settled himself into his previous position on Sirius’ lap.

A dark eyebrow arched, though his dilated pupils gave away Sirius’ true feelings. “Like this?”

“You said you wanted to look, didn’t you?” Thinking back, Remus couldn’t imagine how he could ever have been worried about this. He took a few deep breaths as he sank down, biting hard on his lip against the dizzy want prodding the edges of his mind. This needed to last. Sirius’ mouth was cherry red and wet when he glanced down, fully seated and feeling rather confident about the whole thing. “Then look.”

The first rock of his hips brought a whimper from plush lips and Remus grinned; he took Sirius’ hands and planted them on his thighs before bracing his own against the broad planes of his chest. Silky fabric parted under his palms and his smile widened into giddiness as he slid his hands beneath it to rest on warm skin. Sirius pushed the side of his face into the pillow with a huff of breath.

“No,” Remus panted as he continued to move, pulling Sirius’ chin back up. His hands were shaking when he cupped his face. “Look. L—look at me.”

Sirius’ brows pitched and his silver gaze flickered down to the garter belt; Remus let his head fall back as long fingers toyed with the straps, sometimes tugging gently, sometimes snapping fireworks through his legs. The power shift between them ebbed and flowed like the tide. He wanted a tsunami.

He worked the words around in his mouth for a moment, unsure of how to ask for what he wanted. One of Sirius’ hands traveled to his back and began moving in steady presses up and down his spine. “Fuck me,” Remus pleaded.

A synchronized roll of their hips made them both moan. “I am,” Sirius said breathlessly.

Remus licked his lips and made a valiant effort to get air back into his lungs. “Please.”

His expression must have made the message clear enough, because understanding rippled across the puzzlement on Sirius’ face in mere moments; with a firm squeeze, Remus’ hips stopped cold. Mistake, his brain thought immediately as Sirius’ dick rested directly on his prostate. Mistake, mistake, keep moving or you’re gonna—

“Remus.”

The whine that tore from his mouth would have been embarrassing if he had any self-conscious braincells left to spare. He bit his lip again, teetering on a knife’s edge while his thighs shook and his knees slid on the sheets.

“Deep breaths.”

One.

“One more for me.”

Two. He was wheezing slightly with the effort of keeping down his moans.

“Try again.”

A frustrated grumble built in his chest, but he obliged. Three. The air was warm and smelled like Sirius; it was intoxicating. His next breath was even deeper, and he let it fill him.

“Good job.”

Something in Remus perked its ears up and he managed a lopsided smile, blinking his eyes open to look down at Sirius. His face was still soft, but his eyes had a tarnished edge to them that sent a shiver down Remus’ spine and nearly undid all his hard work.

“Color?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Green.”

“Are you slipping?”

Slipping, slipped, gone for good, he thought. “Mhmm.”

Sirius laid him back down, catching himself from sliding out at the last second. Remus arched his back at the slow press in. “How do you want it?”

“I already told you twice,” he said, planting a kiss to Sirius’ upper lip. The warm touch around his thighs had not faltered yet. “Come on, Captain, you know what I want.”

Sirius positioned his legs to wrap around his waist and kissed him fully, stealing the breath from Remus’ body in one fell swoop as he began to move his hips again; the pace increased so steadily that Remus nearly lost himself in it. The lace of the garter belt no longer itched, but slid in a blissful rhythm instead. The bits of cold where the small buckles rubbed against his skin were a mind-melting contrast to the cocoon of warmth he sank into.

“M—” Remus didn’t even get the word out before Sirius gave him a hard thrust and pressed their tangled fingers further into the mattress. He muffled a shout into the dip of his shoulder and sucked a mark there between moans. “Oh, fuck, Sirius.”

His head was spinning with the mixture of sensations—he had been so focused on being full that he almost forgot about the hand still moving terribly slow along his shaft. One leg kicked out on its own accord and he twitched, one hip canting upward until Sirius held it back down without breaking stride. Remus’ breaths were little more than staccato moans; he knew bringing out Sirius’ dominant side was an easy switch to flip, but he hadn’t been expecting the change to be quite so sudden. Not that he was complaining, of course.

Sirius let go of his hand to drag his leg back up, fingertips digging in just below the garter as the new angle drew a desperate ‘holy shit’ from Remus and a squeak of protest from their bedsprings. He had forgotten how long it had been since Sirius truly railed his lights out—the tingling sensation racing through his thighs and up to his chest was a welcome companion.

And he began to laugh.

Breathless and practically hiccups, but a laugh all the same. He could see Sirius’ confusion in his mind’s eye despite the fact that he had given up on trying to keep his eyes open several thrusts prior. The movement slowed. “What?” Sirius asked. “What’s so funny?”

“I fucking love you,” Remus said between gasps.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know.” Something warm slid down his cheek. “It’s so good and I can’t—I don’t know. Keep moving, please, please.”

Sirius’ thumb swiped across his cheekbone and he picked up the pace again; Remus’ shocked laughter faded back into panting and babbling within a few seconds, but the pure elation didn’t slip until he felt his orgasm approaching and resorted to leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along the line of Sirius’ collarbone and neck. Sirius liked his mouth, liked feeling it on him, and Remus could tell that he was getting close by the heat building under his palms where he struggled to find a handhold.

“I l—I lo—I love you,” he managed, adding a love bite to his collection around a groan. They were both sweaty messes, but the salt on his lips was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, too.” Sirius’ voice was just as labored as his own, buzzing against every pleasure center Remus had.

“I lo—” He broke off with a strangled shout as Sirius squeezed the sensitive part of his thigh at the same time as a thrust. There was nowhere for his mouth to go. He bit down hard on instinct.

Sirius hissed in pain and Remus immediately pulled away, feeling frantic and worried and awful. “Ow.”

“ ‘m sorry,” he said, still a little wild as he covered Sirius’ cheek in apologetic kisses and searched for a hand to hold. “ ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius assured him, soothing his hands as they skimmed across his body. “Just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt you.” Horror tried to push in around the tangle of joy-want-need-more, but there simply wasn’t room. Remus settled for running his trembling fingers through Sirius’ hair and kissing him gently. He hoped it would be enough.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Sirius said against his lips, rubbing circles with his thumb in the crease of Remus’ hip and thigh. The whirlwind in his head calmed to tv static—the world tunneled to them and their bed. Remus buried his face in Sirius’ neck and slid deep under.

He registered the pressure of Sirius’ hands and the feeling of his own throat pouring out nonsense; he felt his muscles clench and the slide of satin on sweaty skin before balling his fists so tight in Sirius’ babydoll top that it nearly tore. He heard his own breaths become shallow, knew it was Sirius’ hand running along the crown of his dick, and finally, finally shuddered apart with a hitching whine.

“Re, honey.”

Remus sighed through his nose and held him close. He was beyond comfortable, if not a little sticky. Again, his body suggested.

No, his brain answered immediately.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

“I can’t,” Remus slurred.

Lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. “What can’t you do?”

“Go again.”

He felt laughter from the weight above him—Sirius, his brain supplied with a happy fizz down his back—and let his legs be pulled back down to the mattress. “Yeah, not a chance.”

The warmth inside him slipped away and he winced. “Put it back.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Cause we’re definitely done.” The laughter returned, bright as a summer day, and he rubbed his face in the hollow of angular collarbones where the vibration was strongest. “How are you feeling?”

“Noodle.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

Remus closed his eyes and stifled a yawn; the world could wait until he was done with his nap.

“Hey.” Someone tapped his hip and he frowned. “No falling asleep yet.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, but we need water and a shower.”

Remus squirmed around until he could fix Sirius with a look. “Can’t stand up.”

“You hate sleeping while you’re sweaty.”

Fair point. Remus became suddenly and harshly aware of how sticky he was and pulled a face, flexing his fingers on Sirius’ back. The high was softening; he felt more settled in himself already. He nudged Sirius until he laid down, then curled into his ribs with an arm and a leg slung over his body. The aftershocks raced in pops of lightning down his legs. “Teddy bear.”

“Hmm?”

“Teddy bear,” he repeated. “ ’s all you are, at the end of the day. I love it. I love you.”

Sirius pulled him closer and kissed his temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He stretched all four limbs and felt his elbow pop, then relaxed. “Much better. Alright, I need to get this thing off.”

If trying to put the garter belt on had been difficult, it was nothing compared to forcing his unsteady and sweat-slick fingers to get it off. “Do you need some help?” Sirius asked, amused.

“No.”

He struggled for a moment longer, spoiling the sweetness of the drop with frustration, before Sirius’ hands replaced his own and carefully untied each strap so he could get it off properly. “There you go.”

Remus kicked it to the floor and glared balefully at it. “I love you, but I’m never wearing that again.”

“Never?”

“Maybe one more time,” he conceded. The confidence boost had been dizzying. “As long as you keep this.”

Sirius looked down at where Remus’ fingers were tugging with the hem of his slip. “I really like it, too.”

“The color’s nice.”

“C’mere.” Sirius wrapped his other arm around Remus’ shoulders and drew him in for a snuggle, rubbing his back with one hand. “Let me know when I can get us some water, okay?”

“You can go, if you need to.”

“Really?”

He hesitated, then moved his head to rest above Sirius’ heartbeat. “No.”

“D’accord.” Sirius kissed his forehead again.

Remus lasted three minutes before he couldn’t stand the tacky feeling of the lube any longer, but those three minutes were the coziest he could remember. Sirius was warm and traced patterns over his bare skin; his soft lips decorated Remus’ face, simultaneously lulling him and keeping him from falling asleep. With a sigh, he detached his arms. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” Sirius promised. The room was darker without him—the bed stayed warm. Remus scooted over into the indent he left and basked in the memory, cataloguing his aches. Abs? Sore. Arms? Still good. Thighs? A bit chafed from lace, but alright. Neck? Scattered with love bites he couldn’t recall receiving, though that was a fairly common occurrence.

“That was quick,” he mumbled when the other side of the mattress dipped.

Sirius shrugged. The babydoll shift was tragically absent. “The usual two minutes, actually.”

“Must have zoned out,” he hummed, leaning into the cool washcloth on his face. A few tears always slipped out when they dipped into rougher territory, though he never felt sad. It was just…overwhelming, in the best way.

Sirius cleaned his thighs with the same careful touch as his face before handing him a cup of water. “Are you hungry?”

“Nope.” Remus downed the glass in two gulps and opened his arms. “Bedtime.”

“No pajamas?” Sirius asked with a laugh, though he obliged and let Remus laminate himself to his side.

“Unnecessary.”

“No shower?”

His instinctive response was god no, cuddles take precedence and I’m dead on my feet, but a shower did sound nice. Sirius washing his hair, scrubbing the last bits of shakiness and his drop away, going to bed clean…

“Alright,” he agreed grudgingly. “We’re probably going to need to change the sheets, too.”

“That can wait until we’re done.” And before he could even attempt to stand on his own, Sirius gathered him into his arms and hoisted him off the bed. If he wasn’t afraid he’d fall flat on his face without help, Remus would have protested. “Mon dieu, I forgot how muscly you are now.”

“Says the man who can’t stop ogling me whenever I take my shirt off,” Remus teased, then frowned when he saw the purpling bruise on Sirius’ neck. “Holy shit, my dentist could identify me with that thing. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sirius paused in the bathroom doorway and kissed him hard, stirring the last dregs of arousal in Remus’ gut. “You have blanket permission to do that whenever you like.”

Remus gaped at him, speechless. “Well, that’s not fair,” he managed. “I’m tired.”

“Not a bad way to spend a Sunday night,” Sirius mused. His sneaky squeeze of Remus’ ass did not go unnoticed. “In my personal opinion, of course.”

“Of course,” Remus said drily. Maybe a shower wasn’t the worst idea after all. His knees weren’t nearly sore enough yet.

[whump-town]

Was Hotch Abused?

I offer you my 2,300+ worded thoughts on the matter with episodes included. There's going to be lots and lots of talk about abuse so you're going to want to steer clear of that if that's something you're not cool with but for those of you interested... I give you all the proof I could think of:

Natural Born Killer.

In the eighth episode of the first season, “Natural Born Killer”, we meet Vincent Perrotta. His father was abusive but from the outside looking in, no one knew a thing. Perrotta started drinking at fourteen and committed petty crimes, as well as assault, for pleasure. Going as far as to kill his own father not too long after. But Perrotta is a monster and a psychopath so it’s clear we’re not supposed to sympathize which makes his interaction with Hotch so peculiar.

Hotch is our “Captain America”. A true neutral with an infinity for doing what’s right so it’s inconceivable to compare him to Perrotta and yet Hotch gives us some rather conflicting lines to dissect.

Before Gideon hands the interview over to Hotch, he spends a moment talking with the others out in the bullpen. The whole time he’s leaned back and he’s watching Morgan and Hotch. Now, at this point, we don’t know about the sexual abuse Derek Morgan faced at the hands of Carl Buford but there’s something about the way that Gideon spends the entirety of the conversation only looking at the two of them. Waiting for them to put together what he clearly already has and when Hotch does…

Hotch jumps straight into Perrotta’s profile, asking: “You grew up in a house that looked normal and happy, didn’t you Vincent?”, “But your father beat you every chance he got”

Perrotta excuses it with a shrug, “he smacked me around some, didn’t everybody’s old man?”

Abuse is a complicated thing and, often, abused children just don’t know what their parents are doing to them is abuse. It can be a subtle and outright thing but there’s an element of normalcy to it. The parent’s abuse is as habitual, as minimal as biting your nails to the child. Adults often can’t identify their parent’s past abuse.

With Hotch you learn that his lack of expression is often as telling as his expressions and as Hotch looks back at Perrotta, there’s something so sad about his eyes. His voice goes from loud, assertive to his whispered answer to Perrotta’s question. “No.” As if, well, maybe that’s a question he’d raised once too.

Perrotta doesn’t care about that though and he taunts “well, maybe if yours had you would have learned to fight”. But is it not more telling that Hotch didn’t make a sound? Perrotta got in several hits and the only sound Hotch made was when the wind was literally punched out of him. Not even when Gideon called to him and at that point, Perrotta did not the garrote around Hotch’s throat. That’s another thing mentioned before in the profile and something Hotch mentions to Perrotta directly. You learn to take the beatings, smile even. So, it’s just a little odd how little Hotch responded…

But that’s all nothing, you can take that how you want

Which leads us to the fateful, not everyone comment.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent. When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers"

That can’t mean NOTHING, there’s so much there but there’s something about Hotch’s subtle wording. The way he’s unconsciously slipped himself in there (a very real thing that people do) and he hasn’t even realized it. Doesn’t even know he’s done it until Perrotta pushes and he pauses, asks what Perrotta means. And the subtly of it, the way he doesn’t even mean to that says more than anything else.

“And some people grow up to catch them.”

It’s a super-specific comment to make. He can’t possibly be talking about Derek because he doesn’t even know about Carl Buford yet not to mention saying that about him would be incredibly rude if he were talking about Reid (and again, he doesn’t know about Reid’s childhood yet). So… that really only leaves him because JJ, Garcia, and Elle were not abused.

“P911”

In season two, episode two “P911” the team is hunting down a man trying to sell a young boy, Peter, on the black market. Kevin Rose is an underage boy “selling” himself on the internet while his abusive father has been in prison. I’ll let you just guess who it is that leads the team on finding out more about Kevin.

Your guess is more than likely right-- Morgan and Hotch. Now, we know about Morgan but come on. Nothing to say about it being Hotch who makes the emotional appeal?

The camera even follows his gaze, he’s crouched down (to appear non-threatening because he’s so close) and we watch his eyes take in the scars on Kevin’s chest. You can also note that while Gideon remarks that Kevin’s father was “always drunk, you never knew why he was hurting you, why he was so angry” both Kevin and Hotch look away from him.

AND FUCKING TRY AND TELL ME THE “some grow up to catch them” LINE WAS NOTHING TRY BECAUSE GUESS WHAT GIDEON SAYS? NO, NO GUESS--

Gideon: “At night you’d cry yourself to sleep hoping someone would come and save you”

And it’s HOTCH, HOTCH IS THE ONE TO SAY: “You have the chance to be the one who saves someone, Kevin. You can be the one who answers him, the one who stops his pain.”

PARALLELS PEOPLE THE PARALLELS

“Profiler, Profiled”

I bet you weren’t expecting this one, huh? But there’s something about people who faced trauma that makes it so perceptible to other traumatized people-- they sniff it out like coke to a drug hound. And, just guess, who it is that spends the majority of his time fighting with Morgan? Who knows (like I said about the bloodhound) immediately there is something Morgan’s hiding.

Hotch is angry, he’s upset that Morgan would hide anything. Mumbling about there being “larger implications” and how the team can’t have secrets. With the knowledge of exactly what that secret is it makes Gideon’s eye roll a little telling. Because it’s like they both know but neither will say. Driven home by Gideon turning the attention to Hotch, asking “would you want us profiling you?”

And again Hotch is the one to leap onto the abuse. The one to put the pieces together. Hotch’s anger makes no sense. He says he’s angry that Derek’s keeping a secret but the team has many, way too many. Over the years the team unwraps all kinds of secrets, he’s never angry then. So, it’s not about the implication of a secret at all. It’s what the secret is, like misplaced anger. Anger with himself may be leftover from his own abuse. But still…

Hotch lets Morgan escape. Knows exactly who and what Carl Buford is but all he tells the team is that “he won’t even speak about him”. He always knows how to find the abuse… like I said, a bloodhound.

George Foyet

I know you’re going to find this so fucking surprising but guess who also was abused? George Foyet was beaten by his biological father and his mother didn’t save him so he hates women (bleh, men are disgusting what’s knew).

Now, blah, blah, blah Hannah, I know you’re not about to say Foyet and Hotch are a lot alike-- no of course not. Don’t be silly. What I’m going to say is that they’re foil characters? They accent one another in an opposites sort of way. Foyet is a manipulative narcissist who doesn’t work well with others. Hotch is a guilt-ridden team leader who can’t let The Reaper’s case go. There are meant to be comparisons drawn between them. A good villain does that. George Foyet shows us that Hotch is not at all this removed, cool guy that we’ve previously assumed him to be. He cries in an alley because he blames himself when The Reaper kills a busload of people.

We see he has a rather compulsive nature. He never let The Reaper case go and has very personal ties in this case. Not even after Foyet attacks him, if anything it’s worse. He brings the case file home.

But it’s certainly interesting to see yet another “villain” with that same tragic abusive father and submissive mother come into play with Hotch. We’re nearing a point where it’s getting hard to call it coincidence (and according to David Rossi, there simply is not such thing).

Haunted.

In the second episode of the fifth season, “Haunted”, Hotch voice’s over a Dickinson quote: “One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing. Material place.” These quotes are often cheesy, if not a little cliché, but given the premise of this episode is in exploring the ways in which a man’s traumatic childhood has left him now grappling for a truth he can not define… well, maybe we can say the writers were onto something here.

Darrin Call, debatably the Unsub of “Haunted”, was abused by an alcoholic father. We see several signs of it throughout the episode-- Darrin’s delayed speech & severe neglect that leaves Darrin in dirty, hole-riddled clothing. If what we see is not enough, the reports that the team is given on Darrin explicitly state that he was extremely physically abused. It is this abuse that leads to the PTSD that he’s diagnosed with.

As sad and disheartening as Darrin Call’s life is, overall it’s the sort of episode that is forgotten over time. When it’s placed right after the episode that viewers have to watch Hotch say goodbye to Haley and Jack then, who is Darrin Call when compared to the agony of watching Hotch show genuine weakness? After watching Hotch lay in a hospital bed, tears in his eyes wondering if his son will remember him? His fears become our own and after watching George Foyet disarm and mutilate the one guy we’ve been led to believe for five seasons is infallibly, unflinchingly never going to break… well, Darrin Call has it bad but our focus is elsewhere.

It’s on Hotch, right?

The guy who is coming back to the job after only a month (and a day) off to recover. Who Morgan worries might have PTSD but he knows they can’t easily measure because Hotch wrote the questionnaire, he knows all the right answers. Who we see has had new locks installed since the attack and has Foyet’s file sitting open on a table for easy access. Who hears Darrin Call’s life (worked the same job without promotion for years before getting fired, no wife, no kids, a hermit) and bluntly asks why Darrin hasn’t just killed himself.

And let’s just take a moment to break down that comment. Hotch, who in the episode previously lost his wife and child, wants to know why a man who is steadily starting to sound a lot like him hasn’t just killed himself.

And I don’t say “sounds a lot like him” lightly.

Darrin Call has PTSD. Hotch, more than likely, has PTSD

Here are some signs just from that episode: hostility (he yelled at Garcia over something very small), self-destructive behavior (he ran into Darrin Call’s father’s house without a vest, back-up, or telling the other’s what he was doing), and guilt (blamed himself for missing the eye twitching Darrin exhibited because of his years of antipsychotic use)

Darrin Call was abused… this marks the second HEAVILY implied time that Hotch has been compared to another man abused by his father

Vincent Perrotta was the first with that hard to forget the exchange

George Foyet and his notably exactly the same past as Perrotta

“Haunted” feels like it’s supposed to prove to the audience that Hotch is losing it. He distances himself from Morgan, leaving every room that Morgan is in. He doesn’t pick up Garcia’s calls after Darrin Call attacks his therapist. The only glimpse we see of the old Hotch is with Emily, pulled to the side, but his guilt burns and he even brushes her off. Shaking his head and turning his back to her because somehow he should have seen something no one else did.

Throw in Reid’s comment about Call “victims are often drawn to the scene of their first trauma” and we’re painfully reminded of Hotch’s apartment. A place you’d think he’d want to escape but didn’t. The man was stabbed nine times in his own apartment and stayed in that same place. Almost sounds like that statement could be applied to Hotch too.

A dash of Hotch’s own comment about where Call would go to in his confusion and he says “to what he knows”, even the importance of how that orphanage is “where he became Darrin Call”. Where does Hotch go? What does Hotch know? The job.

So… we tally now three total Unsubs that Hotch has this direct relationship with. Three Unsubs with abusive fathers and mothers who couldn’t protect them. Hmm… coincidence?

Brothers Hotchner

Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner is a master of hiding, that is undeniable. It’s hard to see anything behind those furrowed brows and impersonal suits and that’s likely for a reason. However, anyone with a little sibling can tell you that no one on this Earth can and will annoy the ever-loving shit out of you like a sibling.

But that’s not really important. Sean and Hotch don’t talk about their parents. At all. Ever.

Hotch says that when Sean was in the first grade he got sent off to boarding school. “I was the screw-up making bad choices”. Interesting enough of a statement to make but you throw in the rough ages of Sean and Hotch at that time and it’s a little more than just “interesting”. You have Hotch at roughly 14-15 getting into trouble just like Morgan did at that same age (coincidence???).

(now you can certainly look at Hotch’s parentification vs. Sean’s immaturity doubled with substance abuse problems but we’d be stretching. “The Tribe” touches on the parentification but Sean just calls it “the big brother” thing and tells Hotch that he’s not Sean’s father and it’s fine it’s whatever. Hotch is a bit pushy. That’s not new. Substance abuse can just be a problem, it doesn’t have to be bc they were abused but again… a little coincidental)

So... was Aaron Hotchner abused as a child? I certainly think so

[yoonpobs]

cold | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc

genre: fluff, slight tsundere jimin, just cuteness tbh

words: 3, 339

summary: where jimin is ice cold but he wants you to warm him up (not in the way you think)

When Jimin pulls away for the first time in a year since you’ve met him during your movie nights, you suspect that something’s up. But, you also know Jimin—he would have said something to you if there was.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You good?”

Jimin sighs at you, frustrated and you can’t help but feel confused at the sudden shift of atmosphere. You thought picking La La Land was a good choice, but you suppose that since Jimin was a little emotionally constipated he didn’t like it as much.

“I’m not, actually.” He declares, tugging off the blanket that covered both of your lower halves and withdrew from the warmth that settled into the couch.

“Do you—” You contemplate on asking because being Jimin’s friend meant respecting certain boundaries, and you weren't intending to be that friend that stuck their nose in his business.

You choose to remain silent and purse your lips and settle back into the couch, though it felt a little empty without Jimin bunched up next to you. But he was an enigma of unopened thoughts, and the time you spent navigating the course of your friendship in the first few months was ... heavy.

He’d never tell you anything, let alone allow you to indulge in the greatness that was his mind. You’d always hear from Namjoon how much he looks up to and respects Jimin’s way of thinking and mindset, but you rarely get to see that part of him. Sometimes, you felt more of a seat-warmer than a friend. You appreciate him, nonetheless.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about it?” He pries you.

You shrug, covering yourself with the blanket in hopes that it masks your vulnerability and insecurity, too.

“I know you.” You tell him, “You don’t like being questioned unless you say something about it first.”

He purses his lips in a straight line and looks at you ... like he really looks at you. So much that you feel his eyes burning into the side of your head; as if he was attempting to unravel your mind and dig into its deepest depths to understand its content.

“I don’t …” He says after looking at you, head-turning to face the television. Was La La Land seriously still relevant now?

“But I’m asking you to ask me.” He says, and the look of surprise on your face doesn’t disappoint. You gaped at him, forgetting the fact that Ryan Gosling looked really handsome on the screen—because Jimin had just prompted you to ask him about his … feelings.

“I—I don’t understand …” You say, dumbly. He rolls his eyes at you, and you’re familiar with his expression because it’s the one he usually has when he wants to call you an idiot.

“Ask me how I feel.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Your words fail you because the entire situation was sprung onto you so unexpectedly, and you suddenly feel self-conscious about everything. Was this Jimin’s way of assessing you as a friend and throwing you to the curb after a year of being platonically involved with one another?

As if he could hear the millions of thoughts running in your head, he turns to you and grabs your cheeks in between his large palms, and this time you actually short-circuit.

Your intimacy with Jimin stopped at sitting next to each other during movie nights and embracing the warmth that your bodies radiated. Maybe even the occasional accidental brush of fingers when he hands you something, but besides that—Jimin was conservative with his touches.

You can’t lie and say that your heart doesn’t react differently, because for the most part of your friendship you’ve suppressed any romantic feelings that you had or could have had for Jimin. Mostly out of self-preservation because Jimin was just … Jimin.

Cold, aloof but still someone that cared deeply. Yes, he was emotionally constipated when it came to his own feelings, and yes —his gaze more often than not had you cowering in fear. But he never made you feel uncomfortable. Even in the silences, you spent with one another you felt safe. Home.

Not to mention, his entire brooding and stoic persona hit it really well with the women on campus—and the fact he was obscenely attractive. He and you were the types of people that remained just as friends. And suddenly, that could end tonight, too.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He hums, eyes chasing your own but you divert your attention away from him because your eyes tell.

You shake your head, “I’m just confused.”

And confused you were because this was a territory that was unheard of for you—much less for Jimin. If only you could telepathically speak to Namjoon right now because you had no idea what to do or say.

“Well, I’ll keep it simple for you,” He says, “ Ask me how I feel.”

He doesn’t ask you anymore, instead, he insists—as if there was a preconceived answer for you already in the back of his head. Maybe this was how he softened the blow.

“No.” You push him away, flustered. “I won’t let you friend break up with me like this!”

He raises an eyebrow at the sudden rise of voice you admitted, “I like being your friend even if you don’t—and—and I know that yeah, consent matters—but I do not consent to be friend broken up with.”

He listens to you, and his face is still in its signature blankness and you nearly scream at how you wished he’d display a little emotion or a reaction to your blow up. But it seems that between the two of you, you were the emotionally unstable one.

“I know I can be annoying and all over the place and loud but ...” You immediately opt to self-deprecate yourself because nothing could triumph the way it felt to do it yourself than have him say it to your face, “... you’re not allowed to leave me. Ever .”

You fold your arms across your chest and look away because what the fuck did you just do and your face was undebatably on fire right now.

As if he’s noticed the way your eyes widen in realisation, he holds you again—but this time he pulls you closer to his chest until you are forced to look up at him with your flushed cheeks.

“Silly girl.” He hums and you whine.

“What!”

“I have to do everything myself, hm?” He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ears and it was instinctual for you to pull away because you’ve never felt Jimin like this before. Close, and warm—and all yours.

“Jimin I don’t understand— mpf!” And it was like a scene straight out of a romcom, and you nearly forget that La La Land was still running in the background. You felt like the main character of your own movie, and Jimin was the protagonist's love interest because he kissed you.

Jimin was kissing you.

Kissing. Like lip-locking. Sharing saliva. With you.

He pulls away too soon for your liking, but you gape at him like a fish out of water.

“You—” You stutter, and he chuckles. You feel it more than you hear it because his chest was resting against your cheek.

“Do you understand now?”

You shake your head, “... you feel bad for me?”

He snorts.

“I don’t know if you’re actually this much of an idiot, or are you just hopeless in the romantic department?” He says, and you open your mouth in the offense, ready to defend yourself but he hugs you closer to him and all you could feel was him.

“Excuse me? I’m not an idiot.”

“I just kissed you and you thought I felt bad for you.”

You huff, “What am I supposed to feel! You never speak about your emotions to me, and the most I’ve ever got out from you was a chuckle from the time where I slipped in front of the entire campus during freshers week.”

“That was when we met, yes.” He hums, “Why did you think I’ve been with you ever since?”

You still looked confused and Jimin internally sighs at the way he let himself fall for a dense excuse of a human being like you.

“Cause … you felt 'bad for me?”

"Just because you air-quote it doesn't make it any different from what you said earlier ____."

He groans, “No you dumbass—it’s cause no one makes me feel things the way you do. Strange weirdo who slipped on absolutely nothing, and as a friend who forces me to watch shitty romcoms like La La Land.”

“La La Land is not shitty!” You gasp.

He blinks.

“Is that all you got from what I said?”

“La La Land is phenomenal! All from the artistic production, to the soundtrack—so I don't know why people keep shitting on it because personally I really enjoyed—” But he kisses you again, and you melt into him immediately.

This time he lingers for a bit longer, and when he pulls away you grab onto his shirt to keep him close. You realise your mistake and suddenly push him away, but his hold on you was tight enough to resist your poor attempt.

“I like you, dummy.” He says, and you gasp.

“Nooo.” You say in disbelief.

“I like you.” He emphasises again, and you gasp. Again.

“No, you don’t.” You tell him, and he sighs—knowing that this was going to take a while.

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do .”

“Nope.”

“ Yes .”

“Nuh-uh—!”

He clamps his hand over your mouth and glares at you.

“Me. Park Jimin—likes you, ____ ____, and yes —I can’t believe I like a complete idiot like you, but I do because you fucked up and made me like you from the moment you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone so bad that it was probably the hardest I’ve ever cringed in my life—”

“Hey!”

“—but you quite literally stumbled into my life with your whirlwind of emotions and you made me feel things that I’ve tried to avoid my entire life.” He holds your chin between his thumb and finger so you’d look at him. And you know that Jimin never lies, but something in your heart doesn't allow you that moment of happiness for yourself.

“But I'm annoying …” You say, a little unsure. Jimin simply looks at you, and you're frustrated again at the lack of emotion on his face.

“Yes, you are.” Is all he says, and you gape at his audacity.

You huff, throw the blanket off your body and make way to grab at your belongings that lay idle on the floor next to the couch. You pulled away from Jimin who attempted to grab at your wrist and glare at him so vehemently that he looked taken aback.

“This isn't a joke.” You tell him, and you hoped you looked as strong as you sounded because you felt played. Jimin didn't do this—you were just the clumsy freshmen that somehow befriended him, and he had no way out of it. So you decided to give him a way out on your own.

“Wait—of course, it's not—where are you going?” He exasperates when you make a beeline go to his door. You've never seen Jimin move as quickly as he did, but he manages to secure a tight grip on your elbow.

You try to shove him aside all while you felt like an immense idiot for allowing yourself to feel this way. To feel so human, and raw when you were with Jimin when he hadn't shown an inkling of emotion even when he declared that he ‘liked’ you.

“____—what’s wrong? Is it because I kissed you without asking you? I'm sorry but— ” He apologises and you groan.

“Stop treating me like this!” You yell at him to cut him off, “I know I'm clumsy, and a ditz—but I have feelings and it's not cool how you're doing all of—” You gesture to the hand on your elbow and to your lips, “— this, making me feel things that I shouldn't be feeling.”

“You're missing the point—!”

“Am I Jimin?” You exasperate, and he lets go of you for a moment to allow you space. “You've never shown any sign that you liked me for the past year of being friends, and now you're telling me you do?”

You scoff, “If you wanted out of this friendship, here it is.”

You reach to his doorknob with your back turned towards him, but Jimin was far stronger than you and reached out at the same time; essentially locking you into your position with nowhere to go.

“Just let me go,” You sigh, “I'm giving you your out.”

Jimin turns your body to face him and you avoid his stare. He was taller than you so being locked against the door was a little intimidating, given the fact that Jimin’s stare was nothing short of intimidating.

“Why would I want out?” He asks you, and you blink at him as if he's grown a second head.

“Now you're just treating me like I'm stupid .” You pout, “Did you not hear what I said? I know I'm annoying and I'll get out of your hair, just let me go—!”

You pull at his wrist but he holds you tighter and uses his other hand to softly grab at your cheeks to look at him. You stare at him with wide eyes and mouth scrunched like a fish, and you're sure this doesn't look the least bit flattering at all.

“Dude!”

“Please don't dude me after I just said I liked you.” He grimaces, then sighs.

He proceeds to clamp his hand over your mouth, “Now I need you to listen to me. And I mean— really listen. Not the thing that you do where you completely ignore my point and go on some childish rampage of how I think you’re annoying and want out.”

You glare at him.

He sighs, “I don't know how explicit I have to be—but I like you. I like your presence, I like hanging out with you—and I want to date you. I want everything that's in the book of romance and relationships with you.”

Your eyes widened and you attempt to speak but he clamps down harder than you whine.

“I know I'm an emotionless brick but I've been with you for the past year and my physical presence is the way I show you that I like you.”

You blink.

“And, I don't know if you've noticed but I've been inviting you over every fortnight just to cuddle up next to you to watch movies that are cheesy as fuck because I know that it makes your heart flutter—” He looks straight into your eyes and you're sure he can feel the heat of your cheeks on his hand.

“—I didn’t say this earlier because I was under the impression that you were aware and that we were kind-of-dating but not really— clearly, I was wrong.”

You manage to rip his hand off in his moment of weakness and gasp, “Kind-of-dating? Since when did that even happen?!”

He pointedly looks at you, “You have a toothbrush at my place, half of your closet is in mine—you walk my dog when I'm not home, and I buy your favourite cereal when I do groceries.”

“But—”

“Nope—the only reason I explicitly told you tonight because it was now clear to me that you weren't aware—” He gestures to your frazzled state, “—and that you said you were going out with Taehyung. Alone. To a pizza parlour.”

You barely manage to respond because he exasperates, “Do you know how datey a pizza parlour is?”

You gape at him, “Well excuse me! I didn't even know we were kind-of-dating until a minute ago!”

He glares at you, “And you didn't even believe me when I told you I liked you.”

You fold your arms across your chest, “Obviously. You don't even hold my hand, and you've never kissed me until tonight.”

You punch his shoulder and he hisses, “You didn't even formally ask me out!”

“You’re a scaredy-cat and if I did ask you out you’d probably run away from me!” He exasperates with his hands in the air.

“I’m not a scaredy-cat and I won’t run away!” You argue back and you were suddenly aware of how close he was to you.

You look up at him and notice how pretty his eyelashes were, and how he does look at you with an intimacy that you've only seen for yourself. The look that he reserved for you.

“I'm asking you out now,” He whispers, cupping your cheek.

“Date me. Be with me.”

You scoff, “God. Can’t you even be a little romantic? It’s like you’re demanding me to be with you.” You respond petulantly like a child.

He groans, “I'm not going to grovel you if that's what you're expecting.”

“Tell me why then.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You clear your throat and fiddle with your thumbs, a nervous tick you have.

“Tell me why you like me.”

Jimin stares at you and you want to complain about his stoic expression but he cups your cheeks in his hands a little harder and forces you to really look at him—as if his face held all the answers.

And when you did, you see the desperation behind his eyes, the dedication that he possesses only for you. The way he looks at you like he's meant to prove something to you, and then everything made sense to you—he wasn't inexpressive—you were just too caught up in your own world that you never noticed.

“Jimin—” Your voice cracks but he shushes you, softly.

“Listen to me, okay?” He asks of you and you gently nod.

“I like you because you're here,” He starts off and you were about to scoff but he speaks again knowing your predetermined reaction, “You’re present— always. I don't mean just because we're always together, but because even when we're texting you're there. You're involved.”

“You're expressive in ways that don't need words to tell me anything, which is why I know you like me too.”

“Cocky, much?” You scoff but the burn on your cheeks give the truth away

He smiles a little before continuing, “But that's not it—I like you because you're patient. You stuck with me being emotionally constipated for the first half of our friendship, and yet you're still here.”

“Even though you nearly ran out of here spewing some bullshit about me taking you as a joke—”

“Okay … I may have blown it out of proportion.”

“—but I wouldn't want to have you any other way. Even if it took me literally trapping you against a door for you to listen.”

You melt into his touch and look up at him, “Do you really like me?”

“I really do.” He affirms you, and you tug him closer to bury your head into his chest.

“Can you hold my hand next time?” You ask, softly. And he chuckles against the top of your head, caressing it gently.

“Of course. That's the only way you won't run away from me next time, right?” He teases.

You whine.

“I'm never going to let you go.” He tells you, “You're pretty like this—all mine .”

You smile up at him and Jimin swears his heart melts to be rebuilt whole by you again.

“But you called me an idiot ...”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

You gasp, “Rude—!”

He shuts you up with a kiss more passionate, and a lot more eager that has your head spinning.

When he pulls away, you feel your heartbeat a little faster—especially at the string of saliva that connects your mouths.

“Mine,” He says. You can't help but nod.

His.

[weebwrites]

What It Takes (Meizou x Reader) (Ximen x Reader)

Fandom: Meteor Garden / Boys Over Flowers Warnings: Unrequited love, Love Triangle, Happy Ending, Sad Ending Words: 2k217 Requested By: No One Synopsis: Meizou can’t help but wonder what it will take for his fiancé to love him instead.

Note to Self- Don’t fall In Love First

Mei Zou had been ecstatic when he first heard of the arranged business merger between his family and the Y/L/N group. Since the moment his mother brought the idea to him, he was shaking with excitement. He had always been worries of his parents plan for his future- maybe that’s why he tried to have as much fun as possible in his youth.

Mei Zou told no one about the engagement plans, but, of course, Y/n noticed. She called him out the first time she saw him since he was told the news. It never stopped shocking him; she was the most observant person Mei Zou had ever met. 

The group of five were lounging in the bridge room, and the second Y/n looked up from her music composition book she asked Meizou what made him so excited. He was quick to re-gain his composure and call it a secret- saying she’ll find out soon enough. 

The other three people in the club room looked over at the both of them. Ah Si rolled his eyes, making some remark of how freaky it was- that she knew them so well. 

Ximen walked over to her and put his hand gingerly on Y/n’s head, “I think it’s cute how her gaming strategy bleeds into her personality.” He moved his hand to her jaw so they were looking at each other, sharing a smile. 

Lei nodded, “It’s nice to have someone you can have a silent conversation with.”

Meizou kept his eyes on the pair in front of him, his hands balling at his sides, morphing into pale chords of muscles as he clenched the chair’s fabric. Y/n had looked back at her book, making progress on the song she was composing. 

He watched as her hair fell from behind her ears, obscuring his view of the girl. He noticed the signs of her becoming increasing frustrated. Just as he was about to move over, Y/n had called out to Lei. 

“I’m trying to convert my song from guitar to piano, but I’m not sure how to compensate for the fret change during the bridge. What chord do you think will work here?” She made eye-contact with the soft boy.

Before looking at where she was referring to, Hua Ze Lei gently brushed the hair from her face before answering her question. 

If only we were together already, Mei Zou thought, then I could stop them from looking at her like that. It was hard on the boy to see Y/n interact with other guys on a daily basis. He’s loved her since they were children, but he had no clue what the future held. So, for now, he bit his tongue. It would be so much easier if she loved me already. 

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

Note To Self- Don’t wait too long

He was many things- an artist, a bridge player, a loyal friend, a play boy, a hopeless romantic, the list goes on- but Mei Zou is not an idiot. 

He recognized the signs- falling in love was most visible from the outside. It started small, he would walk beside her in the halls. Then he would be the first to her classes, then he started to drive her home, until he’d take her out before reaching her house. It had started small, the love between an angel and a broken man. 

Meizou wasn’t an idiot. He knew Ximen was cautious with love, to the point of thinking he might never get married. It was a shock when he realized his friend was actually in love.

When Meizou first noticed his friend’s lingering glances and moment longer hands on her waist, he cornered him in the hallway. He had pushed Ximen against the lockers, grabbing his collar. Meizou scolded him, warned him that Y/n wasn’t like the girls he toys with, she’s more than them. He warned him about messing with their Y/n, the only female member of F5; Meizou gently reminded him that it wasn’t just himself Ximen would have to worry about, Ah Si and Lei cherished their princess, and they’d do anything to protect her.

Ximen shoved his friend off of him, aggressively declaring his love for her. “I love her, Meizou,” he whispered after. “I can’t stop- it’s like she’s the only thing in my life- every girl I see is just a person who isn’t her, every breath I take is one I wish was with her; she’s in every thought I have and my hand feels empty without hers’ in it. I don’t know how but I love her. I love her.”

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Meizou guided Ximen back to their club room to keep away from peering eyes. They sat and drank the scotch the room was stocked with. Even as Ah Si came and went, Ximen hadn’t said a word since the hallway. Nothing fell from his lips since he whispered his love for their bestfriend. Meizou had never seen Ximen so vulnerable before, so delicate; if he told his friend about the engagement plans Meizou feared he would shatter like a porcelain heart, so he waited.

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

Note To Self- Decide Your Priorities Early On

Having the plans be a secret wasn’t difficult. Meizou wasn’t told anything since the reveal, so it’s not like he was keeping anything other than that from hs friends. No, having it be a secret wasn’t what was difficult- but keeping it a secret was the most painful experience ever. 

Meizou watched their love story from the side lines- seeing the stages of their relationship was like watching acts of a play in a theater he couldn’t leave. He was the understudy of a lead who never got sick. Still, Meizou waited. He waited for Ximen to mess up, to freak out. It was messed up- something he never thought he would stoop low enough to do- yet every time Y/n gushed about her plans Meizou silently prayed his friend wouldn’t show up.

He prayed Ximen would forget, he prayed Ximen would make a mistake- just once. He wished he would say the wrong thing- offend her by accident; he prayed on every lucky star that Ximen would hurt her- just once.

Yet with every ill-intended wish it was like their love grew stronger. Ximen had given up his go-to dating plans the moment Y/n agreed to go out with him. Long gone were the roses and strawberry scented cards, no more was the heart on the side of the building. Y/n wasn’t like that. 

Instead they would go to a second hand book store and find a book that had been lived in- one with dog-eared pages and cracked spines. With their books in hand they would to go a cafe, they’d order two drinks (A hot tea of differing flavors and a Spiced Chai Latte) and a piece of cake. Occasionally looking up to smile at their partners, they lived through the books. Smudged highlights of their favorite quotes, smushed rants in the margins when the plot got heated, tears softening the pages which hurt their hearts; the two poured their souls into the pages, and then they gave part of themselves to the other. 

They’d go their separate ways and read the books their partners had chosen for them, laughing when they read a funny note the other had left, calling in tears when everything goes wrong, they annotated the novels. The books would be swapped back and forth, each time read from a new perspective until each page was filled with reminders of love, silly rants, or just mementos of their time together. The book became more ink and highlighter than paper, and it’s meaning had transformed. This was what they were as a couple, something that never seemed to be breakable. Something endless.

Ah Si was spectacle at first, hesitant to expose Y/n to his playboy turned romantic friend. He had always thought Y/n would end up with Lei- but he gave Ximen a chance, and he waited. He waited for Y/n to show up at his door step in tears, he waited to kill Ximen for making her cry. He waited and he waited and the day never came. 

Instead, Y/n cried over how sweet he was. Instead she told him how well he treated her, how Ximen made her feel so special. She called Ah Si late at night not heartbroken, but reduced to giggles and squeals after a perfect date. Never came the day Ah Si would comfort a heartbroken Y/n, and he had never been happier for her. 

Lei was the first to know of Y/n’s long-lasting crush on his friend. He was surprised- back when she told him at the age of twelve. But since then he expected the calls of how he was perfect, how he’d never see her as a girl. He knew Y/n’s feelings inside out, and he was worried when she told him that Ximen had taken her out on a date. He waited for Ximen to get bored, for Y/n’s perfection to not be enough for him. Lei watched silently as the pair spent every second together, watched with careful eyes as they fell hard. 

After his worries for her well being subsided, Lei waited for Y/n to fade from his life. As it was, Y/n called him every day and texted him throughout it. He waited for the calls to stop, for her texts to become once a day with simple meanings. He waited patiently to be along on the rooftop with only the memories of his bestfriend to keep him company. He waited and waited and waited, staring at the phone or the rooftop entrance. Days, weeks, a month, two, yet the phone always rang, and the door always opened. Lei realized Y/n wouldn’t be abandoning his relationship with her for someone else. Maybe it was because he chose love and abandoned his friends when he did- maybe that's why he tried to prepare himself for Y/n’s departure from his life- waiting for her to disappear. But the day never came, and Lei stopped waiting.

Ximen was terrified every day. He was anxious as he drove to her house, wondering when he would freak out. He was scared when he looked down and saw Y/n holding onto his arm, wondering when he would push her off. He clenched his hand tight as he watched her dance through the streets of Shanghi, wondering when he would ruin his one shot at happiness. 

Every date his heart was beating out of his chest, every stolen glance felt like the last. Every smile thrown his way was a wakeup call- every time her voice reached his ears it cut through the fog of self doubt and misery which swallowed him whole- she was his savior. His angel that managed to save him every time, the only life raft on the sinking boat; she was the only good thing left in the world that fought to bruise his ego and tie him to a hundred pound weight of misery. She was the softest blanket, she was the best alarm. She was everything. His hand unclenched. He calmed down.

Meizou should have known this would happen. He decided then, seeing her beautiful smile, that her happiness is all that mattered. 

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

Note To Self- Sometimes Things Don’t Work Out, Sometimes That’s Okay

When Meizhou told his parents he wouldn’t go through with the wedding they were furious. When he broke down in tears they had no clue what to do with themselves. 

“She’s in love with someone else,”

They comforted him as best as absentee parents could, patting his head awkwardly with empty words. They offered to go through with it anyway, have her fall in love with him after they’re married.

Meizhou refused- he didn’t want to. 

Instead, Meizhou stood at the altar, watching as Y/n approached. She was beautiful. Her dress dragged behind her and her eyes watered with tears- she was gorgeous. 

Lei and Daoming Si stood across the isle, beside Y/n as she took her rightful spot. She stared into the eyes of her beloved and, for once, it wasn’t jealousy that prickled under his skin. It was sorrow- deep and painful morning for the death of his future. His beloved would never be his, his beloved was someone else. He cried.

Y/n had never felt better. Her mother had been apprehensive about giving her consent, saying she hadn’t expected Ximen to be the one she fell in love with. Y/n wasn’t sure what she meant, but her mom dressed her to the nines and did her makeup personally. 

And now here she was, standing in front of the man she’d gladly spend every moment of her life with.

“How did I get so lucky,” she whispered, as Lei handed her Ximens ring and Meizhou handed him the other.

“No love-” Ximens eyes swirled with love and adoration, “how did I get so lucky?”

The room erupted into cheers, applause, the occasional scream or encouragement as they kissed. The world faded around them and the only thing that mattered was each other.

Meizhou waved them off as they climbed into the limo towards their honeymoon. 

[holylulusworld]

Play Pretend

Title: Play Pretend

Summary: Sam betrays you in more than one way. Years later you meet again. Can he win you over again or will you never forgive him for breaking your heart?

Squares filled for: @spnquotebingo​

Quote: ("I wake up in the morning and I feel like I'm missing something. I know that there's something not right, and it takes me a while to remember what it is... then I remember. My best friend is gone. My only friend. It was silly of me to rely so much on one person." - Love, Rosie)

Word Count:

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader, implied Sam x Ruby

Characters: Dean Winchester

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, language, cheating, sadness, break-up, mentions of blood junkie Sam, hurt & comfort, fluff, meeting again, second chances???

A/N: Set in Season 4/later on Season 10

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

SPN Quote Bingo masterlist

The night before your world exploded…

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean pokes his head into your room, or rather the room you share with your boyfriend of four years, Sam. The love of your life. “Sammy is still at the bar and tries to find out if there is anything the victims got in common.”

“Dean, I love you like a brother,” you whisper, not even lifting your head to meet his eyes in the dim light of your bedroom, “but please stop lying for Sam.”

“I did not lie, Y/N,” mumbling the words Dean steps closer into the room, eyes glued to the wrapped gift on the nightstand. “A gift?”

“He forgot our anniversary, Dean. I know he's with her, that demonic bitch again. I can see her red lipstick on his shirt and smell her cheap perfume and the sulfur. I tried to make Sam see she’s not what he wants or needs but-“

Your voice cracks and you wipe your eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” Dean sits on the bed next to you, eyes glued to the gift on the nightstand. “Sammy, he changed since I’m back, or maybe it was while I was gone.”

“The moment you were gone he stopped being my Sam and became a shadow of the man I fell in love with. I let him stray, even leave me for weeks as he lost you but now – you are back, and he still leaves me.”

“Maybe you should talk to Sam, Y/N,” you turn around, shaking your head lightly. “What do you want to do?” Dean asks, already knowing the answer. “I will miss you, Y/N. You’re the annoying little sister I never had.”

“I will miss you too, Dean,” choking out a sob you close your eyes. “You know that you can always call me. Just give me some time to calm.”

Just like any other night for months you lie on the edge of the bed, ignoring Sam sneaks into your shared bedroom.

You can smell her on him, and if the moonless night would offer more than dim light you could see the lipstick on his neck and the scratch-marks on his back.

Sam hides his infidelity poorly lately. Hickeys. Lipstick. Her scent on him. He  seems to want to rub it in your face that he’s no longer interested in you.

His hands, the ones which once felt so warm are cold when he touches you now. Not sexually, of course. Sam didn’t even look at you for months. Not that you wanted him to touch you. 

You pretend you are asleep when Sam settles on the bed next to you. He sighs, mumbling your name when his eyes land on the gift on his nightstand. 

“I forgot our anniversary, babe,” he whispers, rolling to his side to look at the back of your head. You can feel his hand gently run over your arm, but you don’t move, not wanting to break things up with him tonight. “Gonna make it up to you after we killed Lilith.”

Tonight, you will let your hatred burn all the love your felt for him out of your heart. Tonight, you will play pretend and ignore the pieces of your heart on the floor when he kisses your neck softly.

Tomorrow you will get back up and leave the love of your life for good.

The next night you are gone. You don’t lie in a cold bed, waiting for the love of your life to pretend he still loves you. And you don’t pretend to not see the love in his eyes is long gone…

“Gone?” looking around your shared bedroom Sam balls his hands into fists. “How can Y/N be gone? She was with you the whole time.”

“You mean the time you spend with your favorite demon, the one you love to fuck?” Dean spats, stepping toward the nightstand. “She even bought you a gift even though she knew you fuck that corpse. I think I’ll take a few days off.”

“Do you want to leave me too? Just like the useless girl I dragged around for years?” Sam spats.

“Sammy, I love you but right now, I don’t recognize my brother anymore. No wonder Y/N left and didn’t look back…”

Around six years later, St. Cloud, Minnesota

“I’m telling you, Sammy,” Dean smirks, jerking his head toward the bags with food on the table at their shared motel room, “this is the best burger in town. The owner makes the pickles, Sam. You should learn to enjoy the little things.”

Sam makes a face, not in the mood to talk about food with his brother. “If you say so,” he shrugs, glancing at his phone. “You know, we could just sit this one case out.”

“I’m fine,” Dean grumbles, thumb running over the mark on his arm. “It’s calmer today. Just let me enjoy my food, drink some beer and forget about anything else.”

“Rowena said she’s close to finding a spell to break the bond. Charlie and Castiel help her stay focused on helping you and not rule the world,” laughing Dean looks at his brother, shaking his head. 

“You need to get laid, Sammy. Find a girl and stop worrying about me.”

“I’m not in the mood,” Sam tuts, looking at Dean’s greasy food. “I just-“

“I know, I know,” rolling his eyes the elder brother takes a large bite of his burger. “You can’t focus on a sweet girl while your brother runs around with the Mark of Cain.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s bullshit, Sam. Go to that bar we passed on our way here. Hit on the bartender or whoever floats your boat. Get laid,” adamant Dean hands Sam a condom. “Don’t come back before you got laid.”

“DEAN!”

“SAM!”

“FINE!”

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, giving Sam a sweet smile. The kind of smile she spares for men like Sam who rarely stumble into her bar. “Beer, Whiskey, or something sweeter?”

“Beer is fine,” Sam looks around the almost empty bar, hating Dean made him leave. “Maybe some peanuts too.”

“I wouldn’t eat the peanuts,” watching someone sit next to him Sam eyes you warily. “It only makes you thirstier for their cheap beer,” you whip your head to meet Sam’s gaze. “It’s awful by the way.”

“Y/N,” choking your name out Sam lets his eyes wander to comfirm it’s really you. He looks at the tiny tattoo on your neck, a tiny butterfly. The one you got while Sam held your hand tightly.

Your hair is a little longer, and your face shows your journey since he last saw you. But it is you. Undoubtable.

“Winchester,” you tap your glass, glaring at the bartender who ignores you to shove a piece of paper with her phone number toward Sam. “You look good. Heard you killed that bitch.”

“That was six years ago, Y/N,” Sam moves closer, places his large hands onto the dirty bar counter. “H-How have you been? Do you still hunt?”

“Never got out of business,” you shrug, eyes glued to your glass now. “Heard you got out of business some time ago. Seems like you’re back to business to me. Wasn’t your style?”

“Dean came back,” mumbling Sam looks at you, feeling his heartbeat quicken when you nod silently. “Guess she wasn’t the one.”

“No one seems to be ‘the one’ to you, Sammy,” it’s a low blow but you deliver it with a smirk. “That you cheated on me was the best thing happening to me. I finally had the time to train more and focus on the one thing I’m good at. Killing.”

“You’re not a killer, Y/N,” you scoff at Sam’s words, not wanting him to believe you are still the broken girl he betrayed years ago. “I wasn’t me back then, Y/N. Ruby, she fed me demon blood. I wanted to become more powerful to defeat Lilith.” he sits next to you, hand reaching out for his beer to hold onto something to calm his nerves. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix what you have broken, Sam. I trusted you. Dean and Bobby trusted you. None of us was good enough to you. It wasn’t Ruby pushing me away, it was you,” you down your drink, slamming the glass onto the counter. “Go ahead and fuck the bartender, Sam. She almost drools all over you.”

He watches you toss a few bucks onto the counter before you turn to leave. Sam can’t let you go, he just can’t, so he does the only thing coming to his mind – he grasps for your arms to slam you against the nearby wall, his lips silencing you.

“Sam, let me go,” you pant. God, you hate he looks even better in the dim light of the dingy bar. The years have been kind to Sam. Even though you see the pain and loss he endured in his eyes and the fine lines around his eyes, he’s still the most attractive man you ever met. 

“Please, let us talk, Y/N. I know you’ll not believe me, but I never forget about you. And I never forgave myself for hurting you deeply,” he whispers, lips pressing against your temple.

“I can’t talk to you, Sam. Do you know how I felt? Do you?” you cry, tears on your cheeks. “In the first weeks I-I felt like-“ you choke out a sob, shaking your head when Sam tells you he’s sorry again.

“Y/N,” he whispers, voice deeper than you remember. You missed Sam grew out of his insecurities and became a man. He’s no longer the boy he used to be when you still were a thing. “Give me the chance to talk to you, please. Dean, he would be happy to see you too.”

“Back then all I could do was to leave and still, you affect me. I wake up in the morning and I feel like I'm missing something. I know that there's something not right, and it takes me a while to remember what it is... then I remember. My best friend is gone. My only friend. It was silly of me to rely so much on one person." you sniff. 

“Oh, Y/N,” you hate his eyes soften and you know it’s only a matter of time Sam will try to bring you into his arms. “I should’ve never let you go. You were my best friend, the only woman I loved after I lost Jess. Please, believe me, I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You were not only my lover but my family too. Do you know how lonely I was? I had no one left, no one,” crying you let Sam bring you in his arms. The pain and hurting hit you out of nowhere when you feel his warm chest press against your face. “How could you cheat on me with that corpse?”

“’m so sorry, baby girl. So sorry,” Sam curses. He thought about you now and then, never forgot about you over all those years. He believed you got over him and found love in someone else’s arms. It pained him to think about you; but seeing you like this, facing the consequences of his failure shatters his heart. “Please, let me take you to my home, show you a place where you can feel safe.”

“I never was safe, Sam. Not without you by my side. I-I got broken, beaten, and ripped apart more than once. Do you see the girl from back then in me? I don’t. She’s gone and I don’t know if I’ll ever find her again.”

“Y/N,“ Sam whispers your name, kissing your hair softly. “I found you again. Now let me help you find yourself…”

Tags in reblog.

[dilly-oh]

Trashy Romance Novel

    “Naruto, you frigging idiot,” Iruka began hotly, barging into the hospital room, “of all the stupid, brainless things you could have done, this is by far the-”

    He stopped. 

    The person lying in the small bed was definitely not Naruto. It was a grown-ass man with messy gray hair and a faded scar over one eye, the sterile white sheets pulled up over his nose, apparently sound asleep. Iruka stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, before it clicked. 

    Oh shit, he thought. This is the wrong room. I'm in the wrong room. I need to hurry up and leave before- 

    The stranger's eyes cracked open and he squinted up at Iruka in confusion.

    “...Who're you?” he croaked out. Iruka managed a rather articulate gurgle of dismay, frozen in sheer mortification. He considered the distance between him and the IV drip, wondering if he could dose the man back to unconsciousness before he could scream or buzz for a nurse. “Are those for me?” the man asked, sitting up in bed to regard the bouquet of flowers in Iruka's arms. He opened his mouth to disagree, but then the sheet slipped off the man's face, and Iruka suddenly thought giving him the flowers might not be such a bad idea. He definitely deserved a thank you after gifting him with...that. He didn't even protest as the alarmingly handsome stranger reached out and took the bundle of flowers, opening the card on top. 

    “You're a dumbass. Love, Iruka.” he read aloud, then looked up at Iruka, batting his eyes. “Aww, babe, you shouldn't have.”

    “Whoa whoa WHOA!” Iruka finally blurted out, his face burning half from embarrassment at the situation, half from the thinly-veiled flirting. “I'm sorry, sir, there's been a mistake. I'm in the wrong room and-”

    “You mean you aren't my doting husband I tragically forgot about due to amnesia and now you have to win back my love by passionately recreating the story of our romantic union?”

    “Excuse me, WHAT-”

    “Sorry, I've been reading trashy romance novels. They're the only books this hospital has. Can't blame me for trying.” The man shrugged, then reluctantly handed back the bouquet. “Who's the lucky person they're actually for? Must be someone real special if you're calling them a dumbass to their face.”

    “My kid brother,” Iruka explained with a sigh. “He's here with a head injury.”

    “Ouch.” The man winced in sympathy. “Poor kid.”

    “Not really. He head-butted a brick wall.” 

    “...May I ask why?”

    “Because his stupid boyfriend walked into it and he had to, and I quote, 'defend his honor'.” Iruka paused, looking the man up and down. Despite being a bit on the pale side, he looked perfectly fine, pun very much intended. It was almost unfair how well he pulled off the hospital gown (although Iruka would much rather be the one pulling it off, wink wink, nudge nudge). “So...what're you in for?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Was...was it the crappy romance novels? Did they rot your brain?”

    “I have an extremely rare, aggressive form of cancer with only two weeks left to live and the only cure is a kiss from my one true love...” The man swooned back onto the pillow and looked expectantly up at Iruka, who rolled his eyes. 

    “Yeah they definitely did-”

    “Alright you got me. Broke my leg.” He pulled the sheet off his lower half, revealing his legs, one of which was wrapped in a cast, propped up on some pillows. Several encouraging words from friends were scrawled on the white surface in marker, one of them a jarring green highlighter. It almost hurt Iruka's eyes to look at it. 

    “...How did you break it?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. 

    “I heroically threw myself in front of a speeding car in order to save the life of my beloved-” 

    “Okay how did you really break it?”

    “Tripped chasing after my pug at the park,” the man admitted with a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

    “...Is the dog okay?” Iruka asked after a long pause.

    The stranger burst out laughing. It was a nice laugh, warm and contagious enough to elicit a chuckle out of Iruka, who was growing more and more intrigued. He couldn't deny the spark of attraction he felt for the other man, spontaneous as it was, and it seemed to be reciprocated. He didn't even know his name, but something about the man made Iruka want to know more about him. Maybe this was like some trashy romance novel, where the two would-be lovers met under unusual circumstances and fell instantly in-

    “Hey, Kakashi,” a man with short brown hair said, suddenly walking into the room, “I brought the next three volumes of your shitty porn series from the hospital library and a couple pairs of clean underwear, so you can stop fucking texting me the specific style and brand you want from home, you're so damn picky-” He stopped dead as he caught sight of Iruka, pausing for a beat, then glanced at the man in the bed, his eyes darting nervously between the two. “Umm...am I...interrupting something?”

    A cold pit of ice yawned open in Iruka's stomach. 

    Oh my GOD. Here he was, borderline flirting with some stranger in a random hospital room, when obviously the man already had a boyfriend and Iruka was just making a complete ass of himself. The flirting had probably been misinterpretation on his part anyway, and if not, the guy was a total dick. Either way, enough was enough. His face aflame with rage and shame, Iruka spun towards the door. 

    “I need to go.”

    “Hey, wait!” Kakashi or whatever his name was called after him. 

    Iruka was already out the door, ignoring the man's cries. Screw him, and screw Naruto, too. He was the cause of this whole mess. Iruka would just text him later. He was probably making out with Sasuke anyway and wouldn't even notice his brother hadn't popped in to visit. Iruka needed out of this hospital NOW. He turned towards the stairs, immediately got lost, and spent the next five minutes growing increasingly flustered as he stormed through the winding hallways, desperately searching for the exit. Why the fuck was the hospital so damn BIG-

    “Hey! Iruka! Hold up!”

    Iruka spun around to see Kakashi speeding towards him in a wheelchair, his boyfriend dutifully pushing him down the hallway at a dead run, IV dangling after him on its cord like a faithful dog. The wheelchair stopped with an audible squeal in front of him.

    “What- where did- did you steal that?!” Iruka hissed in outrage. 

    “Of course not, don't be silly,” Kakashi protested, sounding offended. “The guy it belongs to was asleep in his bed. I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it later. Anyway, Iruka-”

    “Were you flirting with me in there?” Iruka demanded, cutting him off. “Be honest.”

    “Abso-fucking-lutely,” Kakashi said without an ounce of remorse. “So can I have your number or what?” Iruka bristled. 

    “You're a piece of shit! I can't believe you, hitting on me like this right in front of your boyfriend! You have some nerve-”

    “Wait...boyfriend?” Kakashi cocked his head in confusion. “You mean Yams?”

    “The fuck do YAMS have to do with anything-”

    “Hi, that's me,” the short-haired man said, raising a hand. “Yamato, actually. 'Yams' to my friends. Which is what we are. Just...friends.” Iruka scowled at him suspiciously. 

    “Friends? Don't fuck with me. You brought him underwear-”

    “Really close friends,” Yamato reiterated. “Also, roommates. It's awful. I can't get away from him.” Iruka studied him for a moment, but couldn't spot any hint of deception. The man's almond-shaped eyes were surprisingly honest.

    “So you two...aren't dating?” he asked hesitantly. Yamato gave him a horrified look.

    “Dear God, NO. Kakashi is the WORST. He's lazy as hell, procrastinates til the last minute, is perpetually late to everything-”

    “You are a shit wingman-” Kakashi began. 

    “He needs to know what he's getting into,” Yamato snapped at him, then turned back to Iruka. “Seriously, though. You should run while you still can. There's hope for you.”

    “Don't listen to him,” Kakashi cut in. “I'm a fucking catch. Which is exactly why you should let your flaxen hair down, rip your shirt open to reveal your heaving bosom, and throw yourself into my arms-”

    “Will you cut that out?!” Iruka burst out impatiently. “Life is not a trashy romance novel.”

    “You sure about that?” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I met you in a hospital through total coincidence. After really hitting it off, we had a misunderstanding brought on by miscommunication. Then I chased after you in a fucking wheelchair to declare my undying attraction to you. If that isn't a plot to a trashy romance novel, I don't know what the fuck is. At least it's not raining right now.”

    “I dunno, it might be drizzling,” Yamato said, glancing at a window.

    Iruka paused, considering.

    “I guess it...would make a pretty good book,” he admitted quietly. “The only thing is...I'm not sure what happens next.”

    “That part's for us to write,” Kakashi said, his tone eager. “Only we can complete the story.”

    “Aaaaand I'm going to puke,” Yamato stated. 

    “Sorry, we crossed the line from 'trashy' into 'sappy'.” Kakashi shook his head. “Anyway. Iruka. Please, I'm begging you. Let me sweep you off your feet. Just...give me a chance.”

    “I'll do you one better,” Iruka said after a pause. “I'll give you my number.” Stealing a marker from the nearby nurse's station, he bent and wrote his cell number on Kakashi's cast, then straightened and held out the bouquet. “Here, you can have these. The message works for you too, I guess.”

    Kakashi accepted the flowers with a laugh, taking an appreciative sniff. 

    “And now, I shall ride dramatically off into the sunset,” he said with complete seriousness. “Come, my valiant steed. Awaaaay!”

    “I will push you down the stairs,” Yamato grumbled as he spun the wheelchair around and started back down the hallway. Iruka watched them go with a fond smile on his face, giddy with anticipation. 

    He was eager to read the next few chapters in his life.

    Including the steamy bits. 

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twelve Prompt: Hospitals)

[bts-hyperfixation]

Why Not Then? 18+

Here it is in all it s 4327 words.... This one kind of got away from me.

angst/fluff/smut 

I hope you like it!

Warnings: unprotected sex

pic found here

Tonight’s the night. At least that’s what you were telling yourself. Senior prom. It’s now or never. Tonight is the night you are going to tell Jungkook how you really feel about him. He has to feel the same way, you are inseparable. There is no doubt in your mind that the only obstacle in the way is fear, not wanting to ruin the friendship you had worked so hard to build. The doorbell sounds through your house and you take a deep breath. For the hundredth time that day you look in the mirror. Curls frame your face, makeup done to perfection, and the seafoam A-line dress you had chosen made you feel like a queen. Your mother calls you downstairs, you can hear your father making polite conversation with your date as they wait for you. Another reason you are so sure Jungkook feels the same, he is your date. He could’ve had any other girl in school, but he asked you.

The moment you descend from the top of the stairs is like a movie. His goofy little bunny smile lights up his face when he sees you. You try as elegantly as possible to parade down the stairs, using one hand to lift the hemline of your dress, as the other glides along the bannister. You take your time. Eyeing him up as you go, the tuxedo was such a stark difference to his usual gym shorts. He was stunning. His short dark hair quaffed and gelled. Everything was going to go as planned tonight. You could just feel it.

“You look beautiful as ever” he laughs taking your hand and spinning you. You can’t help giggling.

“Not too bad yourself.” You pull on the lapels of his jacket. He bats you away a straightens himself back up just as the flash goes off on your mother’s camera. She arranges the two of you in to ten different poses before letting you leave. Jungkook had driven his beat-up convertible to pick you up. To anyone else that car would be an eyesore, but he loved it, and so did you. So many nights spent just talking and looking up at the stars, cuddled up under an old picnic blanket. To you it was a pumpkin carriage.

He opens your door for you and helps to fold your skirt so it wouldn’t rip in the limited space. He runs to the other side and jumps over the door and into his seat. Your parents wave you off as you pull away. It’s a short drive to the school. 10 minutes at most. He parks like a pro, doing that thing that guys do when they reverse into a space. The twisting just so you can see more of their neck and watch how their arms flex around the back of your headrest. You start to climb out of the seat when suddenly he is in front of you, hand extended to help you. It’s hard not to laugh at how hard he is trying to be a proper gentleman tonight.

“Come on Y/N-ah, the night of our dreams awaits.” He quotes the prom theme. The unbelievably cringy and cliched ‘night of our dreams’. Walking through the doors, it was still blatantly obvious you were in the school gym, but the prom committee at least tried their best. Tacky streamers in blues and silvers, star themed props, a solar system themed photo booth. Its clear they had to use some of the previous year’s decorations, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The butterflies were building in your stomach. Anxious and excited about where your confession could take you.

All of your other friends are already here, dancing to the catchy pop music blaring over the sound system. The path to them is crowded with other sweating high-schoolers, so Jungkook decides just the two of you should go and take photos. He pulls you towards the photo booths, lining up with the other groups and couples waiting their turns. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he is still holding on to your hand. Tight.

“Don’t you want to go dance with the others?” you gesture towards those in the middle of the floor, laughing as one of the boys loses his balance mimicking a slut drop.

“No, I want to take some stupid pictures with my best friend and date for the evening.” He winks at you, a move that should come off as light -hearted and cringy. Instead it feels like he has shot you in the heart. The response you come back with shocks you.

“Just because you’re in love with me.” You accompany the remark by sticking your tongue out at him. He grabs your chin and makes you look him directly in the eyes. Your heart beats double time. It looks like he is going to kiss you. Before his face gets close enough to yours, he ruins it.

“You wish Y/N.” he laughs it off, but you see it as your chance. Now or never, tonight’s the night…

“Actually…” and then it’s your turn for pictures. You don’t get a chance to get the rest of the sentence out. Whether he heard or not you don’t know but now he is excitedly rummaging around a box of props. He pulls out a silver feather boa and oversized-blue sunglasses for you, finding a matching set for himself. It’s a strip of four photos. One smile, one where he jabs you in the ribs, one with silly faces, and one where you kiss him… only on the cheek. Not enough to throw yourself in the deep end, just enough to gauge his reaction.

His ears turn bright red and he stammers about going to find the others as you exit the booth. It has to be a good sign if you make him flustered, right? The next hour is spent ruining all the work that had gone into this evening. Hair stuck to sweaty foreheads, makeup creasing around the eyes, lipstick wiped on the backs of hands. When the live band comes onto play, you and your friends head outside for air. It’s nice feeling the wind, a slight chill in the late hour. Most of your friends can’t hack it for too long, choosing to return to the dance floor in time for the party tracks to come on. Eventually it leaves just you and him. You hear the opening chords of the cha cha slide start up inside and decide now is a good a time as ever, more than eager to avoid the choreographed dance portion of the evening.

“Can I talk to you?” you reach for his hand. He turns to look at you properly and sees the serious look on your face, his brows furrowing to match.

“What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing’s wrong, just come with me.” He lets you drag him away from the gym. You head toward the school greenhouse, no one is going to come looking for you there.

“This is weirdly private Y/N, are you sure everything is okay?” he feels your forehead as if he is worried you have suddenly fallen ill.

“I’ve been trying to tell you this for the longest time and I can’t not anymore, it’s time.” He opens his mouth to speak again, the confusion evident in his eyes. You raise a finger to his lip to stop him. “I’m in love with you.” The words escape more like vomit than a statement. It feels so freeing to get the words out. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. Finally admitting how you feel is an amazing feeling. Until you take in the way he is looking at you. You might as well have grown a second head. Your about to speak again when he turns on his heel and makes a run for it.

He walks briskly away from the concealed shed and back inside of the school. You don’t know if you should laugh or cry. Of all the responses you thought you’d get; abandonment was not one of them. It takes you a moment to snap out of the shock he had left you in. you follow the trail he took back into the main hall. Spotting him even through the crowd, people parted as he passed them. He beelines straight through the gym and though the doors into the main corridors. When you make it into the hallway, he is at the other end about to disappear around a corner.

“Stop running away from me!” you yell a little too loud, other lingering students stop and stare at you on their ways back from the bathroom. Unfortunately, you can’t bring yourself to care. Jungkook faulters for a moment before continuing. “Jeon Jungkook! I said stop.” You kick off your heels and run in the direction he disappeared. You nearly run full force into his chest as you turn the corner not expecting him to be there.

“Why?” his voice is small and harsh, not the usual bubbly tone he always has for you.

“Why what?” your more than a little annoyed that you had to chase him only for him to ask you a question.

“Why do you love me?” it’s not the question you thought he’d ask. Why now? How long? What’s your ring size? Those were the questions you had been prepared for. Not why do you love him. you thought that was obvious. “Seriously, why do you think your in love with me?” that stung ‘think’ he doesn’t believe you. Thinks its some silly girly crush you have.

“I love you because you’re you. You’re my best friend, you make me happy when no one else does, my heart hurts when I don’t see you for more than a day.” You reach for his hands, trying your best to convey your sincerity. He flinches in response. Pulls way back out of your reach.

“I don’t feel the same way.” Now it really does feel like someone has stabbed you. Run you straight through with a sword. Your stomach twists so hard you might throw up. This wasn’t an option. In all the ways you had imagine your prom night going, this hadn’t crossed your mind. You taste the tears at the corners of your lips before you realise your crying. “You can’t just spring something like this on someone Y/N! we were having such a great night, why did you have to do this.” He is not only rejecting you, he is blaming you for having feelings. It’s all too much.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. The lump in your throat makes it hard for you to speak at all. “I just thought…”

“You thought wrong.” His response is so fast, cutting off every chance you might’ve had to put a band aid over the situation. Maybe held it together until the night was over. Now there is no chance of that.

“I’m sorry.” You try again but he just rolls his eyes. Instead of making you sadder, this reaction makes you angry. How dare he. How dare he just dismiss you like you never meant anything to him. Like you weren’t even a friend.

“I should take you home.” He gestures towards a nearby exit. He doesn’t reach for your hand to guide you like he would’ve any other point in the night. You shake you head and walk back in the direction you came, picking up your shoes as you passed them. You walked straight out of the front gates and all the way home. That was the last conversation you’d have with Jungkook for a long time.

Graduation came and went. He tried to talk to you a few times in person, but you just walked away. Still seething at the way he reacted.  He texted you constantly, left voicemails until you blocked his number. Your other friends never found out exactly what happened. They pieced bits together from what the two of you were able to talk about but never the full picture. When he started coming to your house to apologise you decided it was time to move on and headed to college early.

You were in town for a wedding. One of your high school friends had managed to meet the love of their life while away at college and asked you to come. It was a nice excuse to visit your parents. You didn’t come home as often as you would’ve liked. The town felt a little haunted after you finished school, so you tried hard to avoid it. Especially at times like this.

You were standing in your childhood bedroom, dressed to the nines once more. This time knowing that Jungkook was not going to be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. But he might be at the wedding. Getting over the boy you had never really been with was more of a challenge than you could’ve ever imagined. It took you almost the entire first year away to truly get some peace on the situation. You even started to understand his point of view. He was just an 18-year-old boy trying to enjoy one of the last nights he’d get with his friends. The you had gone and dumped a whole load of new information on him. It wasn’t fair of you, just as much as it wasn’t fair of him. Truthfully, a little part of you would always wonder what if. What if he had felt the same way, would people be coming home for your wedding instead? Or would it have fizzled out long distance?

You are pulled out of your thoughts by your phone signalling the arrival of your uber. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed you clutch and headed out, eerily reminiscent of that night.

Five years later.

The wedding is at a fancy hotel on the other side of town. You are escorted by the ushers into the main room. you quickly scan the area for him. You don’t even know if he is coming but you don’t want to be caught off guard. Coming up empty you thank the groom’s men and find a seat in the back of the bride’s section where you can survey the room.

It feels ridiculous being so on guard around the person that used to mean the world to you. Your eyes meet as soon as he walks through the door. He seems genuinely surprised to see you there. He tries a weak smile and lifts his hand to wave in your direction, but you put your head down, choosing to focus on the intricacies of the program instead. 4 hymns and a sermon. For a nonchurch wedding it sure seemed religious. You roll your eyes and settle in for a long one. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he skulks away. Sitting a few rows in front of you. You allow yourself the luxury of looking at him now that he can’t look back. His hair is a lot longer now. The suit he has chosen definitely fits a lot better than his prom tux. His shoulders are nicely outlined, strong and broad. It’s a nice visual.

The wedding seems to happen around you. Old friends come over to catch up. Vows are exchanged everyone is shuffled into a banquet hall. All the while you are watching Jungkook out of the corner of your eye. Seeing him go through the motions just as you are. Three tables away. Clearly your friend has been smart enough to think that through when creating two singles tables in her seating plan.

The night wore on. Speeches were made, drinks were spilt. More than one groom’s man ripped his trousers on the dance floor. You were getting some air in the gardens when he found you.

“You look beautiful as ever.” His voice is soft, but it still makes you jump, not expecting him to approach you at all.

“Thanks.” You move to brush passed him, eager to put some space between you. Very Much not wanting to exchange awkward pleasantries with the man that, after today, you were sure still owned your heart. He steps back into your path, and makes you meet his eyes. It hurts all over again. Every feeling you had that night rushes back, every bit of progress you’d made since then erased in a matter of seconds.

“Can we talk? Please?” he sounds almost as desperate to talk to you as you are to leave.

“Talk about what Jungkook? It’s been years, just let it lie.”

“Exactly it’s been years and I know how I feel about you now, know how I felt about you then… please just let me explain myself.” He pleads with you. You stand firm, half of you longing to hear him out, the other half wanting to run the way he had.

“Why should I let you talk now? You didn’t let me talk then.” You can hear the venom dripping in your tone but can’t bring yourself to adjust your voice.

“I was a kid back then Y/N, and I was scared I was going to lose you” he chuckles darkly “I guess I did that anyway.” He grabs for your hand, this time you get to pull away from him. None of this is fair, where was this person when you needed him five years ago? He sighs at your reaction. “Look I was terrified okay? I didn’t know how I felt about you. I just knew everything was changing and I didn’t want us to change. But I know who I am and what I want now, and that’s you.” He closes the distance you had put between you in one stride. His mouth heavy on yours trying to prove a point.

You can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Instead melting into his embrace. Letting yourself indulge in the boy that was all you ever wanted.

“Why now? Why not then?” you ask when he finally pulls away.

“Because you wouldn’t speak to me until now. I wanted to tell you the day after, but you wouldn’t talk to me. And you were right to do so. I was such an asshole to you about it. Let me make it up to you.” He peppers your face with kisses.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have cut you off like that. I was scared too.” He holds you tight cradling you into his chest. You stand there for a while. Taking in everything about him that you’d missed. The smell of fresh cotton, the warmth he always radiated. All of it.

“I have a room upstairs if you want to go. Maybe we could watch a movie?” you pull away to look straight up at him. he must have realised what it sounded like then because his mouth formed an o and his eyes widened. “Wait no, I really did mean a movie.” He tries to backtrack.

“What if you didn’t mean a movie?” as soon as your meaning sinks in, he is sprinting away. This time with you in tow, struggling to keep up. Eventually he decides you are slowing him down. He lifts you bridal style into the nearest elevator. He refuses to put you down, even though you are forced into a standstill. As soon as the door dings, he is through them. Balancing you and opening the door isn’t even a challenge as he bursts through into the luxurious hotel room. He throws you unceremoniously on to the bed before discarding his jacket on the floor. You watch, propped up on your elbows, as he loosens his tie and kicks off his shoes before helping you with yours. He runs his hand up the back of your calf, rolling down the stockings you’d worn in an effort to avoid tights.

His hair falls into his eyes as he meets your gaze, and you can’t take the teasing anymore. Grabbing him by the collar, you pull him on top of you. Your lips finding his, unwilling to let go until your lungs hurt. He has one arm by your head, supporting some of his weight while the other trails down your waist. He drags his fingertips along your thigh as he moves your hemline. With your skirt out of the way his hand moves in between you bodies finding its way to your clothed pussy.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long… can I?” he kisses down your neck as he asks, leaving you barely able to respond. You just about manage to squeak out your approval. He wastes no time, biting into the soft flesh of your thighs as he wraps his hands around your panties. They are disposed of quickly, likely ruined by the slick you can feel pooling between your legs. He licks along your slit, barely delving between your folds. The tip of his tongue flicking at your clit briefly before he goes back and starts the motion again. Each time he gets close to your clit he brushes it slightly, so you shiver with anticipation, but he waits until you are practically panting to go any further. His right hand joins his talented tongue. Two fingers slipping inside of you. The slight stretch burns so good. His mouth moves up, biting gingerly at the sensitive nub he had been teasing for so long. Your thighs clamp involuntarily around his head. He wraps his free arm around your leg, driving you apart to give him better access. His tongue comes back into play drawing little shapes on your clit as he sucks down. He curls his fingers in just the right way to have you coming undone underneath him. Biting your lips to keep yourself quiet. He swats at your thigh until your teeth let go, forcing your moans out into the open. When you stop writhing, he lets your leg go and wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Sitting back on his feet he won’t stop looking at you weird. Its an expression you can’t ever remember him making before, and that worries you.

“What? Why are you looking at me? Were the noises too weird? I tried to keep them in…” he pulls you up to him by the wrists and kisses you before answering.

“I love you… please shut up. Your moans are the sexiest thing I think I have ever heard. Now I just really want to get you out of the rest of your clothes. He reaches around to unzip your dress, fumbling for a moment until you take pity and take it off yourself. His shirt is already unbuttoned by the time the fabric is over your head. You help him to push the sleeves off his arms, taking great pleasure in rubbing your hands across his toned arms. You marvel at the amount of muscle he has gained for a moment before he drags you back to him, falling onto his back so you straddle him.

You make quick work of the clothing on his lower half. Perhaps a little too keen to see what you were working with. He does not disappoint. His cock is above average in length, immediately evident as it slaps against his stomach when released from it’s confines. You shuffle back for a moment to admire the full image. His hair falls haphazardly around his head, lips swollen from the kisses. Perfectly chiselled abs leading into an arrow to what you can only describe as the motherlode. Everything about this moment was worth the wait. But you refused to wait any longer. You stroke your hand softly along his shaft, pumping a few times before moving to sit yourself on top. You sink down slowly at first, having to take extra precaution to not hurt yourself. His eyes pinch shut and his nose crinkles as a little whimper escapes his mouth. You slap his chest.

“If I’m not allowed to stay quiet, neither are you.” He nods enthusiastically and opens one eye just as you reach the base of his dick.

“Fuck.” His voice low and breathy. Sounds more like he just ran a marathon than had a girl sit on him. As you feel more comfortable, you start to wriggle your hips, not thrusting away, just enough friction to tease him like he did you. You don’t get away with it for quite as long though. His hands are on your hips and you are powerless to stop him as he makes you bounce, meeting each thrust with one of his own. Soon it’s not enough for him. Too worked up to relinquish any control. He flips you quickly, now on your knees. He barely gives you time to orientate yourself before driving into you from behind. Fast, sloppy thrusts used to reach his own end. He snakes one arm underneath you. Skilled fingers finding your clit, playing with you until you tighten around him. making it difficult for him to keep going.

Soon he spills over, cumming deep inside of you. Holding onto you with all he has. Instead of pulling out, he falls over with you in his arms. Cuddling into the back of you as he comes down. You wiggle experimentally on his softening cock, earning you a growl. You giggle at his oversensitivity and try to get free as painlessly as possible.

“Don’t go” he is whiny when he is tired, it’s so endearing. He makes a grabby hand at you as you clamber of the side of the bed

“I’m only going to the bathroom; I’ll be right back.” You kiss him on the cheek as you round the bed.

“Good because I never want to be without you, ever again.” he admits as you walk into the bathroom.

February request - open

Masterlist

[wherethewordsare]

Sweater Weather- Mutual Pining for Jay’s 400 Follower Bingo!!

He’d found it after a movie night, draped over the back of the couch. He held it up to confirm and yep. There was no mistaking the hood and the bulky black sleeves. It looked like it may have gone through the dryer about twelve times too many and the zipper pull was barely hanging on. He let his thumb rub against the hem of the sleeve, shaking his head. Jaskier tucked the hoodie under his arm as he pulled out his phone, smiling to himself. 

geralt

u left ur hoodie

its cold and everything how do u forget that

ur worse than ciri smh 

Just hold onto it, I’ll grab it next time. 

And I am not worse than Ciri. I’m not the one who’s left his phone in the Denny’s bathroom at 2am…. Twice…

Last month. 

shhhhh :P

Throwing his phone down, Jaskier went to his closet. He was going to just hang up the hoodie and Geralt would get it eventually. Honestly, he was going to put it away. But then he pressed his face into the shoulder and sighed.  

This was wrong. He should just hang it up and return it when they saw each other again. He wasn’t about to let this silly little infatuation with Geralt ruin a perfectly good friendship. Especially not over a stupid hoodie.

Unfortunately, Jaskier's self restraint had taken the night off. Before he could stop himself, Jaskier was sliding his arms in, zipping up the front and crawling into bed. One night of indulging wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Even if it felt like his chest was splitting open. He shifted a little under the covers, burying his nose into the collar as he drifted off to sleep. They had been through so much together since they met in high school, wasn’t Jaskier allowed this one little thing, just this once?

-o-O-o-

i still have ur hoodie

u want it back cause we could like meet up for coffee 

we could go to the nag :) 

He snapped a picture of the hoodie and a travel mug in his passenger seat, sending it off. 

Can’t today. :(

Parent teacher meetings and then Dad wants us to help him fix the roof.

I could use my hoodie today, it’s cold… 

omgl finally

thought id have to do it

Jask… no. 

:/ fine then

see if i try to be helpful again

jk jk

dont die

I dont wanna do handywork :3 

Geralt had been right. It was cold, and Jaskier had forgotten his own jacket at home. He frowned down at the hoodie and sighed. It was only because it was chilly. Nothing else. He tried to ignore how it still smelled so strongly of Geralt. He walked around the gallery wrapped in Geralt’s hoodie, the front unzipped and his hands buried in the sleeves. 

-o-O-o-

hehe crispy leaf time

the cold is coming 

Yes, Jaskier. That’s how seasons work

u know what that means~

Geralt did not in fact, know what that meant but he soon found out. He was in the middle of typing when a picture came up with the caption “stolen hoodie weather :3” with Jaskier curled up on his couch at home, snuggled up in the black zip up hoodie Geralt only remembered leaving there early last Spring. 

Something in his stomach flipped and he looked around to make sure no one was watching him. Why? Why would it matter if someone saw him? It was just Jaskier.

He frowned and started typing again. He stopped and erased it, fighting down the small smile that was starting to tilt the corners of his mouth. 

You kept it?

Way to go, Geralt. That was really fucking smooth. What was he supposed to mean by that?

unlike u :(((

abandoner of hoodies

some of us appreciate the gift of comfort geralt

Geralt felt like his brain was melting. That thing in his stomach seemed to purr with satisfaction at the idea of Jaskier wearing his hoodie. It was petty and ridiculous and oh no, Geralt couldn't take his eyes off the way the black material framed Jaskier's collarbone. 

No. No no. This way lay madness, he told himself. He would simply get the hoodie back and that was that. 

hey when do u wanna do our next movie night

its been like

7099039 years

Geralt hesitated for a moment. He had never hesitated when it came to Jaskier. They had known each other for far too long. 

Sure. My turn to pick?

not if u choose a history documentary

Spy movie?

:0 promise?

yes pls

Should I bring wine?

Wait, no that would be a very bad idea. 

:) you know it

bring the good shit

eskels secret one

i know you can find it 

It’s called “google” Jaskier. Even I know that. And I will see what I can do.

same time and place as normal right

It’s a date.

Geralt felt as though his soul had left his body when he had hit send. Had he lost his entire mind? He was in the middle of typing a follow up, trying to word the best way to dismiss his complete and total departure from sanity when the little dots popped up then disappeared then popped up again.

It’s a date. :)

Jaskier nearly slammed the door back into Geralt’s face in shock. Geralt was standing in the hall, bottle of wine in one hand, movie and carry out in the other. Then there was the shirt. Jaskier had actually helped him pick it out. The black button up, the sleeves rolled up and was his hair actually combed back? He looked good. Jaskier swallowed hard. He looked really damn good. 

But that wasn’t even the weird part. No, the weird part was the way Geralt’s eyes widened when he had opened the door. He recovered quickly though, nodding at Jaskier as he stepped in. 

“Didn’t think you’d let the apartment be cold enough you’d need to wear a hoodie.” He smirked, setting the bag down on the table before going right into the kitchen. 

“Comfort, Geralt. I’m telling you, I just don’t think you appreciate it enough.”  Jaskier followed him in. It was routine for them, the way Geralt got the wine open, Jaskier grabbed plates and silverware; the way they bickered and snarked, barely suppressing laughs through barbs. 

-o-O-o-

The coffee table was littered with cartons of orange chicken and fried noodles. Geralt set his plate down as he leaned back, slinging his arm across the back of the couch. He had to smile at the sense of deja vu that struck him. Casino Royale wasn’t just a comfort movie for them. It had been their first movie night nearly fifteen years ago. 

By now, they could practically quote the entire thing, make quips at Bond’s smugness and only just sit through that one scene without wincing. At least that’s what they told themselves. 

Now they watched as Bond and Vesper reconnect outside of that fancy English rehab center. Jaskier chorused him as they both rolled their eyes and sighed at Bond’s shitty lines about little fingers. 

“God he’s the worst.” Jaskier took a sip of wine, making a gagging sound. 

“Quantum still exists.” he chuckled. 

“Valid!” Jaskier set his wine down. 

Geralt leaned over as Bond delivered his next line, syncing his tone and dropping into a soft gravelly murmur. 

“Whatever I am, I’m yours.” It was supposed to be cheesy and ridiculous but Geralt found that it felt far too honest. There was truth to them that he couldn’t think to deny now.

Jaskier nearly choked as he looked up, his eyes going wide. Geralt watched as he leaned into his personal space. Time felt like it stuttered to a halt in that moment, Jaskier inches from him, still draped in his hoodie. Geralt wet his lips anxiously. The tension between them felt like a powerline pulled too tight; everything seemed to crackle with it. 

“Geralt-” 

Whatever he was going to say was lost the second Geralt closed the distance, pressing his mouth to Jaskier’s. It was nearly magnetic and there was no pulling away. Geralt’s hands strayed down to Jaskier’s thighs without his realizing it. There was no way he could stop himself now. He’d wanted this for far too long to just let it go. Part of him would mourn the loss of his oldest friendship, but that was Tomorrow Geralt’s problem. 

Jaskier’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer as Geralt tugged Jaskier into his lap clumsily. 

Geralt had to break the kiss first, pulling back gasping for air and pressing their foreheads together.

“Jask… Wait. Wait,” Geralt choked. He had to tilt his head back to get his words out as Jaskier dipped back in to start kissing him again. “Shit. Jaskier…” He already sounded wrecked to his own ears. His hands were on Jaskier’s hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles against his sides as he looked up, eyes searching. “Are you sure you want this?” 

He needed to hear it. He needed to know he was allowed to have this. It was one thing to say it would be Tomorrow Geralt’s problem, but it was another to actively throw away the best friendship he had ever had. He had spent too long pretending they could be just friends for it to fall apart like this. 

Jaskier crowded in closer and it took everything in him not to just give in to it because fuck that felt amazing. There was an easy smile across his lips that made Geralt feel like he was starving. 

“Geralt, I swear to the gods, don’t you dare start questioning this now,” as open as his face was, his voice trembled slightly. It was then that Geralt realized that Jaskier was practically vibrating under his palms. It was instinct the way he wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s middle, pulling him closer. “I’ve been wanting this for at least a solid decade.” 

Geralt blinked hard as he gaped up at Jaskier. 

“Are you really that surprised, Geralt?” Jaskier hummed, leaning back down and pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Hmm. Maybe not.” He found himself chuckling, trying to breathe around the bubble of light that was threatening to fill his entire chest. He caught Jaskier’s mouth again, his hand coming up to slide into his hair, holding him close. 

It was hard to tell who had deepened the kiss further but the laughter died on his tongue when he felt Jaskier roll his hips down into his lap. Suddenly everything was too much and achingly not enough. The hoodie slipped down Jaskier’s shoulders and what little attention span Geralt had left zeroed into that same spot along Jaskier’s collarbone. 

Pulling Jaskier closer, he made a trail of graceless open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down the firm column of his neck, his teeth raking over the spot with careless abandon. He was rewarded with a soft keen and Jaskier squirming in his arms. Long dexterous fingers wound into his hair, cradling his head as his own found their way up the back of Jaskier’s shirt. 

“Geralt-” There was a tug in his hair and fuck shit yes. He must have made some kind of noise because he felt Jaskier chuckle fondly. “Geralt, as much as I am enjoying this,” he gasped, back arching as Geralt nipped just below his ear, “Bedroom. Now.”

There was no arguing with that tone nor could he bring himself to find anything to argue about. Geralt tilted his head back up, Jaskier’s lips crushing in against his, taking every last remaining shred of doubt away. He felt his body switch to autopilot as he scooped Jaskier up from under his thighs, pleased at the way his legs wrapped around him automatically. He carried him easily, stopping only for a moment to pin Jaskier to the wall to adjust his grip under him, long enough to flick the lights off. 

Jaskier snorted, pulling away. “So considerate.” He teased. Geralt gave him a playful swat on his thigh and the chuckling was cut off by one of those delicious keening noises. 

Geralt half stumbled, half marched to where he knew Jaskier’s bedroom to be, blindly pushing the door open with his foot. He let himself bask in the heat of Jaskier’s body pressed to his, taking his bottom lip and biting it. 

The reality of where he was came crashing down on him and time was doing that thing again, slowing down as someone else with his hands kneeled against the side of the bed, letting them both tumble back into ridiculously lavish sheets. Years of habitual teasing were only tamped down by Jaskier’s insistent fingers making quick work of the buttons on the front of Geralt’s shirt. 

“You just had to wear this one, didn’t you.” Apparently not everyone was so distracted not to tease. “Do you know how hard it was not to just pull you into my apartment and kiss that ridiculous face of yours?” 

Geralt gave a wry smile. “Do you know how hard it’s been for fifteen years, being your best friend and thinking I would never get to kiss that beautiful face of yours?” 

He had to bite the inside of his lip as Jaskier’s whole face and neck flushed brilliant pink in the low light. 

“Geralt!” he practically whined and Geralt couldn’t stop from laughing softly at that, bending back down to kiss him again. He decided he couldn’t help himself, not really. 

This was too good. If he could just bottle this moment and tuck it away for every rainy day for the rest of his life, he would.  

“I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you now.” Geralt hummed happily. He shifted, the hand under Jaskier’s thigh moving to tug his hips flush with Geralt’s as his other hand moved to cup his face. “As long as you’re okay with that.” 

Geralt was pretty sure they were too far gone to ever go back, but even now, he had to make sure.

“Geralt Roger Eric…” Jaskier groused. “If you do not come back down here and kiss-” his words were muffled by Geralt’s mouth, his tongue sliding over Jaskier’s bottom lip and swallowing whatever ridiculous threats may have been lobbed at him. 

He found that kissing Jaskier had been easier than breathing. Before he knew it, Geralt was pulling back to pull off his shirt but his hands froze. He cursed under what breath he had left because the view of Jaskier under him, lips kiss bruised and shining, the needy look in his eyes, and the way his hair was pushed in every direction nearly undid Geralt completely. 

He snapped back to work, stripping out of his shirt and pushing at his jeans, letting them slide away. 

“C'mere you gorgeous thing.” Geralt murmured softly, pulling Jaskier to him before rolling, his back pressed up against the headboard. 

Jaskier shimmied out of his own jeans before straddling Geralt’s thighs, letting his fingers trail up the planes of Geralt’s chest, a stray fingernail grazing over his nipple, making him groan. Jaskier only grinned, leaning in, and nipping at Geralt’s neck. 

All Geralt could do was groan and tilt his head back, his hands sliding over Jaskier’s back. He was just aware enough to realize when Jaskier started to work his way down his body. Looking down, he watched in complete awe as nimble fingers hooked into his boxers. 

The first touch of Jaskier’s mouth to the jut of Geralt’s hip had his blood singing and he could only drop his head back against the wall. He hadn’t realized how achingly hard he was until Jaskier was biting down gently on Geralt’s upper thigh making him jump. 

There was a low chuckle from somewhere around his groin and then there was a sharp tug on his boxers. Jaskier wasted no time getting a hand around Geralt’s cock while he still playfully nipped at Geralt’s hip and thigh and abs. This was how he was going to die, he thought absently as he let his hand move to the back of Jaskier’s head. He let his fingers tangle there, tugging gently and Jaskier seemed to get the message though he could feel the smirk against his inner thigh. 

The weight of Jaskier between his thighs, one hand sliding up Geralt’s torso as the other stroked him lightly left Geralt breathless, his eyes fluttering at every touch. But it was when Jaskier wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock that Geralt felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He bucked his hips instinctively into the hot slick of Jaskier’s mouth before he could stop himself. 

For long moments, all Geralt could do was hold on. Jaskier took him slowly, seeming to savor the newly found ground between them as he bobbed further and further until Geralt was nudging the back of his throat. He gasped, his back arching when Jaskier swallowed around him, his responding hum a little too self satisfied. 

Geralt tightened his grip in Jaskier’s hair only slightly, tugging him up. It was messy and Jaskier’s mouth was open and slick, his eyes glazed slightly with a need that left Geralt breathless. He looked debauched and it was honestly the most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen. 

“Fuck,” he groaned pulling Jaskier back into his lap, his hips stuttering to grind up against Jaskier’s thigh. 

Jaskier pressed in close, panting slightly as he broke a kiss that had been more teeth than anything, leaning his forehead to Geralt’s. “Mm, fuck. We- Ah,” He chuckled as Geralt dipped in to kiss him again, dodging away gracefully. “Geralt, I need-” he licked his lips , taking a shaky breath. “Want you to-” 

Geralt was already nodding. He would agree to anything Jaskier asked for but the way his hips ground down against Geralt’s lap, it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. He wrapped a strong arm around Jaskier’s middle, rolling them gently until Jaskier was under him his knees still bracketed around Geralt’s thighs as he arched and keened.

“Under the notebook in the-” Jaskier breathed his hands not leaving Geralt’s skin for a moment, fingers greedily mapping out the lines of his back. 

“I know, you haven’t changed your hiding place since college,” Geralt teased. To his surprise Jaskier snorted under him, his head tilting back in the pillows as he laughed. It left the column of his neck exposed to Geralt and he couldn’t help himself but lean down and bite small marks into it. He was rewarded by more delicious noises endlessly streaming from Jaskier. 

He pulled away only for the time it would take to retrieve the lube before sliding back down into Jaskier’s arms and kissing him thoroughly. His hands traveled down Jaskier’s bare chest, his fingers brushing along the top of his boxers and he gave a low huff into Jaskier’s mouth. 

“Why are these still on?” he grumbled, smirking when Jaskier rolled his eyes at him. 

“Someone’s been slacking in getting me undressed,” Jaskier shot back. 

TheirThere next kiss was a mess of chuckles and grins. Geralt shifted them again, moving to get Jaskier’s boxers down. The laughter died in Jaskier’s throat when Geralt’s fingers brushed low down his back and grazed over the swell of his ass, he buried his face into Geralt’s neck. Geralt didn’t tease for long before pulling away. It made Jaskier groan and nip at his neck until slick fingers returned to his entrance, circling slowly. 

“Fuck!” Jaskier moaned, his hips already rocking back greedily. 

Geralt quietly cursed himself for letting so much time get away from him as he slowly worked Jaskier open, enjoying the way he shivered and babbled under him with every push of his fingers. When he slipped a third finger in, Jaskier bucked under him, his eyes slamming shut as he gave a shout. 

“Geralt! Fuck, dear heart, please, for the love of all that is good-” he pleaded, his hips rocking back onto Geralt’s fingers eagerly. “If you don’t fuck me soon I’m going to combust.” 

Geralt leaned down, muffling the rest of the curses that were probably coming with a hard kiss. Jaskier arched under him as he pulled his hands away. It was easy after that, letting their bodies slot together and letting himself slide into Jaskier’s tight warmth. It felt like a gut punch. It felt like coming home. 

Jaskier wound his legs around his waist, hands reaching up to thread into Geralt’s hair as he rolled his hips, taking Geralt deeper, causing them both to groan. 

“Jask.” Geralt pressed his face to Jaskier’s shoulder panting as he started a steady pace. Soon only the sound of their heavy breathing and Jaskier’s soft moans filled the room around them. 

Time around them seemed to hold still as Jaskier tugged gently on Geralt’s hair, prying him away from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. The look Geralt found there left the world spinning. Jaskier’s eyes were bright and his smile warm even as his cheeks flushed. He was pliant and open and completely wrecked and the sight of him tugged at Geralt’s chest. The words came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his hips slowly rolling into Jaskier as they moved. 

“I love you, Julek,” he murmured as he kissed him slowly. 

Jaskier whined under him, his fingers tightening in Geralt’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. When they finally broke apart to gasp for air, Jaskier's eyes were searching his as he bit his lip around a low moan. He huffed a wet sounding laugh as a hand slid from Geralt’s hair to rest on his cheek, a well calloused thumb tracing along his chin. “Oh, dear heart,” he shifted, canting his hips to make Geralt move. The angle shifted and Geralt seemed to nudge right against where Jaskier needed him most as he arched from the mattress and groaned. 

Geralt pushed up to sit, pulling Jaskier up with him until he was in his lap. They rocked together, shuddering every time Geralt bottomed out. He gripped Jaskier’s hip tightly with one hand as his other slid between them, wrapping around Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier pushed up into his hand, swaying between his grip and his cock, they both seemed drunk on it. It was only a matter of time after that that Jaskier was crying out, Geralt’s name tumbling from his lips, his orgasm tearing through him like a whirlwind and Geralt could do nothing but hold onto him. 

Geralt steadied him, his hand holding Jaskier still as he thrust up into him, reveling in the small fucked out noises Jaskier whimpered into his neck before he too was shaking apart, spilling into Jaskier with a low satisfied rumble. 

They kissed again, lazy and sated, their chests a mess with Jaskier’s spend. He broke the kiss first, pulling back with that smile that always left Geralt feeling dazed.

“I love you, too. I love-” he didn’t get to finish because Geralt was pressing him down into the mattress again with a hard kiss, smiling. 

He was allowed. Everything that had happened seemed to catch up with him but instead of the sheer panic he had been expecting, the only thing that wrapped around him in that moment was the bright light that was Jaskier’s answering laugh. 

--

Everything was sore but in that pleasant kind of way after a good lay. Jaskier rolled over, pressing his nose into the pillow beside him. He smiled when he realized it still smelled like Geralt. 

Geralt. Fuck!

His hand reached out before he let himself open his eyes, wincing against the bright morning light that streamed in through his windows. The space beside him was empty.

But… Geralt had said it first? Where-? Jaskier’s heart sank, his throat tightening. He knew it was too good to be true. The moment Geralt had kissed him on the couch, he had pushed down every part of him that had screamed that he was going to end up hurt by time the sun came. 

He reached for his phone though he didn’t know who he was going to text. Essi wouldn’t even be awake yet on a Saturday. The space by his lamp was also empty. He realized he must have left his phone in the living room the night before when-

He tried not to think about how easily Geralt had lifted him up and carried him to bed. He had tried not to think about how there were now bruises on his hips that were shaped like Geralt’s hands or the trail of stinging bites that he would have to carry around his empty apartment for days. He pressed the heals of his hands to his eyes and groaned. 

“Idiot,” he berated himself. 

“Cause you left your phone in the living room and now it’s dead?” Geralt asked, pushing the door open with his foot. He was in a pair of Jaskier’s sweatpants and nothing else carrying in two cups of coffee. He looked up from where he had been concentrating, trying not to spill them. “What?”

“You’re here,” Jaskier chuckled. Something in his chest lifted and he let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

“I… yes?” Geralt looked around. There was a lovely mark in the shape of Jaskier’s mouth on his shoulder and it made Jaskier’s toes curl. Geralt looked at the space beside Jaskier then at his face. He made a little oh with his mouth before he started to shake his head. “Oh! I see, hmm.” He set the coffee down gently on the side table and slid back into bed and into Jaskier’s arms. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“So we’re…” Jaskier looked away, rubbing his palms over his covered thighs. “We’re okay?” He didn’t dare hope. Not just yet. Not in the bright light of day. 

“Well, that depends,” Geralt  chuckled, pulling him into  his lap easily. He leaned in and kissed Jaskier’s chin. “Yenn messaged. Something about brunch. I think they know. Are you okay with that?”

Jaskier snorted, leaning over to grab his coffee. “Essi. I told her it was just movie night. I tell her it’s just movie night every time and-” He realized what he was saying, the cup of coffee hovering just at his lips. He looked sideways at Geralt who was tilting his head and smirking. 

“The biggest gossip we know and that’s the one you decide to confide in?” He took the cup from Jaskier’s hands and set it down again before rolling them both to pin Jaskier under him. 

Jaskier squawked indignity, his arms wrapping around Geralt. He let himself be kissed and hummed happily when Geralt slotted easily back between his thighs. 

“We’re going to be late for brunch,” he sighed as Geralt’s hand slipped down to his thigh, fingers brushing gently over the marks from the night before. 

“Hmm, don’t care.” 

They ended up missing brunch altogether but neither seemed to mind. 

---

The weather was crisp and dry and Jaskier was bundled in the black hoodie, but now pressed against Geralt’s side as they walked into Magnolia’s. It had been easier than Geralt was expecting though he groaned as he watched several fairly large wads of cash exchange hands. 

“Pay up, Jask,” Essi grinned. 

“What?” Geralt turned, scowling. Jaskier gave a chagrined shrug as he handed over money. “So little faith?” Geralt teased. 

“You too, pretty boy!” Lambert smirked across the table. 

Jaskier gasped beside him, leaning away “So little faith, Geralt?” The sleeves of the hoodie fell over his wrists and Geralt only smiled, pulling him back against his side. 

“I don’t mind being wrong this time.” 

[chockfullofsecrets]

Star Wars: Gentler, Harder

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: He waits for Poe to twist around before continuing. “You were kind of being one, weren’t you? Teasing Rey like that.”

Finn’s got a mischievous look on his face, one Poe hasn’t seen on him before, and for all that Poe knows he’s not supposed to be moving he feels his stomach flip like he’s just entered a spiral dive.

Rey’s voice is far too close on his other side, sounding livelier than she has since he’s met her. “Does that mean we have to tickle him now?”

Wordcount: 2.6k

A/N: @ticklesofcolor event fill for @ticklishnonsense! Prompts were a combination of “Poe really loves getting tickled and has to ask for it” and “Finn gets taught how to tickle someone” - I am looking at those CR prompts, believe me, but I thought it would be fun to try something new too :)

---

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes!”

Poe’s still not over the way Finn beams every time he sees him - he startles a little, probably on just enough symoxin to dull the rest of his senses along with the nerves, and breaks into a smile so brilliant against his dark skin that it’s hard not to squint. “Poe!”

He sounds like he’s still excited about having actual names to call. Poe tries not to think about it too hard.

Rey, curled up on the other side of the medical bed in, does her best impression of not looking expectantly at him. Poe grins and holds out a nutrition bar that she snatches and squirrels away somewhere in her dangling wraps faster than he can follow. “Good day?”

“Yes,” she says, perfunctorily making room for him to sit. She and Finn are close, he knows, and they’re never far from one another if they can help it - they do have enough spare beds that their two newest recruits shouldn’t be sharing one, he’s checked - but she’s not much for cuddling, and over the past few days they’ve worked out an unspoken agreement that Poe gets to crawl in between the two of them whenever he comes by. “Finn’s doctor says he’s almost ready for the next round of surgery, but he still shouldn’t be moving around.”

Poe squirms into a sitting position against the uncomfortable starchiness of the singular medbay pillow and looks Finn over as the two of them attempt to quote jargon about vertebrae and internal splints at him. He does look well, bandages aside, but it looks like clapping his shoulder still isn’t a good idea- instead, he settles for smacking a kiss against the coarse corkscrew curls that are just starting to grow out of Finn’s military cut. It’s a good look on him.

Finn interrupts himself to laugh and punch Poe gently in the shoulder with his good arm. “What about you, pilot? Do anything crazy today?”

A metric ton of paperwork, mostly. “Wait, wait - Rey, what about you?”

She frowns at him, same as every time he’s asked. “I still don’t think there’s anything wrong with me that would keep me from doing mechanic work-”

Finn shifts behind him. Poe twists back to him and catches his wince just as he gets close enough to whisper loudly, “She’s only had two headaches, I’ve been watching her all day.”

“Finn! I’ve been watching you,” Rey insists, wide-eyed. “If they let me out, I can start getting supplies for us, and - Poe Dameron, stop looking at me like that-”

“Like what?” he asks, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“The-” She gestures tightly in the general direction of his face, which only makes him laugh harder.

“Okay, okay, I just-” He fishes another nutrition bar out of his jacket and breaks it into three, holding out a portion to either side. “We have enough supplies for you and Finn, Rey. It took me four days to recover from whatever Kylo Ren did to my head - not saying you can’t do it in less, but I know how it felt and you need rest. The General herself said so, and she knows more about the Force than anyone here.”

Rey stuffs the food into her cheek and sinks back into herself, rubbing a little self-consciously at the dark circles under her eyes, and it’s hard to stop himself from reaching out to her, unwelcome as it might be given that they’ve just met and he’s technically the reason she’s not waist-deep in machinery right now. He’d tell her about the little manifest of speeder parts and a run-down X-wing he’s been saving for her to look at when she’s well, but he’s a little afraid that it’ll make her even more restless. “I nearly escaped an enemy base by myself and no one will even let me check the hyperdrive strain on the Falcon, but people keep coming in here and asking Finn for - for intel, whatever that means.”

“First Order secrets,” Finn intones, and lets out a semi-hysterical laugh. Poe’s heart lurches. He’d do anything to keep these two protected, safe, but for the cause-

He can do his best to cheer them up, at least, even if he’s feeling a little wiped himself. “Well,” he says, flicking Rey’s knee playfully, “we all know which one of you went around calling himself a ‘big deal’ in the Resistance, so-”

“Poe Dameron,” Rey hisses, rocking forward and launching a flurry of insistent pokes at his belly, “I’ll - I’ll take the Force and - Poe?”

Poe is - he’s not that ticklish, or at least that’s what he tells himself, but prodding at his soft spots is mean and he’s already half-sunk in laughter as he instinctively scrambles away from her.

Finn makes a startled sound just to his right, and he realizes abruptly that someone’s going to get hurt if he doesn’t stop flailing around. “Rey - Rey, wahahait-”

She pulls her hand back, brow furrowed. “What was that?”

“Wait, are you ticklish?” Finn asks.

Every nerve in Poe’s body sings at actually hearing the word. Clearly, it’s been a while.

Rey looks even more confused. “Ticklish?”

“The laughing,” Finn clarifies. “It usually happens when you poke someone in a ticklish spot.”

“Oh.” Rey looks adorably contrite. “Sorry, Poe, I didn’t know you were - ticklish? There?”

Goosebumps prickle at the back of his neck - they just keep saying it - but there’s a sudden, disappointing clarity at the realization that they’re not actually going to keep tickling him if he doesn’t say anything. “Oh, uh, I don’t mind, really I-”

I like it, he finishes in his head, but the words catch, warm and embarrassed, in the back of his throat and he just coughs instead. He scoots gingerly back towards Rey and tries again. “Um. I’m used to it, it’s not like Jess hasn’t used it against me when she thinks I’m being a brat.”

“Well,” Finn says, and that’s not a tone Poe’s ever heard from him before.

He waits for Poe to twist around before continuing. “You were kind of being one, weren’t you? Teasing Rey like that.”

Finn’s got a mischievous look on his face, one Poe hasn’t seen on him before, and for all that Poe knows he’s not supposed to be moving he feels his stomach flip like he’s just entered a spiral dive.

Rey’s voice is far too close on his other side, sounding livelier than she has since he’s met her. “Does that mean we have to tickle him now?”

He whips his head around just in time to see Rey pounce on him. She pins his legs neatly with hers, one wiry forearm bracing across his chest and the other pressed lightly over his mouth, and Poe abruptly feels trapped.

He should probably be more worried about that.

“You’re loud,” she tells him matter-of-factly, her sharp chin inches from his ear, “and if you don’t stay in once place you’re going to hurt Finn. Tap out if you want me to let you up.”

His fingers are twitching. He flattens them against the mattress.

She makes a satisfied sound and turns - he can’t see Finn past her, but it’s unlikely that he’s gone anywhere in the last thirty seconds, at least. “So now we just - poke him?”

“Kind of,” Finn says. “But Rey, you’ve gotta have a hand free-”

Rey’s hand flexes briefly over his mouth. “You do it, then.”

Finn sounds uncertain. “I can barely see his face from over here; it’ll be hard to tell if I’m doing it right.”

Brown eyes abruptly fill his field of vision as Rey looks back at him. Poe holds his breath, anticipating, as she presses her thumb to the corner of the silly, helpless smile working its way over his face and grins - a brief, childish thing he’s only seen her wear in the hangars.

“I’ll tell you, then.”

Poe squeaks.

Suddenly there are five little points of warmth on his right side, tickling mercilessly over the tender line just under his ribcage. The zinging sensation shoots over his chest, up under his collarbones, and-

He dissolves into gasping laughter, arching up into Rey’s arm before he can even think about laying still. “Oh,” he gets out, “oho - ohnohoho-”

Part of him expected that Finn wouldn’t really know how tickling worked, being in the First Order and all. That part of him is currently experiencing instant, severe regret as clever fingers work their way into the grooves between his lower ribs, forming into pincers and kneading just firmly enough to make him twist and squeal. “Ahaha - aaa! - no - eheeeh-”

He kicks free, for a moment, heels dragging frantically against the bed. Rey makes a frustrated noise and kicks back. “Finn, gentle,” she orders, “it’s too much for him.”

Poe’s somewhat offended by this unflattering evaluation of his abilities - at least, until Finn makes an affirming noise and the kneading lightens to a soft, barely-there fluttering of nails against his skin.

Then, he’s just desperate.

It’s. It’s not even enough to make him laugh, is the thing - he’s just wheezing out breathless, hiccupy giggles into Rey’s palm as Finn wanders his way up his ribcage, pausing occasionally to rub gentle circles when he stumbles across somewhere especially sensitive. It’s hell.

“Rey,” he tries, muffled, making the herculean attempt to unfist his hands and nudge her in the shoulder. “Rey.”

She looks down at him, questioning, and he gives her his most pleading look. He knows she can read his desperation clear as day, he knows-

She blinks. “Keep going,” she tells Finn, “I don’t think he’s sorry yet.”

Finn, bless his non-evil heart and inability to hear Poe whine in fruitless protest, laughs and pets the soft, trembling skin under Poe’s arm with one careful fingertip. “Really? C’mon, Poe, what’s it gonna take?”

This, apparently, because Poe is ready to say anything in the entire karking galaxy to get them to actually tickle him - the only thing worse, he thinks, would be if they stopped.

He whines again and squeezes his arms against his sides as tightly as he can, hoping beyond hope that it’ll make Finn take retaliatory measures. Rey just tsks and moves her hand away from his mouth, and he sighs in relief in the brief, blessed instant before she clamps down on his forearm and pulls his arm up.

Solves the audibility problem, at least. “Finn,” he pleads, wheezing between the snickers being forced out of shivering lungs, and wow, that’s not how his voice usually sounds. “Fihihihiiiiinn - Finn! Dohon’t - just - please, I can’t-”

Finn sounds amused. “Rey, you think he wants us to stop? Sounds pretty sorry to me.”

“No,” Poe says hastily, and promptly shuts his eyes before he can see their reaction to that. “Just - do it right, come on-”

There’s sudden, piercing doubt in Rey’s voice as she loosens her grip on him. “What do you mean - Finn, are we doing it wrong?”

He has to say something, but what-

And then.

He can’t see them, but - but he can feel, just for a moment-

The thing brushing up against the edges of his mind is instantly, quintessentially Rey - grit and stubbornness and a rusty, childish mischievousness all swirling, with the bitter concern of being wrong briefly at the forefront - it skims over his thoughts like sand over desert dunes, not graceful but gentle, nothing like Kylo Ren’s digging and bruising intrusion -

It. It kind of tickles.

He laughs, sudden and startled, and with Rey braced over him it’s impossible not to hear the pleased sound she makes in response. “Oh, I see.”

The Force, Poe realizes, is a kriffing snitch.

He cracks an eye open and fails entirely not to blush at the way Rey’s beaming triumphantly down at him. “Poe,” she commands. “Tell Finn what you want him to do.”

He sputters. “What? I thought that was your job. And you can’t use the Force, that’s not fair-”

She beams even wider. “There’s more than one way to make you sorry, Poe - come on, tell Finn which one you like better, tell him!”

“Wait, you used the Force?” Finn’s confusion only makes him blush harder. “Poe? You can tell us if you want us to stop, you know-”

“I don’t,” he blurts out, and immediately has to close his eyes again as every ounce of blood in his body rushes to his face. “I - I want - Rey, I can’t-”

“Say it,” she orders, and he wonders if that’s the Force echoing in his ears.

Well, if he’s going to be pressured into saying it, might as well be by the galaxy’s newest Jedi. “Can - can you t-tick-” Come on, Dameron, lo que no me mata- “-oh, kriff it, just tickle me harder, please, I can’t take it-”

He trails off, breathing hard, and Rey pats him twice on the cheek like a proud tía before slapping her hand back over his mouth. “I think he’s going to be a lot louder now. Finn?”

Ten fingers wriggle their way into his right armpit, and Poe yelps.

It’s not any more bearable than the fluttering and tracing, except that it is, and Poe can’t help but relax into the helpless laughter as Finn prods and pinches his way all the way down to his hip before working his way back up under his arm. He lingers at Poe’s ribs, kneading between two particular sensitive ribs and giggling as Poe tries to shove his mean, mean hands away with arms that have all the strength of a used bacta patch. “Eheheeeeh - ha, aaaaa - hahaha, nononoplease-”

“He says no,” Rey conveys over his head.

“No?” Finn says, teasing. He lightens his touch just enough to make Poe shriek in panicked frustration before going right back to kneading. “Aw, Poe, I thought you said this is what you wanted!”

Poe’s pretty sure there’s a solid four inches between the bed and his spine, with how desperately he’s arching his back and wriggling to escape the awful teasing, and as Rey wrestles him back down Finn’s fingers slip onto his belly.

He screams.

There’s a moment of complete, terrible stillness as Rey looks down at him with utter delight. “Finn!” she chirps. “Do that again!”

“Hm? Right here?”

Poe feels something warm and wriggly slide between him and Rey, up under his shirt where it’s come untucked with all the struggling, and promptly makes the executive decision to tap out before he ends up earning himself a ticket to the medbay with more psychic damage.

“Wait, he’s-”

“Rey, he wants-”

Finn and Rey both pause, Finn’s hand unmoving on his belly. Rey inches her hand off his mouth. “Poe?”

“Tapping out,” he wheezes. Rey gets halfway off him before jerking back to lean on his shoulders, fixing him with a mock-stern look that nearly has him breaking down into nervous giggles all over again. “I will get to fly the Falcon again, right?”

Poe tips his head back onto the bed, gulping down air. “I get the feeling I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to, but yes. General’s even got it listed under your name in the manifest, now.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh. I - I have a ship?”

“You’ve got a ship,” he confirms, and loses his breath all over again as she darts in for a fierce, joyful hug. It takes a bit of doing, but he manages to shove his way to enough of a sitting position to lean the both of them up against Finn, wrapping their arms together in a joyful tangle.

It feels right - like fighters flying in formation, like the spiraling balance of the Force the few times he’s been witness to it.

His cheeks are red and sore from laughter, but he can’t help smiling.

[gunpowdville]

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED], Chapter 2

chapter: 2/2

relationships: Drumbot Brian-Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius Von Raum, Nastya Rasputina/the Aurora

Other things: genderfluid Tim, she/her Tim, he/fae Marius, temporary character death, possession, canon-typical violence. but mostly literally just silly self-indulgent fluff.

chapter 1

ao3

Read here below the cut >:}

The Rec Room: Tim, Lyf, Marius. All 10 still alive. (a few minutes before It is released)

Lazy days on Aurora are hard to come by, and when they do happen, they are spent most often by complaining about how boring lazy days are. Some, however, can find content in the slower days spent in relative peace and quiet. Case in point: the three currently buried in a pillow nest in the middle of the rec room floor.

The situation is this: the pillows and cushions from the furniture all stripped away and stolen to build a comfortable arrangement on the floor. Gunpowder Tim, in simply a loose blouse and leggings, hair braided elegantly over one shoulder. Lyfrassir Edda, in what is undeniably one of Tim’s waistcoats, perched in between the gunner’s legs, having their hair braided by her deft hands. Marius von Raum, sprawled across Lyf’s lap, waving his hands about animatedly as he talks.

“You left out the best part,” Tim says as Marius finishes relaying the story of how fae and Raph had joined the crew. “You forgot to mention the bit where Bri gave the two of you an actual job interview. And how, upon being asked your greatest strengths, you said, and I quote, ‘I’m hot.’”

“You did not,” Lyf looks utterly scandalized. “At a job interview?”

“You forget, love, that the job fae was applying for was being a Mechanism,” Tim points out, running her fingers through the former inspector’s hair. “The criteria is pretty much being able to play an instrument and willing to do crime.”

“Speaking of,” Marius says, batting aimlessly at Tim’s face where it peeks at him over Lyf’s shoulder. “It’s a shame that we only really have two or so songs together, Tim. We should get to sing together more.”

Tim nods in agreement. “We’re simply too powerful together.”

“I’ve been thinking of trying to get Jonny to let the three of us sing Blood & Whiskey,” Marius admits, then frowns. “Oh, wait, sorry Lyffers, I forgot you sound like a drowning cat when you sing.”

“I do not!” Lyf flushes scarlet, turning their face away from Tim’s raised eyebrow.

“You’re right, sorry, it’s more like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.”

Lyf makes an attempt to hit Marius lightly, but the violinist just catches their hand and kisses the back of it, grinning wickedly.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you sing,” Tim says slyly, tying off the braid and leaning forward so she can rest her chin on Lyf’s shoulder. “Would you sing for me?”

“Do you enjoy the sound of a drowning cat playing a kazoo?” Lyf asks her.

“Well, not exactly…”

“Then according to Mare, you do not want to hear me sing.”

Tim pouts, showing off her mastery of sad puppy dog eyes. The overhead lights glinting off the metal make them sparkle, creating a masterfully alluring wide gaze. “Please? Just a bit? For me?”

It is next to impossible to argue with those eyes, especially once you’ve already fallen hard for the person making them at you. With a sigh, Lyf squeezes their eyes tight shut and awkwardly sings a few lines of Blood & Whiskey. It sounds, as promised, like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.

Tim manages to hold a straight face for roughly three seconds before guffawing with laughter, burying her face in the spot between Lyf’s shoulder and neck to smother her cackles.

Lyf breaks off, turning their head slightly with a gently irritated eyebrow raised at their partner. “Are you finished?”

“Sorry,” Tim gasps between giggles, nuzzling further into their neck, failing miserably at trying to stifle her mirth. “I- I just- I didn’t expect it to actually sound- like that- I’m- I’m sorry-”

“I told you,” Marius crows, grinning up at Lyf and Tim with triumphant teasing fire in faer eyes. “Wasn’t I right?”

“You two are very rude to me,” Lyf huffs, sticking their nose in the air haughtily. Tim lifts her face from their shoulder and noses their jaw, murmuring something about drowning cats and how they have never sounded more attractive. Lyf pointedly ignores her.

“Aw, hey, don’t be like that, fairytale,” Marius heaves himself into a sitting position and catches the former inspector’s face in his hands. “Y’know we’re just teasing you ‘cuz we love you, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,”Lyf sighs, giving in and letting faer kiss them.

“Sappy,” Tim comments, earning a petulant finger from Marius. “Also, fairytale?”

“They’re my fairytale,” Marius declares proudly, and Tim pouts. “What am I, then?”

“You,” Lyf contemplates, turning their head to meet Tim’s metallic gaze with their own iridescent one. “You’re my battle cry. You’re the song I sing for strength when I can’t find it. You’re my declaration to the world that I will not stand still and break. You’re the inspiration that keeps me fighting. My battle cry.”

“Well,” Tim blinks, making a valiant attempt to keep her voice steady. “Hey now. You didn’t have to go and do that to me.”

Lyf’s brow furrows, concern instantly evident in their features. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, goddamnit, you said everything right, you- fuck.” without another word, Tim fists a hand in the front of their shirt and pulls them into a kiss. “I fucking love you.”

Lyf’s (no doubt sappy as all hell) response is cut off by Marius, who groans and rolls out of their lap with a huff. “If you two are going to be like that, I’m leaving.”

“You started it,” Tim points out, “but whatever, more Lyf time for me.”

Marius sticks faer tongue out at her as fae leaves. “Go see if Bri’s made me any munchies!” Tim calls after him, before turning back to her partner with a decidedly malicious smirk. “Now, where were we?”

They are interrupted not long after by Brian, who comes barging into the room without preamble, zeroes distractedly in on the pair of them, says “Oh. Hello, dears. Have either of you seen an unidentifiable mass of sentient ooze? Slightly larger than an octokitten? It ate Marius,” and then hurries out the opposite door.

Tim and Lyf glance at each other, attempting to register his words. “Wha- Brian, what?”

But the Drumbot has already disappeared down the corridor, leaving the two of them to scramble to their feet and race after him, their questions landing on ignorant ears.

Nastya, the corridors: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.

Nastya spends her lazy days with her girlfriend, most of the time. She enjoys the quieter hours when she can work on repairs, listening to Aurora tell her stories or complain about whatever is on her mind. This particular lazy day, the engineer is sitting cross-legged on the floor of one of the corridors, right outside Jonny’s room, her hands deftly working at the wires beneath one of the wall panels. Aurora is telling her about a new program she and Ivy are working on, a sort of virtual reality experience for the shooting range that will ‘revitalize the excitement of warfare’, in her words. Nastya listens intently, interjecting with questions when she has them and praise when it is deserved.

As she finishes up, carefully replacing the wall panel and smiling softly at Aurora’s petulant complaints, something drops from the air vent above her. She takes a smooth step back as the thing falls to the floor with a wet thwack. At first glance it resembles an octokitten, but as it unfurls it reveals itself as more of a dark glistening lump, tendrils of gooey flesh extending across the floor toward Nastya.

“Well, hello,” The engineer says, tilting her head to study it. “What are you?”

That is the cake our Drumbot and his science officer made, Aurora answers for her. Don’t touch it.

“This is a cake?”

I believe it was supposed to be.

“And what is it now?”

Decidedly not a cake.

It’s at that moment that Ivy comes racing into the corridor, breathless and looking faintly annoyed. “Ah. Nastya. Good. Have you seen-” her eyes drift to the thing at Nastya’s feet. “That.”

“I am certainly looking at it right now,” Nastya says in response, nudging a toe forward to poke at it. Ivy throws out an arm to stop her. “Do not. Unless you want to get eaten.”

Nastya raises an eyebrow and quickly steps back, just as an octokitten meanders into the area, approaching the blob with a curious ‘mrrp’. Ivy dives for it, but the creature is much faster, latching onto the octokitten in a second. But instead of eating it, the thing seems to melt into it, turning it a darker color.

“Hm,” Ivy hums curiously. “That’s new.”

The possessed octokitten zeroes in on Ivy and Nastya, yawning wide to show a lot more teeth than should be able to fit in its mouth.

“Run?” Nastya suggests, watching the kitten start forward on uneasy tentacles.

“Run,” Ivy agrees.

Jonny & Ashes, the shooting range: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.

The shooting range is one of the few rooms on Aurora that isn’t quiet on lazy days. This day is no different from any other in that regard, with the sounds of gunfire and cackling echoing from behind the wide open door. The quartermaster and the first mate are both in there, trapped in a pointless competition to outshoot each other. They have done this many times before, and who wins changes nearly every time. But it’s an excellent way to distract and relieve stress, and Jonny had noticed Ashes appearing down earlier, so he had suggested a shooting competition. He never said that he was doing it to cheer them up, but he’s pretty sure they’ve caught on to his intentions.

“I kicked your ass harder than Brian got his ass kicked in that sun,” Ashes remarks, standing over Jonny, who lies prone on the floor. Jonny groans and sits up, shoving his singed hair off of his forehead. “You cheated.”

“Says what rules?” Ashes snorts, reaching down to help him up.

“It was a shooting match, O’Reilly, not a goddamn grenade match.”

“Your screaming was hilarious, though.”

Jonny scowls and flips them off. Ashes laughs and slips another grenade into their pocket, a little something to save for later.

The trapdoor in the ceiling of the shooting range drops open, and Raphaella tumbles through, falling head over heels and landing neatly on her feet with a dancer’s grace. “We have something of a problem.”

“Yeah, Ashes just fucking blew me up,” Jonny complains, and Ashes rolls their eyes. “You’re fine.”

“You’re fine,” Raphaella says at exactly the same time, and Ashes shoots a grin at her. “Anyway, Bri and I may have done… something.”

“You may have done something,” Brian argues, breezing into the room with Tim and Lyf close on his heels. “I take no responsibility.”

“Can we please go back to the part where it ate my boyfriend?” Lyf demands, causing Jonny’s eyebrows to shoot up practically to his hairline. “Someone’s eating boyfriends?”

“The octokittens are possessed,” this is Nastya, squeezing past Brian through the door, tailed by Ivy.

“Possessed?”

“Possessed,” Ivy confirms, to Brian’s incredulous outburst.

“D’you mean those octokittens?” Jonny asks, pointing to the door. Sure enough, a gaggle of octokittens meanders through, moving a bit unsteadily, oily dark colors writhing beneath their skin.

“That looks like- that’s-” Lyf’s eyes go wide as they stare at the kittens. “What the fuck is that?”

“It was supposed to be a cake,” Brian says mournfully.

“It ate Marius!”

“It’s technically your child, Lyf,” Raphaella pipes up. “The compound I used to make it is based on your blood samples.”

Lyf just stares at her.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Ashes remarks. They crouch down and flip open their lighter, holding it in front of one of the kittens’ face. It flinches, then snarls and shoots toward them, latching onto their foot, its jaws opening far wider than they should be able to. They try to kick it off, but its tentacles appear to have melted onto their skin and are slowly eating through. With a squelch, the odd entity detaches fully from its octokitten host, who blinks and scuttles into the corner.

With a pained grunt, Ashes drops their lighter onto the thing on their foot, successfully setting the thing alight. It recoils and retreats to the center of the floor, squelching in a frantic circle. It leaves behind nothing left of the quartermaster’s foot, and Ashes stumbles and is caught by Jonny, who steadies them and shoots a murderous look at the flaming blob.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Ashes hisses through their teeth, pain evident on their features. “Goddamn. What the fuck, you two.”

“Again, I take no responsibility,” Brian insists. Raphaella sticks her tongue out at him. “You are a bastard and a traitor and I never loved you anyway.”

Brian blows her a kiss and a wink.

“Interesting,” Ivy interrupts, pulling out a notepad and writing something down. “It appears fire is ineffective.”

This gets everyone’s attention directed back to the creature, which is indeed decidedly not dead or incapacitated in any way. It isn’t even on fire anymore. And it looks angry.

“You’re kidding me,” Ashes growls, staring at the thing with disgusted fury.

“Run,” Tim suggests, pushing Lyf gently out of the way as the thing focuses on them and begins to move forward. “Split up and run. It can’t get all of us at once.”

Jonny nods and dutifully starts off out of the room, taking Ashes with him, holding them up as they limp and curse. Ivy and Nastya shoot off in another direction, Nastya scooping up the disgruntled left-behind octokitten as she goes. Raphaella grabs Lyf’s wrist and pulls them up through the ceiling trapdoor, ignoring their startled protests. That leaves Tim with Brian. She turns to him, poised to ask what the plan is, but hesitates when she sees Brian standing there, head cocked to one side, staring blankly at the empty floor. The bifrost cake-creature is nowhere to be seen.

“Brian?” Tim steps forward, reaching out and resting a concerned hand on his shoulder. “Bri? You good?”

Brian’s head lifts, slowly, in an uncharacteristically stilted motion. His eyes are… wrong. Something is moving in them, and if Tim looks closely she can see it oozing from the corners. Oh. Oh no.

“Fuck,” she breathes, stumbling backward and reaching for a pistol. “Not Brian not Brian not Brian.”

The thing in Brian’s body smiles, forcing the expression onto the Drumbot’s face. It takes a step forward. Of course, it’s at that moment that the Toy Soldier decides to make its first appearance.

“Sorry I’m late!” It announces as it steps into the shooting range. “I was in the middle of a delightful painting using the blood from that corpse Jonny dragged onto the ship the other day! I didn’t want to leave it for too long in case it was ruined! Anyway, I heard there was a crew meeting?”

“Oh, I’d love to see that painting,” Tim says, momentarily distracted. The Toy Soldier claps its hands together excitedly. “Of course! I’ll set up a viewing!”

Tim grins. “Lovely. Now, what do you know of possession?”

“Well, it depends on what kind!”

“Um,” Tim glances back at Brian and whatever is piloting him, who has stopped in its tracks and is watching the exchange curiously. “Well. Would you.. Happen to know anything about possession by.. Cake?”

In the brief pause that follows, the thing inside Brian appears to give up on its curiosity and steps forward, opening his mouth. Tim frowns at it for a moment, confused, and then she sees the soft glow building in the back of the Drumbot’s throat. “Oh shit.”

Tim & The Toy Soldier, just outside the shooting range, 9 left alive, 1 footless, 1 eaten

Tim grabs the Toy Soldier and pulls it with her as she bolts to the door, just as a jet of flame shoots out of Brian’s mouth.

“Since when can he do that?” she yelps, flattening herself against a wall to avoid being scorched.

“Oh, that is interesting!” TS declares, peeking around the doorframe. Tim nods. “So. To catch you up. There’s some sort of Bifrost related demon-creature loose on the ship, it is currently inside Brian’s body and appears to be controlling him. Fire can’t kill it. Oh, and it ate Mare.”

The Toy Soldier nods, bouncing on the balls of its feet. “So?”

Tim blinks, then shrugs. “We kill it, I suppose. At least get it out of Brian.”

“How do we do that?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!”

Another jet of flame shoots past them, followed by what sounded oddly like a frustrated grunt. The thing still hasn’t actually followed them into the hall, which is a good sign, if somewhat nonsensical. Tim flinches further back instinctively, feeling the heat in her eyes.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confesses. “I don’t know how to get it out without opening Brian up, and he won’t like that. And I can’t even get close to it when it’s breathing fire at us like that.”

“Hmm,” the Toy Soldier hums a thoughtful note. Tim bites her lip, thinking, then lets out a soft laugh. “I’m glad I’m here with you and not Nastya,” she tells TS. “She’d probably suggest kissing it.”

There’s an awkward clank from the shooting range, followed by the sounds of a struggle. Tim glances at TS, who shrugs. “I could kiss it!”

“Could you?” Tim frowns again. “I mean.. I suppose it would just be kissing Brian, wouldn’t it, unless.. D’you think that would work? The kissing?”

“Possibly!” the Toy Soldier sounds positively thrilled about the prospect. “I’m very good at it, you know!”

“I feel like making out with the eldritch blob possessing our crewmate is a bit extreme,” Tim says, peeking around to corner to see what’s happening in the shooting range. What she sees gives her pause.

Brian seems to be fighting back against the thing holding his body hostage. He’s standing in the room where they left him, and every so often he takes a jerky, strained step forward, like he’s having to force himself to step. Although in this case its more likely that he’s trying to stop himself from taking a step. He looks pained, and Tim feels that familiar protective rage rising in her, that feeling of no he’s mine you can’t hurt him. All thoughts of kissing fade away, and she steps out, pistol in hand, and marches back into the shooting range.

“Brian,” she says, and the Drumbot’s head lifts slightly, his eyes still leaking sludgy iridescence. “Bri. Hey. I know you can hear me. Uh. I’m going to do something, and it might be.. A bit uncomfortable for you, but it will hopefully work out in the long run. So do me a favor and… stop fighting it for a moment? Just a moment.”

Brian gives her a wary look, but nods stiffly, clearly using every bit of control he has left. Then he lets go. His face goes blank, and his mouth opens, that glowing heat making another appearance. With a grimace, Tim lifts her pistol and fires.

The bullet flies true, carving straight through the flamethrower mechanism in the back of Brian’s throat and exiting out the back of his head. There’s an inhuman screeching sound, and Brian jerks once as the creature, with its main source of power destroyed, crawls out of the hole left behind.

Brian shudders once, then raises a hand to touch the new hole in his head.

“You alright?” Tim asks, stepping forward. “You.. you?”

“I’m fine,” Brian reassures her. “That could have obliterated my vocal cords, but I’m alright.”

“You’re welcome,” Tim says, tossing her braid back over her shoulder smugly.

“I don’t want to ruin the good mood,” TS says, peeking into the room curiously. “But, where did it go?”

Tim and Brian both freeze, locking terrified eyes. And then the lights go out.

Raphaella, Lyfrassir, Nastya, Ivy: In the dark. 9 left alive, 1 eaten, 1 footless

When the lights go out, someone screams. It’s Lyf. Raphaella shoots them a glare over her shoulder, aware of their ability to see in the dark.

“Sorry,” they whisper. Raphaella frowns. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know,” they admit. “It feels like the right thing to do.”

“Aurora?” That’s Nastya’s voice, coming from just ahead of them. She sounds worried. “Aurora, please say something. Please tell me if you’re hurt. Aurora?”

“Nas?” Raphaella moves forward, stretching a hand out until she bumps into the engineer’s shoulder. Nastya grabs her hand and gives it a quick squeeze, an indication that she’s here and she’s alright. “Raph, good. Is Lyfrassir still with you?”

“Right here,” Lyf says, still whispering. “Where’s Ivy?”

“Here as well,” the archivist pipes up from the other side of Nastya. “Everyone’s okay, as far as we can tell, Aurora simply.. Stopped.”

“Do you think it got to her?” Lyf asks, shifting nervously behind Raphaella.

“It better not have,” Nastya snaps, her concern for her girlfriend evident in her voice.

Raphaella squeezes Nastya’s shoulder and looks around, cursing the fact that she hasn’t given herself night vision yet. “Ives, can you get ahold of Bri?”

Ivy nods and closes her eyes, typing out a message to Brian in her brain. After a moment, she nods again and announces, “He’s alright. Tim and the Toy Soldier are with him. It took control of his body, but they got it out of him and he’s barely hurt.”

“That’s good!” Raphaella exclaims, giving Nastya’s shoulder another squeeze. “That means Aurora should be fine, once we get it out of her!”

Nastya nods, expression growing determined. “How do we get it out of her?”

“Um, I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” Lyf says, sounding a bit shaky. “But there is something wrapped around my leg.”

They sound afraid, but not panicked or in pain, which causes Raphaella to frown. They don’t even sound urgent. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine, it isn’t hurting me. It’s more… it’s like it’s hugging me.”

“Didn’t you say you made it out of their blood?” Ivy inquires, and Raphaella nods. “Perhaps it recognizes them as one of its own.”

“I don’t like the implications of that,” Lyf says quietly, then gives a determined shake of their head. “Right. Now is not the time for a Bifrost-related panic attack.”

“We can use this,” Raphaella perks up suddenly. “We can use your connection to it, Lyffy, to… something.”

Silence falls as the four of them think on it. And then Ivy speaks up. “I have something from Brian. He met up with Jonny and Ashes, and Jonny has an idea. He just needs us to lure it into something smaller and able to be picked up.”

“Can we do that?” Raphaella glances to Lyf, who nods. “Great. Let’s go.”

Lyfrassir, the kitchen. Same situation.

The kitchen is dark and eerie when Lyf enters, stepping carefully over the seething tendrils rising from the floor, grabbing at their legs. It’s almost possessive, the way it reaches for them, curling around them with its oozing tentacles. They can almost hear it talking to them, in their head, whispering mine mine mine. It terrifies that, but they shove it aside to think about later, once they’ve got this dealt with. Instead they focus on locating something small and liftable to lure the thing into. They find something almost instantly.

As they approach the object they’ve chosen, their Bifrost-enhanced eyes land on something in the middle of the floor, a moving shape.

“Hey, babe,” they say, stepping lightly over the half-formed Marius Von Raum to the counter.

“Hi,” fae groans, conscious enough for at least that. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lyf replies, placing their hands gently on the object they want to bring the creature into, watching it curl up around their arms and moving down the walls toward them, chasing the contact. “And… there we are.”

In a flash, Jonny comes pelting into the room. He grabs Small Brian the electric mixer from Lyf’s hands, and as the lights come on he races down the corridor, and the sound of a door sliding open can be heard.

“What did you do?” Brian demands as the first mate reappears, smugly dusting off his hands.

“Tossed it out the airlock,” Jonny grins.

“Right, ‘cause throwing all our problems out an airlock always works,” Ashes snorts. Jonny frowns. “It does.”

Tim shakes her head. “Oh, you are so lucky I can’t roll my eyes too hard without fucking up my face, D’Ville.”

Brian looks gutted. “You- you threw- Small Brian?”

Jonny freezes. “Oh- oh shit, Bri- I didn’t- Shit shit shit.”

“We’re getting it back,” Brian says, folding his arms and glaring. “As soon as Aurora’s recovering, we’re getting it back.”

“How do we know that that thing will die out there and not just… devour a star system?” Lyf asks. Jonny shrugs. “That’s not our problem.”

“I… fair enough,” Lyf sighs, and casts a last look toward the airlock before going to help Marius up.

Brian & Raphaella: Everyone alive and well

They get everything on the ship back in order quickly. Marius is back, and is being regaled with the tales of what he missed by Lyf and Tim. As soon as Aurora is ready to move again, Brian takes her to pick up Small Brian, and he carries the mixer reverently back to its place in the kitchen. “You’re a hero,” he whispers to it, before kissing the top of it lightly. He then gathers all the ingredients to make another cake, a real one this time.

Just as he’s setting up to get everything made, Nastya comes marching out of the corridor from where she’s been checking up on Aurora, a flamethrower in hand.

“Right,” she says, firing up the weapon. “Where are the fuckers who got my girlfriend possessed?”

Raphaella and Brian glance at each other, knowing this was coming. With a grin, Raphaella runs over and grabs Brian’s hand, pulling him after her down the hall and away from the vengeful engineer.

Nastya curses and follows, and Raphaella lifts off the ground, sweeping Brian into her arms bridal-style to easier carry him. He yelps, and then laughs, twisting to look down and watch Nastya chase after them, looking furious.

Raphaella rounds into a tight corner and sets down, letting Brian back on his feet. They’re both giggling, and Brian buries his face in her shoulder, grinning widely. She kisses his hair and strokes it lightly, running her fingers around the edges of the hole in the back of his neck.

Nastya finds them like that, rounding the corner and hefting her flamethrower with a malicious glimmer in her eyes. “There you are,” she hisses, and this time there’s nowhere to run.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Raphaella murmurs to Brian as she pulls back, and he takes her hand.

“Love you always,” he replies, and she leans over to kiss his cheek. “See you soon.”

And together, they face their fate.