#anyway this post is getting away from me and i should be preparing dinner anyway

[daughterofhecata]

Das Zweit-Witzigste an Finsterer Rivale ist, wie Justus und Skinny die ganze Zeit versuchen, sich wegen des Gelds gegenseitig übers Ohr zu hauen. Das Witzigste ist, dass sie damit am Ende Calhoon genauso an der Nase herumführen.

[j0hnj4ej3n]

nct dream's reaction to you saying 'i feel so ugly right now'

word count: 1.9k

warnings: mentions of insecurities, period and period cramps

notes: hi loveys! here’s my first post in 2024!!! i know it’s been a long time since i uploaded something and i’m so sorry about that :( but i really hope you guys like this little something~ i’ll try to post at least once a month this year, i’m currently finishing up my last semester in uni so if time allows it, i’ll post more after i graduate! hehe, in the meantime, take care everyone! sending all my love to you <3

𔘓 Mark:

The two of you were preparing to head out for dinner but you were taking longer than usual to get ready. “Babe? Don’t mean to rush you, but we have to leave soon to make it for our reservation,” Mark tells you as he leans against the doorframe of your shared toilet. You huff out in frustration, before muttering a quick, “Just give me a minute.” Mark takes in the mess in the toilet and the deep frown on your face and cautiously asks, “Hey…everything okay?” You drop the make-up brush on the counter and let your shoulders sag in defeat. You stare at Mark through the mirror and let out a weak, “I feel so ugly.” You see Mark’s face morph into one of immediate confusion, his eyes widened slightly as he opens his mouth to protest. “What? You are not ugly… babe, come on.” Mark comes up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. “But I feel ugly… nothing looks good on me. I just feel like I look so bad.” “Stop it. You are so beautiful, look at you!” Mark almost exclaims as he nods towards the mirror. You sigh as you lean against him, eyeing at the two of you through the mirror. “I don’t know…” you said, sighing. You feel Mark squeeze you tighter as he leans his head against yours gently. “Well, I think you’re so pretty… like all the time… but if you’re not feeling it today, we don’t have to go out, we can stay home and do whatever you want.” You shake your head, “Just give me a few minutes, I’ll be right out.” “You sure?” You gave him an assuring nod before he placed a quick kiss on the side of your head. “My pretty girl,” Mark mutters as he takes one last look at you, before he leaves to wait for you in the living room.

𔘓 Renjun:

“I feel so ugly right now,” you mumble beside Renjun on the bed. You���re lying down with your back facing your boyfriend, already sulking because of your period cramps and now the overwhelming feeling of insecurities that returns during your period has caught up to you. You made that comment more to yourself than anything but Renjun heard it anyway. “Love, you are not ugly…” “Okay, but I feel really ugly right now,” you tell him as you turn around in bed to face him. He puts down his ipad filled with sketches to brush your hair away from your face, running his fingers gently through your hair. “I’m sorry you’re feeling like that, but I can assure you that you look so beautiful right now…” Renjun tells you with sincerity in his voice, his eyes filled with adoration as he keeps running his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” “I don’t know, but a nap sounds really good right now.” “Should we cuddle and nap together then?” Renjun asks as he begins shifting down from his sitting position so he could hold you in his arms. “Sounds perfect,” you tell him as you snuggle closer to him.

𔘓 Jeno:

It’s the first time Jeno is staying over at your place. And it’s probably the first time he’s going to see you barefaced. It’s not that you look too different without makeup, at least you don’t think so. But for some reason, after removing your makeup and changing into your pyjamas, you hesitate to leave the toilet and join Jeno, who’s in the living room waiting for you. When you finally do, you’re covering your face slightly and trying not to face him directly. Jeno eyes you as you come to sit awkwardly beside him on the sofa. “Why are you hiding your face?” Jeno says as he chuckles. “I don’t have makeup on…” “And?” Jeno says as he sits up to face you, but you turn your face away from him. “And I feel like I look ugly right now.” “You’re crazy…let me see,” Jeno mumbles as he reaches out to pull your hands gently away from your face. “Nooo…” You try to resist against Jeno but you are no match against his strength. As your hands fall from your face, you close your eyes shut and look down. Jeno uses his fingers to tilt your face up as you slowly open your eyes, only to meet his. He scans your face, like he’s trying to memorise every feature. “You’re still so pretty, though?” You break eye contact as you feel blood rushing to your face, there’s no way you’re not blushing after that. Jeno only smiles at your reaction, his eyes crinkling into his signature eye smile. “You’re just too cute,” he mutters as he leans forward to plant a kiss on your cheek.

𔘓 Haechan:

“Hello? Babe, are you there?” Haechan’s face flashes from your screen. He has his glasses on and he’s running his fingers through his hair to keep it away from his eyes. “Hi baby, yea, I’m here.” “Why isn’t your camera on?” “I don’t want to turn it on,” you tell him. A frown finds its way to his face as he blurts out a “What? Why?” “Just don’t want to…” Haechan clicks his teeth, “Come on baby, I miss you… wanna see you.” You sigh, before mumbling out, “I look ugly today…” Haechan’s eyes widen as he lets out a dramatic gasp, which causes you to frown even though he can’t see it. “No way?! Prove it, let me see!” “Tsk, shut up!” “No, seriously, I’ve never seen you ugly in my life so I have to see it at least once. Come on, show me your ugly face~” Haechan has a cheeky grin on his face as you finally turn your camera on but he doesn’t say anything. “See… I told you.” “There’s that pretty face… Sorry to burst your bubble baby, but you’re not ugly,” Haechan tells you teasingly. You can’t help but sigh, “I feel ugly though…” “Did something happen?” Haechan gets serious as he senses that you’ve probably been feeling like crap all day, plus he feels bad for not being able to be there to comfort you. You shake your head, “Just one of those days, I guess.” “I’m sorry you feel this way baby, wish I was there with you.” “Yea, me too.” You sigh as you lie down on your bed. “If it makes you feel better, I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Haechan tells you, his voice is deeper since it's late into the night and it makes you more flustered than you can imagine. But you try to deflect that by saying, “Wow, I can’t believe you even dare to look at other girls.” “No, never. You’re the only one, that’s why you’re the most beautiful.” “Oh, shut up!”

𔘓 Jaemin:

“Look here, honey!” Jaemin tells you as he holds out his phone camera towards you. From across the table, you cover your face slightly, shaking your head to indicate you don’t want him to take a picture of you right now. “Just take pictures of the food instead for today, Jaem,” you tell him, gently pushing his phone. Jaemin whines out a quiet “why~” as a small pout forms on his lips. “I just feel kinda ugly today,” you tell him quietly, looking down at your plate as your insecurities about your appearance overwhelms you. “Why would you say that? You’re the prettiest girl here,” Jaemin tells you and he reaches over to hold your hand in his, soothing you as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. “Of course you would say that, you’re my boyfriend…” “I’m only telling you that because it’s the truth, princess.” You look up at him and can’t help but smile, “There’s that pretty smile.” “Stop it, you’re being so corny right now,” you say as your smile only grows wider. “I know, and you love it," Jaemin tells you cheekily as he wiggles his brows at you. You can't help but laugh at his expression before two begin digging into your food.

𔘓 Chenle:

This is the fourth outfit you’re putting on and it still doesn’t look right. Your hair is flat and the top you have on just doesn’t fit you like it used to. “Chenle, how about this one?” You ask as you turn away from the full-length mirror in your shared bedroom to your boyfriend on the bed. His eyes shot up from his phone for a mere second before he blurts out a “This is nice too.” You sigh in frustration, “You’re not helping.” Chenle puts his phone down, “But I mean it? They all look nice on you. What was wrong with the previous ones anyway?” “They all looked weird.” “No they don’t?” “Yes, they do.” “Baby, you look fine… let’s just get going already.” “You don’t get it, I- Nothing fits right, and I just feel so ugly right now.” You feel so silly for acting like this. At your big age, you’re standing in front of your boyfriend with tears of frustration in your eyes because you can’t find an outfit you feel good in. Chenle immediately gets up to close the distance between you two. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he tells you as he notices the tears in your eyes. You let out a groan as you quickly wipe your tears away before they have a chance to escape. You really hate feeling this way. “Look, I really mean it when I said you look nice, okay? You always look beautiful to me.” “Really?” Chenle replies by nodding aggressively. “But I still don’t like this outfit,” you tell him as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “It’s okay, let’s put a new outfit together then. Here, I’ll help,” Chenle says as he gently drags you into your walk-in closet by your hand.

𔘓 Jisung:

The two of you are on a date and found a spot to take pretty pictures. After taking a couple of pictures together, Jisung offers to take some solo shots for you. You stand and pose while Jisung tries to take photos from flattering angles. “There, I think I got a few good ones. You look so pretty,” Jisung tells you as he hands you your phone to review the pictures. Unlike Jisung, you didn’t really like how you look. Your lack of reaction causes Jisung to question, “What’s wrong, baby?” “Nothing, I don’t know… I just feel like I look so ugly today.” Jisung shakes his head aggressively as a pout begins to form on his lip, “You’re not! It’s my fault, I’ll try to take them again.” “No, your angles are fine. It’s just me…” Jisung gazes at you as you continue to frown at the pictures on your phone. He grabs your phone, causing you to look at him. “You know you’re really not ugly, right? Stop looking at those pictures… just stand here and look pretty for me! I’ll just take a few more!” Jisung says as he takes several steps back, bending his knees and tilting his head to get the best angles. You can’t help but chuckle at the strange contortion Jisung is in and as you smile, Jisung hypes you up, “That’s it! That’s it, you’re looking so pretty right now!” It’s safe to say you like these new set of pictures better, Jisung does too, which is why he uploaded the one of you laughing at him on his instagram story, with the song: Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

[traveler-at-heart]

Better Together

Request by @l0nelyish

Summary: You're going on missions every day for a week, so it's hard to find time to spend with Nat.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Life is never boring as an Avenger. But sometimes, you wish it was.

You’re walking down the hallway of the Compound, just as Natasha is rounding up the corner. Your girlfriend smiles at you, making you feel like a teenager.

“Hey, gorgeous” she greets, pulling you closer by the waist.

“Hi…” your answer is muffled by her lips, moving softly against yours. You immediately forget what you were about to say next.

“I got us a dinner reservation at that new place. So wear something nice and nothing underneath” Natasha says, kissing you more passionately this time. You have to hold her arms to stay upright.

“I… uh. I think I have a mission today, Nat”

“You think?” Natasha teases, kissing down your neck.

“I’m… oh, God… 99% sure”

“Too bad”

“Tomorrow?” you offer, leaning your head on her shoulder and she smiles.

“Tomorrow”

—

Tomorrow is not any better, as you’re back from the mission at the break of dawn, dragging your feet to the apartment.

Natasha’s not in your room, but either way you’re too dirty to even consider getting in bed. You leave your suit and gear on the floor and hop on the shower, washing away the dirt and feeling relieved when the cold water helps soothe the soreness in your muscles.

You’re in your early thirties but happy to consider retirement. Not everyone on the team is a super soldier or a god.

Once you’re out of the shower, you get in bed, ready to text Natasha. You fall asleep with your phone in your hand and only wake up hours later, a post it stuck to your forehead.

Had to run on a mission with Clint. Be back tomorrow.

Love you.

You sigh, wishing you had stayed up to at least spend some time with Natasha. As you yawn, another post it falls from your forehead and you read it with a smile.

Left you some pasta in the fridge.

—

Protocol would dictate that you have at least a day of rest between missions, but with Tony’s leave to prepare for his wedding, there’s more ground to cover.

Which is why you get a call right as you finish lunch. Natasha, who was resting in one of the rooms after returning late from her mission, is also woken up by FRIDAY.

“At least we’ll go together this time” you say as you both enter the conference room.

“No, you won’t” Maria reminds you and you roll your eyes.

“It was one time”

“Once was enough” Clint mutters, sitting next to his friend. Natasha elbows him and the man chuckles. “It’s not my fault that your girl can’t be quiet. Not that it would change anything, Cap has super hearing”

Steve practically spits out his coffee, turning red.

It was never a good idea to have sex on the Quinjet after a mission. But what were you supposed to do when Natasha beat the shit out of a man that almost killed you? She looked too hot doing it.

“Anyways…” Maria says, sliding folders to the four of you. “Barton and Romanoff, we need you to get us intel on a bio weapon. Once you have the exact location, Rogers and Y/N will retrieve it”

“Can’t Barnes go with Steve?” Natasha crosses her arms, less than excited at the prospect of you handling a lethal substance.

“Does he have a PhD in Microbiology?” Maria asks and you sigh, reaching for Natasha’s hand.

“It will be fine”

“Ok. But we’re free tomorrow, non-negotiable” the redhead says.

“Of course, no missions tomorrow, especially for Y/N” Maria promises, finishing the meeting. You’re about to stand up when you look at her, confused.

“What do you mean, especially me?”

“You’re going to the graduation at SHIELD’s DC academy” she reminds you. “You didn’t forget about it, right? You’re giving the comencement speech and everything”

“I’ll handle the bio weapon and you give the speech” you turn to Steve and he smiles.

“You’ll do fine”

What a week.

It’s only Wednesday.

—

You’ll kill Maria.

She should have mentioned that the speech was followed by a luncheon and then half of DCs politicians looking to have a word with you about their projects for national and international cooperation.

By the time you’re back to the Compound, the sun is setting and all you want to do is find Natasha and go back home.

“They left for a mission. Won’t be back until Friday” Tony says as soon as you enter the kitchen and you sigh.

“I can’t believe I am about to say this but I can’t wait for you to come back, Tony”

“Yeah, I think Pepper is ready too. Apparently, you can actually have too much of me”

“No shit” you sit on a bar stool as he fixes you a drink. “How’s the wedding planning?”

“Well, we are compromising. She agreed to a very big DJ on a massive stage and I agreed to stepping foot on a church. But she says it’s too much to give Aston Martins for the wedding party”

“For the first time in her life, Pepper is wrong”

“So, you’ll still be my best woman?”

“Only if I get that Aston Martin” you raise your glass and Tony smiles.

“I’ll do my best”

—

Friday is impossibly slow, until it isn’t.

“Suit up” Maria says as soon as you pick up the phone.

“Oh, come on. Natasha’s coming back today, Hill”

“Well, the faster you get here the sooner we’ll finish the mission”

“Fine. Tell Fury I’m expecting to get paid extra hours”

“Take it up with payroll” Fury says and you almost drop your phone.

“Shit. I mean, on my way, sir, director Fury, sir”

You’re in such a hurry that you forget to leave a note for your girlfriend. All you can do is hope you two will finally see each other at the end of the day.

—

“We should do the briefing” Bucky says as soon as you land.

“Oh, hell no. It’s Saturday, we’re not clocking extra hours on a weekend, Buck” you say, carrying the stroopwaffles you bought for Nat. “We should have gotten here like three hours ago”

“We did take a detour on Amsterdam to get you those cookies. And you should really get to the medbay” he says, knowing that if you don’t get properly looked at by a doctor, Natasha will make his life hell.

“Fine” you agree, if only because your shoulder is killing you.

In the end, it was dislocated and you have to use an arm sling and rest for the next week and a half. The team is already overworked, and you feel slightly guilty at the idea of not helping for a few days.

Bucky drives you to your apartment, and you’re happy to see Nat’s home.

“Heeey, sorry. I was supposed to be back yesterday but things got crazy” you greet at the door and Natasha rushes to your side.

“What happened? Are you ok? Why didn’t you call me to pick you up at the Compound?”

“Wow, ok. It’s ok” Natasha’s hands go over every inch of your body, looking for more injuries. You stop them with your own, squeezing the hand that is on your cheek. Green eyes finally connect with yours and you smile. “Hi”

“Stop” Natasha says, rolling her eyes.

“I’m ok. Just a small injury. I’m fine, really”

“I can’t believe I want Tony to be back” she sighs and you laugh.

“That’s what I said”

“What do you have here?” Natasha takes the box from your hand and her eyes light up.

“I know they are your favorite. And all I had to do was promise Bucky no one would make him dance at the wedding”

“I love you”

“I love you too” you say, feeling Natasha’s lips meeting yours in a short and sweet kiss.

“I got you pizza and wine” she says when you break apart.

“Ok, I love you even more now”

Natasha smiles, always happy to hear you say those words.

Insisting on taking care of you, she brings a bunch of pillows to the couch, and once you finish eating, you take the arm sling off, resting against her chest.

“Raining” you mutter, listening to the drops hit against the window. The sound lulls you both, and pretty soon the credits of the movie you’re watching are rolling.

“Bed?” Natasha offers and you nod. Even if you already slept, the jet lag and exhaustion of the week are enough to have you both snoring in record time.

You don’t wake up until the sun is filtering through the blinds, and you rub your eyes. Natasha is still hugging you, her lips tickling your shoulder as she speaks.

“Breakfast?”

“Sure. In a minute” you squeeze her arms, sinking further in her embrace.

In that moment, you realise it’s not a boring life you want.

You want Natasha by your side, no matter if it’s a week full of work or a lazy Sunday morning.

“I love you, Tasha” you say, thinking she’s back to sleep.

You can tell she’s smiling by the way her lips move against your neck.

“Love you too, detka”

[racinggirl]

furthest from truth

Lando Norris fic - requested

My inbox for requests

a/n: I'm baaack! It's been a while, I have to admit. But after having 3 new requests today, I got motivated again and I decided to write the ones that were yet to be posted on my page. I hope you like it! I've added some spice to the end of the chapter 👀 Don't forget to follow me so you won't miss my other stories! 🫶🏼

Sun. Beach. Sand. Friends.

It might look cliché, but it’s what filled your hearts with joy.

‘’Norris! Give me a hand, will ya?’’ Your lips pulled away from those of your boyfriend the moment he got up to help one of your friends with preparing the jet skis.  

‘’Finally,’’ your best friend, Ava, laughed as she took a seat next to you. ‘’Now that your lips are no longer glued to his, what do you think of grabbing a drink, I’m in a desperate need for a Frozen Daiquiri.’’

She pulled you up on your feet after you agreed on getting drinks. It was your holiday, after all, and even though it was just your first day of the 3-week holiday here in Dubai, you were planning on making it the best holiday yet.

You and Lando had been together for a little over 5 months now, the two of you bumping into each other at last year’s Christmas Market in London. You spilled your bottle of water over your shirt, and he was determined to win you a teddy bear so he could make it up to you.

After that Christmas Market, you went on a ton of dates. In London, but also in Monaco, as that was where he lived. You attended 3 races before he finally asked you to be his last summer, and obviously you said yes, otherwise this story is kind of weird, isn’t it?

Anyways, you knew who he was when you met him, having watched a few races here and there, along with your friends.

The moment you told your friends Lando had asked you out on a date, they couldn’t contain their excitement and practically forced you to go out with him. So, you did. And here we are, almost a year later.

‘’Two Frozen Strawberry Daiquiri, please.’’ Ava ordered the drinks for the two of you and once you felt the cold glass in your hand, you immediately took a sip.

‘’Urgh,’’ you groaned, your eyes closed. ‘’Best drink ever.’’ You giggled.

‘’Lando! Oh my god watch out!’’ Your grip on his life jacket was tight as he was riding the jet ski with you on the back. ‘’You idiot!’’ You laughed, hands gripping his shoulders firmly when you felt him go even faster – if that was even possible.

‘’You’re riding a jet ski with an F1 driver, love. Did you really think I was gonna go slow?’’ You groaned at his reply, and you simply held onto him like you could fall off any moment, which was probably the case.

Everything sport related was a game to him, and he was very, very competitive. He hated losing, which is why he tried his hardest to make you his, with success.

‘’Okay, okay, enough speed for me, let’s go back to the shore and have dinner, I’m starving.’’ You breathe, Lando’s hand moving over your leg slowly. He lifted his hand till it rested on your outer thigh, whilst still steering the jet ski with one hand. Slower, though, thankfully.

‘’We will, love, we will.’’ He said, but you could hear the amusement in his voice, his tone, teasingly with a smirk.

‘’Lan-…’’ You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your boyfriend pulled the right handle towards him, the two of you flying over the water. He made sure to keep an eye on you, but he knew you enjoyed this, and he wasn’t wrong.

You might tell him to stop going fast, heck, even in the bedroom you’d tell him to stop, but it was always with that flirty and teasing tone. He knew that tone, and he knew it meant you did not want him to, in fact, stop. So, he kept going.

‘’I should have thought better before signing that contract about us.’’

You were fully drenched, Lando obviously pushing the strings too hard which caused you to fall off the jet ski. Nothing harsh, it was all playful, and the two of you were laughing when it happened.

‘’You’re an idiot.’’ You smirked, rolling your eyes playfully as you squeezed the salty water out of your hair.

‘’I know, but you like it.’’ He teased, slapping your ass lightly as his hand moved its way towards your hip, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. ‘’I love you.’’

Dinner, which was absolutely insane – mostly because you were starving, but definitely because it was one of the best restaurants here in Dubai.

‘’Ehm..’’ Ava shoved you her phone, and you immediately let your eyes wander over the tweets, the Instagram posts, and the articles.

Lando saw the worried look on your face, so he cut off the conversation with his friends and pointed his attention to you, causing his friends to do the same.

‘’What’s wrong, love?’’ He asked, his thumb drawing small circles on your knee as his gaze went from you to the phone, back to you.

You showed him the articles, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. You could see his jaw clench, the apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. ‘’They really need to make rumours about everything, don’t they?’’ He sighed and pressed a kiss to your temple.

‘’Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll fix it, we’ll post a statement on Insta, alright?’’ He said, his arms wrapping around you which caused you to relax.

You felt guilty, because you were aware of the eyes that were on him now that his contract with McLaren was coming to an end. You knew his contract was getting renewed, but the world didn’t, and you didn’t want to cause issues.

People blaming McLaren for not renewing his contract, and how this. People blaming McLaren for forcing Lando to be in a relationship with you, a PR relationship, which was the furthest from the truth. You loved each other so much, and McLaren had absolutely nothing to do with the two of you.

‘’Come here.’’ Lando’s arms made his way around your shoulders, his strong arms pulling you even closer to his chest. The bed was comfy, soft, but the tension in your face was apparent, especially to Lando.

‘’I just, I feel so stupid for saying that.’’ You sighed but Lando reassured you immediately.

‘’Babe, it’s not the first time we say this, it’s our joke, and people don’t get it, apparently. You know how the media is, they exaggerate everything to get those views and clicks, so they probably overheard you saying that, but did not see the look on your face, or your beautiful smile when you said that.’’ His voice was soft and calm, like he was not stressed at all about this.

‘’But the image McLa-..’’

‘’No, baby, no. That’s not your fault, okay? They should have probably announced the contract extension sooner, yeah, but that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever you said at the beach, okay?’’ He said, stern, but gentle. And you believed him. Of course you did, you believed everything he would tell you because you knew he was right.

‘’Now let’s make that post so people will stop complaining about things that are the furthest from the truth. That, and so I can take you tonight because I really, really want to.’’ He whispered the last thing with a voice so deep, you felt chills all over your body.

landonorris added to his story

landonorris & yourusername

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 1,273,710 others

I love you more than anyone imagine. Nothing can stop us, I promise you. Best decision I've ever made 🧡

view all 39,264 comments

user1 I feel ashamed

user5 as you should user3 we all should. how could we think it was just a PR. they are in love in love.

user2 You are so so so cute together!

‘’Lando, fuck, stop!’’ You breathe, hands pushing against his chest as he looked into your eyes, his bright ones a few shades darker than usually. He smirked, wetted his lips before thrusting even harder… Just how you asked.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part forty-one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: semi-public messing around, oral - m+f receiving

The other resorts along the shore were nice, yes, but they were also crowded to all hell. There’s no way you would have been able to relax at any of them. Not just because crowds make you anxious, but because Minho probably wouldn’t be able to show his face anywhere. He’d have to wear a hoodie to the pool or swim with a baseball cap on, and even those weren’t guaranteed to be foolproof. 

There were hardly any people occupying the outdoor spaces so late in the day so it was like you had the place to yourselves. You and Felix continued to play in the pool while Minho grilled steaks and Jisung worked upstairs. You offered to accompany Jisung while he cooked but he assured you that he was fine to do it himself. Sometimes you kept him company at home but you knew he liked to work alone as well. 

The room that you and Jisung were staying in was a standard hotel room but Nikki and Dom had a suite with a kitchenette that he could use to prepare the side dishes. 

You ate gathered around one of the fire pits as the sun sank beneath the waves in the distance. When it got too dark out, Dom lit the fire so that you could all see what you were eating. There were path lights littered around the resort but they weren’t bright enough to illuminate the adjacent sitting areas too. 

“I wish we had marshmallows,” you sighed. “We could roast them and make s’mores.”

“I think the bar sells little kits,” Jisung piped up. “I remember seeing a sign posted on their menu.”

“How convenient!” Nikki exclaimed. 

“Want me to grab some?” Minho offered, already standing from his seat. 

You had once again put yourself on the spot. Everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer. 

“I-I’d feel bad. I’m the only one who wants them, so you don’t have to!”

“Don’t be silly, we’d all eat them,” Jisung assured you with a pat on your knee. 

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try s’mores,” Felix agreed. 

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Wait, you’ve never had one?”

“They’re an American thing, babe.”

“Does that mean you’re the only other one here who has had a s’more?” you asked Jisung. 

“I might have had one before,” Minho added thoughtfully. 

“Might? You don’t remember?”

“Yeah, well, when we were on the first world tour we had a lot of bonfires and shit but I was pretty drunk at all of them so there could have been s’mores there, there could not have been. I dunno.”

“Anyway,” Nikki swooped in, averting the attention away from her eldest son’s anecdotes of underage drinking. “Minho, why don’t you go grab a few kits from the bar Ji mentioned? I think your father and I would like to try a s’more too.”

“How many do you think we need?” Minho asked. 

“It depends on how many each serves. Why don’t we start with two and if we run out of supplies we can send Felix up to get more.”

Felix made a face. “What, me?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to send Minho up twice,” Dom explained.

“What about Jisung?”

“He cooked dinner.”

“I’ll be right back,” Minho interjected, cutting Felix off before he could protest any further. “Does anyone want anything to drink while I’m over there?”

    He took everyone’s order and then disappeared in the direction of the bar. 

    “Do you think he’ll need help carrying stuff?” you whispered to Jisung after he left. 

“Oh, shit, maybe.”

“Should I go help him? Would that be weird?”

Jisung looked back toward his parents to check that they weren’t paying attention before answering. “No, I don’t think so. No one suspected anything other than me. Do you want me to go with you, though?”

“No, you cooked,” you reminded him, “you should stay and relax. I’ll go help him.”

He nodded. “Okay. Oh, but kiss me before you go.”

-

Minho was still waiting when you joined him at the bar. It was almost as deserted as the rest of the pool area. Only a couple of people were occupying the stools and they seemed to be strangers to each other, drinking in silence apart from the waves crashing on the shore nearby and the occasional sound of the blender.

“Hey, stranger,” you said, grabbing Minho’s attention with an elbow to his side. 

“Hey... did someone forget to ask for something?”

“No, I came to help you. We realized it’s a lot of stuff to carry all by yourself.”

He scoffed. “You doubted me?”

The bartender placed the drinks and s’mores kit down on the counter in front of Minho right at that moment, leaving both of you to size up all there was to bring back to the fire pit. 

“You could have carried all that without spilling anything?”

“Fine, maybe it’s good that you came,” he grumbled. 

“Maybe?”

He set his jaw and took a deep breath. “It is good that you came. Thank you for helping. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

You grabbed two of the drinks while Minho took the rest, holding the plastic bags of s’mores supplies between his teeth. 

Nikki and Dom cheered when you reappeared with everything. The twins looked marginally happier. It was honestly as much as you could ask for from them. 

You spent the rest of the evening teaching the Hans how to make, what was in your opinion, the perfect s’more. There were only a few skewers to go around so everyone had to take turns, but it was nice to be able to take your time with something and relax. There hadn’t been much time to do that on this trip. Jisung had warned you of that in the beginning but you were still way more exhausted than you expected to be at this point. At least it was almost over. 

The thought of the trip ending was one that you had been pushing to the back of your mind for weeks now. Especially now that Jisung knew what had happened, you didn’t want to think about what would happen when you went back home. Would you grow apart? Would he distance himself once he was no longer in forced proximity with you? Would Minho break up with you? It wasn’t just something you could ignore now. There were only a matter of days left. 

When it was over, you would go back to Seoul with the Hans until the summer ended officially. But that would be different too. 

“You’re burning your marshmallow, love,” Nikki said softly, putting her hand on your shoulder to get your attention. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed and pulled your skewer out of the heat. You blew the flame out and transferred it onto a graham cracker. 

“Do you want a new one?” Dom asked. 

“No, that’s okay! I like them burnt, actually. I just didn’t mean to leave it in the fire for so long. It could have made a mess.”

Jisung’s dad shrugged as if to say ‘suit yourself’ before taking the rod from you and reloading it with fresh marshmallows. 

If it was woodburning, the fire would slowly start to dwindle as the kindling turned to ash. Since it wasn’t, it was still burning as brightly as it had been at the start of the evening when Dom finally turned the propane off. Nikki collected the empty cups and dirty skewers to return to the bar. 

“Good night, kids. Don’t stay up too late.”

-

Felix was the first out of the four of you to go up to his room, leaving you with your best friend and... Minho. 

The pool area was completely empty by then. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you two,” Jisung said and stood to leave. 

You grabbed his hand to stop him. “Wait, no, you don’t have to go.”

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, a little less convincingly. “You should stay.”

Jisung shook his head. “No thanks, I’d rather not third-wheel.”

“Ji-”

“Take as much time as you need,” he said to you. “Just don’t get fucking caught by anyone else.”

You waited for him to leave before slumping forward and sighing into your hands. 

“I thought you said he forgave you,” Minho whispered. 

“He did. That doesn’t mean he’s okay with it,” you sighed.

Minho leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the loveseat, inviting you to sit with him. You crossed over to his side and joined him, allowing yourself to lean into his side. He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. It felt nice, to do something so domestic with him, even while sitting in complete silence. Still, you worried about someone seeing you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Just you.”

You didn’t want to give him the details and risk ruining the mood so you hoped he was content with that answer. Thankfully, he didn’t ask you to elaborate. 

You shivered suddenly, unintentionally but thankfully changing the subject. 

“Are you cold?” Minho asked. 

“A little.”

“Should I turn the fire pit back on?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s so dark out now. It’ll only draw attention to us.”

“I don’t want you to be cold, though.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Minho didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t we get in the hot tub? You still have your bathing suit on, right?”

“Are we allowed to?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

You followed Minho over to one of the many hot tubs on the property. It was tucked away behind the now-deserted tiki bar and also totally empty. Minho turned on the jets and ventured down into the water, holding his hand out for you to get in behind him. 

You let out a sigh as you sank into the bubbling water, closing your eyes and resting your head against the pool’s edge.  

“Better?”

“So much better.”

You looked over to see him smile. “Good.”

You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you were warm. The chill had seeped through your bathing suit too. You could feel it ebbing out of the fabric as well as your muscles the longer you sat in the water. 

Minho settled next to you and put his hand on your thigh. It was comforting even though his hand was still cold.  

“This is nice,” he said. 

“It is nice,” you agreed. “I like being able to do just nothing with you.”

“We don’t get a lot of time to do that, do we?”

“No, not really.”

“Guess that just means we have to enjoy it while we have it.”

You sat up to look at him, wondering if he meant something more than what was implied when he said that. He met your gaze and gave you a questioning look. 

“What?”    You shook your head and sank further into the bubbles. You were reading way too much into everything. You needed to get a grip. 

“What’s wrong?” Minho repeated. “Talk to me.”

“I’m scared to,” you finally admitted. 

It wasn’t much, but you were finally being honest with Minho instead of skirting around his questions like you usually did. You could tell your answer hurt him but you were afraid that you’d hurt yourself even more if you told him everything. You had a feeling the conversation was going there anyway, though, and there was little you could do to stop it. 

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t know... what we are?” You cringed as you said it. “And I don’t want to ruin things by asking, you know, because I like what we have going on and I don’t want it to go away but I also don’t want to get my hopes up by thinking we’re something that we’re not but sometimes you do things that make me think you want something more than... whatever it is we’re already doing but- mph!”

You were cut off with a kiss, like something out of a movie. It was brief, but enough to disrupt your train of thought. You stared at him incredulously, trying to read his expression. 

His face was even but his eyes were warm. You wished you knew what he was thinking. Moonlight and the flickering flames of torches in the distance were just enough to illuminate his features. The quirk of his cupid’s bow, the flutter of his long eyelashes... 

 “What was that for?” you inquired, even though you knew what it was for. 

“You were spiraling.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Minho said softly. “For what it’s worth though, I feel the same way.”

You lifted your head to look at him again, your vision slightly blurred by the water dripping down your face from your wet hands. “What?”

He hesitated. “I feel... what you said. I feel the same way.”

“I don’t even know what I said,” you laughed. 

“Me either, but I got the general vibe of it and I’m in agreement.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I... I thought I was making it kind of obvious that I wanted something serious with you.”

“You never said anything outright, though!”

“Because I didn’t know what you wanted,” he explained. “You never said anything either.”

“Well, you’re the man!”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re going there? The feminism just evaporates from your body the moment you’re faced with confrontation?”

“See, you get it.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you now, okay? I want you. In all the ways you’re willing to let me have you.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning. You didn’t want to start crying and you didn’t want Minho to see you crying so you kissed him again, with more urgency this time. You couldn’t think, hell, you couldn’t breathe, until he pulled away, leaving you wishing and hoping for more.

When your lips met for the third time, he pulled you under with him, just long enough to shock your senses. You gasped for air when you surfaced, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes.

“You’re not supposed to do that!” you scolded, sputtering as you shoved him. 

He stumbled backward onto the bench, falling seated again and pulling you on top of him. 

“You believe that bullshit?” he scoffed. 

“It’s not bullshit! It’s not good for you to put your head under the water in a hot tub!”

“I know people say that but why?”

“I... I don’t know why,” you admitted, “but I know you’re not supposed to.”

“See, you don’t even know!” You gave him a look. “Will you accept an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss?”

“That depends, are you actually sorry?”

He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he kissed you anyway, cradling the back of your head as he slipped his tongue past your lips. He tasted like s’mores and whiskey and chlorine, a combination so strange you couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

One of his arms dropped to your waist, wrapping around your body and pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. You could feel him through his swim trunks, growing harder by the second. You were tempted to take him right there, but you were in public and having sex in a hot tub couldn’t be good either, right? That sounded like an infection waiting to happen.  

“Upstairs?” Minho asked breathlessly, lips only centimeters from yours. Not for the first time you wondered if he could read your mind. 

You nodded. “Yeah, upstairs.”

-

You dripped your way back to his room, shivering despite the thick towel wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Wanna hop in the shower?” Minho asked between kisses as he fumbled with the straps of your bikini. 

“Yeah, don’t want to get your bed all wet,” you replied. 

“That would happen whether or not we had just been in the pool,” he joked. 

“Hilarious.”

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he hissed. “Let’s get these off of you, they’re so cold.”

“Is that the only reason you want them off?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

You knew Minho was expecting to have sex in the shower but you kind of wanted to fuck on the bed so you sucked his dick while he washed your hair and then took turns rinsing off before moving to his bed. You put your hair up in a towel to avoid the aforementioned wetness and wrapped yourself up in one of the hotel’s robes even though you knew it’d be coming right off. 

To your surprise, Minho left your robe on. He just undid the tie around your waist and let it fall open before shouldering himself between your legs. It was kind of like putting a towel down. He was killing two birds with one stone that way: protecting the sheets and keeping you warm. 

It didn’t take long for you to cum in his mouth. Minho knew your body like the back of his hand by now. It had taken him a fraction of the time it took your past lovers to learn what made you tick and he used all of that knowledge to his advantage. 

He kept going after you came the first time, eager to pull another from you, but you pulled him up by the hair to get his attention before he could get too into it. 

“Too much?” he asked. 

“Want you to fuck me,” you urged.

Thankfully, he was receptive to this and moved up so that he could position himself on top of you. He notched himself at your entrance and kissed you as he pushed himself inside, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before pulling away and wiping his face on your shoulder. 

“Ew!” you cried and tried to push him away. 

Minho looked offended. “What do you mean, ‘ew’? It’s you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want me all over what I’m wearing!” 

“Since when?” he joked. “Seems like it’s always all over what you’re wearing when you’re around me.”

“Can we please talk about something else?” you begged, suddenly embarrassed and grossed out at the same time. 

Minho laughed and pecked you on the cheek. “What would you rather talk about? The weather?”

You tightened around him as punishment, making him swear and bury his face in your neck. “Fucking hell, you succubus.”

You smiled politely and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Don’t people usually say that if she can talk at all, you’re doing it wrong?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I was just taking it easy on you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, this was for your benefit,” he continued. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“How gracious of you.”

He clenched his jaw as he started fucking you faster, muttering sarcastically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was boring you.”

Ironically, you couldn’t respond right away, too caught up in the feeling of how deep he was inside of you to get any words out. 

“I forgive you,” you choked out finally. 

Your hands fell to his biceps, desperate for something to hold on to. You dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss through his teeth. 

“Harder,” he urged. You squeezed harder and he gasped. “Fuck yes, keep doing that.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that, baby. That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

[inamagicalhallucination]

guys do u remember my post that was like atsushi time travels back to a little while before he meets the ada??

okay so listen

its not too long before he meets the agency - but its still a long time if ur actively starving

atsushi isn't sure where to go or what to do, to be honest, it's hard to think with your stomach painfully begging for something, anything

atsushi isn't even sure if this is real

still, he drags himself up, considers just going to the agency, worries that if he meets them differently, something will change and he won't have his family

stumbles around and walks his way to the one of the few people outside of the agency that he knows he can trust

akutagawa ryuunosuke hears knocking on his door and is very surprised becuz who could it be ? the few ppl who know where he live would either never visit or call ahead

and gin, of course, has a key

still, making sure his coat is on and rashomon is just barely out, he opens the door

he doesn't know what he expects but a white messy haired, starving man in rags of clothes and dirt on his body standing there, tapping his foot, is not it

akutagawa stares, readies rashomon instictively

the boy smiles and akutagawa almost, almost flinches at the aboslute delight in his face at seeing him

"akutagawa" the boy says, akutagawa knows now that he cant simply kill him, he has to know how he found him, and who sent him, "thank god you still live here. i was a little worried." he reaches out and bats away the tendrils of rashomon with a gentle ease and pushes akutagawa slightly out of the way to enter akutagawa's apartment - akutagawa uncommon bafflement being the only real reason his starving body is able to

akutagawa should strike him now that his back is turned but the boy knows his name and his apartment and he needs to know how - it's good, he thinks, that the boy walked in on his own - it'll be easier to keep him until he explains

"who the hell are you?" akutagawa growls, putting on his meanest face, the boy barely spares him a glance

"your actually pretty adorable when your trying to be threatening - do you have rice? im really hungry."

rashomon shoots out wrapping herself around the boy's arms and legs, holding him up in the air, digging into his skin

the boy does not flinch.

he pouts

"ryuu, how could you be so mean?"

"do not call me that." akutagawa says, wondering if he should just kill him and find out about how he knows somewhere else "who are you"

the boy doesn't stop pouting but he finally answers "my name is nakajima atsushi. i got kicked out of my orphanage. im hungry. i want tea on rice." then he smiles and pulls out the ultimate weapon - something even akutagawa isn't prepared for against - "i'll make you fig pie "

akutagawa drops him

no it isn't just for the namedrop of one of his favorite dishes - it's simply becuz akutagawa can detect no lie or hint of malice or ill intentions from this atsushi

he keeps a tendril of rashomon on him just in case - he's not just letting him go of course - he still needs answers

atsushi pets rashomon and continues on to the kitchen, carefully washing his hands and moving around like he's been there a million times

"say, ryuu. i'll cook and clean if you let me stay here. just for a bit. until i get a job."

"no. i am letting you not starve perhaps - but do not think that i trust you or care for you."

"aww... im going to stay anyway."

"you will not"

"im not here to hurt you, promise. i really just didn't know where else to go."

"that does not explain how you know me."

"i guess not. ahh let me eat, i'll explain when i can think"

he never explains.

he does make the pie and he does fret over akutagawa eating dinner and he does laugh at akutagawa's threats and he does charm him easily and he does prove that he isn't associated with anyone just akutagawa and he is so so untrustworthy but akutagawa lets him stay

he tells himself its becuz he's keeping an eye on his strange man

atsushi, on his part, fully meant to explain everything to akutagawa as soon as he finished eating. he just forgot. he's so used to akutagawa already knowing everything about him, that it's esy for me to forget to explain, but still go on fully thinking that akutagawa already knows.

[misc-obeyme]

This may be a little bit of a harder ask, but I saw this post (https://www.tumblr.com/l3viat8an/727484739449143297/mc-i-should-warn-you-im-not-very-good-at?source=share) the other day, which made me think— could I request something with Solomon and tickling for flufftober? It seems really cute haha

if you’d like a scenario or a little more to work with, please feel free to lmk and I’ll send another (probably anon lol) ask in!

Hi there, anon!

I fear my love for Solomon is probably rather evident in this one lol. I really enjoy writing for him. Anyway, as we discussed in your other asks, I included MC enjoying being tickled, but not necessarily wanting to tickle others. And of course I wrote it for a fem!MC! Hopefully it turned out okay!

Thank you for submitting a prompt!

FLUFFTOBER 2023

fem!MC x Solomon

Warnings: none!

There were a lot of things that Solomon loved about you, but he found he could never quite get enough of hearing you laugh. It sounded like a bright waterfall full of music, cascading melodies accompanied by your bright smile.

Most of the time he was just content to observe you. You were so easy with your laugh, letting it bubble out from you simply by being with the people you cared about. Solomon could just watch you as you interacted with demons and angels, the way you so effortlessly engaged with them, laughing happily in their presence.

You certainly didn't hold back when you were talking to him either. Most of the time, all he needed to do was say some witty remark and he would be rewarded with that sweet sound.

But there were times when Solomon just could not help himself. Times when you weren't quite paying attention, completely unsuspecting, and it was just too easy.

And there was something a little bit different about the way you laughed when he tickled you. It was the same beautiful sound, but with a tinge of embarrassment, even a little bit of protest.

The first time he had done it, he had been trying to get you to tell him a secret he knew you were keeping. The attempt was a success, as you finally caved and told him what it was. You looked so guilty about having revealed it that he had offered to let you tickle him back. Solomon noted the way your demeanor instantly changed. You became shy, pulling back your hands and looking away.

When Solomon pressed you a little further, you admitted to him that tickling others made you uncomfortable. Solomon was overcome by how cute you were, bashfully telling him how you didn't like to tickle other people and then reassuring him in the same breath that you didn't mind being tickled.

Solomon wasn't sure he believed you at first. It seemed unlikely that you were really okay with it. He suspected you were only saying that so he wouldn't feel bad.

Until you very deliberately tried to get him to do it again. You started casually mentioning that you had a secret and then pretending you didn't mean to say anything about it. You even made a joke about him tickling it out of you.

Solomon was a smart man. He knew what you were trying to do. And when he finally gave in, your secret was that you didn't have a secret at all. He already knew that, of course, but hearing you say it was almost sweeter than the laugh you said it through.

Ever since then, Solomon didn't stop himself from tickling you if he saw the chance. He didn't do it all the time, usually saving it for when he really needed to hear that special laugh.

It was a quiet day in Cocytus Hall. You had been back from the House of Lamentation for a little while already. You were quiet at dinner, but it was subtle. Solomon could barely tell, but he still knew that you were feeling a little down.

He had gone to his own room, removing his cloak and preparing to do some reading, but he couldn't stop thinking about the look in your eyes. How your smile didn't quite brighten them, like it was a show you were putting on for him.

Solomon sighed and left his room, going down the hall to yours. The door was open a bit and he stuck his head in to see if you were there.

You were standing with your back to the door, looking out the window. Your hands were hanging at your sides, subconsciously tugging on the fabric of your dress. He could see your somber reflection in the window's glass.

Solomon snuck up behind you, making enough noise at the last second that you would be aware that he was there. He circled his arms around your waist, tickling at your stomach and sides.

The sound of your musical laugh greeted him and he smiled into your hair, even as you squirmed in his grip.

You protested halfheartedly as you managed to turn yourself around in his arms. You slapped lightly at his chest and leaned your head against him as he showed you no mercy, your laughter uncontrollable.

"Stop, stop!" you cried, pushing away enough to practically double over. "I can't breathe!"

Solomon was laughing now, too. He gave you a minute to catch your breath, even stepping away to make you think he was retreating for good.

You took a few steps toward him, ready to start pretending like you were offended when he moved in again.

You twisted and tried to get away, letting out a little yelp of surprise. You managed to trip over your own feet and then you really were grasping onto him.

Instead of keeping yourself upright by grabbing Solomon's arm, you only succeeded in pulling him down with you as you fell backward on your bed.

"Woah!" Solomon yelled as he fell, managing to stop himself from crushing you by putting both hands on either side of your head.

Solomon looked down at you, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, breathing heavily. He reached out to run his fingertips along your lips.

"What was that about?" you asked. "I don't have any secrets."

Solomon smiled at you. "It's hard to tell because you're so beautiful when you smile, it dazzles everybody. But I still know when you're having a bad day, MC."

You huffed a little. "You were trying to cheer me up."

"Did it work?" he asked with a smirk.

You laughed again, soft and short and lilting. "Yeah," you said, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. "It did."

Solomon leaned down to kiss you. He was satisfied. At least for now, he had managed to tickle away the sad look that had been lingering in your eyes.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick

[kittenofdoomage]

A Bargain Struck

Summary: Inspired by this post on Tumblr and the lovely @angryschnauzer. You’ve struck a bargain with something unholy, and now he wants his due.

Pairing: demonic!Geralt x female!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, demonic rituals, selling souls, everyone’s over the age of 18, this is a sort of medieval AU, use of horns for leverage during sex, transformations during sex, probably a lot of blasphemy?, it’s filth yet fluffy? Soft!Geralt is definitely a thing here. Let’s get weird. Uh, size kink, wing kink, demonic tongue fucking, definitely monsterfucking.

Ao3 Link

A/N: I was too excited to share this one with everyone. I know @deandoesthingstome wanted a tag (I think anyway, I didn't hallucinate that, right?) but haven't tagged anyone else to read. Let me know what you think, in gif form or otherwise!

She can’t help but feel joy when her sister, younger than her by only a few years, bursts through the door of their cottage, laughing as Dotty nips at the hem of her dress. It is a relatively new sight to behold, to see Emily filled with such life, when only weeks before she had been expected to die. “The moon, Y/N, did you see it?” she gasps, coming to a stop at the table, leaning on it with her hands to stare out of the window. “It’s so pretty!”

“I’ve seen,” Y/N replies, turning away from her sibling so she doesn’t see the worry in her eyes. It’s a blood moon, huge and pinkish red, filling the horizon in a stunningly clear sky. You have until midnight at the blood moon, he had said, the formless voice in the darkness that had granted her wish for her sister to live. She knew the price when she sought him out; it was clear in the ritual. Her sister’s life for her soul, bound to him for eternity.

A price she would gladly pay again.

“You’re quiet,” Emily murmurs, pulling out a chair as Dotty jumps around her. “What are you making?”

“Venison pie for supper. And I’m just concentrating.” The pastry around the edges of her creation are not playing ball, and they need to be perfect. This is her last meal with her family, and she intends to savor every moment of it. “Would you mind setting the table?”

She’s spent the last three weeks worrying if they will cope without her. He had given her assurances of a long happy life, but the what ifs and maybes still linger, nibbling at her thoughts until she was consumed with anxiety over it.

Emily hums as she gathers the dishes and cutlery for dinner, making Y/N smile as she finally gets the pastry to behave. The oven billows out a plume of hot air when she tugs the door open, and she shoves the pie in. “There we go,” she mutters, wiping the grease off of her hands onto her apron. “It should be ready when Mother gets home.”

“She’s still at the church?” her sister asks.

Chuckling, Y/N locates her cup of tea, happy to find it still warm enough to drink. “Well, your recovery was nothing short of miraculous,” she sighs. “Mother just thinks she needs to pay Him back.” She could have told her, of course, but their mother had always fallen on the more devout side of religious, and she didn’t think any good could come of confessing her deal with the devil, or something like him at the very least. The last thing she needed is to be locked up for being a witch - if she wasn’t there to pay the price, he could take back what he’d given, and she would not let that happen.

The cottage fills with the scent of the pie as it cooks. Y/N prepares the vegetables, listening to Emily chat about her day, wiping away an errant tear as she soaks in her sister’s excitement and zest for life. She wishes dearly that she could be there to see her grow and learn, maybe get married and have children, and hates even more that she won’t be. As the time to say goodbye creeps closer, she feels her nerves churning into an uncomfortable ball that sits in her belly, filling her with dread.

Their mother comes home just as they are plating up the meal, and the conversation revolves around her day at the church. She makes them say a prayer before supper, though Y/N keeps one eye open because she’s certain no prayer or God can save her from what she’s giving herself to. 

As her family continues to chatter obliviously, she tries to keep her focus on them, to enjoy the moments she has left with them. Emily is talking about a local boy she has a crush on, and Y/N feels her heart in her throat when her mother asks if she will be going to the market in the morning.

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” she mumbles, cheeks rapidly warming. “How’s the pie?”

“Wonderful as always,” her mother replies. “I don’t know where you get your cooking skills from, certainly not me.” The joke is supposed to make her smile but Y/N only feels regret that she’s leaving them.

“You’re a good cook too,” Emily insists, grinning at her sister who manages a weak curve of her lips.

She’s trying so hard not to show her grief. She should be happy. Her sister will live a full and happy life. Y/N couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

Dinner is over quickly, and once everything is cleared away, Y/N looks out of the window. The moon is a deeper shade of red now, hanging ominously over the trees in the distance. It’s bright enough that the whole valley is bathed in an eerie crimson, and she shudders as she looks towards the forest and the darkness waiting to greet her.

She still has time. Her sister is already in front of the fire, needlework in hand, humming again like she is prone to do since her recovery. Their mother reads, glasses perched on the end of her nose to make her look far older than she is, and Y/N smiles as she sits between them, letting the warmth of the firelight wash over her.

“You should take the rest of those apples to the market tomorrow,” Mother says quietly, and she nods, even though she knows she’ll never go to market again. The apples will probably rot in the basket. 

The night draws on. Mother retires first, kissing her firstborn on the top of the head as she passes, before taking Emily’s hand and looking at her fondly. Y/N watches her go with a heavy ache in her heart, wishing she could say goodbye, and not just leave them without resolution.

“You’re still being quiet,” Emily observes, putting her needlework away. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a second where she’s not sure what to say. She can see herself spilling the truth, dragging a promise from her little sister that she would live her life, fall in love, do all the things Y/N would never get to do. But she can’t say it because then Emily would know, and she couldn’t bear the thought of her sister carrying the weight of that guilt forever.

Sitting up, she smiles, shaking her head. “I’m just tired,” she says, getting up to take over the seat their mother had vacated.

Emily watches her for a moment longer, obviously deciding whether to prod at the subject. When she makes her choice, she sighs, rising from the chair. “Well, I’m tired too, so I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Y/N.” She turns, then pauses before crossing the room to lean down and press a kiss to her sister’s temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N whispers, tears in her eyes. If the younger woman notices, she doesn’t say anything, quickly retreating and leaving her sibling alone. 

She waits a while, watching the fire die out until there are only a few embers remaining. Once the red glow fades, she gets to her feet, making her way to her mother’s room first, and she finds her in a deep slumber, one arm slung over the edge of her bed. With a smile, Y/N pulls the door shut, moving to the next, and Emily is asleep too. She lingers for a second, wishing once more that she could say goodbye, but time is running thin, so she closes the door and moves on.

It didn’t seem worth the effort to take anything with her, and it’s easier to move silently with just her cloak. She fastens it at her throat and makes her way out of the cottage, careful to lock the door behind her, slipping the key into her pocket through habit - it’s unlikely she’ll need it again. Pulling her hood up, she walks away from the village and towards the forest, keeping her footsteps light and quick. Her cloak catches on the undergrowth as it gets thicker, and soon she’s picking her way along the narrow path between the trees, feeling more anxious as the darkness crowds her. Further along, the trees are so dense that the moonlight cannot penetrate their leaves and she has to slow to avoid tripping on unseen hazards.

Her destination isn’t all that far. The ground grows steeper, and she has to be more careful as she searches for the ruins in the dark. It helps that she has walked this path before, when she made her bargain, and she knows she’s there when she finds the first stone, stuck upright in the ground with strange symbols she traces with her fingers.

The ruins are empty and dark. Huge stones mark the circle, with some lying flat in the middle, almost like an altar. She doesn’t know what they once were but she can feel the electricity in the air, taste it like iron on her tongue.

“Hello?” she calls in a shaky uncertain voice. It must be nearly midnight; if she looks up, she can see the moon high above the trees. The wind rushes around her, and she shivers, tugging her cloak closed. “Are you here?”

Everything falls silent. A twig snaps, and she spins, peering into the dark thicket of trees between two of the largest stones. She’s about to call again as two golden eyes suddenly become visible, and instinct makes her pull back.

“Hello?” she whispers this time. For some strange reason, she doesn’t feel afraid, just apprehensive and uncertain in the face of something so unholy.

“You are ready to finish our bargain.”

She casts her gaze back the way she came, sorrow heavy in her heart. “I am.”

“The price was agreed,” he murmurs, golden eyes shining in the darkness surrounding him. “Yet I see tears in your eyes. Do you wish to take back what was given?”

Horror fills her, the image of her sister dying slowly still imprinted in her mind. She doesn’t want that. “I’m never going to see my family again,” she replies softly, wiping at her eyes. “Are you so unfeeling that you cannot understand grief?”

He chuckles at that, and she can hear him shifting around. “I understand perfectly.” Squinting isn’t giving her a clearer view of him, though her eyes are still adjusting to the lack of light. “You’re not afraid.”

It’s a statement, made out of curiosity, and she lets her shoulders relax. “I don’t think so,” she whispers. She’s uncertain what faces her, but it’s difficult for anything to overcome the despair at leaving her family. “Can I see you?”

There’s a pause, more rustling, and he clears his throat. “Have you ever seen a demon before?”

“No,” she answers truthfully, even as her mind conjures images of disgusting beasts and eldritch creatures.

He harrumphs under his breath. Y/N watches, unsure what to expect, and then he steps forward, letting the darkness melt away. At first he seems huge, and she hears the rustle of wings, but as he comes closer, he seems to shrink into a more human shape. He’s still tall, broad, rippling with muscle underneath a black shirt that clings to his skin, and the only things that indicate his otherworldliness are his golden eyes, his long white hair, and the two thick black horns curving out from the sides of his head. She sucks in a breath at the sight of him, and he stares at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

“Are you frightened now?” he asks.

There is fear but it’s inspired by a new feeling inside her, something raw and primal, something that’s telling her she belongs to this creature, and she’s not sure if it’s magic or him, or something else entirely. “No,” she says again, shaking her head this time.

His lips curl into a smile. “Curious,” he rumbles. “I knew there was a reason I answered the summons.”

The comment makes her frown. “Aren’t you compelled to?” He laughs, and it’s a sound that makes her insides quiver with need. There’s something strange about him that draws her in, and she takes a step closer to him, tilting her head. “Do you have a name?” she asks boldly.

He watches her in amusement, like he’s never encountered anyone like her before. “Geralt,” he concedes.

It feels more comfortable to have a name to use, though she’s no closer to understanding what is happening. If he didn’t have to respond to the ritual, why did he? The thought makes it out of her mouth before she can stop it, and the amusement doesn’t fade from his face.

“The ritual only binds the one whose blood is used,” he murmurs, closing the distance between them. “You are now bound to me, Y/N, for what I have given you. Do you understand what that means?”

Her mouth goes dry. “You take my soul,” she rasps, eyes watering again. “I have to die.”

There’s a second where he seems confused, and then his knuckles are brushing her cheek, wiping away the errant tear that escapes. “What gave you that idea?” She stares at him, puzzled by his words, and he’s suddenly right there, looming over her, one meaty paw cupping her face. Her heart is racing at his proximity, and she begins to understand exactly what he wants from her. “You’re mine now,” he repeats softly. “I will only ever protect you.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she breathes, lifting her hands to brace them against his chest, to stop him getting closer or just to touch him - she’s not certain which. He’s real and solid under her palms, and she’s surprised when she feels the dull thud of his heart in his chest.

“I’ve been alone for so long,” he hums, dropping his head just enough to nuzzle the tip of his nose against hers. “I was growing weary of solitude. Then I heard your plea…”

His lips brush hers, and she stuns herself by lifting her chin, allowing him to initiate the kiss. It’s not like she hasn’t been kissed before, she’s just never been kissed with such raw need, and before she can register it, he has her body pinned against his, held in place with a hand on her lower back. She can barely breathe when he breaks away to look down at her; his eyes are nearly black and it’s too hard to pull her gaze away.

“But you’re a demon,” she mumbles.

He answers in a gentle tone, almost amused by her dazed reaction. “I cannot help what I am.” His hand is around her hip now, keeping their bodies pressed together, and she can feel something hard digging into her belly. It takes a second for her to realize; her eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away.

“You want me to be your companion,” she says slowly, acutely aware of how large he is. “For me to - to -”

Geralt smiles, and it’s a hungry smile, exposing his sharp canines. “Yes,” he confirms, voice thick and syrupy. “I knew as soon as I heard your plea. You are lonely too.”

She wants to be indignant at that, to deny it, except she has always been lonely. Once she thought she had found someone who she had been prepared to give her whole heart to, only for him to shatter the dream and walk away. Since then, her only duty had been to her family, and though she loved them dearly, she had never tried to be anything but the perfect daughter and sister.

“You see?” Geralt draws her back to the present. “You ache for someone to love you. To care for you. It’s why you were so ready to sacrifice yourself for your sister.” His hand somehow covers the whole side of her head, which should be terrifying, but she’s leaning into it, finding comfort in the touch. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

She nods, almost in a daze. He pulls back, taking her hand to lead her to the altar-like stone in the middle of the ruins, and she follows without question. When he sits, he drags her between his thighs, and the angle is much friendlier to her neck when he kisses her again.

“I need to hear you say it,” he growls, unclasping her cloak to let it fall to the ground.

Her eyes lock on his. The golden in them is nearly entirely eaten by black, and a rush of warmth ends right at her core. “I’m yours,” she manages weakly, suddenly acutely aware of the pounding of her heart and the blood in her veins. She feels like she should resist simply because he’s a demon, but she doesn’t feel any danger from him at all.

He tugs her dress up, slicing through the fabric that gets in his way with sharpened claws that are gone by the time he finds her flesh. Heat floods her face when he rubs thick fingers against her sex, and she flings out a hand to brace herself against his shoulder, leaning to the side as he sinks a single digit inside her. It’s thicker than anything that’s ever been inside her before, making her squeak and cling to him, and a rumble of amusement echoes in his chest.

“I’m not a virgin,” she whispers, suddenly in fear of disappointing him.

“Neither am I,” he replies in a quiet laugh. She gasps as he works a second finger into her, and she begins to think that if his cock is bigger than this, he might not fit. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there’s a part of her that rallies against the idea of intimate relations with a demon, but she ignores it in favor of his touch, gasping as he thrusts his fingers inside her as deep as they can go.

She can hear how wet she’s getting, and he can too, grunting his appreciation when his fingers come out glistening. When he pushes them into her again, she whimpers, rocking her hips to meet his movement, focusing on the fire he’s igniting in her belly. She’s felt it before, just not this powerful, like she’s forgotten how to breathe, and before she can vocalize the pleasure, her pussy clenches and she’s dripping down his wrist. He moans, almost covering the squelch of his fingers as they keep sinking into her over and over, forcing her to ride out every wave of her orgasm until he’s satisfied she’s done.

He withdraws, allowing her to rest as he tears his shirt off, but her attention has moved to the bulge in his pants. Reaching out, she brushes her fingers against it, looking up sharply when he growls low in his throat and slides his hand to the fastening. His cock springs free the second it's able, and she swallows around the lump in her throat, still uncertain she can take him.

Her apprehension must have been plastered across her face. He catches her chin, forcing her to look at him, and she sees reassurance in his eyes. “It will feel good,” he says softly, taking hold her hand to guide it to his shaft. It’s warm to touch, solid under her fingertips, so she grasps him in her hand, tentatively stroking down then up, smiling when he moans. “That’s it,” he purrs, pressing his hand between her thighs again.

The intrusion of his fingers is familiar now her body has adjusted but he takes his time to open her up properly, bringing her to the cusp of climax after climax. By the time he is hauling her into his lap, she’s a panting mess, yet she still hesitates as he presses the wide tip of his shaft to her entrance, using his fingers to position himself. His golden gaze fixes on hers when he begins to drag her down, and for a moment, she’s convinced he’ll break her, then the first inch is in and she practically begs for the rest. He sinks up into her slowly, letting her pussy drench him to ease his path, and when he’s finally buried deep, she can’t breathe for the pressure in her belly. Her walls hug him tightly, cockhead snug against her cervix, and he keeps her right there, grinding inside while she can do nothing except accommodate him.

“How does it feel?” he asks in a gravelly voice that makes her feel like he’s holding something back.

“You’re -” She still can’t control her breathing, almost shivering through overstimulation. “You’re so big, I -”

“Hmmm.” He sounds amused, watching as she gasps and splutters, pressing her hands against his chest before sliding them to his shoulders. “Would you like me to move?”

She whimpers with a nod. “Yes,” is all she can manage, and he chuckles, putting his hands to her waist. The first slow pull away from him has her digging her nails into his shoulders, but her body is quickly acclimatizing and when he’s almost fully withdrawn, she only wants him back inside her. He gives her exactly what she wants, filling her again, and she cries out in ecstasy, drowning out his low possessive growl.

There’s an electricity in the air when he begins to fuck her, overriding her meager strength to manipulate her body until she’s almost out of her mind with pleasure. The intensity of it makes her feel like she might die if he stops, or if he doesn’t; either way, she’s craving more and more, and it seems he is more than willing to give it. She comes for him easily, easing his path into her slick channel even more, and she’s sobbing by the time she’s done, prompting him to slow just a little.

He growls as she leans back just a little, held in his grasp. “I want to see all of you,” he grunts.

A clawed finger tears down the front of her dress. The fabric falls either side, exposing her breasts, and Geralt doesn’t hesitate, curling his long tongue around one stiff peak as she moans decadently. She reaches up, letting her fingers slide over the horns either side of his head, tugging experimentally. It inspires a moan that vibrates out against her sensitive skin, so she does it again, using the slight leverage to lift off of his cock before sinking back down.

He doesn’t stop her when she does it again. His hands tighten around her waist, giving her assistance on each stroke, bringing her down hard until she’s stuffed with him again. “I want to see all of you too,” she whines, resting her hands at the base of his horns. “I want to see what you really look like.”

Releasing her breast, he meets her gaze, baring his teeth slightly as she keeps moving. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

“You won’t,” she promises desperately.

His grip on her waist tightens, forcing her to slow. She gasps, watching the slow ripple as he relinquishes the control over his form, whimpering when he pulls her down hard on his cock as it grows with him, pushing her to her limit. Large black wings sprout from his back, his teeth become sharper, and his eyes glow; he’s breathtaking and terrifying, or he should be, but she feels no fear, only the need for him.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, holding her down on his cock with clawed hands.

“Yes,” she hisses, panting and wriggling to relieve the unbearable pressure in her belly. He grabs her hand, pressing it down against her gut, and her eyes go wide. “Oh -” She can feel him, right underneath her palm, throbbing inside her.

“Like you were made for me,” he snarls, rocking his hips again so she can feel the thick girth dragging against her walls. “You’re mine.”

He moves before she can react, finding herself naked and pinned underneath him on the stone altar. His wings expand then contract, surrounding them as he slides down her body, covering her aching cunt with his mouth. She yelps when she feels his tongue probing her entrance, thick and long, wriggling, and it’s a new sensation that curls her toes as he pushes the flexible organ inside her. It doesn’t fill her like his cock does but it seems to touch every hidden part of her, and she can’t catch her breath, panting hard as she reaches a new high on his tongue.

She’s shaking from head to toe, yet he doesn’t stop, groaning against her pussy, nuzzling against her clit. The additional point of stimulation makes her reach down, sliding her fingers around one horn, and he snarls, fucking his tongue into her with a little more vigor. Her back arches at the unexpected force, and she can feel her heart hammering hard in her chest. She screams and writhes, but he holds her in place until he’s satisfied, and she’s boneless, eyelids fluttering as she fights the urge to pass out.

Withdrawing slowly, he climbs up her body, lining up his monstrous cock once more, and she feels like she’s looking up at a god instead of a demon. Her thoughts are swept away in the next instant when he cants his hips forward, burying his cock to the root inside her aching channel again. She falls apart in seconds, crying out until he silences her with a heady kiss. 

Time is meaningless. Every thrust sends her spiraling, raking her nails over his biceps as he claims her body along with her soul. She can’t think between bursts of ecstasy except for one driving need to feel him come inside her.

He growls as his strokes become sloppy, harder, faster, and finally, he buries himself as deep as he can, punching a choked cry out of her lungs as he spills into her. It’s hot and thick, and she groans as he keeps her still, riding out his orgasm and grinding deep until he’s done.

Her head rolls from side to side as the pleasure resides, though she can still feel him buried inside her, keeping his seed deep in her womb. He doesn’t move yet, coaxing her into a soft kiss as he remains with his wings sheltering them from the cold air. She hiccups a sob against his mouth, letting her fingers tangle in his hair, and when they part, she gasps for breath.

“Do not fret,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her gently.

She doesn’t feel up to anything like fretting at that moment, even as she looks up at his demonic countenance. Her limbs feel like jelly, and she’s certain she could fall asleep in the warmth of his hold. “Will they be alright without me?” she asks, because she has to know, and she trusts him to give her the truth.

He nods, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Yes.”

It’s all she needs. Her eyes flutter shut as she curls into his chest, contentment washing through her as the demon holds her close, lifting her from the stone to carry her towards the darkness he had come from.

When dawn breaks, all that is left is her cloak and a few tattered rags.

Thanks for reading! Please, please let me know if you liked it 🤗

[wsdanon]

also here's a wip of sorts of a dungeon meshi au me and jaime routeriver are having fun with \o/!! it technically works as a full oneshot, i just need to figure out whether i want to write it as a multichapter thing or not so for now i'm just posting on tumblr

It isn’t until they’re settling down for the night that it hits Pac that this will be the longest time they’ve been alone with Cellbit since prison. 

Usually Felps is there as a buffer. Or they’re in a very public area with lots of witnesses. Or it’s only for a couple of hours.

But him and Mike have just signed themselves up for days—maybe weeks—alone with Cellbit in a place where they won’t often run into people, and death is common and easy enough to cover up. 

He had just been so worried about Felps that even with Mike’s apprehension none of that had occurred to him. 

It is very much occuring to him now. 

They don’t need a watch technically, so Pac stutters out something about checking over his leg and waves away Mike’s concern. At least one of them should get a good night’s sleep tonight—and they definitely won’t want Mike sleep deprived while he’s checking over traps tomorrow.

Cellbit looks away quickly when he takes off the prosthesis. He would almost seem more squeamish about it than Pac is, but they both know that’s not true.

Pac watches out of the corner of his eye as Mike drifts off to sleep, and Cellbit prepares their food for storage.

Monsters. He never really thought he’d ever eat monsters. It feels almost like the same kind of forbidden as… 

He bites his lip, and breathes deeply. They have no other food supplies. He can’t afford to throw up dinner just because his brain is making stupid connections. 

But are they really stupid? Cellbit had gotten all strange when he mentioned he knew how to prepare them. Looking away from Pac the same way he carefully avoids looking at his leg. 

It’s not… cannibalism. Not even really close to it, right now. But it still doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel good. There has to be a reason why Cellbit of all people knows all about this—

“Are you okay?”

Pac flinches at the sound of Cellbit’s voice. 

“You’re looking a little…” Cellbit taps one of his own cheeks. “Pale, you know?”

“I’m, uh—I’m fine!” He sends Cellbit a shaky smile, internally cursing himself for how unconvincing it looks. “Totally fine, you know? Just—Yeah, all good here!”

“Okay.” 

Cellbit looks unconvinced, but doesn’t push. Pac suppresses a shudder at the feeling of Cellbit’s piercing gaze analysing him.

Felps. He’s doing this for Felps. He’s doing this because Felps got eaten by a dragon because he pushed Cellbit out of the way.   

Him and Mike didn’t have enough time to wait for Fit’s party to be ready, and Cellbit probably would’ve died if he went in alone like he was planning. And Pac… kind of likes Cellbit. You know, when there’s measures in place to stop him from killing them.

Besides, Cellbit’s different from Cell. That was one thing Felps promised when they ran into each other again, and even Mike agrees he’s changed at least a bit.

“Thank you.” Cellbit says, and this time Pac manages to hide his flinch. “For, like, coming with me even though I can’t really pay you for it. I appreciate it, and I know it’ll mean a lot to Felps.”

“Of course.” Pac shrugs, and messes with his leg some more. It really doesn’t need anything done to it, but he needs to at least try and look like he wasn’t lying. “Felps is, like—he’s a good friend, you know? And you probably would’ve died if you had to face the dragon alone, anyway.”

Pac tenses as soon as the potentially insulting words spill from his mouth. Forces out a nervous little laugh to show Cell—Cellbit he’s just joking.

But all Cellbit does is laugh, too.

“Yeah, probably.” He finally finishes putting away the food, and shifts to a more relaxed sitting position. “But it’s Felps, you know? I would’ve had to have tried something. Even if it was stupid.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Honestly if Cellbit didn’t want to try, Pac probably would’ve come back down to save Felps himself. Well… not by himself. Mike probably would’ve come with him still. 

Or Pac would’ve had to sneak past Mike so Mike didn’t stop him from trying. One of the two.

By himself he wouldn’t have had to hide as much, at least.

And on that note: at least if worse comes to worse, and Felps… isn’t as intact as they need, Cellbit won’t be able to judge him for using forbidden magic. Because forbidden magic can help people if used in the right circumstances—which are all the circumstances Pac plans on using it. All Cellbit—All Cell ever did was hurt.

“I’m sorry.” Cellbit says. “This must be, uh, kinda weird for you, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Pac forces himself to smile. “It’s—It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Well, it’s not every day you eat monsters, right?” Cellbit shrugs. “A lot of adventurers don’t even think about it, and you didn’t seem… keen earlier.” 

Oh. Right. That’s what he’s talking about.

“Ah, I’ll get over it.” He hopes it doesn’t sound as fake to Cellbit as it sounds to himself. “It’s for Felps, you know? And you—you, uh, know a lot, right? You’re probably not gonna k-kill us by preparing it wrong.”

Although maybe in other, more purposeful ways… 

No, he shouldn’t think like that.

“I’ll try my best not to.” Cellbit says, with a genuine little smile.

It’s soft—from the tone of his voice, to his smile. Like they’re just friends joking around. Nothing like how Cell would act. 

It’s not—It’s not unusual for him now, really. It just feels… out of place. In this context. Because Pac can’t shake off the feeling that Cell’s just going to pop back up again and kill them.

Felps had been almost too honest about Cellbit’s progress. Had rambled about how fixated Cellbit was on getting revenge the first few months after getting off the island—before Felps managed to direct his attention elsewhere.

If it wasn’t for the fact Felps still stuck by Cellbit despite what Cellbit did to him in prison, Pac might’ve even left town entirely to avoid running into Cell again. They had passed by Felps’ body before leaving, after all. Pac was certain he was dead.

Felps seems happier now, too. And he had sacrificed himself for Cellbit. So, that most likely rules out the possibility that he’s still being blackmailed. There’s no reason why Felps would still be with Cellbit if he didn’t genuinely change.

Pac just wishes he could get his brain to believe it.

“I’m going to get some rest.” Cellbit says, smothering a yawn. “You probably should, too, yeah? We’ll have some big days ahead of us.”

“Yeah, I’m just—” he gestures at the leg in front of him. “—Just finishing up my check.”

Cellbit opens his mouth like he’s going to speak. Then shuts it again without saying anything, and moves to get under the covers of his bedroll. Pac waits until he thinks Cellbit’s asleep before getting into his own. 

It’ll only be for a week or so, right? A few days of discomfort is nothing compared to the thought of letting Felps rot in that dragon’s stomach. 

Besides, Cellbit’s had plenty of opportunities to kill them over the years. He hasn’t done it yet. That has to count for something.

--

hope you guys enjoyed \o/!!!

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Ruined

Siobhan Roy x fem!Reader

Oneshot

summary: a chess move gone wrong. but it brought you two back together, so how can she complain?

thank you anon 🫀 for requesting this! you’re so loved and appreciated <3

Word Count: 2.257k

When the invitation comes in the mail, you think nothing of it. Because of your job, Waystar was always trying to kiss your ass and trying to convince you they were the perfect employer.

It was also because of your previous relationship.

Even though you and Siobhan had been separated for a few weeks now, you weren’t sure that many people knew. Not only did Royco execs invite you to try and convince you to ‘join the ranks’, they’d invite you to try and get closer to Shiv. The daughter of the man in possession of the biggest media conglomerate in the world, a mega billionaire.

You assume this is just another dinner to kiss ass to prospective employees. You didn’t really mind, though. It’s free food, and even though you’d never admit it out loud, a boost to your ego.

Post breakup with Shiv felt apocalyptic. You didn’t want to eat, sleep, breathe. But you had to. You had shit to get done.

You’re happy for the excuse to get dressed up. It makes you feel good about yourself, and god knows you need that right now. You stare at yourself in the mirror, dark colored turtleneck and high waisted pants accentuating the curves of your body. You gloss your lips, mentally preparing for the night out.

The place is gorgeous, as always. The hallways are dimly lit, warm orange light dappling the space around you. You find yourself with a finger sandwich in hand, waiting for dinner to be announced so you can congregate in the dining room with everyone else and actually eat.

You watch as Logan Roy plucks a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing servant. If he was here, then that means this thing was important. But that raised a question- why are you here?

Your answer arrives right with Siobhan Roy. You spot her the moment she sets foot in the room. Despite how messy your brakeup was, you just couldn’t get yourself to get over her. She’s radiant, beautiful like the sunset, like the time-old glaciers, like the condensed dew on an ageless bottle of wine. She lit up your world, bringing day to your dystopian world of eternal night.

She was stressing over something, you could tell, even from across the room. Her shoulders were set tautly, her phone gripped in her hand. Her eyes sweep hastily over the gathered people, and yours subconsciously follow. You recognize all the high profile politicians, the big whales of finance and business. You’re beginning to feel out of place.

Lost in your daze, you don’t realize as she steps up beside you. When she speaks, you think you’re dreaming for a split second. In recent history, the only time you’d ever heard her voice, spoken to her, was in the depths of your mind’s eye.

“Are you fucking with me?” Shiv hisses from beside you, fake smile pasted to her face.

You’re taken aback. “Hello to you, too,” you mutter in response.

Her hand falls immediately to the small of your back, and she steers you away from the crowd. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was invited. I didn’t fucking drop from the face of the Earth after you broke up with me,” you say dryly. Once you’re out in the hall, her voice raises slightly from her original whisper.

“Who invited you? How the hell are you even here?”

She leads you into an empty spare room and shuts the door firmly behind her. “What the fuck, Siobhan?”

“This is a dinner to introduce an acquisition. I would know if you were hired by Waystar. So why are you here?”

“Like I said, I was invited.”

“Why? For what?”

You scoff. “How encouraging of my career,” you drawl.

She snorts in response, turning to pace the room. “What’s he up to? Do you know?” she asks quickly, referring to her dad.

“How should I fucking know?” You cross your arms over your chest. “I didn’t know we were on speaking terms, anyway.”

“We’re not,” she spits. “Not after what you put me through.”

“What I put you through?” You laugh. “Siobhan, you dumped me because you were too busy fucking your work rather than me.”

She barks out a laugh. “Is that how you see it?”

“That’s how everybody but you fucking sees it. You got angry I wanted to talk about the fact that you did nothing but work, and work overtime, and neglect me, that you ended things and ran,” you spit back, voice dripping with venom.

She puts her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sorry I take my job seriously.” Her bracelets tinkle as her hands flit back down. “And that’s not what happened.” She twists to face away from you, hands carding through her hair.

“Then, pray tell, what did? You didn’t exactly wait around for me to even process. This is the first time we’ve spoken since then.”

When she turns back around, tears dot her waterline. Your chest swells with anxiety, struggling to differentiate between the stone-cold killer Siobhan and your sweet Shiv.

“I’m sorry, I’m deflecting. It’s not like that, I swear,” she says, voice cracking. “Oh, my fucking god. I got fucking scared, baby. I have all of these complicated feelings for you, and when they never went away, I got scared. I realized I loved you, that I love you, and I got horrified I’d fuck things up.”

Your heart flutters at the pet name. “That’s not a fucking excuse, Shiv. You left me by myself. You never even said goodbye properly.”

“I know, I know it’s not.” Her face drops into her hands. “It’s just… I can’t bear the idea of getting hurt. Being hurt by you, no less. I’d never recover. I haven’t recovered. I can’t move on. I can’t think of beauty without thinking of you. You’re in every goddamn sunrise, piece of jewelry, every starry night sky. Nothing I’m scared of matters anyway, because you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

You’re rendered speechless. Your mouth opens, then closes. You don’t know what to say.

“I can’t,” she says weakly. “I compare every single person to you. And every single time, I love you so much fucking better.” She chokes on a sob, face still covered by her hands.

Without thinking, you step towards her, taking her in your arms. Her head rests on your shoulder as sobs rack her body. You’d never, ever seen her like this. Not when you were together, not in any sort of public media. You rub soothing circles into her back.

“I’m sorry,” she laments, her voice wavering. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve never let you go. I want you back. I need you back. I can’t. I can’t keep doing this bullshit. You’re it for me. You’ll always be it for me.”

“Shiv,” you breathe. “Shiv, take a breath. Come on, you’re working yourself up.”

She obeys, attempting to regulate her breathing. She sniffs roughly, wiping at her eyes, before pulling away from you and turning her back to you.

“What I did was inexcusable,” she says, voice quieter. “I… I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I’m sorry. I love you.” She inhales shakily, her hands smoothing down her blouse. “Dad knew what would happen if you came today. I need to go.”

Without another word, she leaves you behind.

You see no point in sticking around. You’re confused, strangely swelling with love. You want to both chuck your phone into a river and pick up and dial her number immediately. You hunt around for someone who can get you your coat, and before you know it, you’re out in the blistering cold by yourself.

You spend the rest of your night face down in bed. You’re so conflicted. Does she want you, or does she not? Should you contact her first, or can you still hold onto the hope that she’ll come find you?

The night drags on, and there’s nothing. Early the next morning, you bolster the confidence to send her a text asking her if she’s alright. Your anxiety runs rampant the moment you hit send, and your face burns with heat. You both pray she answers as soon as she sees it and pray she never sees it at all. You want to belt your phone at the wall.

You find yourself at a coffee shop at seven thirty. You need to get out, to think about literally anything else. You have the day off, and you’re not sure if it’ll be good or bad for you yet.

The moment you set foot in the shop, you see her, and she sees you. Her hair is tied back, and she’s wearing an old sweater of yours. This is when she’s prettiest, you think. When she’s not playing the game of succession, not strategizing, just sitting comfortably in her skin.

Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. She beckons you over, doe eyes still glinting with tears.

Hesitantly, you go over and sit across from her.

“How did you…?”

“You come here every day,” she says quietly. She pushes a cardboard cup of coffee towards you. “I never forgot your order.”

You murmur your thanks, taking a sip. “We should talk,” you say stupidly.

“Yeah. We should,” she responds, folding her hands together and setting them on the table in between you two.

“Can we just… talk things through?”

“I want that. Please.”

You sit back in your chair, unsure of where to begin. “Did you actually mean it? Last night, I mean?”

“Everything I said. I would’ve stayed, but… ironically, duty called.”

“What’ll change?” you ask softly. “If we… if we try again?”

“Everything,” Shiv whispers. “You’re my world. I can’t go a second without thinking about you. You’re my top priority, I swear. I’ll never fucking leave your side again. I was a shitty girlfriend before. But I’ll change. I’d do anything for you.”

“I missed you,” you choke out. “So much.”

She loses it a bit, too, tear escaping and sliding down her cheek. You reach across the table and wipe it away. “I did, too. I missed you.”

“Do you want to come home?” you ask, hopeful. She smiles.

“Finally. I’ve been living in a shithole with my cousin since you.”

You roll your eyes, knowing she’s playing it up. She takes your hand, and before you know it, you’re sat on the couch, making out. Her fingers dig into your jaw, keeping your mouth locked with hers. Shiv kisses are hard, needy. She’s been waiting for you, craving you the last few weeks.

She pulls away to kiss and suck at your neck. “Shiv,” you say breathily, not expecting it. Despite her fervor, she’s gentle, successfully pleasing you.

“Shh, baby. Let me do this. Let me make you feel good. I need to make it up to you. I was an asshole.”

You laugh. “You’re just being territorial.”

She sighs, leaning back and inspecting a developing purple hickey on your skin. She buries her head into your shoulder after dotting soothing kisses along the new bruises.

“I love you. I’m sorry,” she says into your skin.

“I love you too.” Your hand strays to her back, stroking lightly.

“I promise I’ll do it right this time,” she murmurs. “You’ll never stop feeling fucking amazing.”

“I hope you’re right,” you respond.

“Really. I’m going to be better.” She kisses at your shoulder. “I’ll start skipping meetings for you.”

“You don’t need to neglect your job, Shiv.”

“I want to, anyway. I want to spend every second right here, with you.”

Your hand smoothes down to her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “As long as you’re happy.”

“I’m so fucking happy. You make everything better.”

Shiv slips out of your grasp, padding into your kitchen. You stay sprawled out on the couch, content.

The days go by slowly, and you’re grateful. The two of you spend morning tangled together, nights intertwined. You come home to her, she comes home to you. You never leave each other without a kiss goodbye, and you never say anything before kissing hello.

Shiv wasn’t lying. She prioritized you, and solely you. If she couldn’t come home on time, she’d send flowers and crawl into bed with you late at night, peppering your face with kisses. She’s become more affectionate, her touches always lingering and her always curled up against you.

You make sure to never neglect her, either. Despite your massive differences in salary, you make sure to give thoughtful gifts, and kiss her whenever you can. You find that you enjoy cooking for her, watching her face brighten whenever she eats something she likes.

You’ve both begun to keep pictures of each other in your wallets. You always catch her staring at a miniature portrait of you in her hands, her thumb gently stroking over your face.

Every night, your bed is warm with affection. You never feel alone again.

When it happens, she doesn’t get down on one knee. It’s when you’re both half asleep on the couch, your head cradled in her lap when she shows you the ring. She giggles when you let her slip it onto your finger, the word fiancé falling giddily from her lips.

You spend a moment rummaging around in your purse, then hurry back to her, another ring in hand.

She kisses you so hard your head spins.

“I love you. I love you so much. And that’ll never change.”

[yeoja-dream]

Intertwined

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: BTS OT7 X Reader 

Genre: Fantasy, Magic, Eventual Smut, Plot, slight slow burn

Characters: Vampire!BTS, Elf!Reader

Content Warning: none 

Word Count: 3.5k

You woke up the following morning to the blaring of your alarm waking you from a restful sleep. Instantly, you are in a bad mood. The post-concert blues were hitting like a truck. How were you meant to go back to regular life after a night like that? 

You pick up your phone, scrolling through work emails. I’ll have the payment for this month’s tuition tonight! The twins will be missing from the 10 am hip-hop intermediate class! Ms. Y/N I really think I’m ready for pointe! You sorted through the usual sort of emails when your eyes landed on a more unusual email. Private lesson request. That’s weird. You muse to yourself, rubbing the last of the sleep from your eyes as you open the request, sliding yourself up into a seated position in bed.

“1 adult lesson, style is hip hop and modern…” You mused out loud scrolling through the details. “9 pm is cutting it a little close 1 hour before closing, but it says you’re prepaid so…” You trail off. “Approved!” You announced out loud before hitting the confirm appointment button through the appointment portal. “What was the name anyway?” you scroll back up and snort at the answer. Kim Seokjin? That had to be a joke or a crazy coincidence. Either way, you were definitely going to have to ID this new client. Imagine if it was him - the thought amuses you as you begin your day, preparing for a day of classes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite your initial grumpy start, and perhaps it was the thrill of a mystery client who, you admit you’ve been dreaming about being Jin all day, but the day passes you quicker than you first believed. Not even Roberto in your toddler dance class 1, his endless energy typically giving you an endless headache, broke your stride today. 

You waved the last student out, shutting the door and locking it behind you. Can’t be too careful these days. You reminded yourself. You glanced at your watch, 8:15. Perfect, 45 minutes until Mr. Kim Seokjin walks through my front door. You thought to yourself, bemused. 

Putting aside your delusion, you organized the studio for a private lesson, and most importantly, you could slip into the back and enjoy a light dinner. On your phone, you sighed dramatically as you found yourself flipping through photos from last night. When will I ever get to experience something like that in my lifetime? You whined inwardly, bemoaning your modest finances. Maybe in another life 100 years or so, another group will pop up and you will have saved enough to get the same seats. Maybe. Your daydreaming was interrupted, however, by the unmistakable sound of a locked door trying to be opened. 

Your eyes snap to the time. 8:58 pm. Shit. How could I have let time get away from me like that? You snap up from the paper-cluttered desk and run, as fast as your legs will take you through the studio room and into the reception area. It was the person visible through the glass that stopped you dead in your tracks. 

You blinked once, twice, and rubbed your eyes for good measure. Holy. Shit. HOLY SHIT. THAT WAS KIM SEOKJIN. KIM SEOKJIN IS STANDING OUTSIDE MY STUDIO RIGHT NOW. Amidst your internal, slack-jawed panic, Jin stood just outside, black t-shirt and baggy pants hung off him effortlessly. He held up a phone screen and pointed at it, saying something you couldn’t make out through the glass. 

Let him in you idiot! Your inner voice scolds. I can’t give a dance lesson to Kim Seokjin! I should be asking him for advice! You fired back. Let him in, idiot. She says, firmer this time which is enough to break you out of your stun. 

You walk up to the glass door, and with a trembling hand, undo the latch and swing open the door. 

“Sorry, I had a lesson scheduled for tonight, if now isn’t a good time I could reschedule.” He offers politely. He thinks I forgot.

“No, no come in please!” You said as you opened the door wider for him to slip in. “I didn’t forget it's just uh,” He made eye contact with you “...robberies.” It was all you could finish. 

“Right well, no worries!” He said, his disposition relentlessly sunny despite how badly you were screwing this up. 

“Oh sorry before I take you back,” You start, and again the voice in your throat dies into a timid squeak as you finish your sentence “I just really to see some ID and if you would change your shoes I would really appreciate that you see its just house rules and-” 

“Sure. No problem. Here’s my ID,” he said, handing it fully to you. Can I sit here and change my shoes?” He asked, gesturing to the bench next to the reception desk. 

“That is exactly what it is there for. I will sign you into the system so it won’t change you the no-call no-show fee.” You plopped down at the desk, ID in hand. “Is there a reason why there is a sticker over the numbers?” 

“Oh yeah, I have to show my ID sometimes and all it takes is one person with a good memory and bad intentions to steal my identity. I am sure you understand.” He said, slipping on a pair of clean, white sneakers. 

“Oh wow yeah, I guess that’s true. A lot of weirdos out there, huh?” You asked, sliding the ID back towards him. 

“Tell me about it.” He said, picking up the card. “What do you think, more handsome in real life, right?” He asked with a wink. 

As if reflexively, your eyes rolled before you had the forethought to process how rude it might have appeared. Jin laughed heartily. 

“No sorry! Force of habit!” You said, putting your hands together apologetically. “Of course, you’re more handsome in person!” 

“No no!” He said, still laughing. “It was a funny reaction, genuine.” He added, sliding the card into his wallet. “Shall we?” He asked gesturing to the dance studio. 

“We shall,” you said, leading the way. 

The studio lights had been dimmed, the normally bright, overhead fluorescent lights seemed too sterile for a one-on-one interaction. The rest of the equipment had been put to the sides of the room, leaving it completely vacant with the exception of the worn tape on the floor demarking where students were to stand. 

“So let's start with some stretches.” You said, sitting on the floor in the center of the room. Jin followed your command wordlessly. You turned yourself at an angle to him, feeling immediately more at ease. It was easier to deal with him on your periphery. There was a sensation, one that you had been able to ignore on account of your nerves that had been present, you now observed, since he had first arrived. It felt like blue zaps of electricity buzzing through you, and as you spread your legs, lean forward into a split, and feel the stretch, it clicks. This was the feeling you had at the concert. The electric current, the dizzy, hazy feeling that washed over you when you locked eyes with them, it was coming on stronger and stronger, and it was making you bolder. 

“So,” You began. “Let's start with the basics. What brings you to a random dance studio when your company has plenty of dance teachers and choreographers?” You ask, stretching an arm across your chest. 

Jin mirrored you. “Let’s call it happenstance. Besides, the greatest way to learn is to be taught by many teachers.” 

“Okay, Confucius.” You teased. “What did you want to learn today?” 

“I want to learn whatever it is you are learning.” He said matter-of-factly. 

You snorted. “I doubt you want to learn what I am learning.” 

“Try me.” He said, standing up. 

You followed his lead, standing. “If you insist.” You said with a shrug. From the back wall of the studio, you dragged two chairs to the center of the space, about 5 feet apart. “I have been choreographing a routine using this.” You said gesturing to the chair. 

He knitted his eyebrows together in concern for a moment, before the expression dissolved, as did his resolve. 

“Alright,” He began, “Show me first, so I can get an idea of what it is you are referring to.” 

You walked over to the music player, set a 10-second delay, and walked over into position. As the beat hit, you moved your body with long-practiced poise and grace. The routine was like lovers making love for the first time, slow, explorative, and careful to begin. As the song continues, though, the intensity rises before BANG! The finale. 

You lost yourself in the music, whatever high that crept into your system made you carefree and light. You put your everything into every moment, and as you grinded and body rolled, you never forgot whose eyes were on you. You didn’t shy away. 

As the song finished, you let loose the final, explosive move, a visual orgasm to finish the routine. You let the silence hang for a moment while you caught your breath, without the music, shame began to reach through the haze.

“Well…?” You asked, turning around. You weren’t sure what you expected him to look like, or even how you expected him to react, but as you turned, a dark, hungry, and heady expression sat on Jin’s face. Where before he had been kind, respectful, clinical, even, your heart rate rose and a scarlet blush traveled up your face as you couldn’t help but imagine what he was capable of. “Jin…?” You asked again, taking a step toward him. 

As you do so, he blinks and shakes his head. When he looked at you again, his expression was once again as kind and friendly as it had been before. “Sorry.” He said “Got a little lost in thought there. That was amazing, where did you learn to dance like that?” 

“I’ve been practicing my whole life,” You said. “I’d like to think I came out of my mother’s womb dancing.” You said with a chuckle. 

A slightly uncomfortable silence hung in the air before you cleared your throat to speak again. 

“Did you want to learn however much of that we can in…” you glanced at your watch “20 minutes?” You asked. 

“Oh, sure!” He said. “It looks like fun.” 

You walked over to the media player, setting the song’s tempo slower, and began the process of breaking down the dance, beat by beat. Sure enough, being the professional dancer he is, he is an extremely fast learner, never needing to go over the same part more than 3 or 4 times before he has it memorized. You watched him carefully, allowing yourself to be slightly more critical of him than you might be with a more inexperienced student. 

“This part,” you demonstrated, rolling your body with practiced fluidity, “needs to be sexier, more fluid.” 

“How is this?” He asked, his movements still stiff. 

“Not quite.” You said. “Pardon my French, but pretend you’re… well…” you trailed off. 

“Making love to someone.” He finished for you. 

“Right.” You agreed. 

“How about this?” He asked, a perceivable jerkiness still present. 

“Hm.” You mused to yourself. “I think you aren’t using the right muscles. Give me your hand.” 

He offered his hand to you, wordlessly.

You grabbed his hand, opened his palm up flat, and placed it on your stomach. The physical connection sent a strong zap through your body. Focusing on your breathing, you followed through, allowing him to feel the way your muscles were contracting as you did the movement. His expression was hard, unreadable. 

“So… did you feel that?” You asked pulling his hand away. 

“Yeah… I did,” he said, his voice far away and dry. “I definitely did.” 

“So uh, you try now.” You said, feeling shy. 

He did so without comment, and the visual of which causes something to tighten within you. 

“Yeah, that looks a lot better.” 

“Could you,” he began “Ah, never mind.” he cut himself off. 

“Hm?” You ask “I probably don’t mind so ask away.” 

“No, it sounds kinda pervy.” He said, looking down, ashamed. 

“I don’t, uh…” You stammered, unsure how to process what he just said. Was this guy about to ask me to what, take my clothes off so he can see better?? What the hell?

“Oh god that made it sound really bad.” He blurted. “I just wanted you to feel to make sure I was also using the right muscle groups but that sounded kind of weird sorry!” 

“Oh!” You laughed. “You should have said as much. That’s no problem.” 

You walked closer to him, placing your flat hand on his abdomen. You noticed now, as your hand connected with his body, warm tingling spread through your hand. It felt good, you decided, but the unexpected sensation had you pulling back your arm in shock.

“Sorry. “I got zapped.” You lied.

Placing your hand back on his abdomen, through his t-shirt you could feel the hard, lean muscle. The warm, tingly sensation returned, and you watched and felt, mesmerized, as those hard muscles contracted and relaxed through the roll, resisting the urge to cross your legs to relieve some of the building pressure inside of you. 

The proximity, the connection, it swirls through you and you find yourself transfixed, looking up at him. Your breathing is heavy, the current running through you, the haze swirling through your mind, and the tension and heat that was building in your core, it was almost too much to handle. You blinked up at him, his expression dark and unreadable. He looked down at you too, bringing a hand up, cupping your face gently. He searched your expression for a sign of protest, and when there was none, he dipped his head down, and soft, gentle lips met yours. 

You immediately felt breathless, and everything inside you was screaming, chanting at you to keep going. Maybe it was the dizzy way he made you feel, but this all felt so undeniably right. The kiss deepened, your lips parting to one another as you excitedly and feverishly explored one another’s mouth. He didn’t seem to dare to take the next physically, but you needed him. 

You ran your hands up his body and then around his neck, using the new position to press yourself flush to him. He moved his arms down, wrapping solidly around your waist. He backed you up slowly until your back was against the cool mirror of the studio. He pinned you there, placing his hands on each side of your head, against the glass. His arms flexed and relaxed with heavy practiced, restraint, as it took every fiber of his control not to rip your clothes off, take you, and mark you as his on this studio floor. 

He pulled away, suddenly, taking 3 halting, jerky steps backward. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Wha…?” You ask, dazed and confused. 

“I have to go.�� He said, his voice serious and strained. In a flash, he was gone, with the sound of the front door closing behind him the only evidence he was ever really there. 

In the complete silence, the heated haze that filled your mind subsided slowly, and your mind worked in overtime to process the series of events that had just happened to you. An achey feeling blooms in your chest and a different type of heat spreads to your face, embarrassment. What the fuck you thought to yourself, he probably thinks I’m some kind of crazed slut. You allowed yourself to sink to the floor, pulling your knees into your chest tight. What the fuck is his problem anyway, he kissed me first, you reasoned. Maybe I am just a god-awful kisser, you added bitterly. Maybe I took things too far. Maybe I made him uncomfortable. Fuck uncomfortable, he started it! He pinned you against the wall, he absolutely loved it. Two parts of your mine argued back and forth. Whatever the case, sitting in your dim studio feeling bad for yourself didn’t bring you any closer or make you any happier, so you resolved to pick yourself up and bring yourself home. 

You jammed your keys into the keyhole of your front door, unlocking it and entering your quiet apartment in a numb, dissociative daze. If you gave yourself 100,000 guesses this morning to guess as to how your day would end, you still wouldn’t have guessed you’d find yourself in the position you were in. Sleep tonight would be impossible, you decided. You made your way to your bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet, grabbing one of the large, brown, glass bottles inside, shaking it tentatively. The last of the medicine you sighed inwardly, shaking the last two tightly-bundled, pill-sized leaf preparations from the bottle. When the nightmares would keep you awake, Dad would bring you two of these with a glass of warm, cinnamon-spiced apple cider. “These will help you sleep,” He said, handing you the pills. “And this,” he continued, “is full of spices to keep the monsters away.” Handing you the mug of hot, fragrant liquid.

“Like what?” You asked, voice still trembling from crying. 

“Cinnamon.” He told you, climbing into bed next to you. 

“Monsters don’t like cinnamon?” you asked, putting the bitter pills on your tongue, swallowing quickly. 

“Can’t stand it,” Dad said, wrapping an arm around you, holding you close to his side. The contact is comforting. “One sniff of it and they go running for the hills!” 

You giggled at that. “It must suck to be a monster, then.” You decided. 

“Most definitely.” Dad agreed.

The memory was bittersweet. You swallow the bitter preparations, speed through your evening routine, and slip in between your sheets, already feeling the drowsy effects blossom through your body and mind. With the last of your cognition, you grabbed your phone, sending a mass email. You needed a break.

Dear students and families, 

I have come down with something and as such, I will be suspending all classes for tomorrow. The following day, however, classes will return as scheduled. Thank you for your understanding. 

Best, 

Teacher Y/N

You hit send, and allow your eyes to close, sending you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I can’t get through,” Namjoon said, eyes closed, eyebrows knit together with concentration. 

“Should we go up to her place?” Taehyung asked, looking at the older man, concerned. 

“No,” Jin said, voice stern. “We have done plenty.” 

“We?” Jungkook snorted. “Hyung, last time I checked it was you who planted one on her, not us.” 

Jin shot him a dirty look. “If we had sent you, you would have lost control 30 seconds into being there and we would be having a much different conversation right now.” 

Yoongi walked over to Jin, standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders comfortingly. “You are completely sure?” Yoongi asked, his tone flat, measured. 

“As I have said 100 times over, yes,” Jin said, pushing down the growing irritation in his voice. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault he had gone too far. The way you looked up at him, the feeling of your hand on his body after he had just touched you, watched you move, he couldn’t help himself. He only hoped now that you felt the same way. 

“She could have taken something and that’s why you can’t reach her, right Namjoon-hung?” Jimin asked, running his fingers absentmindedly through the older’s hair.

“Mmm.” He grunted in affirmation. “She could also have a talisman or a barrier spell preventing me from getting in.” 

“So she’s probably fine,” Jimin said, voice calm.  

“Probably.” Namjoon agreed, sighing and allowing himself to slump fully onto Jimin, looking for comfort. 

“Well,” Hoseok chimed in. “Feeling bad or anxious isn’t particularly productive. Jinnie-hyung took things farther than he intended, but it sounds to me like she was probably okay with it. What probably freaked her out was you up and leaving without so much as an explanation like an antisocial weirdo. That would cause anyone to overthink.” 

“He’s got a point,” Yoongi said, his arms now draped over Jin’s shoulders, holding him in a back hug. 

“I know,” Jin said with a sigh. “If I could go back and do it differently, I would. But don’t you think by blocking us out she probably wants to be left alone?” 

“How would she know Joonie-hyung’s powers?” Jungkook said. An obvious question, perhaps, but a brief silence settles over the group. It is a good point. 

“The way I see it, we tell her or we don’t, and we need to decide which pretty quickly,” Hoseok said. 

“I would want to know if I were her,” Taehyung said. 

“Me too,” The group agreed. 

“So we offer a connection,” Yoongi began. “Contact her, apologize for being a weirdo, offer to meet up and explain some things.” 

Jin flinched at the weirdo comment. “Let her decide,” He said, “It’s not a bad idea.” 

“Then let's do it,” Taehyung said anxiously. “I hope she says yes.” 

“We all do,” Jimin said, grimly. “But now, we wait.” 

[seonghwanotes]

new years eve | jeong yunho

pairing: yunho x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 953

a/n: this was originally a collab but i completed the ending bc the writer i collabed with had closed her acc so yeah, this had me thinking for a lil bit. ALSO THE GIF 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 im getting bias wrecked big time, i cannot imagine being yunhonotes 😭 (21 Aug 2021)

a/n: as i write this, it is 28th sept 2023 😭 had this in my drafts for a while, did not proofread at all so will just post this up for now x

It was finally the most awaited week of the whole year, Christmas week. It was a family tradition for everyone to start preparing for Christmas when December came by but this year round, you were away from your family and you were spending it with Yunho and his friends. Considering that everyone was busy with their own schedules and you finally got a break till New Years, you began your preparation a little later than usual.

But as usual, Christmas went by in a blink of an eye. Right after you had taken down the Christmas tree all by yourself, you let out a loud sigh, feeling a little sad. It certainly felt a little different since it was something you’d do together with your family members but it didn’t feel as lonely since you were with your loving boyfriend.

You grabbed your phone off the couch and took a picture of the now dismantled tree, sending it to Yunho who was at practice with the boys. Not even a second passed, he had seen your message and immediately called you.

“Oh, hello?”

“Y/N, how can you take down the tree without me helping you out? It must have been hard, especially with the upper part of the tree.” He scolded you, making you chuckle.

“Yunho, it’s fine. I was gonna do it by today anyway and I was free after you left so I just got it done. You would be home later anyway. I used a chair in case you were wondering.” You replied back, earning a sigh from him. You didn’t need to be next to him to see his pout and know that he was upset for not helping you out.

You waited for a bit as you sat down, grabbing your gifts you got for Yunho along with the gift wrapper. You set your call on speaker mode and put your phone down. You could only hear some of the boys whispering to each other but it wasn’t too audible since the background music was blocking their voices out.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry I didn’t wait till you came home but tomorrow’s New Years eve! You know I don’t like keeping the tree up for longer than 3 days. Anyway, I’m going to the supermarket soon to get some stuff for our dinner tomorrow.” You told him, still not getting a response back. “Should I get champagne too?”

You and Yunho spent a homely Christmas together as everyone was with their family except for the two of you. It was not much but work has definitely made your lives much more busier, causing you two to not get presents for each other in time that you were doing it pretty late. Not that it mattered to you at this age but you felt bad for not carrying out a simple task.

You started wrapping your presents, occasionally glancing at your phone to see if he was about to end the call since he wasn’t answering you back. There was some light bickering among the boys but you couldn’t hear what they were talking about. “Jeong Yunho, If you wanted to help me out so badly, do me a favour and ask the boys what they would want for gifts or I’m wrapping vegetables for all 8 of you.”

Your threat seemed to slightly work as you heard Mingi chime at the other side of the call, “Ya, I don’t want vegetables this year. You better ask her for her size or I’m asking her myself!”

Size? Your size for what? You were about to voice out but Yunho cut you to it. “Well, that sounds fine. Go ahead, baby.”

“So you want me to get vegetables for them?” You questioned, earning a yell from Jongho.

“Y/N! Don’t listen to hyung! Get us what you feel like getting us except vegetables… what? Oh, no mint chocolate for Hongjoong hyung and Seonghwa hyung. We love you!” He yelled, making you laugh. These boys were enough to make you feel like you were at home.

“Not sure why I’m on speaker mode but okay.” You answered back, hearing someone getting a hard smack. You were about to end the call but stopped when Yunho called out. “Baby, wait! One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Your hand is almost the same as San’s right?” The question almost came out as a whisper, Yunho knowing you would get agitated at that question since your hands were the size of a child compared to his delicate giant ones.

“You know the answer already. Why are you even asking this? Are you getting me a bracelet from Pandora or what?” You asked him, sealing the gift wrapper with a ribbon on top for Yunho’s gift, which was a Rolex watch and matching rings that you’ve been eyeing for a while now.

A silence was heard initially, then a voice followed along. “Yeah, would rose gold do?”

Your cheeks flushed, “Ah, um, yeah. See you later then. Tell the boys to be early tomorrow. Oh, I’ll get 3 bottles of champagne then, okay?”

“Okay, sure thing. Yes, 3 is fine. I love you.” Yunho replied, sending a kiss through the call.

“Love you too.” You responded and ended the call.

One gift wrapped and there was more to go. You sighed, pushing them away for awhile and opened your laptop to surf the internet, making a list on what to buy for the boys, wanting it to be meaningful as well. Even if Christmas wasn’t as joyful as you wanted it to be, New Years was going to be the most memorable holiday you had in a while and you couldn’t wait for it to arrive.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #11

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: torture

“This Saturday is the monthly dinner and social. You’ll be going with me.” said Mistress, as Kit cut into his steak. His portions had gotten subtly larger, and there was a basket of bread on the table. 

He had a sneaking suspicion that Christine was to blame; either she had taken matters into her own hand after the note, or Maxus had encouraged her. 

He appreciated their discretion, but still. 

Kit took a roll anyway.

“It happens every month?” he asked.

“Mhm.” Iris swirled her wine. “Supposedly to encourage good relationships between the lords and the crown.”

The way she said it, and the set of her jaw told him that she thought it was nonsense. Yet another thing that Iris didn’t like about her job.

“I’d prepare yourself for some back-handed compliments,” she advised. “Try not to take it personally.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Kit finished his plate and reached for another roll. Iris didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

For the first time in over a year, he went to bed almost full and nearly satisfied.

___________________

The stone floor was cold; freezing against his skin. He was completely nude and kneeling, his legs apart, and his forehead pressed to the ground. His arms were stretched out in front of him, and his shoulders ached.

“C-can I pl- please move, sir?” he asked, teeth chattering. He wanted to curl up, to at least be able to lick at the clean water dripping off of his body. He was so thirsty, and he’d been forced to hold his position for hours.

“No,” said the mortal, standing over him. “And I didn’t say you could talk.”

Moonflower whimpered, his arms and legs shaking.

The mortal tossed more icy water on him, and he couldn’t help but shriek. His chest heaved trying to take in air, but the chill made it hard to do much of anything. His muscles screamed with exhaustion.

The mortal crouched next to him. “Are you cold?” he asked with a horrid grin.

Moonflower kept quiet out of trepidation, but the human gripped his hair and yanked his head back. Moonflower whined, his neck far too vulnerable for his liking.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes, s-sir. I’m c-cold.”

The human tossed the bucket across the room, and it clattered loudly on the floor.

“I guess I should warm you up,” said the human. “I can’t let my prize flower freeze.”

Moonflower hated the nickname, but said nothing. He had already learned that lesson.

The mortal let go of his hair, and disappeared from his field of view, only to come back a minute later. He wore heavy gloves, and held glowing, red-hot-

No. no. nononono-

“Moonflower,” commanded the human, and even his blood seemed to freeze, “stay still.”

The hot iron cuffs wrapped around his wrists, searing into his flesh, and Moonflower wailed-

___________________

Kit woke up screaming, the dream disappearing as fast as it had overtaken him. 

His door burst open, and a knight stormed in. Kit scrambled backwards on the bed, fear and confusion shooting through him. 

What did he do wrong?

The knight grabbed his ankle and yanked. Kit yelped as he tumbled, his spine slamming into the floor.

“Wait- please-” he pleaded, rolling to crawl away, but the knight stomped his boot on his back, forcing him to the ground.

His breath was knocked out of his lungs, and he screwed his eyes shut. He was only wearing boxers; which were so easily torn off, and he could practically feel the fingers slipping under the waistband, roaming over his skin-

“What the hell is going on?” Sir Brennan’s voice filled the room.

There were no hands on him. It was only his fear playing tricks on him.

The knight standing on top of him shifted, and Kit choked back a sob at the pressure. If the night guards wore steel instead of leather, he’d have a boot-sized burn in the middle of his back.

“I heard screaming,” said the knight, defensive.

“So your immediate thought was to attack? Instead of, I don’t know, assessing the situation? Get back to your post.”

“You aren’t my commanding officer, Brennan,” argued the knight. 

Kit opened his eyes and saw Brennan’s boots move closer. He glanced up at him, and his dark eyes were furious.

“You mean Captain Brennan. I outrank you, soldier. And you’re on guard rotation for tonight, so you report to me,” seethed Brennan. “Get back to your post, now.”

The pressure on Kit’s back vanished, and he darted under the bed, shaking as he pressed himself against the wall.

“Yes, sir,” muttered the soldier, and Kit watched his boots move out of sight.

“Jackass,” mumbled Brennan under his breath. “What happened?” he said aloud.

“Nightmare,” said Kit, curling into himself. It was so real, nearly exactly the way it had happened. He was still shaking, the mere memory of the pain making him tremble.

“I see.”

There was silence. “You can come out now. He’s gone.”

Kit hesitated. He wasn’t sure why Brennan wanted him to, and he didn’t want to find out.

“No, thank you,” he whispered.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Brennan.

Kit closed his eyes. “You- you said-” he cut himself off with a whimper.

He heard a sigh and the sound of a buckle. He opened his eyes, and Brennan’s sword fell to the floor with a clunk. Brennan’s boot kicked it away, across the room.

It was a nice gesture, but Kit wasn't moving.

“You had a bad dream, Kit. I’m not going to strike you down for that.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “Where- where’s Maxus?”

“Stomach flu. Half the guards are out with it. I borrowed a few soldiers from Captain Blake, but didn’t have time to really train them properly.”

“Oh.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry,” said Brennan. “This shouldn’t have happened. Did he hurt you?”

“I’ll be alright.” It wasn’t an answer, and he knew Brennan knew that. Kit just wasn’t sure how much of the pain was the soldier, and how much was the adrenaline leaving his body.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

Brennan hesitated, before crossing the room to pick up his sword. “Goodnight,” he said, still soft.

“ ‘Night.”

Kit didn’t fall back asleep.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1 @cupcakes-and-pain @loserwithsyle @cepheusgalaxy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @virtualbreadtale

[alwaysonread]

Juxtaposition

—

Fluff, Alhaitham x gender neutral reader

—

There are many words that people would use to describe your boyfriend. The one that they use the most is „arrogant“.

„What do you mean it is now finished?“, Alhaitham stares at his colleague with his usual blank expression. „Well, it took longer than expected to write that report and-„ „Then you should have applied for an extension, instead of submitting past the deadline making my life needlessly harder.“ and with that he walked away leaving a frustrated person behind.

To no one‘s surprise, it is not the only word that has been uttered in relation to your partner. „Inconsiderate“ might have been one of the front runners.

A loud „What!?“ is heard out of Alhaitham‘s office. „You heard me. It is already 5pm, which is the end of my office hours. I am going home.“, he said while getting up to leave. „But I JUST got into the door! You cannot be serious right now…. Just give me-„ „And stay longer than I need to? I believe that to be quite unnecessary and a waste of my time.“ „But…“ Nothing more is said as Alhaitham has already walked out of the door on his way home.

Whenever you announce to people that Alhaitham is your boyfriend you are always met with three distinct reactions: disbelief, confusion and pity. However, you never understood these responses since there is no one else you could imagine yourself with.

As you are preparing dinner you hear the front door opening with a relaxed „I‘m home“ attached to it. An instant smile paints across your face as you make your way to greet Alhaitham with a hug. „Welcome home! How was your day?“, you ask while squeezing him. „The usual, nothing much to say, what are you cooking anyway?“, he replies, a confused look making itself noticeable. „Oh well today I‘m trying something new! I hope you‘ll like it!“ „You know I‘m not much of a picky eater, y/n“ „I am aware, but it was a heads-up, in case it does not taste well“, you say with a huge grin. For the first time that day, a small smirk shows itself on Alhaitham’s face as he leans in close to you, your noses almost touching. „Your cooking has never disappointed me as such my deduction is it will be no different today“ and with that he moves in and kisses you, first slowly then with passion, pulling you closer with his arms around your waist.

You‘re the one to break the kiss and as if awakening from a trance you whisper „The dinner will burn…“ He stares at you with his beautiful eyes not looking away for a second. You raise an eyebrow and say „Are you sure everything was „the usual“ today? That was one hell of a kiss.“ He continues to look at you and hold you tightly in his arm as he takes the other to cup your cheek. „It was, I just missed you.“ Your heart skips a beat at his words said so elegantly yet nonchalantly making you blush instantly. „A-Alhaitham?!“, you stutter as he moves in for yet another kiss, short but sweet then he releases you from his grip stepping into the kitchen.

You are left puzzled as you stand in the living room. Shaking your head, you smile and think to yourself: Truly, if put in juxtaposition, I got the better part.

—

—

Ayooo!!!! My very first post on this blog…. Anyways! I wanted to commemorate it to the silly man that is my pfp. What a doof (I love him.)

Hope you like it!!

Small side note: idk if he actually is a picky eater or not. Let‘s just pretend he isn’t for the sake of this fic

Meow

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 24)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 3,440

Summary: It's been 15 years since Horacio and Javier brought down Gacha in Tolú, and now they're back where their story began.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Brief allusions to period-typical prejudices/politics/legislation, very brief sexual references, smoking, swearing, all the fluff.

Notes: Well....I feel like I should post this with a fanfare or something (just imagine there's one playing), but oh boy, oh man, oh god. I did it. I flipping did it 😭 It's only taken 36 months, copious amounts of blood, sweat and tears, a deranged amount of research, the last shred of my sanity, and probably a fair amount of back/neck pain from sitting at my laptop for too long to get here. But hey, if I don't write a self-indulgent novel-length fix-it fic for a criminally underrated rarepair from a defunct TV show, WHO WILL, I ASK THEE? 😂

I can't fully explain the journey this fic has taken me and my writing on, or the deep love I have in my heart for this ship and the OHDH universe that has lived constantly in my head these last few years. Even when I'm not actively writing, so many things remind me of these two everywhere I go. They got me through the darkest days of the pandemic and somehow became my comfort ship, despite er, certain canon events we don't talk about in this house.

Anyway, I think you've all heard quite enough from me for the time being. So, I will just say thank you so, so, so much to anyone who has read, commented, kudosed, reblogged, liked, sent me messages, made me things, suggested music recs, generally been incredibly supportive and kind ❤️

And thank you to anyone who may stumble across this fic in future. Please never be afraid to leave a comment, even if you're reading several years down the line, I will always love to hear from people about this story.

There will also be some moodboards and playlists posted on my Tumblr at some point (and *maybe* some new - much shorter lol - fics eventually) once I've caught my breath back a bit.

For the final time (unless I randomly think of anything I've forgotten, which is more than likely lol), I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 24: Suerte (Epilogue)

Early evening rays painted the pastel horizon, their last act of the day transforming the shimmering ocean into an inky palate of fuchsia, violet and saffron, the golden sands at the shore still warm to the touch hours past dusk.

Come the weekend, Colombians would travel far and wide to descend on the many beaches, bars and restaurants that dotted the waterfront. Or if they were feeling adventurous, they would birdwatch, dive off the Islas de San Bernardo, or canoe amongst the mangroves.

But it was mid-week and mid-December – when most locals were at work and school or preparing for Christmas. So, for now, Horacio and Javier had the place to themselves.

There was the added bonus of the coastline turning into a dense forest of palm trees just along from their beach house, civilisation a mile or so away on either side of them, so even at peak times, they remained secluded. It had become a daily ritual to luxuriate in the peace and quiet; a pre-dinner swim with no trunks required followed by entwined limbs and sand in their hair as the sun went down.

Today was no exception, the gentle lapping of the waves around them and their shallow breaths the only sounds to be heard, the taste of salt and scent of sun lotion heavy in the air and on their skin as Horacio rocked into Javier, slow and deep, their chests and foreheads drawn together.

It was almost dark when Javier switched on the shower taps, cascading soothing jets over his head, neck and shoulders. As he soaked his hair, the lights from inside the beach house sprung to life, illuminating the outdoor bathroom with an ambient glow. It was a feature of the premium accommodation they had splashed out on, a rare treat away for a special occasion.

The outside space was a mix of wood, tiles and natural stone for the walls and floors, encased by tall plants and trees for extra privacy. A double shower stood on a platform at the end of a walkway, with a large hot tub branching off in the other direction. On their first night here, they had opted for the tub, surrounding it with candles as a belated ode to Día de las Velitas, lost in each other beneath the bubbles and the stars.

A sturdy embrace enveloped Javier from behind, a position they had found themselves in every morning by the shore before breakfast, looking out to a tranquil sea and a kaleidoscopic sky. The day jobs kept them both on their feet and in good shape, although there was more softness around their stomachs, and Javier was stockier than in his younger years. But his upper body was even broader with muscle now.

He was no gym fiend, but he had accompanied Horacio in some of his strengthening training, wanting to keep his stamina up as much as possible. Not just for the obvious but because he was sometimes required to carry the heavier supplies at work and didn’t want to be shown up in front of his largely youthful team.

It was a welcome development to Horacio, whatever the reason. Not that he ever had any complaints before, but watching Javier blossom as he aged was a wonder to behold. Not to mention, there was more of him to enjoy now.

As for Horacio, aside from the sloping curve of his midriff, he was sheer jaguar strength. Not only in the noticeable places, but his core muscles were in peak condition, the daily horse riding improving his posture and taking him back to the drill commands of his cadet years. His skin was more weathered, and his days of being meticulously cleanly shaven at all times were long gone. But Javier assured him – a lot – the ruggedness was part of the appeal.

Javier wasn’t one to talk either, stubble being a more regular feature alongside his moustache nowadays. But that was mainly due to lack of time in his busy schedule rather than preference, so it wasn’t unheard of for Horacio to do the honours for him. For some reason, Horacio delicately scraping a razor blade across his jaw from the comfort of his lap was far more appealing to Javier than doing it himself in front of the bathroom mirror.

Their hair contained more grey patches, especially around the temples, which was easier to hide when they grew it longer. That wasn’t practical during the sweltering heat of a Texan summer, so they kept it shorter in the hotter months. But in the winter, they could run their fingers through choppy waves and coils of curls to their hearts’ content. And luckily for them, their anniversary fell in December.

“Can you believe it’s been 15 years to the day?” Horacio asked, scattering kisses across Javier’s back.

“This doesn’t even feel like the same fucking place, to be honest.”

“Tell me about it.”

Horacio let out a huff as flashbacks of leading his men on a fleet of raiding crafts towards Gacha’s hideout collided with memories from merely days ago of him and Javier island hopping in a hire boat along the same waters. They had taken a platter of fresh seafood and fruit, exploring the remotest beaches and lagoons, where their only company was the local wildlife.

He could still remember the sensation of the blood at his temple as he lay disorientated on the sand in the aftermath of the explosion, a stark contrast to dozing together under the shade of a palm tree or reading aloud to each other the words of Lorca, Gaitán Durán, Arbeláez, Neruda, Paz, Castellanos and Mistral.

“Although, I did notice signs for the barracks towards Coveñas when we were driving here,” Horacio added with a nostalgic smirk.

“Oh yeah? You didn’t want another night there for old times’ sake?” Javier tilted his head until he found Horacio’s lips with his teeth.

Horacio hummed and put up no resistance, his wet hands sailing with ease down Javier’s body, finding purchase at his hip bones. “It was tempting. But I figured you’d want to make the most of this before Christmas.”

“Damn right.”

They took turns massaging shampoo into each other’s scalps, lathering the suds through thick spirals, tenderly pulling at strands until they purred, thoroughly indulging in the sensation whilst they had the chance. And then they did it all again, rinsing off the soap, floating away on the meditative pressure of the faucet and their fingers.

“We could always see if Alejandra has more spa freebies if it gets too much, though,” Javier suggested through the haze of steam now cocooning them.

“I like your thinking.”

It had been a while since they last used such tickets, their previous visits not dissimilar to how their current vacation was playing out. But despite the chaos that would no doubt ensue, they were looking forward to catching up with Horacio’s side of the family. Between expanding businesses in Texas and Manizales and the oldest half of the brood living and working elsewhere now with the twins staying at home studying, they didn’t get to meet up as much as they would have liked.

However, Elena visited Laredo several times, swapping life stories and recipes with Chucho and joining Horacio and Javier in San Antonio one spring for the Fiesta. Her last holiday outside of Colombia had been before Alejandra and Horacio were born, so she was determined to take advantage of having family abroad before age finally caught up with her. There had even been discussions of a trip to Madrid if Horacio and Javier could arrange cover at work the following year.

“Pops is flying out on the 20th, right?”

“Yes. Marco and Raúl are covering the ranch and animals until your father’s back on the 28th. And Jorge is covering the farm until we’re home from Miami in the New Year.”

No one was keen to leave Luna, Sol and Leo, who had long since retired from ranch duties, but between work and Christmas commitments, Connie taking a full-time job in a different hospital, now Olivia was a teenager going on 30, and the earlier-than-expected arrival of Felipe’s and Juana’s second child – Óscar, a little brother to Claudia – New Year was the only time everyone’s schedules matched up.

These days, Luna, whose main residence was the cottage now, Sol and Leo spent most of their time nestled on furniture or looking for treats in the kitchen whenever food was prepared. However, Luna would sometimes still ride in the back of Horacio’s truck and keep him company in the lower fields.

Kira and Fuego had become old pros, showing their younger siblings, Cielo and Tierra, the ropes, not as replacements to the trio but as a new team with their own quirks and personalities. Thankfully, the dogs and Coco had taken well to the pair of barn cats, Churro and Tamale, who patrolled the outbuildings and dealt with any rodent intruders.

Meanwhile, Chucho showed few signs of slowing down, except one summer when he twisted an ankle, and even that was hard work to get him to rest. But he had been happy to step back from some of his more physically demanding responsibilities in recent years, trusting that the ranch and farm were in capable hands. With their expansion plans a resounding success – plus some new ones up their sleeves – he had become more involved in the business side of the operation alongside Miguel.

And, of course, he was always happy to offer Horacio advice whenever needed. But for the most part, he left him to it since Félix’s retirement, preferring to arrange for the guesthouses to be refurbished or to deliver fresh batches of cooking to aid workers and exhausted arrivals alike on the frontline of the border.

“Bet Jorge was as thrilled about that arrangement as my team.”

“Well, we can always delegate to our deputies whenever necessary. One of the perks of being promoted.”

It had taken Horacio five years under Félix’s watchful eye – and decades of experience – to be granted the title of farm manager. Then, Félix had retired the previous year, satisfied he had picked the right man as his successor and Jorge as deputy.

Horacio still had plenty to learn and likely always would with the constant conveyor belt of change to farming methods and technology that landed on his desk each month. However, there was a sense of familiarity with certain parts of the job, like the meetings, the paperwork, and the budget constraints. Except, this time, it all came without the funerals, the upper echelons of the CNP breathing down his neck, and the crushing weight of a country’s future on his shoulders.

“And a holiday on the Caribbean coast was necessary, was it?” Now that Javier’s hair was free from sand and shampoo, he turned to face Horacio, their lips almost touching.

Horacio nodded sagely and closed the gap. “A critical business need.”

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

Once dried off, they lay in a hammock in matching white towel robes under the thatched porch of their beach house with a perfect view of the sea, moon and stars.

“So, you like it here?” Horacio asked after a comfortable silence.

“It’s beautiful. I’m glad we came back – to see it how it’s meant to be.”

“Me too. Although, I fear violence will always be a parasite latched onto Colombia. Just when you think it’s gone from one place, it rears its head again in another. Or even the same place twice if you’re unlucky.”

Horacio remembered the stories he had heard from Trujillo in the last couple of years – particularly about Operation Orion. Officially, the incursion on Comuna 13 had been a success by the Colombian military against the likes of FARC. Unofficially, however, there were rumours of a leaked CIA report, disappeared individuals, and collusion between an Army General and none other than Don Berna’s subordinate. It was hard to keep faith that Medellín would ever be free from its past when history had such a predictable habit of repeating itself.

“I know. It feels like one step forward and two steps back in the States, too. Terrorism might be the new bogeyman, but re-branding to ICE and throwing a shitload of money at the DHS hasn’t stopped the drugs and the people finding their way over the border.”

Javier had heard directly from Steve about the shift in his job role since 9/11. Overnight, Steve’s whole department was removed from their current caseloads and signed up for every counter-terrorism and narco-terrorism course under the sun. It was now customary for DEA agents to be redeployed to the FBI as intelligence analysts if resources required. And if their eyes and ears were pulled away from the drug traffickers, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the consequences.

Meanwhile, in Texas, if anything, people only took graver risks in the wake of a beefed-up Border Patrol. Javier had spent a lot of the past year helping to set up new aid teams in Arizona and New Mexico, the inhospitable conditions of the desert not enough of a deterrent to stop families trying their luck or handing over their life savings to coyotes who didn’t care whether they made it across alive.

“But small things can add up to change. Bit by bit,” Javier added. “And at least they can’t arrest us for fucking in our own home anymore.”

“True. Not that the law stopped us before...” Horacio nuzzled against Javier’s neck before making a move to get up.

They may have joked in the here and now, but it wasn’t a change they took for granted. In fact, Luz and Carla had even persuaded Javier to attend a protest or two and pay bond and legal fees for those who had been arrested. After all, he’d had plenty of experience exchanging money for people’s freedom.

When news of the Supreme Court decision spread, it was another weight off their backs and one less reason to look over their shoulders, a chance to permanently put to bed memories of being spied on during such unguarded sacred moments. It was the final line to be drawn under those dark years, not to erase them because that was impossible. But it was, at least, closure.

Their cigarette was almost done, and Horacio had left the opened pack on the kitchen counter. Once retrieved, he took out another and leaned into Javier across the hammock, pressing the tip of his unlit cigarette against the lit one until it sparked.

“But you’re right,” Horacio continued, holding Javier’s gaze between exhaling a plume of smoke. He balanced on the edge of the hammock, just enough to stop it tipping sideways. “Things can change. But only if we want them to.” He perched their new cigarette between his lips as he reached into the pocket of his robe.

Their first cigarette was little more than a stub, so Javier stooped down to the ashtray on the floor to extinguish it. Once he sat up again, a small cubed box was presented into his spare hand.

Javier stared at the black box and blew out remnants of smoke, eyeing Horacio with an unreadable expression, an unspoken question and answer lingering between them and the mist of tobacco.

He prised open the box to reveal a ring of plain silver. Or, so he thought at first glance. But as he raised it towards the moon, the iridescent light caught on the inner band to reveal an inscription.

Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja.

(Lucky that I found my soulmate.)

“Fuck, Horacio…” Javier’s voice was strained, and his words came out as little more than a whisper. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, letting the ethereal reflection from above capture each word.

Horacio watched every shift in Javier’s face with bated breath and a dry throat, his limbs lead and weightless all at once.

“The world’s changing around us,” Horacio said at last; swallowing his nerves and summoning his courage. “But no matter what the law or courts say in any state or country, this can mean whatever we want it to mean.”

Javier’s jaw worked back and forth, his teeth clamping down on the inside of his cheeks. But it was no use, and he let out a trembling scoff, an attempt to distract from the shining pupils he finally confronted Horacio with.

And then a broad smile crept across Javier’s features, his palm connecting with Horacio’s cheek before he plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. “Pass me my jeans.”

It took Horacio a moment to process Javier’s request. Of all the responses he had prepared for – the good and the bad – that hadn’t been on his list, funnily enough. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he complied and fetched the jeans that had been flung over a sun lounger when they stripped off to swim earlier. Apparently, regardless of how humid the climate in Tolú became, denim remained a reliable staple of Javier’s wardrobe.

“Check my left pocket.”

Whatever Javier was up to, Horacio was torn between intrigue and irritation at Javier’s temerity to issue orders despite leaving him hanging. But he did as he was told, and in an instant, everything made sense.

“I can always take it back if you’d prefer…”

But Horacio was already opening the near-identical box, and any teasing faded to white noise as he came face-to-face with the gold equivalent of his own proposal.

“Hold it up to the light.”

The night sky was brighter now, making it easier for the inscription to be revealed.

Mi amor, mi vida, mi hogar, mi vaquero. Siempre tuyo.

(My love, my life, my home, my cowboy. Yours always.)

It was Javier’s turn to observe, and it didn’t take long for Horacio to raise a brow in his direction, shooting him a look of feigned exasperation that only came with the territory of a relationship as enduring as theirs.

“What?” Javier said with disingenuous innocence and a vulpine smile.

It was a contagious kind of smile, one that reminded Horacio they were equals in this and that he shouldn’t have been surprised Javier had the same idea.

“I take it my mother showed you her ring?”

“On my first visit to Manizales. It was beautiful. And so’s this.”

“As is this.”

“I like to think I put my own spin on it.”

“You did.”

They sat side-by-side on the hammock, legs facing towards each other with the rings held in their outstretched hands.

Javier’s thumb slid across Horacio’s left palm, tracing patterns over new callouses born from hard labour rather than war. He circled his wrist, waiting for the familiar rhythm but finding a beat that was, unsurprisingly, drumming quicker than usual.

After subduing with his touch, Javier retrieved the gold band, gliding it carefully onto Horacio’s ring finger, easing it over the knuckle until it rested snugly at the base.

They sat transfixed, marvelling at the light dancing across it as Horacio’s thumb ran back and forth over the curved surface in fascination.

Horacio repeated the ritual of mapping Javier’s left hand, lacing their fingers together as a tangible reminder of their bond. Their devotion. Their vow. Their choice. Whether the law honoured it one day or not.

He picked up the silver to his gold, shimmying it along Javier’s ring finger and passing beyond the slight resistance at his knuckle. Not too much force, but firm enough for it to sink perfectly into place.

With palms connected and fingers interlocked, their foreheads met, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Te amo tanto, Javier.”

“Yo también te amo. Tanto, Horacio. Tanto.” Javier whispered, over and over in Horacio’s ear like a prayer – their prayer – before brushing his lips above Horacio’s brow, the bridge of his nose, both cheeks and down to his mouth, creating their own sign of the cross with each kiss. A new beginning and a welcome home.

They untied their robes and collapsed onto the hammock in a tangle of limbs, silver and gold melding at their chests and hands; their past, present and future as inseparable as their hearts, bodies and souls.

With one smooth motion, Horacio pinned Javier’s arms down into the netting of the hammock, a dark, hungry gaze passing between them as cool metal fused with hot skin.

15 years and several lifetimes may have gone by. But when Horacio had the man he loved, the man who loved him, his media naranja, underneath him, only one word ran through his head. Mine.

Old habits die hard, he supposed.

[kittkatattacks]

Wip Wednesday 8/7/24

Here are my sentences from last weeks Wip Wednesday :)

Perfect season 20-22 for:

@aparticularbandit @tamsinswriting

They stay up on the roof not nearly long enough for Neil, but they have afternoon practice, so he doesn’t complain as they make their way down.

They head over to Andrew’s dorm to pick up the rest of the group and then make their way down to the parking lot.

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Practice goes as well as it can with only 8 players, which is to say it sucks. Kevin is practically seething afterwards, but Wymack does a good enough job of hitting on the points that they need to work on as a team.

It helps ease some of Kevin’s anger and frustration, but Neil already knows that he’ll spend the next few hours ranting about it to him and planning on what they should work on before their next game.

When they get back to the dorm after practice and dinner, Neil sits in one of the bean bag chairs knowing that Kevin will join him and prepares for a long strategy session.

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AFTG space au for:

@gnomer-denois @zyrafowe-sny @scifikimmi @somefishycat @anachronismstellar @adhdavinci

“Oh, shit,” Neil says, glancing at the clock on the wall, “I’ve got to go, my next class is about to start.”

“Mmhmm, see you later then,” Jean says, waving him away with his fork.

Neil nods in response, dumps his tray and dishes in their respective bins and then heads off to his advanced math class.

He makes it to class with enough time to get a seat near the back and settles in for another boring syllabus overview.

Neil stumbles into the dorm, throwing off his shoes and backpack, and makes his way over to the fridge.

He grabs a water bottle and makes his way over to the couch where Jean is reading.

“You couldn’t wait huh?” Jean asks, lowering his book just enough to look at Neil.

Neil shrugs, “I got out early and it’s nice outside. What was I supposed to do, not run back here?”

Jean sighs in response, “and how early did you get out? You look like you’ve been running for a while.”

“Um,” Neil says, and then drinks the rest of his water to buy himself some time, “about an hour and a half ago.”

Jean sighs again and sets his book down on the coffee table in front of them. “You said you weren’t going to do this anymore.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Neil says, “I left class and the next thing I knew I was running and I couldn’t stop.”

“I know,” Jean says, his face softening, “just let me know next time, okay?”

“I will. Still up for a jog around campus later?”

“Of course. Now, since you're here,” Jean says, not so subtly changing the topic, “can you help me with my pen pal letter?”

“Yeah,” Neil answers, getting up to go get their laptops, “I’ve been meaning to check my email anyways to see if I got a reply yet.”

“You finished yours already? Jean asks, and when Neil comes back into the room and nods in response he says, clutching a hand to his chest dramatically, “and you didn’t even tell me.”

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YLPWBOYF for:

@wizisbored @eriquin

“Now, she says, holding the knife up to the burn on his left cheek, “where is she?”

“I already told you,” Nathaniel says, the pain from his wounds causing him to wince against his will. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Lola says, tapping the knife against his cheek, causing pain to radiate outwards from the fresh burn. “I don’t believe you. What about you, Rome, do you believe him?”

“He sounds like he’s telling the truth,” he hears Romero say, “but might as well make sure.”

Nathaniel hears the pop of the dashboard lighter again and does his best to mentally prepare for what is about to happen.

Despite knowing it's futile, he fights back against Lola’s hold on him, trying his best to get her off of him. In response she presses her body fully down on top of him, leaving him no room to move without some part of her touching him. 

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DMRA for:

@post-and-out @1attheedge @enigma-the-mysterious

“‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Your funeral,” Kevin says, shaking his head.

Kevin begins walking towards the door that leads back out into the hallway, motioning for him to follow, but Aaron stops him before he can make it past the door. “You don’t have to worry about the rest of the tour Day, I’d much rather you show me to the microscopy lab.”

“The lab?”

“Yep, I’d like to take a look at the equipment. Something wrong with that?”

“No, It’s just,” Kevin says looking around the hallway, “this place is laid out like a mouse maze. You could get lost really easily. Are you sure you’ll be able to navigate it?”

“ Am I sure, Day? Of course I am,” Aaron says, cocking his head to one side and allowing himself to smirk.

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