#and not thinking that's a wild thing to say

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL — lando norris (smut, angst, nsfw)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: whatever you and lando have, it's anything but 'casual'. warnings: smut 18+, a LOT of angst, mdni, fingering, oral (f receiving), (situationship?) a/n: i lowkey want chappell roan's casual to be inserted into my brain and OMG this one is too sad

"nah, nah. the two of us... it's complicated, y'know? just a casual thing, honestly."

the words echoed in your mind on the flight from london, replaying as the seatbelt sign dinged off.

casual.

the word had always carried a negative connotation, but hearing him say it made you feel so much worse. it made you feel insignificant, as if the months that had passed meant nothing to him, while it had meant so much more to you.

you were anything but casual.

all those nights, the mornings after, the kisses, the rendezvouses. they meant something, didn't they? you thought they did, at least.

the way he'd look at you when the lights dimmed and his voice would turn soft. the way he'd kiss you as if it was what he was made to do.

he knew every inch of you. every freckle, every curve. he knew you better than he knew the tracks he raced on.

but, then again, lando norris was never known for being reliable.

he was young and wild and carefree, a bachelor to be envied by all. a party boy, a flirt, a ladies' man. he was charming and he knew it.

he was good at making people believe that they were special.

everyone loved him. the oh-so charming lando norris. the young driver who had a bright future ahead of him. he was bound to get whatever he wanted, right?

the first night he touched you, the two of you had come to an agreement—no attachment. he made it clear that he didn't have time for anything serious, but that he would love to have fun with you.

you, of course, had agreed to that.

in the beginning it was nothing. 'accidentally' crashing into each other at parties, accompanying the other into hotel rooms, and then disappearing as soon as the sun rose.

but do these 'no attachments' things ever work? it wasn't even a complete month before the two of you became more and more involved and realised you weren't just having fun.

as you exited the airplane, your heart clenched at the thought. the two of you had never actually said anything, but it was there, hanging in the air, almost suffocating you.

the first time you realised it wasn't just fun, you were in the passenger seat of his mclaren. he was on his knees, big blue eyes staring into yours as he flicked his tongue in you. you were so close, you had been for a while. he could tell. his eyes were locked onto yours, a glint of smugness in them. and then, with the tip of his finger, he brought you over the edge.

after you both came, he had crawled into the driver's seat and smiled at you. his lips glistened, his chin damp, and his hair sticking up in places.

"you look beautiful." he said, a hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"i think i like you." his voice was barely a whisper, and if you hadn't been staring right into his eyes you might've missed what he said.

"yeah, me too." your voice was breathless.

and that was the only time either of you'd ever said anything about it.

was it casual?

then, that one time when you had flown to his family home in the uk and met his parents. they'd welcomed you with open arms and treated you like one of their own, and lando's face had glowed with joy the whole time.

"i still can't believe that lando has such a pretty girlfriend." his mom had said to you, giggling as the two of you shared a bottle of wine.

"mom!" lando had whined from the other room. "can't you just shut up for once?"

"oh, hush! i'm just saying it as it is." she shrugged.

you had blushed furiously at her words, looking down at your feet as you took another sip of the expensive italian wine.

you had thought he would deny the 'girlfriend' title, or at least laugh it off, but he didn't. instead, he grinned like an idiot and you wondered if the wine had gone to his head.

"yeah, guess i got lucky." he'd muttered, and his mom had smiled, nodding knowingly.

when the day ended, you had fallen asleep curled up next to him, his body warmth enveloping you like a blanket.

now, your eyes stung as you walked through the airport, a million thoughts running through your mind.

you'd spent the rest of the week there and it was the best time you'd had in a while. he'd taken you on a day-trip to oxford, but the two of you ended up staying the night at some cottage. he'd held you closer, kissed you harder. you slept together as many times as you could.

fuck, you weren't just casual.

and the time the you woke up in each other's arms, his face buried in your hair, hands wrapped around your waist. he had asked you what your plans for the future were.

"get an apartment in monaco right next to yours so that i can stalk you everyday. binoculars and everything." you had joked.

"really? not gonna say you're going to marry me and have a billion kids and we're gonna grow old together?"

you'd looked up at him, eyebrows raised. and then the two of you had burst out laughing.

"what the fuck, lando. i'm not having a billion kids with you."

he just smirked in response.

or the time when the two of you vacationed in italy with his friends, and at the pier he had introduced you as his 'hotshot pr girl'.

"he's paying me a million dollars to pretend to be his girlfriend because he doesn't like being called a virgin."

"hey!" he'd laughed, nudging you.

"shut up, loser."

and then you'd pushed him into the water.

"i'm never talking to you again." he'd pouted.

"oh yeah, find someone else to have your billion kids with. my uterus will be happy."

or the countless times he would call you in the middle of the night and tell you about his new merch drop, and you'd whine about how it was 2 in the morning and you couldn't give a flying fuck.

and when you had just gotten off the phone with his sister, "flo is such a sweetheart, i love her."

"my sister talks to you more than she talks to me. you know she likes you better, right?" he'd mumbled, looking offended.

"what can i say, i'm such a charmer." you'd said in the most british accent you could muster, and he'd rolled his eyes and shoved your face away.

december came, and cisca invited you to celebrate christmas with them.

"if he doesn't ask you to be his girlfriend, promise me you'll tell him it's over." your best friend has said, looking at you sternly.

you had just sighed in response, shaking your head.

"i'm serious. you don't deserve someone like that. not if he doesn't think you're worth the commitment."

"you're right. i know. i'm just... i'm just scared. i like him so much. i don't know what to do."

the morning of christmas, you'd landed in london and gone straight to his place. he was all dressed up, and you'd almost cried at how gorgeous he looked.

"merry christmas, darling." he'd murmured, and you'd melted at his words. he welcomed you with a kiss, the way he always did.

the day was spent exchanging gifts with his family, watching christmas movies and cuddling under blankets.

his family adored you.

"i'm glad you're here." he said.

"where else would i be?"

"anywhere else."

you smiled at him, and he returned it with a cheshire cat one.

that night, the two of you had been invited to dinner with his parents, and halfway through the meal you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

as you stood there washing your hands, you'd heard the door swing open, and the familiar figure appeared next to you, locking the door behind him.

"lando."

"yeah?"

"what are you doing?"

"i need to wash my hands." he'd shrugged.

you raised a brow at him, looking at him pointedly.

he shrugged again, taking a step towards you.

"you look too good in this dress, can't help it."

you rolled your eyes as he stepped closer to you, fingers about to grasp your waist before you told him to back off.

"what?"

"wash your hands first. didn't you come here to wash your hands? there's no way in hell i'm letting greasy salmon fingers touch me."

and then the two of you had laughed before his lips found yours lips. it felt so natural, the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your lips melted into his.

"lando, we shouldn't." you protested, neck arching as he pressed kisses everwhere.

"shut up." he grabbed your waist before pushing you against the counter, his lips crashing back into yours.

"what happened to your hands? i told you to wash them."

"fuck the hands."

"technically-"

"shut the fuck up." he groaned, dipping a finger between your thighs. "you're dripping. fucking hell."

pulling his fingers out, his knee pushed your thighs apart, spreading your legs apart.

you gasped, shifting your hands as you balanced yourself against the counter. his eyes locked in yours as his finger dragged across your core.

"fuck, baby, you're so pretty." he whispered, eyes digging into yours.

"lando, please."

"please what?" he asked as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your eyes squeezed shut, head leaning against the mirror behind you. "oh, fuck."

"i asked a question."

you were quick to answer, fisting his shirt as his fingers moved inside you. "please fuck me, oh my god."

he smirked before dropping to his knees, spreading your thighs and pressing his tongue onto your clit. you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth sucking at your clit; eyes rolling back.

his hands grabbed your legs, swinging them over his shoulder. hand sprawled over your stomach, pushing you back against the counter.

when his tongue curled into you, brushing that spot he never failed to miss, you couldn't help but let a loud moan escape you.

lando hushed you; tapping your thigh. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando said through heavy breaths before pushing his face back into you.

biting into your lip, your fingers ran through his curls, admiring the sight of his head moving between your thighs.

your moans filled the small bathroom, the sound like music to his ears.

"lando," your voice was shaky, breath hitching as he picked up the pace, his hands pushing your hips down.

he hummed in response, the vibration sending waves throughout your body.

"oh, god, lando. right there, right there. oh fuck."

and then your body was trembling, and you were gripping his hair, his tongue still moving.

you were seeing stars, vision going white as your legs quivered around his face.

"oh, god." you sighed, chest rising and falling as he pulled his fingers out, smirking up at you.

"c'mon baby, give me one more."

it wasn't casual.

now, walking through the terminal, dragging your suitcase behind you, the tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

maybe he said 'casual' just to tell his friends he was still a player. or maybe, he was referring to the fact that the two of you were just friends who hooked up sometimes.

but whatever he meant, it wasn't the truth.

both of you knew it.

casual wasn't the way he held you close during thunderstorms, wasn't the way he'd make sure coffee was the perfect temperature, wasn't the way he'd look at you as if the world stopped turning.

the way he'd stare into your eyes as the lights turned off, the way he'd press a kiss onto your temple, the way he'd say your name.

it wasn't casual.

[cressidagrey]

Brighten Up the Sky

This started as a prompt from the lovely @satiresunflower, (though it is pretty much unrecognisable from the prompt she actually gave. She did give me permission to go wild though, so this is what you get lol) 

This starts in Chapter 14 of ACOWAR, so some of the sentences are taken verbatim from the original text. I did change it into 3rd person, because me trying to write in 1st person never ends well. I also think there is a longer story in this particular idea, but quite frankly, I don’t have it in me to write it right now. 

Summary:

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense. 

Warning:

Public Displays of affection, kinda Nesta bashing, but like...she has her reasons?, Cassian being annoying

(Lovely dividers thanks to @cafekitsune)

“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell. 

Her sisters

Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.

But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.

Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.

“They’re well, though?”

His hesitation told her enough. 

“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly. 

"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.

Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now. 

Only then she realised something else.

“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister. 

The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with. 

Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds. 

Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth. 

A shudder ran through her at that memory.

Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers. 

"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.

A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine. 

“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising. 

“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”

His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?” 

She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her. 

She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her. 

And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge. 

Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away. 

Her heart was now hammering.

“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”

There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."

Those words did little to reassure her.

"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed. 

Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily. 

The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.

But...he was right. She needed to be clean. 

Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood. 

Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”

Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.

Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”

Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...

To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.

But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…

“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”

“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.” 

A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”

Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta? 

“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.

“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that?  Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…

If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?

"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?" 

Rhys grimaced, shaking  his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?" 

If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.

"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.

"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"

Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.

Their bed.

She was home. Finally.

Rhys sighed.

“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it. 

“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”

Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this. 

“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly. 

Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?

“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.” 

Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.

“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?

Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?

Rhys winced at her look.

"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel." 

Feyre’s mind was racing.

Azriel and Alana. Mates.

She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years. 

“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.” 

“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either. 

"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated."  Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.” 

"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated. 

"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."

Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate. 

"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."

"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these  looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."

Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes. 

"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.

Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either. 

"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."

"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.

Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”

Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was. 

“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."

It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.

“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.” 

“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."

There was a knock at the door at that moment.

Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.

“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?” 

Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said. 

“Feyre!”

Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…

Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.

She looked well.

That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…

Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.

She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up. 

"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.  

She grimaced.

Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.

It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow. 

"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?” 

She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.

Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.

She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat. 

She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again. 

I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.

The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel. 

He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...

Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face. 

Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love. 

And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.

For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.

She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love. 

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her. 

Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.

He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion. 

It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love. 

Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer. 

He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…

Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted. 

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.

She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal. 

What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.

He knows what I like, and he’s happy to oblige. 

Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.

She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently. 

This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things… 

Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked. 

I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it… 

But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying. 

Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long.  And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.

Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort. 

So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.

Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.

You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.

I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs. 

And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?

Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.

And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel. 

Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly. 

Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.

Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting. 

It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before. 

Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest. 

Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. 

The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister. 

Feyre could just stare. 

She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were. 

Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know. 

“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him. 

Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers. 

“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself. 

The reactions were immediate. 

Azriel growled.

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter. 

It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.

“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say. 

I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion. 

“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.

"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"

Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them. 

Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.

Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together. 

"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.

Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him. 

I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened. 

Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation. 

Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things. 

It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach. 

It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach. 

Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.

Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue. 

Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.

Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well. 

That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth. 

I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.

Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them. 

Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked. 

I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. 

Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said. 

"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.

She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded. 

Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight. 

Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways. 

I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight. 

“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.

Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.

Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana. 

Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.

Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.

Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips. 

Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist. 

"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.

Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction. 

“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and  Cassian actually growled at him.  Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world. 

“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.” 

"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."

Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs. 

“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.” 

“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears. 

“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards. 

Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too. 

"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"

“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his. 

In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently. 

"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."

“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.” 

“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered. 

“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.” 

“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully. 

It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel. 

"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[cloudcountry]

when this is over ⤿ keigo deserves to be cherished.

tags: he acts like a bird...i'm not sorry!! soft hawks, biting, thoughts of marriage.

The soft cooing and chattering from Keigo is the only noise in the otherwise silent bedroom. His head rests comfortably in your lap, the skin he touches tingling. His hair is wild and free from flying around all day, and you run your fingers through the strands in an attempt to smooth it down. He nuzzles your thigh, nipping at the fat affectionately, and you squirm at the feeling of his stubble tickling your skin.

Keigo latches onto your thighs, gloved hands rough against you but his touch is so so gentle. His pupils are blown wide, eyes staring straight into your own, lips curling into the softest smile. He holds you in place as he nudges your flesh with his nose, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. You giggle at the feeling, wiggling your hips to try and get away from the ticklish sensation, but Keigo holds you tight. Hero training was no joke—his grip strength was strong and you were powerless against it.

“It’s not fair.” you say softly, “I want to kiss you too.”

His flushes, pretty and pink and yours, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It’s precious, the way he avoids your eyes now, hands clenching and unclenching against your thighs as he thinks it over. Only you could turn him into a blushing, unsure man, his wings shrinking against his back, cautious and embarrassed for the first time in his life.

“Patience.” he says softly, unrelenting in his grip and his mouth, biting you just a little harder for your teasing.

You laugh, bringing a hand up to your mouth to muffle the sounds. His wings knock against your cheek, the feathers brushing against you as if they’re reprimanding you for laughing at him. It only makes you laugh harder, and in his petty display of dominance, Keigo slides himself down the bed and grabs your ankles, pulling you with him.

“Keigo!” you shriek, laughter bursting free from your lips, filling the once quiet room with squeals and gasps.

He looks smug, always elated to have made you laugh, his elbows coming to rest on either side of your head. He stares down at you, lovingly and quietly, waiting until your laughter dies down and there’s nothing between you except for your heaving chest.

He’s so lucky he gets to share these things with you. Something so unique and pretty and soft, filling his chest until he fears he will pop. If he did, he’d surely burst into the color of your eyes and the way your laugh sounds and the memories of your smile he has forever saved in his mind.

He coos softly, wings swooping over the sides of the bed, trapping the two of you in a canopy of red feathers. Your gaze is torn away from him in favor of his feathers, your mouth falling into an awed “o,” your fingers reaching out to stroke the top of his wing. He tilts it closer to you, shuddering as you pet him, your hands growing more confident the more he allows you to do.

Keigo doesn’t even notice he’s lowering his head until he finds himself resting on your chest, eyes fluttering shut at your soft touch.

Being a Pro is hard. It always will be. Keigo wants to make it easier, but all that means for him is that his job is even more difficult. You purse your lips, tempted to say something, but knowing that ultimately Keigo wouldn’t have done anything different if he had a second chance.

It was the life he chose. It was the life every single Pro had chosen. It wouldn’t be fair to them for you to treat it like a burden, not when everyone was safer because of them.

“Thank you.” you whisper as the sun dips beneath the horizon, as darkness swallows up your room, “I love you so much.”

Keigo shifts his head, looking up at you. His eyes are bright and full of life. It’s reassuring.

“It’s my job, honey. I love you too.” he presses the back of his hand against your forehead, brushing over the skin with his knuckles.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him into you. His chest collides with yours but it’s tender, like sharing fried chicken with him on movie nights, like taking him out on a picnic date, like him holding you tight as he flies high above the world, showing you exactly what his world is like.

You wish you could do more for him aside from this. Trimming and painting his nails didn’t feel like enough, helping him preen didn’t feel like enough. Bathing with him and cooking for him and making him tea every morning and night to soothe his aching muscles and bones didn’t feel like enough.

Maybe it never would be enough.

He holds the whole world on his shoulders, balancing it for the good of every person on the planet, even when it feels like the weight will crush him.

Pro Heroes take care of everyone. Who takes care of them?

As you stare down at Keigo, his expression blissed out as he holds you close, his posture completely relaxed and trusting, you know the answer.

Those who love heroes, and those who heroes love in return, are the ones that protect them.

The general public doesn’t know what this is like. They don’t have a hero who trusts them as much as they trust the heroes. They don’t have someone who would go to work, only for them to end up on the news every day. They didn’t have to worry about whether their loved one would have to face the corruption that undoubtedly ran through the higher up hero circles.

Could they even handle it if they did? You could barely handle it most days.

You shake your head and kiss the exposed skin of his forehead, willing the thoughts away. Now was not the time for misery. The both of you knew this well. There would be plenty of time to mourn and contemplate later, when stakes were higher and you two won’t be together. Right now was precious, with you in his arms and him in yours.

When this is over, you think fondly, I’m going to marry him.

Keigo bumps his nose against your chin when he goes in for a kiss, and you squeeze him tighter.

[bokettochild]

Fic Concept: Prince Legend

I know everyone says "write for yourself" but I can fantasize this stuff at work if it's just for me, so I'm throwing it to you guys to gauge interest on if I should actually write it

A Prince Legend fic. He knows he's royal, he doesn't live like it. The rest don't know, but learn, one by one (sort of Feathered AU style) in various scenarios, and adjust accordingly.

Sky accepts that Legend is his descendant

Wild has a minor identity crisis on whether this means that, as a royal knight, he's responsible for the vet's safety

Warriors' training kicks in ad he's suddenly very proper and all that fun stuff

Wind is entirely unaffected because nobles what? (He thinks it's cool but doesn't let it bother him)

Still working out how the rest will respond, as this would be less a personal thing for them, but they all figure it out and none of them realize that the others know, and maybe are trying to either hint it to them (they want Sky to know of course) or stop them finding out (Twilight realizes the knights probably shouldn't find out because of Legend's history with knights).

No clue where it would go, but as it's a dynamic based fic rather than plot-heavy, I feel I could take it on without much of a plan and run with it like I've done with other dynamic-based stories. Let it do what it wants and just have fun seeing where it all goes

I know I've been working on TBoHH, but I sort of miss having a few long fics going at once and updating one every two days or so (there is no buzz!) so I'm throwing this out there.

[userchai]

𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 - 18+

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯��𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵…. 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

word-count 2.2K

thank you so much for reading feedback is appreciated I love you all dearly! sorry if there are any mistakes! 🖤

“If you love me right then who knows?”

You knew this was a terrible idea, letting him back in, but when he had shown up at your door, shivering and crying you just couldn’t say no. The soft morning glow of the sun illuminates his face beautifully as you stand at your bedroom door.

His eyelashes flutter as he turns a little in his sleep, the long black curls you’ve always loved are wild and messy. “What are you doing to me Eddie?” You whisper, shaking your head and fighting back tears.

He came to you because he didn’t know where else to go, having moved away from Hawkins years ago. It was hours away and you were only fifteen minutes down the road, so Eddie did what he knew best, he came back to you.

This isn’t the first time he’s shown back up since the two of you split years ago, but for some reason in this moment the air feels different. He looks so peaceful in your bed, he looks like he fits, like this is his home too.

You glance at the calendar above your bed, it’s Sunday. You have nowhere to be but right here with the man that you’re still so in love with, it’s painful.

You slowly make your way over to your bed, gently setting yourself down on it, not wanting to wake him yet. The fight the two of you had gotten into last night when he just showed up was still fresh in your mind.

“You can’t just come right back Eddie! You always do this!” You had screamed, tears streaming down your face as you leaned back against your front door.

The night ended differently than you would’ve expected, Eddie had kissed you, and he didn’t stop kissing. You both knew this would only lead to more hurt down the road but neither of you cared.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear Eddie wake up until his hand gently brushes your arm. “Hey.. you okay baby?” He whispers. ‘Baby’ you wanted to tell him that’s not who you were to him anymore, but you couldn’t.

“I’m alright. Did you sleep okay?” You ask, brushing a piece of his hair away from his face. He nods slowly, sitting up. You both stare at each other for a minute, Eddie’s eyes are puffy with sleep and it only makes him look even more attractive.

You smile timidly, damn him for making you feel every single feeling you’ve been working so hard on pushing down for years. “Good, I was gonna make something to eat if you’re hungry?” You ask, going to stand up before Eddie’s grabbing your hand, pulling you back down.

His dark eyes may as well be looking right through you as he keeps you in place. He’s very obvious, you’ve seen that look a million times before, the only thing Eddie is hungry for at the moment is you.

“Ed, I don’t think that’s such a good idea-” you start off, chewing your lip nervously as he pulls you closer to where he’s leaning back against your headboard. “If anything, let me have you for just one more night, I understand if you want me to leave forever after that. I just need to feel you one more time.”

Your heart is pounding beneath your chest, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time, you knew you wanted him. You needed him. Your body reacts before your mind can make up words to say back to him, you straddle yourself over his lap and gently reach down to hold his face. “I’ve never stopped loving you Eddie Munson.” You whisper.

The prettiest smile breaks out over those pouty lips that you could kiss for hours, “Show me then.” He says back, it’s a challenge. You bite back a laugh at how desperately Eddie’s clinging to you right now. His big hands are gripping onto your hips, you hope they bruise you want to remember this forever.

Eddie can be soft sometimes, even if he doesn’t look like it, and this is definitely one of those times. You could break him, and he would let you. You wanted to wreck him and rebuild him after. He groans lowly beneath you as you slowly circle your hips, grinding down against his lap for just a few seconds before stopping.

“Please don’t stop, I need to feel you.” He almost whimpers out, so pathetic, how much he needs you. You lean down slowly and kiss up the side of his neck, biting down against his jaw hard enough that it draws out a little blood. You wanted pain, you wanted him to feel everything that you’ve felt, you wanted him to know that if he fucks up this time he will never see you again.

“Fuck. You little vixen.” He bites out as you run your hands down his shoulders, you keep them going as you shuffle back off of his lap. “Gonna ruin you, is that what you came here for?” You ask as he bites his lip. He nods quickly, watching you pull your sheets back away from his body. “Oh, how cute baby, look how hard you’ve gotten and all I did was sit in your lap for a minute, admit it, you need me.”

You pull the covers all the way off of him, shuffling down to lay on your stomach in front of him as you run your hand teasingly against his length that’s straining behind his tight boxers. “I-fuck, I need you, I love you, I’m sorry for being such an idiot and leaving before please, even if you don’t want me anymore just use me today, that’s all I want.”

You smile up at him, that’s exactly the answer you wanted. If he thinks he can just come back and instantly win you over he is sorely mistaken, he’s going to work for it. You dig your nails into his skin a little as a hiss breaks its way out of his mouth, before you’re pulling his boxers down. You must be going far too slow for his liking because you swear you hear him start begging as his cock finally slaps back against his stomach.

You’ve missed him so bad, and you’ve missed feeling him inside of you almost more than the relationship you once had shared. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick length, the head is leaking pre-cum against his stomach as you tap your fingers lazily against his thighs. “Why should I suck you off baby? I don’t know if you deserve my mouth anymore.” He moans loudly, pushing his hands against his eyes before he’s grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You laugh quietly, he’s so hard it must be hurting by now. “Fuck…. Please I know I don’t deserve it okay? I don’t, but just, please I’ll be so good I’ll do anything to have you again baby.” You lick your lips slowly, before you’re spitting down onto the head. “Fine, but it’s at my pace, don’t you fucking move.” You can hear the air leave his lungs as you slowly wrap one of your hands tightly against him, stroking him slowly and spreading your saliva all over him.

You know just how he likes it, sloppy and loud, you are determined to make sure he remembers this, if today really is the last time. Focusing back on him you lean down and kiss up the side of his cock before you’re at the very top, you flutter your eyelashes up at him as his stomach tenses. He’s so beautiful, you sink your mouth down around him and the most beautiful sound comes out of his throat. Sure, Eddie is a good singer, but the sounds he makes for you have always been better than music.

It only takes a few more minutes of absolutely setting out to ruin Eddie, before his hips are threatening to lift off the bed. You know he wants to fuck your mouth, but you specifically told him not to move, so you pull off of him and slap his thigh. “I thought I said no moving, don’t you wanna be my good boy?” He looks like he’s on the verge of tears as he frantically apologizes, reaching to grip onto you. You can feel him shaking as you sit back up onto your knees.

“Don’t deserve my mouth anymore, you can’t even listen to instructions baby, but I’ll let you have my pussy. The only thing is, you’re not cumming.” Your stomach is already wound tight at the thought of having him inside you again, you waste no time in pulling your panties off and throwing them down onto the floor. Eddie looks like an absolute wreck already, his hair stuck to his face, eyes blown full of lust and love as he looks up at you. “Please just fuck me.” He whispers.

Reaching behind yourself to grab his cock again you rub the tip against yourself over and over, you can feel it pulsing against your hand. You knew how bad he needed to cum but for now things were going to be about you. You tense up as you slowly slide yourself down onto him, he’s so thick it almost hurts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He gasps out, his hands gripping the sheets below you as you finally bottom out around him.

You wait a few minutes to adjust before you are lifting yourself back up, the drag of his cock inside of you is addicting and you don’t know if you’ll even last very long. You drop back down again, moaning loudly as every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire. “Fuck, I’ve missed you baby, please, want you to fill me up when I say you can, need to feel you leaking back out of me for days Eddie.” His hands are all over your body, pulling, gripping, never wanting to let go. The both of you are breathing into each other’s mouths, crying out in pleasure and love.

It’s like nothing had ever happened, you wanted this for life, and you know at this moment he wants it too. He’s barely holding himself together as you bounce on his lap like some sort of angelic nymph. He can’t decide whether he wants to sing filthy praises or spill his heart out about how much he loves you as his cock rubs against that spot in you that sends both of you into a frenzy. “That’s it, fuck Eddie please, oh my god, cum now baby, fill me up, give me all of your love and let me feel it.”

‘Bad idea!’ Your mind was screaming, but your heart and body didn’t care, all the nasty thoughts of how much you hated what he did to you were slowly being stripped away from you. Eddie doesn’t know a lot, but right now he knows he is never letting go of you again. He stops holding back as you tense down around him again, leaning your forehead against his as he runs his hands down your back, gripping onto your ass. The neighbors must be getting a good show with how loud you both are.

You can feel him break beneath you, his body trembling as ‘I love you’ spills out of his lips over and over, your own orgasm washes over you quickly when Eddie bites down on your collar bone, sucking a bruise right into your soft skin. The both of you cling to each other as your highs slowly come down, you feel like you could nap forever with how spent your body is.

Another quiet moan slips past your lips as Eddie lifts you off of him slowly, you can feel his cum leaking out of you and down onto your thighs. “What a beautiful mess you are.” He whispers, leaning over to kiss you on your forehead as tears well up in your eyes. “Eddie?” You ask quietly, your throat hurts from how loud you’d been only moments ago. He doesn’t reply right away, instead he reaches for his Metallica shirt that’s on the floor, slowly pulling it down over your head and helping you put your arms through.

It smells like heaven, it smells like everything you’ve missed. “Yes baby?” He asks. “Please, don’t hurt me again. Don’t let me go.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek before it’s quickly being wiped away by his calloused fingers. “You’re never leaving my sight again, I was such an idiot when we were younger, but I want you, I want us forever.” He leans his forehead against yours as you both sit there in silence, maybe you could work again. Who knows?

The rest of the morning is softer, after you both had a moment to catch your breath Eddie had helped you into a bath, getting in behind you to rub your sore muscles as you laughed quietly while sharing things you’d missed out on since you’d last seen each other. This was easy, it was familiar, it was love. You couldn’t fight back smiling as you watched him standing at your oven, flipping a pancake over in a frying pan and almost dropping it onto the floor.

You knew opening the door for him was potentially opening your heart up to be broken again, but for Eddie you would risk everything, even your heart.

tag list 🏷️

@loserboysandlithium @gri959 @eddies-esposa @undeadmfs @perfectlymellowthing @multi-culti-girl @iamnotoverlyfondofwhatfollo-blog @catherinnn @ainelantv @quinnyficsy @ali-r3n @edsbug @hippiegoth97 @thepurplelovewitch @munson-mjstan @ironictechtonicplatonic @xplrnowornever @hellfiremunsonn @mmunson86 @cremeve @ohburrryoureabsolutelyridiculous @munsongirly @jamdoughnutmagician @raratasome @alivinggirl @honey-flustered @ho-for-joequinn-fics @eddiemunsonfuxks @melodymunson @usersallyskellington

[cuubism]

last year I saw this 1989 Dreamling art by @webonchin, became extremely obsessed with it, pondered and mulled over it for much time, and now ten whole months later I have a fic

--

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, 1989 Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Meeting, Musician Dream of the Endless, Stockbroker Hob Gadling, Love at First Sight, Getting Together, New York City, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Queer Themes, Disillusionment, Explicit Sexual Content, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Depression, tfw you meet someone who makes you want to change up your whole life Summary:

Despite Hob's success on Wall Street, life is starting to feel meaningless. Limitless sex, drugs, and money should be endlessly entertaining but instead he's bored, he feels empty, like something's missing.

Something, maybe, like the beautiful, tragic musician he meets at a party, who opens more than one new door in Hob's life--and reawakens the buried longing in his heart.

--

Hob lies on the couch of the crowded apartment he’s found himself in for the evening, head tipped back over the arm. Pounding music thumps distantly around him. Dim lights. Warm bodies moving in blurs. He ignores it all. Picks up his vodka soda from the coffee table and takes a swig. Half of it runs over the side of his mouth instead of into it.

He’s… bored. What’s wrong with him that he’s bored surrounded by as much drugs, sex, and general debauchery as he could possibly want?

But he is. All that climbing for so long and now… he doesn’t know where he is. Why he’s doing any of it. The climb, the growth, was fun for a while. Chasing hunger, chasing more, that was fun. But now he has all of it. Supposedly.

He sighs. Pours the rest of his drink inelegantly into his mouth. If he wants another one he’s going to have to get up. He doesn’t really feel like getting up. He feels like merging himself with the couch instead.

The party spins on around him, as it always does. Not everyone’s feeling as burnt out on sex, drugs, and debauchery as Hob is.

He could go track down some coke, he thinks hazily. Someone here’ll have some. Maybe it would kick his energy back up.

He just feels kind of tired at the thought.

It says something bad about the point he’s reached in life that even cocaine isn’t doing it for him anymore.

“This is very dull,” says a low voice, and a man slumps down beside him, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. He tilts his head back, looking up at Hob. “Do you think so?”

“Yeah,” Hob says, and then does a double take as he catches a proper look at the man.

Christ but he’s gorgeous. Nothing like the men Hob would normally see at a thing like this—nothing like Hob himself—with their fashionable suits, slick hair, slicker smiles. This man is lithe and sprawling, like a wild predator, stark black and white lines, spiky hair, dark makeup, studs flowing down his ears like raindrops. Clever eyes. Long fingers clutching a cocktail that he doesn’t seem particularly interested in.

Hob is instantly fucked.

“I was promised good drugs and better sex and I’m bored on both counts,” the man continues. He takes a sip of his drink, and grimaces.

“That why you’ve come over here?” Hob asks. “Because I looked equally bored?”

“Exactly.” He offers the drink to Hob. “You should try this.”

Hob takes it. It’s… very blue. “What the hell is this?”

“There was a girl working the bar… very drunk. She said she would make me her ‘special potion.’”

That sounds… questionable. Hob takes a sip, and chokes. “Christ.”

“I witnessed her pour in vodka, Prosecco, and tequila. Blue Curaçao—for color, of course. And maraschino cherries.” He plucks one out of the glass by the stem—there are about seven of them total—and eats it.

“What the fuck.” The stuff’s revolting. Hob takes another sip. “That’s alcohol poisoning in a glass.”

“It’s been one of the better parts of the night,” the man says.

Hob returns the glass, and the man tosses more of the drink back, his throat working. Hob’s just drunk enough to not attempt to stop staring like a creep. He wants to ask him if he wants to get out of here, or even just to steal away into one of the many spare bedrooms—it wouldn’t be out of place at a party like this, hell, Hob could drag him into his lap on the fucking couch, everyone’s far too drunk to care—but propositioning this creature for a mere hookup feels like wearing an Italian suit to mud wrestle. What a waste of a perfectly-made thing.

How did something like this wind up at this party?

“Who’d you come in with?” he asks, as the man plucks another cherry from the glass and delicately bites it off the stem.

“Someone who gave me a rather mediocre blowjob after a show,” he says. “I suppose I thought I would find better here, but I was mistaken.”

“Fifty-fifty shot on that, I’d say,” Hob says. Based on personal experience. Sometimes mediocre is good enough. Sometimes sex, regardless of quality, is good enough. For a while it has been. He’s not so sure anymore.

“I dislike betting,” says the man. Then stretches up a limp hand to shake Hob’s. “If we are to commiserate, perhaps names are in order. I am Morpheus.”

Morpheus. What kind of name. Though he had said at a show. A performer of some kind? “Hob,” says Hob, shaking his hand despite the awkward angle.

“Greetings,” says Morpheus solemnly. “You are the first man I’ve met tonight who has not tried to impress me with inanities. I am indebted to you.”

Hob tips his head back against the arm of the couch again with a sigh. “Too tired for bullshit. What’ve people been saying to you, then?”

“I have been taught much,” Morpheus says seriously. “Thrice I have been ‘educated’ on the great promise of ‘mortgage-backed securities.’ The reactions to my disinterest ranged from offense to outright concern for my sanity.”

“I think they were just trying to get in your pants,” Hob tells him.

Morpheus frowns. “The finance lecture was not helping their case. In fact, with each passing minute, I became more aggressively repelled.”

Hob laughs. “You’re on Wall Street, baby,” he says. It comes out kind of slurred. “Only thing more important than the size of a man’s dick is the size of his portfolio.”

Morpheus hums in consideration. “Neither of those has a direct correlation to talent.”

“Try telling them that,” Hob says.

Morpheus sits up straighter against the couch, leaning his head on his arm to study Hob. “I suppose I should ask about yours.”

“You’re too pretty for me to be tacky like that,” Hob says honestly. Maybe he’s a bit more drunk than he thought.

“Am I?” Morpheus seems pleased.

“So pretty.”

“Hmm.” Morpheus rests his cheek on the couch cushion. The tips of his hair brush Hob’s hip. His eyes are so liquid in this light. Hob wonders if he’s hallucinating his existence.

He reaches out, mesmerized, to touch Morpheus’s hair. Morpheus doesn’t stop him. He lets Hob pet him, eyes falling shut. His hair is tacky on the ends with hair spray, but soft underneath.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Hob says, and Morpheus hums. “All those self-important stockbrokers trying to impress you with their convoluted financial instruments… they just want to hide that it’s all really a scam.”

“Is it now?” says Morpheus. “I was under the assumption it was legal.”

“Something can be a scam and technically legal. Oh, it’s all very clever. But it’s just building money on top of money with nothing real to support it. Kick out the base of the tower and it’ll all go into free fall.” He makes a whistling, falling sound, and Morpheus smirks.

“And I suppose you are better than all this.”

Hob chuckles. “Oh, no. I’m a money-grubbing little vermin, too. Just letting you in on the game. How it’s not so serious.”

“Hmm. I am a musician,” says Morpheus. As Hob figured, then. “I’m afraid it’s as serious as death.”

“Hence the all-black ensemble and the makeup,” Hob says.

“Indeed.”

Hob wants to hear Morpheus play. Or sing, or whatever it is he does. He bets he’d be exquisite. Divine. Hob can imagine those lips pressed to a microphone. Or those long fingers on guitar strings.

“Do you want something more interesting than alcohol?” says Morpheus.

“Why, you still bored?”

“Less and less so.” He pulls from his pocket a small bag of pills and hands it to Hob.

“You brought your own drugs to a party where you were promised drugs?”

“Promises cannot be counted on,” says Morpheus seriously.

“What is it?” Hob asks, then decides he doesn’t care, and takes a pill, chasing it with the watery last drops of his drink, which is a terrible idea, but then, he’s full of them.

“Ketamine,” says Morpheus. Oh, great, Hob thinks. Morpheus takes it back from him and takes a pill himself. “It occasionally makes me feel less like I am going to hurl myself from the balcony.”

He doesn’t seem to be joking. “Good for something, then,” Hob says. “Why do you want to jump off the balcony?” He still has his hand in Morpheus’s hair. He honestly can’t believe he hasn’t propositioned him yet. That’s not like him. These parties are usually only good for quick, casual sex. He even thinks Morpheus would probably agree, and yet.

“The state of things,” says Morpheus. He has such a deep, solemn voice. Hob wants to touch his mouth, or throat maybe. Okay, this is already not going so well. “And the state of my heart.”

Hob pets his hair again. Morpheus leans into the touch. “Writing songs about yearning and angst and stuff isn’t fixing it?” He can well enough guess what Morpheus’s music is probably like.

“No,” says Morpheus. He seems to really think about it. “I think it is making things worse. Perhaps I will try manipulating the financial markets instead. Is that giving you existential fulfillment?”

“There’s only so much money you can make before it starts feeling stupid,” Hob says. Maybe he should just throw all his cash out the window and go live in the woods or something. Carve figurines out of fallen trees. Probably do more good for the world, not that that’s ever been a focus of his. “Maybe it was always stupid.”

“No solution has been found for us yet, then,” says Morpheus. “Would you care to go outside? I find that if you are high enough, the city lights look like stars.”

“You’re not going to jump off the balcony, are you?” Hob asks, suspicious.

“This is not the right locale for my dramatic end.”

Somehow, Hob actually believes him. Morpheus wouldn’t truly kill himself unless it could have the right effect.

Hob levers himself up from the couch. Oh Jesus, now the room is spinning. The pounding music is starting to feel louder, starting to thud through him. Feels good, though. Everything being bright and hazy.

He helps Morpheus to his feet. Leads him, hand in hand, out to the balcony. They lean against the stone wall, looking down at the street, dizzyingly far below, cars poking along like lines of luminescent ants, distant horns crying. Then up, out at the collision of skyscrapers.

Morpheus was right. The lights are spinning and twinkling, just like stars. It reminds Hob of the first time he’d come to New York, when he was looking for adventure, and to get a little rich—or a lot rich—and everything had seemed like it was glowing and buzzing and flying.

The air is clearer up here than down on street level, and Morpheus tips his head up, breathing it in. His throat is so long, his shoulders and collarbone so angular. He looks like he’s been starving. But the stud in his ear at least looks from afar like a real ruby. Intentional, then, to be skin and bones.

“I think I am tired,” he admits, still looking up at the sky. “Do you know that… all I had ever wanted was for someone to like my music. And now I have that and it has not fixed anything.”

Hob takes his arm and pulls him close. He’s feeling very touchy-feely now, which could be the drugs but could also just be Morpheus. He’s so pretty and he looks so sad, and his sadness is beautiful and all the more terrible for that.

“I could kiss it better,” he offers. It’s still not a real proposition. Hob’d just kiss his hand if that’s what he wanted. Or the sharp bone of his sternum under those hanging necklaces. Or kneel at his feet and kiss his thigh—

Christ. Hob’ll be lucky if he survives the night, at this rate.

Morpheus looks at him, eyebrow raised. But Hob must look serious about it, because he says, “Okay.”

So Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. And Morpheus smiles, a bright, truly happy smile, just for a moment.

“Do you wish to dance?” he says. “I do not usually, but I feel I may fall over if I move from this wall without something to hold onto.”

Yeah, the floor is kind of moving. And Hob will certainly not turn down having Morpheus in his arms. “You wanna dance to this shit?”

They’re playing some godawful thumping grating song over the speakers now, and Hob doesn’t think either of them is up to the kind of bouncing thrashing dance that would call for.

“I will sing something different in your ear,” Morpheus says.

So Hob draws him in, wraps his arms around his waist. Morpheus plasters himself to Hob’s body, mouth to the shell of Hob’s ear. He starts humming a low, melancholic song. Hob shivers at the brush of his voice.

They sway together with very little coordination. Eventually Morpheus starts singing, though Hob’s brain isn’t capable at the moment of taking in many of the lyrics. It’s something about longing, and losing things in a terrible fire. Hob presumes it’s one of his songs. Morpheus’s voice is gorgeous, low and hypnotic, and Hob closes his eyes as it rumbles straight through him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs eventually, filled with a sudden tragic pain about it. “Please don’t throw yourself off the balcony.”

Morpheus chuckles. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Never,” Hob says vehemently, and clutches his warm body close. He might cry about it. Fucking drugs. “We should go get food. You’re so fucking bony I think might you die of an overdose if we don’t sop it up. You had that wretched drink, too. Christ.”

“You are worried for me?” says Morpheus, sounding touched.

“Incredibly. Come on.” Hob finally pulls away from him, with chagrin, and takes his hand. “This party’s shit. I’ll take you to get pizza.”

“Pizza,” Morpheus repeats, with a tiny smile. It’s gorgeous on his face. “Very well.”

--

One dollar pizza is one of New York’s greatest inventions, in Hob’s opinion. They find some hole-in-the-wall place barely a block from the apartment building, and stand outside the door, eating incredibly greasy pizza off of paper plates, and it’s fucking heaven. It might be the best pizza Hob’s ever had in his life—granted he’s still very high.

Morpheus is scarfing his down like all pizza on earth is about to be chucked into space. Poor bony thing. Hob just wants to feed him up until he stops looking like a skeletal waif that’s about to drop dead at a cold breeze.

And wants to fuck him, too. Yeah, that’s still there, even with Morpheus licking grease off his fingertips. It’s actually getting worse because of that.

“Told you,” Hob says. “Needed some bread to soak up the fifteen shots in that drink.”

“I think I may throw up,” Morpheus says, with the careful articulation of someone who very well might. “But I am enjoying it nonetheless.”

“Let me know and I’ll find you a bin,” Hob says. He’s had worse nights than puking on the street corner.

“Now I owe you sexual favors in return for this generous meal,” says Morpheus, folding the empty paper plate with surprising precision, considering his enduring level of intoxication, and sliding it into a nearby trash bin.

It says something about Hob’s own level of intoxication that he barely responds to this statement. “Oh, yeah, the whole four dollars of it. What does that get me?”

Morpheus scrunches his nose in thought. “Two kisses,” he decides.

“We’ll save it for after you’ve decided if you’re going to throw up.”

Morpheus giggles. He’s so cute.

Hob tosses his own plate, and takes Morpheus by the arm. “Come on. You can come back with me. I don’t live that far.”

“Ah, now the proposition,” says Morpheus, but doesn’t sound unhappy about it.

“The ‘make sure my new friend doesn’t get hit by a cab effort’, more like, but sure.” He feels kind of responsible for Morpheus now. If Morpheus actually threw himself off a balcony Hob would never forgive himself.

“Friend,” repeats Morpheus, sounding pleased.

“See, isn’t this better?” Hob says.

“Better?”

“You got to eat pizza and didn’t even puke yet, isn’t that better than killing yourself?”

Morpheus huffs. “Quite a dichotomy. If you recall you too stated that you felt your efforts becoming meaningless.”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna jump out a window about it.”

“Fortitude,” Morpheus says, and it sounds mocking but Hob doesn’t really mind. Maybe it is fortitude, he doesn’t know. Maybe to Morpheus fortitude is gullibility, continuing to play the game when it’s long lost its spark and its reward. Hob likes the game, though.

“What will you do about it, then?” Morpheus asks.

“Dunno.” It’s the first time Hob’s really thought about it. Up until now, it’s been about chasing. Always wanting more. But now— now he’s basically at the top. Where he wanted to be. And... there’s really nothing there at all. “Leave New York, maybe.”

The words surprise him, even as he says them. Midtown is so bright, even at four a.m. It’s something Hob once loved about the area. About the city. But now he’s staring into Morpheus’s darkness. Into the ink stain of his hair against the glowing storefront lights, the sway of his body, graceful even while swimming in dissociation. And everything feels different.

“To go where?” says Morpheus.

“Back to London, maybe.” He has enough money to go anywhere. And yet, it’s hard to feel a particular point to anywhere. Where’d his sense of adventure go? His ambition? Somewhere it all slipped, in the glut of the present.

“I grew up in London,” Morpheus says. “It is too personal there, now.”

So he’s chasing something too. Or running away.

“Tokyo, then,” Hob says, as if Morpheus coming with him is a key part of the decision. “Is’at the furthest city from New York? Gotta be close.”

“It’s Perth,” says Morpheus.

“You’ve looked it up?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. “And from London: Wellington.”

“It’s settled, then,” says Hob.

“I am coming with you?” says Morpheus.

“Course.” Hob’s not going across the world by himself. Not anymore. He bumps his shoulder with Morpheus’s, squeezes his arm where they’re leaning together. “You’re coming with me.”

“We should go further, then,” says Morpheus.

“Antarctica?”

“Mars.”

Hob finds himself giggling, mirth rising in him like champagne bubbles. Morpheus giggles, too. It’s truly a ridiculous sound in his deep voice.

“They don’t have cool jackets on Mars,” Hob says, poking at Morpheus’s studded blazer.

“Ah.” Morpheus frowns. “Maybe not, then.”

That only makes Hob laugh louder, leaning on Morpheus’s arm, and Morpheus sighs, irritated to be made fun of, but doesn’t push him away.

“Come on, I’m here,” Hob says, steering Morpheus into his apartment building as it comes up. They make their way across the lobby and to the elevator bank, only a little unsteady, and then slump against the wall once the elevator doors close.

“I think I am very sleepy,” Morpheus says, tipping his head back against the mirrored wall as they go up, up, up the insanely tall skyscraper Hob’s for some reason chosen to live in.

“You think you are?”

Morpheus squints at the infinite tunnel being created by the opposing mirrors on the walls. It’s dizzying, more so now, when they aren’t exactly sober. He shudders and closes his eyes. “I would have to be connected to my physical form to know for sure.”

Yeah, Hob’s feeling that too. The walls are kind of tipping in at him, which is particularly uncomfortable when they’re mirrored. “I’ll put you to bed, sweetie.” He still really, really wants to bed him, more specifically, but he might also be about to fall over. He’ll rue the missed opportunity in the morning, but it can’t be helped.

“Sweetie,” Morpheus echoes, with vague distaste, and tips his head against Hob’s shoulder.

The doors slide open, and they stumble out into the hall. Hob somehow manages to get his keys in the door and get them inside without dropping Morpheus, who’s now using him to support almost his entire weight, and then gets them into the bedroom.

What follows is a dreamlike whirlwind of undressing, where the floor keeps tipping under him, where he tries to hold Morpheus up as he slips out of his boots and his bloody complicated jacket, his skintight jeans and even tighter shirt, helps take each ring off his slim fingers to leave carefully on the nightstand, and the pendants too, and gives him a t-shirt to sleep in, and Morpheus says, “Wait— I must—” and flees to Hob’s adjoining bathroom to strip off his makeup with some makeup wipes scavenged from Hob’s cabinet, undoubtedly left behind by a prior hookup. The silly thing talks about killing himself but still puts effort into skincare. Hob just shakes his head, then regrets it as it makes the room spin.

He strips down to boxers and undershirt and climbs into bed, because he is actually about to fall over, and soon enough Morpheus stumbles back out and collapses into the sheets beside him. For a moment they just gaze at each other in the dark. Hob means to do something, to kiss him, maybe, claim one of the ones that was promised. But exhaustion claims him first. 

[enmi-land]

ʬʬʬ 𝓨OUTUBE.COM ▹ NOW PLAYiNG . . .

ⓘ MiLA AND HER FAVOURiTE OPPA . . .

(˶ˆᗜˆ˵) FANMADE ViDEO. #2O24. ꗃ PREViEW A compilation of Mila being babygirl for Jay.

CLIP 1, INTERVIEW

for context: mila and kiara were asked who they thought the most manly member is in the group

“Uhhh, I don’t know about that.” Kiara laughs awkwardly at the idea. “I’m older than almost all of them, and I grew up with Heeseung since we were kids, so it’s hard to say. I don’t really… you know?”

“Ah, fair enough. They’re kind of like younger brothers, right? That would be awkward.” The interview nods in understanding when Kiara confirms. “In that case, what about Mila? Maybe not for the younger members, but you must have thought about your oppas, right?”

“Well…” Mila laughs shyly as her members all turn to face her. “They all have their charms. But when I think of the word ‘masculine,’ the first person I think of is none other than my Jay-oppa.”

The interviewer is surprised when Engenes watching the interview live start to scream at the top of their lungs. “Oooooh! I see—Jay seems very happy about this.”

The focus is now on Jay, who is smiling widely beside Mila while she hides her face behind her hand in embarrassment.

me and the ghost in my room: [*Theo slapping Keeho on the shoulder*]

“Now I’m curious. What makes you pick Jay, of all the members?”

“Well,” Mila says shyly, avoiding Jay’s gaze as he stares softly at her. “Ever since we met, he’s taken very good care of me—not that the other members don’t, but sometimes we have those times where we tease each other and all of that stuff. You know?”

The interviewer nods. “You like to play around, yes? Close friends who tease each other.”

Mila nods strongly. “Exactly like that! Jay-oppa isn’t like that, though. He’s a real gentleman. He’s always very gentle, and soft-spoken, and patient. He’s like the type of person people want their daughters to marry...”

And then Mila proceeds to hide her face behind Jay as Engenes go wild over their interaction. All the while, Jay can’t help the absolutely whipped look on his face as he smiles like an idiot.

[*Close up of Jay*] [“Boy who got you smiling like that?”]

CLIP 2, COMPILATION

to give you an idea of mila’s favouritism, let’s see the difference between mila with each of the 02z mila with jakehoon:

K-NEXT DOOR

“I was watching some of your clips, and I noticed something interesting,” Jonathan says. “Mila, you’re a 03-liner, right?”

Mila blinks. “Yes, that’s right.”

Jonathan turns to Jake. “Jake, you’re a 02-liner.”

Jake nods.

“In that case… Mila—why don’t you call Jake ‘oppa’?”

Mila bursts out laughing as if she’s just heard the funniest thing in her life, before she composes herself and turns to Jonathan. “Well, for one, we’re both foreigners and speak English when we’re alone. I got used to calling him by name, so it feels weird to call him oppa. And for another, it feels weird to call him my oppa when he doesn’t act like one.”

Jake looks at Mila in absolute shock as Jonathan’s jaw drops. Heeseung and Jungwon giggle among themselves, and Jake nods solemnly at the camera with his lips pressed into a thin line.

[*Close up of Jake with raining overlay*] [“Gwenchana, gwenchana, daeng daeng daeng daeng daeng.”]

WEVERSE LIVE

“The other day, I realised that I’m only three months younger than Sunghoonie-oppa,” Mila says all of a sudden. “Isn’t that so weird? I might as well be his friend, but he’s still considered my elder because he’s born in 2002. It’s so unfair…”

Mila pouts as she reads comments. “‘Just don’t call him ‘oppa’?” Mila laughs. “Right. I should just call him ‘Sunghoon-ssi’ from now on, haha. Or ‘Sunghoon-hyung.’ Can you imagine his expression? It would be funny…”

Mila bursts out laughing as she reads a comment.

“‘Just call him Sunghoon’? Yahhh, you’re trying to get me in trouble.” Mila looks thoughtful for a second after she says this. “But then again, I don’t really care if it’s Sunghoonie-oppa. He can just be mad at me, for all I care.”

She leans towards the camera with a cheeky smile.

“Should I do it, everyone?”

spoiler alert: she does it [*Compilation of Mila saying ‘Sunghoon-ssi’*]

[*Close up of Sunghoon’s reactions*] [“I never found you funny, I never found you entertaining—”]

[*Spongebob Narration* ‘Meanwhile’*] mila with jay:

EN-LOG

Mila is in the middle of eating at a restaurant when she receives a call. She looks at her phone to see who it is, and lights up when she sees the contact. She gasps excitedly. “Everyone, it's Jay-oppa!”

She shows her phone to the screen to see the contact which she saved him under: ‘the bestest oppa 😇’

(This is before they even date, mind you.)

[*Close up of Mila’s phone*] “THE BESTEST OPPA” 🤭✨

[*Cardi B squinting* “That’s suspicious, that’s weird.”]

She picks up the call and holds it to hear ear. In a cutesy voice that is out of character for Mila, she leans back in her chair and smiles, completely forgoing her food. “Hello?”

“What are you doing?” Jay asks.

“I’m just having lunch now.” Mila reaches up to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. “How about Oppa?”

mila whenever jay: [*Nayeon tucking her hair behind her ear*]

Jay hums. “That’s good. I came across a new chocolate store just now. I’m going to take a look now. Do you want me to buy you anything?”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa is too good to me ❤️’]

And from there, the two have a sweet phone call, with Mila looking like a giddy teenage girl as she talks.

“Mmm, okay,” Mila says as they reach the end of their call, but not without a pout. “I’ll let you go, then.”

“Get back home safely, okay? Call if you need anything.” Jay’s voice is soft, and Mila is smiling as she assures him that she will do as he says. “You hang up first.”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa, why are you so sweet to me? I’ll cry :(’]

Mila giggles. “Okay, okay. Bye bye~” She still smiles at her phone, even after she hangs up. She then turns to the camera and smiles. “Everyone, isn't my Jay-oppa the sweetest?”

“MY JAY-OPPA” 😫

jakehoon watching this: [“I just wanna be appreciated! I wanna be appreciated!”]

CLIP 3, WEVERSE LIVE

“‘Jay, will you marry me’?!”

[*Boom*]

Mila is flabbergasted after she reads out the comment, and looks up at the camera with a look of absolute incredulous indignation. Jay simply laughs at her expression. “Why, why? What’s with your expression?”

“No!” Mila says with a huff. “You can’t marry him!”

Jay looks amused as Mila glares at the camera, trying to intimidate. “Shouldn’t I have a say?”

“You can’t.” Mila latches onto his arm, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “There’s only one Jay-oppa in the world, everyone else can go find their own.”

[“Hold up! Wait a minute! Something’s not right!”][*Mirage effect*]

mila when engenes ask to marry ni-ki [*Mila saying, “Haha. Good luck with that. He’s a lot to handle.”*]

mila now: [*Mirage effect*]

“But you have to share with Engenes,” Jay says amusedly.

Mila turns to him with a pout and a signature pair of babydoll eyes that she always seems to wear around him—and which he’ll always fold to. “Tell them to ask someone else.”

🤨 [*Dwayne Johnson raising an eyebrow*]

Jay simply chuckles and turns to the camera. “Sorry, I can’t get married to you because our Mila doesn’t approve. You have to ask someone else to be your husband.” He looks back down at Mila. “Happy?”

Mila nods. She then proceeds to continue clinging onto his arm for the rest of the love, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she looks at her with a gaze that could melt butter.

🦋🦋🦋

CLIP 4, COMPILATION

This is basically just Mila getting shy and avoiding Jay’s gaze whenever she makes eye contact with him. It’s like she physically can’t handle looking into his eyes or she’ll be sucked into a vacuum.

mila when jay looks at her: [“Oh no, I hope I don’t fall.”]

CLIP 5, COMPILATION

proof that mila is jay’s baby part 298192: she always runs to jay when she needs something

EN-TER KEY

Mila realises she made a mistake during monitoring and looks at the camera. “I messed up…”

She doesn’t seem bothered by it because she laughs. But as a few seconds pass, she seems visibly worried as she avoids eye contact with the camera and looks away more than once, as if to use her face.

(This was during a period of time not longer after debut, where she was receiving immense hate for supposedly debuted without any talent.) 

But then she seems to crack and turns her back to the camera, before making a beeline in a certain direction. As the cameraman follows her, they end up finding Jay, who is seated on a couch in the dressing room.

He immediately stands up upon seeing Mila, and worriedly asks her what’s wrong. He opens his arms to her and she immediately walks into his embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.

He brings a hand to her head and whispers something in her ear which the cameras don’t catch. But its clear that he’s doing his best to cocker her and shield her from the camera’s view.

EN-DIARIES

Mila is tasked with the mission of giving a member a makeover, which she complains will be entirely impossible to do for any of them. But then she decides to approach Jay, and follows him around the place, asking him (and only him) for help.

“Oppa, can you help me just this once?” Mila grabs onto his sleeve and tugs it to her. “Please?”

Jay pretends to ignore her, instead busying himself with looking inside the fridge. But instead of giving up and asking one of the other members, she persists, and does everything from clinging, whining, to even pretending to be upset.

“I’ve been rejected,” she mopes in the living room, purposely speaking loud enough for Jay to hear her. “No one loves me anymore.”

At this, Jay seems ro reach the end of his straw, and laughs to himself as he makes his way over to the sulking Mila on the couch. To keep the long story short, Mila eventually sits him down and happily puts a ribbon in his hair, while commenting how cute he looks.

SO SO FUN

Mila is in the middle of cooking something in the kitchen when she notices that something is a bit off. She gasps when she realises she forgot to add an ingredient, and starts to panic that she might have ruined the whole dish.

The first thing she does is take off to find Jay. “Oppa, are you busy?”

Jay looks at her with his full attention. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Mila looks slightly embarrassed and stands closer to Jay, with a hand slightly covering her mouth. He leans down closer as she basically whispers, “I made a mistake with the food. I think I messed it up…”

Jay, to his credit, seems unpaused. “Show me. We’ll see if we can fix it.”

Mila points out the food when she gets for the kitchen, looking disappointed as she walks Jay through every step she took. “Sorry,” she says with a frown as she finishes. “I’m so clumsy…”

“No, no, don’t apologise,” Jay reassures softly. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and places a comforting hand on her head. “We can still fix it. Come here, I’ll show you what to do if it happens again.”

MISCELLANEOUS

And again, Mila can be seen asking for his help or his comfort when she needs something, which he responds to like a hero to the rescue at every occasion. It’s really no suspense that he’s her favourite oppa. (Or so, JayMi shippers like to claim—just don’t let the MiSeung fans know.)

© ENMI-LAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST.

taglist⠀( OPEN ! ) ⦂ @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs @nee-issaire @jwnstars @tommina @queenriki7 @onlyuyu

[paraphwrites]

i think it's interesting that in episode 3 of dbda when all the ghosts are coming in to get the boys on there case, there's a man who comes in like "hey this painting keeps getting younger and younger while i grow older and older"

like. did we collectively forget that that's the inverse of the plot of dorian gray. dorian commits a faustian deal (sells his soul) for immortal beauty. there's a painting of him that ages instead. for those uninitiated, dorian is a homosexual. he's a gay. the whole book is gay. it was used in oscar wilde's (the author's) sodomy trial, that's how gay it is

look dbda is an incredibly well made show. and there are so many details and i KNOW i'm not picking up on them all, but many of the details i have noticed are all queer-coding in nature.

"orpheus and eyrudice" look obviously charles is comparing them to a romantic story and it's like oooh romance but far beyond that, o&e is a greek myth. greek myths & allusion to them have historically been used by authors -including oscar wilde- to intentionally queer-code characters at a time when they could not write about it plainly

the painting thing i mentioned before? guys oscar wilde was gay as shit. man fuckin' went to jail for it. like it's NOT a coincidence that they're referencing queer media here!!

(and, i would like to note, that i think the fact that (a) edwin immediately knew how to handle the situation, and (b) the man was aging instead of the painting, that symbolizes something. perhaps edwin's lack of vices, seeing as he has not yet given into hedonism and/or homosexuality. perhaps the fact that this story will not end as dorian's did. perhaps that by not giving into homosexual desires, it also wears on the soul. or perhaps it demonstrates how they didn't wanna get copyrighted.)

look i am not SAYING that payneland is cannon or that it is the only valid interpretation. all interpretations are valid. but i AM saying that there is repeated intentional queer coding. they're busting back the 1800s use of subtext and i think that's banger actually

[crazylittlejester]

What are your hair headcanons for the chain? I personally think Wild, Wars and Legend have the longest hair but thats just because I think Legend's hat is full of hair he just pretends isnt there so he doesnt havd to brush it(warriors is going to kill him when he realizes)

Oooooh nice!!

I think Wild’s is definitely the longest, no contest. And I don’t think it’s THICK, it’s just dense. Like, the individual strands are rather fine, and his hair is soft and silky but he’s got a LOT of it. It’s definitely waist length, and has a slight natural wave to it, and he’s a natural dirty blonde. He’s experimented with temporary dyes because he got bored though. Also he does a lot with his hair and he takes really good care of it! It’s not HIS fault he wiped out and fell in a bush and got a bunch of sticks in it 😔

Second longest for me is Time, whose hair to me goes about two inches past his collar bone. He’s a warmer toned blond, and the color is completely natural, he doesn’t do much to his hair. I hc he has bad sensory issues and his hair can sometimes really bother his neck, but if he cut it short he’d never make it through growing it out again so when it bothers him he ties it up off his neck. Any hairstyles he does don’t have a WHOLE lot of thought put into them, but Malon and Wars have done pretty things with his hair before and he enjoyed it. He just can’t do that for himself. I also hc his hair is very thick and naturally wavy and Wars is constantly one toe over the line crossing into GENUINE jealously because Time does NOTHING and his hair just looks incredible and it hurts Wars to know that if he out just a Little effort into it it would look even better

Legend’s is about the same length as Time’s but most of it is always tied up and/or shoved into his hat. He’s naturally strawberry blond, and his hair is thick but pretty straight. It would hold a curl if he did curl it though, and he’s (of course) dyed it a few times in his life

We all know Four’s fuckass /pos bob. What an absolute legend I love his haircut. I hc his hair is very thin and fine, but it has that really pretty silky quality to it? It’s the type of stick straight hair that won’t curl even if you spray it to death and say a prayer. Its a cooler toned blond and it’s a lighter color than any of the other naturally blond Links

Hyrule to me has very dark 3c hair and if he pulls on it to straighten it out then he for sure beats Time for second place, but where his hair actually like falls to is right at his shoulders. Like it just rests at his shoulders. He had to learn to take care of it before he let it get that long because it was just kinda hard for a 10 yo kid to care for when he was so on his own, but he’s got the hang of it now and he’s really happy with how it looks. He doesn’t often do too much with it in terms of styling but sometimes he’ll braid it because it is kinda annoying to have to pick sticks out of it when he and Wild take a tumble and both walk back to camp FULL of sticks and then Warriors has to help the both of them

Sky’s hair to me has natural loose curls and is a fairly dark, slightly red toned brown. It’s very thick and just brushes his shoulders. It’s long enough that he can tie it back if he wants to, but he usually doesn’t because its so thick his arms will get sore from spending so much time trying to tie it back in a way that doesn’t look absolutely atrocious because theres just so MUCH of it and its hard to handle

Warriors’s is similar to Sky’s in length, and it’s naturally very thick, dark and curly, but he straightens and bleaches it to death. His roots are a very dark brown, but he does his best to cover that up. He also tries very hard to keep his hair as nice as possible and do what he can to prevent further damage. It’s curlier than Sky’s is naturally, but when it starts to curl up again it because of humidity or because he didn’t straighten it very successfully it looks a bit similar

Wind is a different styling technique away from a bowl cut. His hair is curly as fuck, not QUITE as curly as Hyrule’s is but definitely close, and his hair is naturally brown but has been highlighted and appears very blond. His roots are clearly brown, but not as dark as Warriors’s. His hair is very thick and hard to manage and Wars taught him how to care for it properly so after the journey when he’s more confident in how it looks, he lets it grow out past his shoulders. I hc Wars helped him LOVE his hair

Twilight is out here fighting demons but the demons are him. His hair is thick as hell AND dense as fuck, and it’s a bit wavy. It doesn’t listen to him, ever. He can’t so much as PART it differently because it’s gonna do what it’s gonna do. His hair was naturally a reddish brown, not a super dark color but definitely brown, but since the transformation he has a constantly dark roots no matter HOW much his hair seems to grow out, and his hair still has a red tone to it but he thinks it looks darker. It also takes him forever to wash his scalp because his hair refuses to let the water in anywhere and he gets a bit annoyed. Length wise you CAN see the back of his neck a bit, and it was definitely cut like, around his head in the sense that it’s not just layered with the intention of it hanging down long. the hair coming from the top of his head which is the longest part of his haircut are like 6 inches long MAX

[barrenclan]

HI i just finished reading the comic and it's so so incredible!!!! your art is gorgeous and your work with the story is completely unmatched <3

I've been listening to the song Butcher Vanity by Vane Lily a lot and it strikes me as a Deepdark song!

Thank you! I'm so glad you like the comic. I agree, Deepdark's desire to kill and eat and never stop consuming is what defines him. I'll use the chance to share a PMV by my pal Katti, the creator of The Exiled comic who made a really excellent PMV with the song :)

I think someone else had the same idea as well, it looks like it's already been suggested before :) but yes it does fit very well! Any song about a land/town/etc that's been cursed and rotten forever works great.

Tell me now of the very soul that look alike, look alike Do you know the stranglehold covering their eyes? If I call on every soul in the land, on the moon Tell me if I'll ever know a blessing in disguise

The curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before

I never knew this song was from the Justice League movie?? Wow, that's wild. It is a good song for PATFW as a whole.

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed Everybody knows the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That's how it goes Everybody knows

I have! In fact, the song "Hellfire" is the character theme song for Cootstorm. I made a drawing of it awhile ago.

Did you know that in fact someone made an animated video with Rainhaze to this very song? It's really cool, you should check it out!

Yeah, it's pretty Rainhaze! Especially in his post-Asphodelpaw murder manic phase.

If you knew what I knew, if you saw what I see You’d look through illusions, hallucinations, and lucid dream And I know that meaning can be such a pretty thing to keep But I got facts and I’m not afraid to use ‘em, take the good with the bad, take off the back you make a new front Some days I'm glad that I am a madman and I’d rather be that than An amicable animal, mild-mannered cannibal

Aww wait :(

Looks like the cat did a number on you Vienna, oh He took a brick off the side of the stoop Poor vienna It'll be over soon Your mamas waiting for ya But you're not coming home

Your mamas been so worried Cause you never came home Beneath the ground you're buried In memoriam

Yes I think it could be! Even more, I think it's exemplary of Deepdark's general charisma and desire to recruit people into Defiance, reminiscent of his speech from Issue 28.

You and me should go outside And beat 'em, beat 'em, beat 'em, beat 'em, beat 'em All pathetic flag waving ignorant geeks And we'll eat 'em, eat 'em, eat 'em, eat 'em, eat 'em

Come join the cause, come join the cause Who wants to come with me and come join the cause? Hide in the sky, hide in the sky Who wants to come with me and hide in the sky?

Oh, my mom loves this album, I grew up listening to it. This does remind me a bit of them, how sweet and sad.

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes Let them know you realize that life goes fast It's hard to make the good things last You realize the sun doesn't go down It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do you realize That you have the most beautiful face? Do you realize?

What a unique take on their relationship! I do like the theme of Ranger guiding Rainhaze's hand, and the parent-child energy is very interesting for them. Interesting take on Mordred, for that matter.

Guileless Son, I'll shape your belief And you'll always know that your father's a thief And you won't understand the cause of your grief But you'll always follow the voices beneath

Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty only to me

[hwnglx]

disclaimer; the way this was worded can make it confusing, but these are behaviors or traits in other people the members could potentially feel turned on, and turned off by. enjoy 💌

bts' turn on's and turn off's

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

jin

turn on's

fair-minded and balanced

pleasant, gentle, peaceful and patient -> doesn't get angry or riled up easily

understanding of people's needs and okay with adjusting themselves accordingly

gives him the space and alone-time he needs

introspective, wise and intelligent (asks and ponders on the deeper questions in life)

reflects back on their actions and behavior -> is self aware enough to admit when they messed up

has valuable advice to give (it's kind of a pattern, he's definitely drawn to attractive brains and mindsets)

is open-minded and ready for new experiences -> not closed off and hesistant or scared of everything

would like to go on fun trips and activities with him

okay with more of a slow-burn but consistent and stable relationship -> doesn't rush to proceed quickly (like someone who's alright with getting to know each other slowly, maybe even start as his best friend first)

turn off's

overly emotional and dramatic (he'd feel overwhelmed and eventually drained)

but also too cold and severely detached (someone who has no sympathy for the people around them)

acts cowardly and avoids facing the consequences of their own actions

uselessly mean and cruel with their words

too proud and self-centered -> puts themselves and their own needs above others

full of selfish greed and doesn't know how to appreciate and be grateful for what they already have

clings to him and gets too possessive or controlling

too focused on superficial values (like money, fame, reputation, material possessions, etc..)

never satisfied with themselves nor the people around them -> keeps nagging, complaining and just spreading unpleasant energy

feels attacked quickly, takes everything personally and gets defensive right away

suga

turn on's

has a strong and transformative effect on the people around them (powerful presence, lingers in your mind)

knows what it's like to struggle and has gained inner strength from the experience (i.e. he thinks it's impressive to hear stories about how someone overcame a seemingly hopeless situation and learned from it in hindsight)

therefore has a good understanding of life and a lot of wisdom (keeps intriguing him with their mindset, words, thoughts, etc.)

deep and complex personalities

i keep hearing “dark”, i can see him liking when people are dressed in black, have darker hair, tattoos, etc.

doesn't insert themselves in unnecessary drama or conflicts and doesn't engage in childish gossip

has a good eye for detail and is quietly observant -> remembers the minor things about others (i.e. he'd love if his partner overheard him talking about a specific gift he wants and secretly bought it for him)

generous and giving to their loved ones (gifts really are the way to his heart)

very clever, quick-witted -> challenges him mentally

turn off's

doesn't have their priorities straight

delusional and overly unrealistic

too childish and emotionally immature

stuck in the past -> holds endless grudges and keeps bringing up old incidents

too naive and optimistic all the time -> doesn't wanna acknowledge reality for what it is, actively avoids negativity and runs away from their problems

takes unnecessary risks, is too wild and untamed (like a loose cannon type of free spirit he can't keep track of)

too simple-minded -> doesn't comprehend or care about the deeper things in life

he's likely to just not vibe with overly protected and overly privileged people who've never had to go through any hardship in their life

cares too much about being liked by everyone and gets obsessed over what people think

doesn't know how to assert themselves and actively avoids confrontation

j-hope

turn on's

very talented or skilled at something (especially in an artistic field)

humble, grounded and always eager to expand their knowledge and improve their craft

self-aware -> can recognize and admit to their mistakes

but doesn't linger and dwell on them too much -> knows how to grow and learn from their failures

chooses their battles wisely -> doesn't engage in unnecessary conflict and arguments (peacemakers who don't like fighting)

soft- and kindhearted (someone with pure intentions)

has a strong sense of responsibility and duty

carries a lot of inner strength and resilience

knows how to take care of themselves and decorate their own garden -> doesn't always need to rely on people to do the hard work for them

doesn't beat around the bush too much and expresses themselves in a clear manner

tbh, i keep getting that he's just very into self-development. he feels drawn to people who are always set on becoming the best version of themselves and would love to be on their side for that journey

turn off's

overly selfish and greedy for material things -> doesn't enjoy sharing or taking other people's needs into consideration (like if someone turned out to be hoarding money secretly he'd get the ick majorly)

gets overly controlling or possessive of him

behaves like a stubborn know-it-all and refuses to listen to his side of the story

too secretive and closed off from him -> keeps confusing him and sending mixed signals

puts on too much of a mysterious and hard-to-get act

too negative, pessimistic and dark

doesn't tell him about their thoughts or feelings leaving him wondering and worrying

deceptive (like someone who tries to cover up their mistakes and isn't upfront and genuine in the things they do, only does it for the show)

refuses to change, even if deep down they know they would need to (i.e. because it negatively impacts their connection)

bottom of deck was the two of cups. i kept getting this very forgiving and accepting energy from him, where it doesn't seem like he has these extremely specific expectations. he's okay with his partner not being perfect, because as long as he genuinely loves them, he's willing to work on their downfalls together. very sweet energy. (probably my favorite out of bts)

namjoon

turn on's

has a lot discipline, drive and willpower

knows how to keep their focus on their goals and doesn't allow anyone to stand in their way -> very determined and ambitious

courageous and willing to take on tasks others avoid (like the person who steps up first to do the hard work no one else wants to do)

capable of enduring and withstanding life's trials in a strong manner

likes to be a source of support and guidance for the people around them

uses their resources or platform for a higher good (i.e. someone who donates money to the less fortunate or helps out the homeless, likes doing volunteer work)

knows how to be grateful, as well as appreciate and count their blessings

capable of creating deep, meaningful and emotionally intimate connections to people

loves deeply and intensely

possessive and protective over what belongs to them (can see this applying to not only material goods, but also the people they're close to -> someone who looks after their territory)

turn off's

overly delusional and unrealistic

has their head in the clouds and rose-colored glasses on all the time

doesn't know what they want in life and struggles to make clear decisions -> keeps leading people on

refuses to admit their faults and doesn't learn from their mistakes -> keeps themselves stuck and self-sabotages

too lazy to work for their own success and sucks up to people in the spotlight in order to benefit from them (don't hate me but i can see him feeling turned off by privileged chaebols or nepo babys who didn't really work for their own success)

has no control over their emotions or rage -> explodes or lashes out on people

lets their frustration out on the people around them

unreliable and doesn't stick to their words -> says one thing but ends up doing another

acts irresponsibly and recklessly

doesn't know how to take life seriously and cracks jokes at inappropriate times

tactless and ill-mannered (like he'd feel the ick if someone laughed inappropriately during the discussion of a serious matter)

he had so much to say for the turn off's. he definitely gives me this vibe of having very high standards. i can sense this balance of tough love and thoughtful empathy in him, which definitely makes him an impressive and commendable leader. it's kinda like he was made for the role, really.

jimin

turn on's

intelligent, articulate and eloquent speakers -> always finds the right thing to say in the right moment

capable of being logical and objective when the situation calls for it

level-headed and swift at making decisions (he's someone who can struggle with this a lot, which is why he can feel drawn to a person who's more decisive and clear in their thought-process than him)

isn't afraid to argue and knows how to confidently hold their ground in a strong but diplomatic manner, without crossing lines

however self-aware enough to know when it's time to step back and admit they're wrong

loyal, committed and dedicated to everything they do

seeks peace and quietness (he enjoys intimate and relaxing alone-time with the person on his side, and wants them to feel like a break from all the stress)

has an inspiring, uplifting and encouraging effect on the people around them

capable of understanding his emotional needs and attuning their behavior, actions and words to them (he can need a little bit of sugarcoating sometimes)

has a profound capacity of connecting to people on a deep and emotional level

turn off's

acts like they're entitled to have a say in his life and allows themselves to command him around

too traditional, conservative and narrow-minded -> judgemental towards people different to them

childish and emotionally immature (example: throws a fit and acts like an offended child once told about their wrongdoing without acknowledging their mistakes. most members seem to not like that in a person)

lack of integrity and weak moral compass

doesn't care about adjusting their actions to the situation and struggles understanding their need to do so

tactless and impolite (especially verbally)

lacks empathy and compassion for their loved ones -> too emotionally detached and cold in relationships

gets a kick out of hurting and offending others

taehyung

turn on's

has an intriguing and mysterious aura to them -> awakens his curiosity and makes him want to get to know them closer

is more closed off and private about their life matters (a person who just gives off this impression that no one actually knows them)

can give off a cold aura but is much more passionate and enthusiastic about their personal endeavors than what meets the eye (also doesn't feel the need to rub their success or achievements into people's faces)

has depth and complexity to their personality -> knows how to talk about deeper and serious subjects in life

but can also have fun, be playful and whimsical at times

he loves duality

someone who's usually mature, grounded and disciplined but also carries this inner child-like excitement about life

trustworthy, dependable and responsible

dedicated and committed to him

capable of maintaining a good work-life balance

turn off's

too lazy and doesn't hold themselves to any sort of standards (like they don't care about improving themselves in any way out of comfort)

too deadbeat, boring, uptight and serious all the time

has an outdated and overly conservative attitude

stuck in their own beliefs and condemning towards views different to their own

not appreciative and very “meh” about the important people in their lives -> doesn't care to put in any effort into their relationships

too self-centered and only focused on their own desires

clouded and blinded by their emotions all the time -> lacks decisiveness

too emotionally needy and whiny

thinks they're superior him to him or entitled to tell him what to do -> acts controlling

jungkook

turn on's

he loooves a chase and having to work for their attention -> inaccessibility can intrigue and attract him (i.e. if a group of people showed interest in him, the one who doesn't would stand out and catch his attention more)

has strong values and convictions -> isn't afraid to uphold their principles and defend themselves or their loved ones when the situation calls for it

intelligent, eloquent and articulate speaker -> good with words (he likes beautiful and melodic voices too, would love to just sit and listen to his s/o talk for hours)

has clear objectives and goals in life -> knows exactly what they want and how to get it (will make it clear to him as well, isn't a simping yes-man who just adapts themselves to him all the time)

knows their worth and doesn't give in to people quickly

successful but humble about their achievements

loyal and committed to the people they love

stands behind their words and keeps their promises

polite and well-mannered

brings a sense of stability and comfort to the people around them (like a person who's this dependable and reliable pillar for their loved ones)

has a good balance of more “masculine” and “feminine” energy -> someone who can be dominant, powerful and assertive but also nurturing, loving and soft

he likes playful push and pull (like giving in for a kiss and stopping just timely enough to leave him wanting more)

turn off's

too competitive, egocentric and greedy -> doesn't know how to give in or grant others their rightful spotlight

ill-mannered, discourteous and tactless -> isn't capable of reading the room and acts impulsively without consideration for the people around them

impolite and offensive with the way they speak

constantly negative and pessimistic -> always finds something to complain about and ruins the mood

lets out their frustrations on the people around them

acts superior to others with nothing to back it up with (basically an inflated ego)

sucks up to him, puts on a fake act just to impress him (like a simp who just plays mr/ms perfect for him, he isn't easily fooled and can see through someone pretending to be something they're not)

too secretive and mysterious -> unsettles him, makes him question their motives (someone who keeps making him feel like they're hiding something and have an ulterior motive or hidden agenda)

doesn't commit to what they say -> leads him on, says they'll do one thing but end up doing another

i kinda struggled explaining this but i got the ace of wands plus the world. basically means a spark of passion, a new beginning, but putting an end to it before it could develop further -> he wants someone who's in it for the longterm and not just a one-time thing.

jk essentially just needs to feel the sincerity behind someone's intentions and actions. he doesn't trust people easily anymore and gets suspicious. he can easily feel turned off by people who are obviously just sucking up to him or making him feel like they want to be with him for the wrong reasons.

obviously, he wouldn't wanna be with a person who only sees him as someone they can benefit from. he's used to people simping for him (it's giving “been there done that, don't want that anymore”), so he can feel drawn to people who don't really care; since that'd mean they're more likely to overlook his status, fame, etc. and look at him as a person, rather than an idol, fantasy or an opportunity for their own good.

[innerfare]

Mihawk Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: a random collection of Mihawk relationship headcanons

Genre: fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

He never imagined himself in a relationship. He’d had plenty of one night stands and situationships (he's notorious for allowing sexual tension to fester and never doing anything about it), but an actual relationship had always been off the cards. Until, that is, he met you. He didn’t really think too deeply about it, just started pursuing you. On some level, he knew he was putting you in danger, but he couldn’t stay away. 

Was definitely a victim of love at first sight. He fell first, and he fell harder. 

He is very secretive about his relationship with you, at first only visiting you in the dead of night and leaving before day break, appearing on your balcony like some sort of vampire or succubus. Shanks is the only person who knows about you, and he intends to keep it that way. 

Always brings you something- a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, a piece of jewelry, a pastry he wants to share with you, a piece of lace, silk, or tulle he wants to see you in. Will also bring you books he thought you might like, souvenirs from far away lands, and even pieces of him to hold on to, such as his favorite dagger that now lives on your person (he spent an entire night teaching you how to use it and was ecstatic when you held it to his throat, definitely turned NSFW). Being in a relationship with him is basically like having tamed a wild animal that brings you dead mice he caught. TBH wouldn’t hesitate to bring you the severed head of an enemy if you so desired. 

Of course, he plays all of this off, either saying nothing or giving you a small lecture about how you needed that thing. “I happened to find a copy of that book you mentioned.” “I don’t suppose you have any use for this.” “I brought this vintage wine for myself but I suppose you can have some if you really want.” When he brings you flowers, he tells you it’s because your place is rather drab and if you won’t bother to liven it up, he’ll just have to do it for you (the man lives in a gloomy castle but shhh). When he brings you lingerie, he lays it on your bed without a word or says something along the lines of, “those panties you wore the last time were so cheap they chafed my skin. Wear these from now on.” Alludes to finding the jewelry he gives you in some sort of pirate horde he won’t go into detail on it since it’s in violation of his Warlord contract with the World Government, actually just purchases the pieces from various jewelers he meets on his travels; sometimes seeks out famous jewelers far off the beaten path if he thinks you’ll like that jeweler’s work.

Insists your relationship is not a relationship but is rather an affair. The sort of man to lie about cheating- not about not doing it, but about doing it so you don't get the impression he's committed to you. Won’t tell you he wants to be exclusive, but will yearn for it. Not good about communicating in general, very bad about just thinking things and hoping you’re thinking the same. 

For a long time, he didn’t even want you to come to the Muggy Kingdom for fear the Navy was watching him there and would find out about you. He also refused to speak to you over a transponder snail for fear they had tapped his. 

Never really warmed up to the idea of keeping you close but eventually grew so attached that he couldn’t stand to have you far away. Had no appetite if you weren’t at his table, couldn’t sleep if you weren’t in his bed, didn’t even want to take a shower if he couldn’t use your floral shampoo. Eventually, he convinced himself you were safer with him than without him, and that was that. 

Late nights cooking dinner (dinner is never before seven at Mihawk’s place). Afternoons gardening. Mornings spent discussing whatever’s in the newspaper. Evenings spent making out in the wine cellar because you went down to select a bottle for that night and got carried away. You sitting atop some ruins and watching him practice. Very domestic, but he hates that word. 

Won’t really tell you he loves you unless it’s a late night and he’s very drunk and you insist upon hearing it, certainly won’t admit to needing you, but will press a kiss into your hand and assure you he has deep affection for you. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[koiiiji]

some mistakes couldn’t be undone

tw ; abuse, canonical violence, Gitae is a threat himself, angst, yandere(?)

author's note ; i still haven't decided if i want to write him having really small soft spot, or well... a more canonical bastard…✊🏻😔

author’s note 2 ; minors, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

the flickering light above the old hotel door cast long shadows on the cracked walls, giving the room an air of abandonment and isolation. you thought you'd find safety here, far away from the life you'd tried so desperately to escape. Gitae had never been a man to let things go, but you'd dared to hope that the distance, the unfamiliarity of mexico’s wilderness, would keep him away for long enough. long enough for you to figure out what to do next.

but he had found you.

the door slammed open with a force that reverberated through the thin walls. you barely had time to register his presence before you felt the back of your head collide with the hard plaster, pain sparking through your body as you gasped, stunned. Gitae’s face was twisted with anger, his eyes wild and dangerous.

“have you decided to run away? do you think someone there will protect you?” his voice was a snarl, dripping with venom as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back toward him. your scalp burned from the sharp pull, but the pain was nothing compared to the terror freezing your veins.

who was he now? the man standing in front of you wasn't the one you once met. well, Gitae never was who you wanted him to be, but you hold a hope that he would change, the man you had foolishly believed could leave his cruelty behind. this man was the beast you'd been running from for what felt like a lifetime.

“who is he? well, who is he, who gave you the right to think you can leave me?” Gitae's voice was a roar in your ears, but you could barely hear it over the pounding of your heart. tears streamed down your face uncontrollably, the fear and frustration, the endless cycle of suffering, spilling out of you in heavy sobs.

“who is that guy huh? answer me, bitch!” his grip shifted from your hair to your shoulders, shaking you violently. his fingers dug into your skin with brutal force, but you fought against the pain. you fought him, digging your nails into his hands and pushing him away with what little strength you had left.

“this is not a guy!” your voice cracked as you shouted, your words breaking through the sobs. “not a guy…” you repeated, softer now, your voice barely a whisper. your trembling hands instinctively moved to your stomach, as if trying to shield the life that was just beginning there. but you immediately pulled your hand away.

but it was too late.

Gitae’s gaze darkened as it followed your movement, and you could almost see the moment of realization flicker across his face. he noticed. he noticed. thought raced through your mind, panic rising like a wave ready to crash over you. you staggered back, your body pressing against the wall behind you, heart hammering as Gitae took a step closer, his presence overwhelming.

“say it again,” he murmured, his voice low and menacing, but no longer a shout. he tilted his head, a cruel curiosity dancing in his eyes. the shift in his demeanor only terrified you more. you could see the gears turning in his mind, calculating, deciding your fate in a way that would forever bind you to him.

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. walls felt like they were closing in on you as his massive hand cupped your face, thumb slowly brushing over your tear-streaked cheek. his other hand dropped down, gently, almost tenderly, resting on your stomach.

“how far?” his voice was dangerously calm now, a whisper in your ear. the gentleness in his touch was jarring, terrifying. you could feel his breath on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“i-i… i don’t know,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “i just did a pregnancy test… a-and it showed... two lines…” you hiccuped, your whole body shaking as Gitae’s hand pressed you harder against the wall, but his touch on your stomach remained soft, disturbingly so. his palm rested there as though he was claiming something far greater than just you.

two lines. you could barely process the words as they slipped from your lips, the reality of your situation crashing down on you.

the future you’d envisioned — escaping from him, finding freedom — was shattered. those two lines changed everything, tied you to him in a way you could never have anticipated. you could feel the monster before you shifting, adjusting to this new reality, this new form of control.

the silence that followed your confession was suffocating. Gitae’s fingers lightly traced your belly as though imagining the life growing inside. he wasn’t shouting anymore. his rage had dissolved into something worse, something calculating, a dark smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

“you’re carrying my child,” he murmured, his voice now a chilling purr. “that’s good. very good.”

the look in his eyes was no longer just anger - it was possession.

“now you have no reason to run. ever.”

his hand, still resting on your stomach, tightened slightly, enough to send a clear message. you were his now — completely and utterly. any hope of escape, of breaking free from this nightmare, slipped further away with every passing second.

and yet, somewhere deep inside you, a spark of defiance remained. you couldn’t let this be the end. not for you, and certainly not for the child inside of you.

as Gitae’s hand lingered, still caressing your stomach with a twisted sort of affection, you knew you had no choice but to fight. maybe not today, not now — but soon.

you need find a way. you had to.

because some mistakes couldn’t be undone — but they could be escaped.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 21

Hey guys!! The story is starting ramp up to the finish line! I hope you guys are still enjoying it as much I enjoyed writing it.

In this we have Steve taking back his agency, Eddie and Jeff having a little chat and Abbadon leaning on his friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

~

As soon as Abbadon grabbed the mic, the audience knew they were going to be in for a ride.

“Las Vegas!” he roared to the crowd, who roared back. “There seems to be some confusion about how naughty I got with Eddie Munson in Denver.”

The crowd went wild, screaming and jumping up and down.

“I never do anything without prior consent,” he grinned. “I’m a gentleman, until you tell me you want it otherwise.” He winked and the crowd screamed back. “I’m not saying I’m coming for Asmodeus’s job,” Abbadon said, draping himself over his guitarist’s shoulders, “but I’m no innocent. I don’t need protection.” He walked across the stage to Astraeus. “I’ve always been affectionate. But I think it’s time to be put the rumors to bed.”

“Oooooohhhhhh!” Asmodeus and Astraeus shouted and got the crowd to say it with them. Once they were loud enough, Azrael started rapidly tapping his drums to further build up tension.

Just when Abbadon was sure the tension couldn’t stretch much further he said, “I’m not a slut. I’m the slut!” The throng of people roared back. “And I’m not going to hide who I am to make myself palpable to people I’ve never met or no longer have any connection to me. I am Abbadon! I AM THE FALLEN!”

Waiting in the wings was Jeff and Eddie. They had gathered to watch Steve do this in person instead of watching it live in the green room.

Jeff cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “Whatever else you think of Abbadon and the rest of the band, you have to admit the man has charisma.”

Eddie pressed his lips together and nodded. He was proud of Steve. Of course he was, but it did sting a little that it took Shane to get him to talk about it. Not him, Not Robin. Hell, not even Simon, whom Eddie thought was unhealthily close to Steve. Shane. Of all the band members, Shane had the least in common with Steve. Spence had the EMT thing, Simon, the upper class upbringing. Other than them liking metal, they couldn’t be further apart then if God planned it that way.

Shane came from a middle class liberal family with an older sister he was close with. Hell, he even still talked to his parents while Steve definitely did not. He was a giant nerd who loved history and myths. Steve struggled in school and only made it out alive because he was on three sports teams and captains of two of them. Shane even slept around to Steve’s search for ‘the one.’ Which Eddie really, really hoped was him.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the reason Shane could get through to Steve was because they didn’t have much in common. Maybe their connection were their differences. That they were friends in spite of the gap between them.

Eddie almost wanted to get Steve into therapy like Gareth was. Because even though it always seemed to him that Gareth was one drink away from destruction these days, the therapy did appear to be working.

Steve could really use something like that.

They watched the set a little bit longer.

“Are you sure you’re okay with Abbadon flirting with Gareth?” Jeff asked.

Eddie blinked for a moment wondering where the comment was coming from. Because, sure, Gareth had talked non-stop about Abbadon being his favorite member, even going as far as to tattoo Abbadon’s mask on his left bicep. But Gareth didn’t seem interested in Abbadon as a person.

And it wasn’t like Steve was really interested in him that way before or after becoming a rockstar.

“Gareth and Abbadon both say it’s fine,” he murmured after a moment or two. “And I trust Abbadon.”

Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah okay. So this time it’s not going to be the duet?”

“No, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Abbadon is going to be taking the lead vocals on ‘Might as Well Fly’, I think he’ll lend a haunting quality to it.”

Jeff pursed his lips. Steve definitely had the pipes for it, but it wasn’t the song out of their discography that he would have chosen for Abbadon to shred.

Eddie huffed beside him and crossed his arms in front of him. “Let me guess, you have other ideas?”

“Can Abbadon play guitar?” Jeff asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I guess. He’s like able to play piano, violin, and guitar. Can he play the song you’re thinking of is the real question.”

Jeff turned to him with a grin. “Oh, if I know our friend as well as I think I do, he knows it.”

Eddie frowned at him and cocked his head to the side. “Which one?”

Jeff told him and Eddie rubbed his lips, skeptical. It was a good song. Harder than ‘Might as Well Fly’ and faster too. It had an extra guitar to it because it originally featured a famous guitarist. But it was also the lead guitar on that song.

“Do you really think he can do it?” he asked, licking his upper lip slowly.

Jeff scoffed, “Why? Do you think he can’t?” Eddie just shrugged. “Because holy hell, dude, I was talking to Asmodeus and he was telling me they formed their band over their love of our music. I’m betting if you asked Abbadon he could list his favorite albums alphabetically, chronologically, or which one is best musically. Even before you guys got together, before their band, before we even got a record deal, he’s been your number one fan. And he’s got the chops for it. You know he does.”

Eddie looked around to make sure no one had heard Jeff’s impassioned speech. He ducked his head. “Have Abbadon meet us before we go on to discuss the change while they setup our equipment.”

Jeff grinned and licked his lips. “You won’t regret this. And neither will they.” He jutted his chin out at the roaring crowd.

And yeah, Eddie knew he was being ridiculous about the song. He was trying to play this safe, but Steve didn’t need safe right now. He needed to take back his agency and Eddie knew that this song? It was fucking perfect for Steve. They would be able to feed off the roar of the crowd and give Steve a chance to really show them how good he is.

~

Steve loved the idea of the change in song. Don’t get him wrong, he loved ‘Might as Well Fly’. It just wasn’t the vibe he was trying to send today. Steve already was flying. Now he was raging at the people who were trying to clip his wings. And fuck them.

It meant that he couldn’t start on Gareth’s lap, but that was okay. This was going to be better. A hell of a lot better.

He pulled on his Corroded Coffin logo lined coat and swapped his mask for the lighter everyday one. He was going to need the extra movement for these vocals. He started in the middle again, this time in front of Corroded Coffin instead of between them.

“Hey, Las Vegas!” Eddie cried. “You bitches ready to rock?”

The crowd screamed back and Eddie laughed. “We’ve got a treat for you tonight!” The crowd screamed even louder. “We don’t usually play ‘Nightmare Killer’ because we don’t have that third guitarist.”

The audience went wild, screaming and whistling and stomping their feet in excitement.

“We asked Asmodeus,” Eddie continued. “But he’s too cool for us!” The crowd made teasing booing noises and oohhed. “But that’s okay, we found someone else willing to play.”

The room fell to a hush as Abbadon’s spotlight came on. There was some uneasy wrestling from the audience as he stood with his ear mic and white guitar. Something that eagle-eyed fans would know about Eddie and Jeff was that they didn’t own a white guitar. And all The Fallen fans knew that all of Asmodeus’s guitars were red and vaguely devil themed. This wasn’t his either. This was clearly Abbadon’s.

Abbadon began the opening riff and the crowd took a massive intake of breath as he sailed perfectly through the chunky bits of the original artist’s style. Then he began to sing, the haunting quality of his voice filling in the gaps of the silence that seemed to stretch on from the audience.

Eddie didn’t even bother trying to hold back the look of admiration on his face as he joined Abbadon for the chorus. Their vocals mixing beautifully to the backdrop of a hell beast looking for more from life than the violence it was weaned on.

Throughout the song the only sounds from the crowd were clapping in time to the beat. Eddie had never seen anything like at their concerts before. It was like there was this reverence for what was happening on stage.

Abbadon ate it up and played it up as he enticed the members of Corroded Coffin to him. Each of the members resisted. Then Abbadon handed his guitar off to a roadie and climbed the stairs to the platform that Gareth was on. He straddled Gareth’s lap and drumming cut out as his bandmates played on. From behind it looked like they were kissing, but with Abbadon’s mic off they were making fun of each other. Then suddenly he whirled on Gareth’s lap and hit the drums right on the last note with a crash.

Then in an instant the crowd thundered to life, cheering and stomping and clapping.

Abbadon blew Gareth a kiss and leapt off the platform to take his bows. The flutter of the coat revealing the Corroded Coffin logo again and the crowd screamed even louder. He blew kisses to the crowd and continued to bow. Eddie whistled loudly and Abbadon laughed.

Eddie grabbed the microphone. “Abbadon everyone! One very talented son of bitch! Another round of applause everyone!”

The crowd continued to go wild. Abbadon let out a whoop and jumped up and down, laughing. It was exhilarating, everyone just feeding the energy back to Abbadon and just feeling high off that. Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and Jeff winked. Eddie shook his head. Because yeah, Jeff won that bet.

Abbadon waved goodbye and walked off the stage. Once he was out of view of the audience Hopper swooped in and immediately threw a cool, damp towel over his head and Steve nearly sank to his knees in relief. Because try as they might, the hoods were still fucking hot. Hopper lead him to the dressing room where the rests of The Fallen were waiting.

As soon as the door closed tightly behind Abbadon, Steve pushed back the hood and ripped off the mask. His hair was wet and sweat clung to his face and neck. He let himself sink slowly into the soft cushions of the sofa and laid his head back.

A bottled water was being pushed into his hand and an ice pack was placed on his brow. He let out a small shuddering breath. He opened the water and dumped half of it on his face and the rest into his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” Steve muttered, his eyes fluttering shut. “How did I look out there?”

Simon huffed a little a laugh. “Like fucking rock god.”

“I’m with Simon,” Spence said. “It won’t silence the naysayers but it’ll drown them out which is even better.”

Steve laughed. “Fuck that was so much fun. Gareth called me a queen. So I called him a bitch. I honestly don’t know if he likes Abbadon more now, or less!”

“Considering how little time you had to prepare,” Shane said, sprawled over an armchair instead of on the floor for a change, “I say you kicked ass. You’re going to get people saying you weren’t really playing but, they can suck your dick!”

Steve lifted his head, the ice pack sliding into his hand. “I hate doing this without you guys, though,” he admitted. “But as Shane pointed out, I’m already super affectionate with you already and short of French kissing Simon, they aren’t going to believe shit.”

“Nothing against you, Steve,” Simon said with a wince, “but I really don’t want your tongue down my throat.”

Shane raised his hand. “I volunteer! I volunteer!”

They all laughed. Then Robin as Celeste slipped in and sat next to Steve. She grabbed the ice pack and pressed it to the back of her neck. They all waited as she let her defenses slowly come down. She pulled off the wig and tossed it Spence who caught it deftly.

“Vickie has been working tirelessly tonight to keep an eye on social media,” Robin began, “she even has two of her assistants watching all the accounts, constantly refreshing.”

Steve turned on the couch to face her. “And what are they saying?”

Simon and Spence immediately moved over to her to sit on either side of her and Steve. Shane sprawled over the back like some Renaissance painting. He rustled her hair and she huffed out a laugh.

“You’re getting the trolls from both fans shit talking about how Abbadon is better than Corroded Coffin and should have turned them down like Asmodeus,” she continued, pausing only for Simon’s huff of laughter. “The Corroded Coffin fans were whining about how Abbadon’s vocals ruined the song and that he probably faking the guitar playing for the views.”

“I’d like to see them fake that bridge,” Steve scoffed. “It’s insane.”

Simon nodded. “I don’t think I could do it.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll post a Tiktok of me trying to play it.”

“Wait!” Spence said. “Have Steve do it first, showing a close up of the hands dancing on the frets. Then you stitch it with your version. That should kick them in the ass.”

Steve and Simon fist bumped each other. “Hell yeah!”

“But the rest of the tweets and shit coming in is overwhelmingly positive,” Robin finished. “So that Tiktok should silence the Corroded Coffin fans.”

When Simon did his stitch of Steve’s video he made sure to admonish their fans about thinking who’s better than who. He was friends with the boys in CC and the being ‘too cool’ was a fucking joke.

Then Eddie did a stitch of both of their videos and showed them again how complicated the riff was for Abbadon to play by playing it himself. Abbadon and Asmodeus’s videos racked up a lot of views and shares, but Eddie’s really did the numbers. It blew up and completely overshadowed all the haters.

Steve made sure to thank Eddie for that later in the privacy of Eddie’s hotel room.

`

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[cornyforjk]

Drive you Crazy | Day 3 | jjk

SUMMARY

⤷ In which you are stuck living with an arrogant rookie racer who thinks of you as an obstacle, ready to ruin your glory, but things get heated when he has a pervy smile hidden under that pretentious attitude. Emotions that are complicated. You could never fall for your enemy! He's sabotaging you.

Pairing: racer!jk × racer!oc

Genre: angst and pure filth smut

Warnings: trash language

Taglist: @tatamicc @jwnghyuns @nono13bnd

A/note : Day 3 already!!! Yall do leave your thoughts in the comments section cause I'm a 'need external verification' girlie 😀 Kay byeeee

___________________♡____________________

You tried ignoring him for the rest of the day, your senses finally kicking in as you registered your first meet with him; the disrespect he had, how pathetic he was trying to sabotage another racer.

Even for being a 'seducer'

"I am so stupid, he's the reason I was humiliated, Natalie! I can't do this anymore." You bang your fist on the table in the cafeteria, Natalie hosting her hand on your shoulder with concern on her face.

You felt like boring holes in the mahogany wood until its particles were floating in thin air.

"It's just for a week Y/n."

"A week with that wild animal." Correcting her with a smug tone, you pack a warm chocolate muffin heading towards the shared room feeling Natalie's gaze on you.

___________________♡____________________

You followed the rhythm of continuous notes blaring from our room. Clanking the keys and twisting the knob open meeting your gaze with an irritated Jungkook. The whistling got louder as you stood there silently.

He held out a blue letter in his hand. A letter opener beside him glistened in the moonlight warming up the dim room. A soft breeze blew the curtain.

"What's that?" Your eyebrow arches up in curiosity, legs pulling you in his direction, eyes set on the elegant letter.

Jungkook silently held his arm out as if waiting for you to pull out your palm in front of him. And that's exactly what you did.

He wrapped his slender fingers around your wrist, gazing into your eyes with an intimidating look that threatened to feel into your soul.

His lips parted, trying to form words out of his hazy mind. "Your confirmation letter for this race."He held out the letter, its crisp corner at your fingertips as you felt the rough paper stroking your ends.

"Don't race." He says in a stern whisper.

"And why would you say that?" You ask in annoyance.

"I am looking out for you."

"Uh- yeahh? And why tf would you look out for me huh?"

"I am looking out for you!" Не repeated.

"You- my friend aren't looking out for me, you're just being a sexist,if yk what that means ." Snatching the envelope from him you turned your back on his face,walking away with a sigh towards your bed.

"Fine...if that's what you think." He turns away too, disappointment flashing in his eyes. You stood there confused because of his reactions.

"I shouldn't lookout for a petty outcast anyways."

___________________♡____________________

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt perverted gazes sliding down your back, stuck on my body as the tight bodysuit hugged my curves. Those sickening mouths were ajar with drool over their lips.

Crossing over to the other side of the hallway felt like a task of walking over dead zombies.

You reached your pit for practice, hands on your hips waiting for your new team to begin the arrangements. No one arrives on time.

A dark figure walked past you, helmets clutched between their forearm and side. The air around you suddenly starts to smell like soft moss after the early rain of monsoon, splattered with the scent of ocean wind mixed with sea salt and hinted with vanilla. You nostrils go crazy, pleasant chaos blessing your sense of smell.

You raise your head to look at the person. The unconscious smile on your face droppes instantly.

Your gaze hardenea, the crescents at the edge of your eyes vanishing.

Jungkook doesn't spare a glance, standing a bit further away from you as you crane your neck to find his pit next to yours. A scowl made its way onto your face.

You push my shoulders back, straightening your posture, chin high in the air as you notice a crowd of racers moving your way. Tapping your foot, you suddenly feel anxiety settling down in your stomach.

"Look, Alex! A girl will be racing with us," a man with ginger brown hair in a blue suit speaks first, startling me as a hiccup breaks free from your throat. "This toy looks more pleasurable, doesn't it?"

The guy named 'Alex' grins nonchalantly, closing in on you as you start to feel the warmth of his body sweat. He swarmed over me with his hands at the sides of your hips blocking your way free.

"Indeed, she could work her charms." he breathes near your ear, my body stiffening, you close your eyes shut, scrunching your fists.

"No wonder she got a place between racers like us. Probably danced on the director's lap to make her way in," he smirked, tracing his disgusting finger on my jaw.

"The one who needs to dance on the director's lap to reach the finals is you, sweetie."

Alex's smirk dropped down, your words hurting his very big ego.

"kitten got a tongue huh?" He grips you hips tightly, pulling you to crash on his chest.

"Don't-" your breath unstable, "don't touch me," you said with your teeth gritted. You push him away, now facing him in his eyes.

"touch me again and you're. dead."

You turn away to leave but the moment you step away, you feel a hand on your waist. You couldn't stand this shit anymore as you turned around and slapped the guy hard across his right cheek.

The sound of the slap echoed even in the open pit, everything and everyone went silent. The entire attention now on you, but you didn't care.

He was about to slap you again, when a tattoed hand stops his. Your gaze follows the arm till you meet his eyes. But atm, you're too mad to even care who tf was it. And you kick hard on the guy's crotch.

His cries were loud and shrill as if he just saw death in front of his eyes.

You turn away to leave when you hear jungkook say, " I see you near her again and you're dead "

The guys ran away for there life and everyone gets back to whatever they were doing while you were left with an expressionless Jungkook. He walks away without exchanging any witty or sarcastic comebacks.

"Thank-"

"Save it, outcast."

You watch him disappear into a crowd with raised flashing cameras, your heart pulling you to go to him, but the sickening ego in you stops you from apologising.

Apologising for the warning he gave you that you ignored.

Apologising for not being grateful for his lookout even though you were just a mere stranger.

You took your keys as your team finally shows up and surrounds you.

Announcement to start the trial booming in the loud speakers, but your eyes were still following ing him.

Maybe it's my ego and not his.

"Jeon Jungkook!"

You ran behind him, walking straight into a group of media, bowing to the rush you start the chase all over again.

Frantically looking in the lobby for him, your eyes traced his broad back, scampering his way squeezing between swarms of people.

"Jeon! Stop in the name of strippers!"

You watch him ignore you, your limbs filled with energy falling at your sides, you retract your voice calling out for him, running across with all your heart.

"Please stop." You plead with him, firmly intertwining your hands when you finally catch a hold of him.

" Listen boy, I am going to apologise and you are going to hear me out."

You look out for asign, but he doesn't even nod. Jungkook harshly shakes his hand free, turning to look your way. He turns around to close your room door in your face, the loud click of hinges making you duck your face in shame. His last words rumbled deep in your ear.

"I don't care."

___________________♡____________________

DM me or send me an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist