#briefly forgot to tag blood sorry

[0l-unreliable]

has anyone else heard that if you get a cut, licking it makes it heal faster?

close up + version with glasses

[imaginedisish]

All I Need (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: AHH! This took so, so long. Anyway, here is the period-comfort fic! Needed this. Loosely inspired by "All I Need" By Radiohead and "Let the Light In" by Lana and Father John Misty. Hope you guys enjoy! P.S. I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag you, or if the tags don't work.

Summary: Your period is awful this month, but Logan is there to take care of you...in more ways than one...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!! SMUT!!! Fingering, PIV, period sex, soft!Logan, praise kink (if you squint), friends to lovers, softdom!Logan (if you squint again), mentions of blood (bc period), so much fluff, feelings, cursing, afab!reader/fem!reader, definitely some grammatical errors bc I struggled through proofreading...and I think that's it!

Word Count: 4,474 it was supposed to be short

You’re no stranger to pain. You’ve been in countless battles and fought more fights than you can remember. And yet, nothing makes you feel as obliterated as your period does. 

Your cramps have always been terrible, but this time they were particularly bad. You sit in your bed, on a Saturday night, alone, struggling. You couldn’t find the heating pad. You couldn’t find the ice cream you wanted. You couldn’t find anything to watch. And, of course, everything hurts—your breasts are beyond sore, and your head is aching. You look up at the ceiling, wanting nothing more than for your period to be over. 

Your lower abdomen pulses with pain and you groan audibly, not caring how loud you are as you turn over onto your stomach in frustration. 

But then there’s a knock at your door.  

“Hey, everything okay in there?” It’s Logan—of course it’s him. “Didn’t mean to be nosy. Just happened to hear you.”

“I’m okay!” You call out, rolling back onto your side to face the door. 

“Are you sure?” Logan asks. You can hear his hand on the knob. “Can I come in?”

Heat suddenly rises to your chest. Logan? Coming in here? Now? In reality, this shouldn’t be a big deal. Logan has been in your room before—albeit very briefly and in passing—but you can’t help but feel nervous. You’re always nervous around him. You’ve been harboring a crush on him for months now, and it’s brutal. You’ve grown closer, but not quite close enough. At least not in the way you want.

You swallow nervously. “Y-yeah,” you stammer, your voice almost cracking. “You can come in.” 

Logan immediately twists the knob and pushes the door open, stepping inside your room. You can’t help but smile at the sight of his familiar beater and blue jeans. He takes another step and closes the door behind him—he’s just a few feet away from you, his arms crossed over his chest.

He smirks, tilting his head down. “It’s Saturday night, and this is what you’re doing?” He steps towards you, approaching the bed and sitting down. 

“Not feeling great,” you admit, wincing as you sit up in bed. 

Logan’s brows immediately furrow with concern. His hand comes up to rest on your knee, and you have to stop yourself from shuddering under his touch. “Are you okay?” He asks, his thumb drawing gentle circles into your skin. He sniffs once, and you know he can smell the blood between your thighs. “Do you need anything?” 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you say, trying to politely brush off his concern. You don’t want to trouble him, don’t want to hold him back from his Saturday night plans. But Logan’s brows are still furrowed, concern painted clearly across his face. “Really, I’m okay,” you reassure, but he doesn’t budge. 

“I know you’re not okay,” he says, his eyes looking deeply into yours. “Let me help you, yeah?”

“I’d feel bad. I’d be holding you back from whatever plans you—”

“No plans, princess,” Logan says, cutting you off. You try to hide the way your breath hitches in your throat at the familiar nickname. “Just you. Whatever you need.” He smiles widely, his thumb still drawing circles into your knee. 

It’s so soft, so delicate, so unlike the way Logan is with others. There’s something domestic about this, something especially comforting and gentle. He’s sacrificing his Saturday night for you—to make sure you’re okay. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the thought. 

“Is it bad?” He asks, his voice low and calm. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you almost don’t notice the way Logan inches closer; don’t notice the way his hand slides down to your lower stomach. The warmth of his hand feels so good that you have to stifle a moan at the sudden contact.  

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, leaning into his touch. His hand presses firmly into your stomach, rubbing gently. “But your hand feels nice,” you admit, your voice a bit shaky as the words fall from your lips. 

He’s next to you now, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hips in line with yours. His touch, his presence—it’s all simultaneously relaxing and exhilarating. You’ve never had him this close, never felt him touch you like this. Your heart beats out of your chest as his palm pushes against your aching lower abdomen. He’s in tune with you, registering every movement you make, every half-moan you can’t seem to suppress as his hand soothingly rubs your stomach. 

You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Do you want me to get you anything?” He asks, smiling widely. Your mind immediately goes to the lack of ice cream in the freezer, but you’re hesitant to ask. Getting you something would entail leaving. And the last thing you want is for Logan to leave. 

“I’m okay,” you answer, but you know your voice comes out as unsure. 

He arches a brow, his caring smile turning into a knowing smirk. “You sure about that, princess?” He nods his head towards the door. “I saw you all disappointed after lookin’ in the freezer, earlier.”

You can’t help the grin that forms on your face at Logan’s words. He noticed you. “There wasn’t any ice cream left,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. 

Logan chuckles and stands up, his palm slipping away from your stomach. You want to reach out, to yank him down and force his hand back where it was. “I’ll be right back,” he says, walking towards the door. “Don’t move an inch. I mean it!” He keeps his eyes on you as he backs out of the room, opening the door and closing it carefully behind him. 

Not even a minute later, Logan comes back with a silver spoon and a pint of your favorite ice cream. “No way,” you mutter, shaking your head, your smile spreading across your face. “How did you know?”

Logan smirks. “I just do,” he answers, sitting back in his place next to you on the edge of the bed. He passes you the silver spoon and the pint. “Knew that’s what you were looking for. Went out to the store to grab it the second you walked out of the kitchen empty-handed.”

“You’re amazing,” you whisper, still in awe of how he got you the ice cream without asking. He simply noticed. He remembered your favorite flavor—you never had to tell him a thing. He just knew. 

You open the packaging and dig into the ice cream, wrapping your lips around the spoon. “Oh sorry,” you mumble, your mouth full of ice cream as you pull the spoon from your lips. “Do you want some?”

You dig the spoon back into the ice cream and scoop out a big serving, pointing the spoon in Logan’s direction. He smirks before opening his mouth, waiting for you to feed him. Your breath catches in your throat as you hold the spoon up to him. His lips wrap around the ice cream, and he takes the spoon from your hand, his fingertips brushing against yours. 

He sucks and pulls the spoon from his mouth. You swallow harshly at the sight, watching as he digs into the pint and takes another scoop of ice cream, this time bringing the spoon to your lips. You open your mouth, inviting him inside, closing it around the cold ice cream. You silently wish you could taste him on the spoon. 

You grab the spoon from his hands, his fingers lingering before pulling away—like he’d do anything to touch you again, to savor the feeling of your skin against his. 

“Thank you, Logan,” you say, taking another scoop of ice cream and shoving the spoon past your lips. “Really, it means a lot.”

Logan shakes his head, his hand finding that spot on your stomach again. “It was nothing,” he mutters. “I’d do anything for you.” He soothingly rubs side to side, the warmth of his palm enveloping your lower abdomen. “Is there anything else you wanted?” He asks, nodding his head towards the T.V. on the other side of your room. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Sure,” you say back, reaching for the remote on your nightstand. You flick the T.V. on and look over at Logan. “W-would you wanna stay?” You ask, nodding your head to the other side of the bed. 

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere, princess,” he husks, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed. He settles in next to you, lying down on the mattress. You’re shoulder to shoulder, and his hand quickly finds your lower abdomen again. 

You scroll through the movies on various streaming services, and nothing seems to click until you find an old, campy B-movie from the 80s. You turn to face Logan, grinning widely, pointing the remote to the television. He rolls his eyes playfully as he reads the description. “Whatever you want, pretty girl.”

Your heart stops at the epithet. Pretty girl? Princess, sure—you’re familiar with Logan’s classic princess nickname. But pretty girl was entirely new. Different. Certainly not friendly. Princess was teasing, tongue and cheek—a way to mess with you, to slip under your skin and rile you up. Flirty? Perhaps. But not inherently romantic. Pretty girl? 

Pretty girl seems like…more. 

You decide to take a chance, letting your head rest on Logan’s shoulder as you press play on the movie. You spoon ice cream into your mouth, waiting for Logan’s next move. After a few seconds, he sits up. His shoulder separates from yours, and his arm reaches around your shoulders instead, tugging you into his chest. 

“This okay?” He asks, his lips brushing against the side of your head, pressing what feels like the ghost of a kiss to your temple.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “It’s perfect.” You can hear Logan’s heart beating in his chest. It’s loud and fast. His fingertips draw circles into your shoulder as he pulls you closer. 

The movie starts, but you can’t seem to concentrate. You nervously shovel scoop after scoop of ice cream into your mouth, hoping to take your mind off Logan, but it obviously doesn’t work. Not with the way his arms are wrapped around you—one draped around your shoulder while his other hand is tucked in its place against your lower stomach. 

You somehow finish the entire pint, and Logan notices immediately, taking the container from your hands and placing it on the nightstand next to him. His hand is back, soothingly rubbing your abdomen, within the blink of an eye. He’s endlessly attentive, listening carefully to every breath you take, watching every wrinkle in your forehead crease and every wince you make when a bad cramp comes on. 

A sudden, sharp pain builds in your abdomen, and you squeeze your eyes shut, grinding your teeth as the pain worsens. You take a deep breath through your nose and out your mouth.

“Hey,” Logan coos, pressing his hand a bit harder into your belly. “Is it getting bad?” He asks softly, holding you tighter. 

You swallow harshly, taking another deep breath. “Yeah, it hurts right now,” you choke, wincing as you let yourself lean completely into him. 

Logan pulls you into his lap, one arm draping across the front of your chest while his hand slips underneath the waistband of your athletic shorts. He stops just above your panties. “Is this okay?” He asks, his warm palm messaging your stomach. 

The pressure is so nice, and the heat from his palm is delicious. “Yes,” you groan, your legs intertwining with his. You squirm a bit in his lap, trying to get comfortable. “You’re so warm,” you whisper, turning on your side, still situated between his legs, your head on his chest. “F-feels good.”

Logan presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His arm slides up and down your body before settling on your waist. “You sure you don’t need anything?”

“I-I don’t know,” you admit, pressing your face into the center of his chest. All you can smell is him—pine and musk and denim and leather. It’s perfect, dizzying, distracting. Just need you, you think to yourself. 

“Need me, pretty girl?” Logan asks. You lift your head up, furrowing your brows as you realize you let that thought find its way to your lips and out of your mouth. “I’m right here.” 

His face is just inches away from yours. His breath fans across your nose, your cheeks. His lips are close, too—just a bit closer and you’d be kissing. “L-Lo,” you stutter. “I…” You trail off, unable to form a coherent thought. You can feel the tension in the air, feel the heat building between your thighs. Fuck, you want him. Need him. 

His throat bobs as he swallows. “What’s going on here, sweetheart?” Logan murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. 

“W-want you,” you admit, your voice shaky. 

“Want you too, darlin’,” he says, his fingertips playing with the waistband of your panties. “Let me take care of you,” he husks. “Let me take the pain away.” And you want him too—more than anything. 

“Please,” you beg as his hand slips under the hem of your panties. You flip the T.V. off and throw the remote to the floor.

His lips finally press against yours, slow and languid. His fingertips find your clit, drawing tight, quick circles around the bud. “I’ll tease you next time, pretty girl,” Logan whispers at the shell of your ear. But all you register is next time. There’s going to be a next time. “Just wanna make you feel good right now.”

“F-fuck,” you moan, your hips rocking against his hand. He swirls around your clit, pinching gently between his strokes. 

Logan’s free hand comes down to your thighs, gripping your flesh tightly and spreading your legs wider. “That feel good, princess?” He rasps, stroking faster. 

Your head falls back to his shoulder. “Yes, so good,” you whimper. His lips find your neck, kissing your pulse point and sucking softly. His hand slides back up your body, slipping underneath your shirt, trailing over your stomach. 

His fingertips climb tentatively towards your chest. You remember you aren’t wearing a bra as Logan’s fingers brush against the underside of your breasts. “Please,” you beg, arching your back into his touch.

Logan presses another kiss to your neck as his hand palms your breasts, massaging gently, alternating between one side and the other. He hikes up your tank top, giving himself better access to all of you. His fingers continue their tight circles on your clit, swirling around, releasing that pressure at the bottom of your stomach. Your walls clench down around nothing as he presses harder into your core. 

“Thought about this for so long,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “Thought about touching you, fucking you. Wanted you this whole time, sweetheart.”

“Logan,” you moan, bringing your lips to his. “I wanted you too,” you confess. You can feel yourself hitting your peak, ready to fall apart. “I’m c-close.”

“I know, darlin’,” Logan soothes, his fingers quickening. “I’ve got you.” His lips melt against yours, fitting together like magnets, like you were always meant to find each other. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip. “Wanna make you come, wanna watch you let go.” 

It all happens so fast—your orgasm crashes into you, and Logan swallows your moans with another kiss. “That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, still stroking your clit. Your walls flutter as pleasure courses through your every nerve ending. His strokes slow down until his fingers rest, unmoving, on your clit. Logan’s hands still palm your breasts, messaging the tender flesh gently. “You okay?” He asks softly. 

“Yeah, p-perfect,” you stutter, curling into his chest. “Felt so good.” 

Logan presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Relax darlin’,” he husks, taking a deep breath. 

“Lo?” You whisper, looking up at him, his eyes immediately finding yours. “Do you really want me?” You ask, suddenly embarrassed to be saying anything at all, and yet you find yourself rambling. “When you were saying all that when we were—” 

But his lips are on yours again, hungry and desperate. He pulls away like he doesn’t want to—like it hurts to be away from you for even the briefest second. “I want you, pretty girl,” he says, pulling you back into his chest. “You’re all I think about…” He trails off, his voice less stable than it was just seconds ago. “You’re all I need.” 

“Logan,” you say, smiling widely. “I’ve wanted you for months. I didn’t know you felt the same way.” 

You can feel his chuckle reverberate through his chest. “How could I ever want someone else?” He asks. There’s levity in his voice, but you know he’s being serious. “You’re it. You make me think that…” he pauses, and you look up from his chest. “You make me think that there’s some purpose to all this.” He meets your gaze, and you can see the sudden shift in his expression. His eyes are glossed over. He works his jaw. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. For love. For you.” 

You know that Logan has had everything taken from him, time and time again. He’s an undeniably selfless person, the type of person who would let the world destroy him to protect those he loves—and he has—it’s happened. But he’s still here, and now he’s here with you. He deserves happiness. He deserves love. And the thought that he finally feels those things with you is too much to bear. You try to smile, but you can’t help the tears brimming in your eyes. “I love you,” you whisper. “So much.” 

“I love you too, beautiful.” 

His lips are on yours again, melding, coming together, building something unbreakable. You straddle him, his hands finding your hips. He squeezes firmly, keeping you in place on top of him. His tongue swipes your lower lip, asking permission to slip inside, and you happily oblige. You want Logan, all of him, now. Forever. 

“Always gonna want you, just you,” he mumbles against your lips. “So fucking beautiful. Never wanted anyone like this.” His hands guide your hips to roll over his. Your core drags along his erection—large and straining against his jeans. 

“Want you so bad,” you whine, grinding down onto him. But then you remember the reason Logan is here in the first place. “B-but I’m on my—”

Logan rocks his hips against yours, ignoring you. “As long as you want this pretty girl, I want this. Don’t care about that.”

Fuck.

You nod, your lips pressing to his. He swallows your whines, his tongue brushing against yours, his teeth grazing your lower lip. His hands slide up and down your back, your tank top still hiked up over your breasts. Logan’s nails trail across your skin, drawing along your curves, taking in every inch of you. 

You bring your hands down his chest, finding the hem of his beater. You tug it up his body, revealing his skin. “You want this off?” He asks, smiling against your lips. You nod, and he breaks contact for just a split second, tugging his shirt up and over his head. 

He’s so beautiful, his abs, the thick, dark hair scrawling across his chest. You bite your lip at the sight. “You’re perfect,” you mutter, letting your hands feel his exposed skin, searching him, growing familiar with his every curve.

He smirks, his hands finding your hips again, squeezing tightly. “That’s all you, princess,” he rasps, shaking his head. “Beautiful girl.” 

You grind your hips against his again, and he presses his forehead to yours. “Need you, Lo.” His arms wrap around your back, pulling you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your fingertips find his belt, fumbling with the buckle until you get it undone, and sliding the leather out of the loops of his jeans. You toss it to the floor and quickly work at his button and zipper. 

“Slow down, sweetheart,” Logan chides, grabbing your wrists with one of his massive hands. “Let’s take it easy, yeah?”

You can’t help but pout. “But I want you so bad,” you whine, grinding down onto him. Logan groans, his hips bucking up into yours. He brings his hands to the hem of his jeans and tugs them down. You take the opportunity to grab a condom from the drawer of the nightstand next to you. 

When you look back, Logan’s erection is free from his jeans. He’s massive, so much bigger than you ever imagined. You swallow harshly, handing him the condom with shaky hands. He smirks, opening the little package and rolling the condom over his cock. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he husks. “Gonna take it slow, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, and then his hands are on your hips again, flipping you onto your back so that he’s hovering over you. He quickly finds the hem of your shorts, and you lift your hips up a little, helping him tug them, along with your panties, down your legs. He places them at the end of the bed and lowers back down over you. 

He balances on his forearm as his free hand guides his cock to your folds, sliding through you, nudging against your clit. “You have no idea how much I need you,” Logan whispers, his tip teasing your entrance. “No idea how much I love you.” 

He shoves himself deep inside you with one thrust, bottoming out, down to the hilt. “Fuck,” he curses, his cock filling you up, stretching you out, giving you a chance to adjust to the sheer size of him. “You feel so good,” he praises. “Knew you’d feel perfect. Fucking made for me.”

He finally pulls out only to thrust back in, somehow deeper this time. “Logan,” you moan, your nails digging into his muscular back. “S-so big, so good,” you breathe, stumbling over your words. 

“Love it when you say my name, pretty girl,” Logan pants, slipping out and pumping back in, setting a slow, languid pace. His free hand reaches between your bodies, his fingertips finding your clit with ease. He draws those familiar, tight, rapid little circles into your bud. 

You curse under your breath as he splits you open, his pace growing faster every few thrusts or so. He’s holding back, and you can see it in his face—his eyes all dark as he works his jaw, feigning patience. You know he wants more—to take all of you and make you his. 

“Logan, y-you don’t have to…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed as he hits that sweet spot deep inside you. 

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” he says, demand in his voice. Your eyes flutter back open. “What do you need?” He asks, softer now, attentive as ever.  

His fingers swirl against your clit, adding more pressure with every careful stroke, making it near impossible for you to form a coherent thought. “Y-you don’t have to hold back,” you stammer as he sinks into you. “I-I can take it.”

He presses a kiss to your lips as he pumps in and out. “Just wanna take care of you this time, beautiful.” He pinches your clit lightly before stroking again. “Next time I’ll take you how I want.” There it is again. Next time. 

His hips snap against yours, his fingers working dexterously at your clit. It’s all too much, the way he bites your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck and kissing your pulse point, whispering praises against the shell of your ear. Taking me so well. Doing so good for me, darlin’. So fucking beautiful. Such a good girl. 

His cock drags along your walls, and you clench down around him. He twitches inside you as he buries himself deeper, hitting that sweet spot again and again. “Logan,” you whine, your eyes struggling to stay open. “I’m so close.” Logan’s cock throbs as the words fall from your lips. 

“F-fuck,” he stutters, his composure slipping. “I know, princess. Me too.” His hips rock into yours, his pace growing faster with every hit. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, wanna get there with you.” 

You arch your back, your chest pushing flush against his. “Yes,” you moan as he thrusts into you, the pads of his fingers firmly circling your clit. It’s too much—you know you’re coming undone, unraveling underneath him. Your walls clench down around him again. 

“That’s it, beautiful,” Logan soothes. “Come with me.”

The tension snaps, splitting in two. It’s uncontrollable, a raging fire, blinding heat. You let go, melting into the mattress, your orgasm wracking through your body. Logan twitches inside you, and you know he’s coming too. You’re trembling underneath him, legs shaking as his thrusts slow down. With one more slow pump, Logan stills inside you. His fingers stroke your clit lightly, working you through your high, bringing you back down to Earth. 

After a few seconds, his fingers slip away, and he pulls out of your cunt. You can’t help but feel empty now that he’s gone, already craving more of him. He sits up on his knees and climbs off the bed, taking the condom from his cock and tossing it into the garbage. He grabs his boxers from off the floor and tugs them on. 

Before you can beg him to come back, he’s crawling onto the bed. He grabs your panties and your shorts, dragging them up your legs, making sure everything is back in its right place. 

“You okay, pretty girl?” He asks, tugging you into his chest. “You need anything? New pad? Water?”

“I’m okay,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest. “Just need you.”

You can feel him smiling against the crown of your head. “You have me, beautiful.” He whispers. “Always gonna have me.” He tugs the sheets and the comforter over your bodies, the warmth of him and your bed dragging you under the current of sleep. 

You wake up a few hours later. Logan is still there, next to you, his arms holding you tightly to his chest. 

“Lo,” you whisper into the darkness of your room.

“I’m here.” His voice is cloudy, tired, filled with sleep. “Never gonna be anywhere but here.” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Go back to sleep.”

“I love you,” you say, because you can, because you mean it.

You can hear the sleepy smile in his voice. “I love you too.”

tags: @banlaineslawyer @gothgoblinbabe @alsoprettyinpink @librababe99 @ponygyatt @yoursrosie @itdobe-foggy @gplol @healmydesires @qardasngan @princessterek @alastorssimp @yawnetu @chronicallybubbly @corvid007 @muffin-berry @emmdog2999 @kieekto @creepsbeware @starrdustss @evasmlp @figsnpassionfruits @spiderset @ilysmdovie12 @silversprings-mp3 @prettyseaveins @derbygracie @pedrohoe04 @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @movhoney @honeyfwr @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @cosmiccandydreamer

[gigabyte-flare]

There's No Escape (Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: As you process the fact you're now pregnant with your captor's child, you experience the aftermath of the trauma he's endured in the past.

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 2.7k

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass. You are solely responsible for your own content consumption

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay, masterbation, drugging, tokophobia, Stockholm syndrome if you squint. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings could be added in the future.

Tags: @lipglossanon, @ghostkennedy, @explorevenus, @nexyswrites, @ilookatlater, @shroomietrip, @dollrxst, @lomaeuwu, @aliet, @luniaxifics, @miwsolovely (Shoot me a message or an ask if you want to be added to the list!)

A/N: I am sooooooooooooooooooo sorry this took so long to put out! I had massive writer's block with this one. There's a ton of angst in this one, fair warning. Enjoy!

EDIT!!! I forgot to mention there's a nod here to Venus' AI Leon shenanigans as they helped break my writer's block, thank you Venus!!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The days following the bombshell that was finding out you’re pregnant with Leon’s child were a blur. Most of the time you moseyed around the house, almost in a catatonic state, your mind in denial about the whole thing. Pregnancy and childbirth were two of your biggest fears and they were now a terrifying reality. This morning was no different, you lay in bed on your side, staring off into space as several tears stream down your face. Dark circles were under your eyes from crying almost every night; you also refused to eat, Leon usually had to force feed you. 

You feel Leon shift next to you as an arm wraps around your waist. You feel him bury his nose into the hair on the back of your head, inhaling deeply.

“Good morning, my pretty princess, did you sleep well?”

You don’t answer him, you simply continue to stare at the wall. You hear Leon let out a frustrated sigh.

“Baby, can you please answer me? Daddy’s worried about you.”

“I slept fine.” you reply curtly.

Leon forcibly turns you to face him, and you watch as he furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“You know it’s not nice to lie to Daddy.” he says, “come here.”

He gets out of bed, pulling you with him to stand in front of a full length mirror.

“See how pretty you are? And the best part?” Leon says before placing his hands on the lower part of your belly, “there’s a part of me inside you now.”

You feel your stomach sink as you look at your nude form in the mirror, your eyes catching a glimpse of Leon standing behind you, his blue eyes locked on you in lust. 

“I can’t wait until you start to show, sweetheart. That way I can show the whole world who you belong to.”

Leon presses a kiss into the back of your head before continuing.

“Daddy will take such good care of you and our baby; you won’t have to lift a finger, all you need to focus on is being a good princess and having all of Daddy’s babies.”

You shiver briefly, bringing your arms up to hug yourself as Leon wraps his arms around you, kissing the back of your head and rocking you back and forth in an attempt to comfort you. 

“Here, let’s get you dressed and I’ll make us some breakfast, hm?” Leon says, letting you go and approaching the closet to pick out your outfit for the day. 

He grabs a pair of really short denim shorts with a white tank top, putting the clothes on you before getting dressed himself, putting on a pair of black cargo pants with a gray tank top. He gently grabs your hand, coaxing you towards the kitchen to have breakfast. 

In the kitchen, Leon is cooking bacon and eggs while you sit at the kitchen table, fiddling with a pen that is on the table in your hands. Leon makes up two plates, putting one in front of you before sitting next to you at the small table. You’re reluctant to eat at first until Leon shoots a glare at you. 

“You need to eat, don’t make me force you again, sweetheart,” he warns.

You let out a sigh as you begin to eat, fighting back tears that are welling in your eyes.

“That’s my good girl,” he coos, watching you like a hawk as he finishes his breakfast “you’re eating for two now; I have to make sure you’re getting enough to eat for both of you.”

The statement sends chills down your spine, but you somehow finish your breakfast despite it. Once you’re done, Leon collects both the plates and silverware to put them in the sink before leading you into the living room. He sits in his usual chair, coaxing you onto his lap as he turns on the TV to get the news.

He runs his fingers through your hair as he places gentle kisses on your check and along your neck, “I’m so excited to start our family, I’ve dreamt of this for so long…”

“Is that because of what happened in Raccoon City and Spain?” you reply mindlessly.

You feel Leon tense up beneath you and you quickly realize your error; you aren’t supposed to know about Raccoon City or Spain. You feel Leon’s cold blue gaze boring a hole into you before he shoves you onto the floor.

“You’ve been in my office haven’t you?!” he growls, his eyes filled with rage as you get on your knees to stand up.

“Daddy, please… I’m sorry, the door was open and--”

He stands up from his chair and slaps you across the face, causing you to fall over onto the floor. He bends down, grabbing you by your hair to stand you up on your knees again.

“Give me one good reason to forgive you, princess,” Leon growls, tightening his grasp on your hair.

It made you sick to even think about it, but you knew one thing that would quell his anger, “think about our baby, Leon…”

You watch his expression soften a touch, but his grip on your hair remains. Without saying a word, he begins undoing his belt and pants with one hand, pulling out his half hardened cock from his pants.

“Let me fuck and cum in your pretty little mouth, then maybe I’ll consider forgiving you, sweetheart.”

He sticks his thumb in your mouth, prying your mouth open before shifting himself closer, pushing his cock inside your mouth. Immediately he starts thrusting into your mouth, causing you to gag as his cock pushes against the back of your throat; he was doing this for his pleasure, not yours.

Tears pour down your face as you grasp onto his hips in an attempt to slow him down, but it’s futile; he is relentless. Letting out a lust filled growl, Leon looks down at you, a wicked grin spreading across his lips, relishing in the sight of him ravishing your mouth.

“You are going to swallow every drop of my cum, do I make myself clear?”

You try to nod, but Leon’s insistent thrusts into your mouth make that almost impossible; all you can do is gag. A few more minutes pass. Leon’s grip on your hair tightens as his hips push into your mouth. You feel his cock pulse violently as ropes of his cum shoot into your throat. You continue to gag, now afraid you’re actually going to choke on his cum. He holds himself in your mouth until his cock finally stops twitching. He pulls out of your mouth, your lips making a distinct ‘pop’ sound. Inevitably, some of his cum leaks from your lips; you struggle to swallow it all.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t swallow all of Daddy’s cum?” Leon asks, his tone patronizing.

You finally manage to swallow most of it before looking back up at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, Daddy, there’s so much.”

He grabs you by your shoulder, forcing you to stand up before he grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder, “I told you to swallow all of my cum and you didn’t, you bad, bad girl.”

You see that he’s carrying you to the timeout room and you start to struggle, kicking and screaming in his grasp until he drops you onto the bed in the timeout room, fastening the collar around your neck. He kneels down so that he’s eye level with you, the rage he’s holding back apparent in his blue eyes.

“Not only did you go somewhere you weren’t supposed to, sweetheart, but you didn’t do what I had asked you to. You’re going to stay in this room all by yourself until tomorrow morning so you can think about what you did wrong, understood?”

You nod, your eyes red and puffy from crying. You watch Leon stand up, not even giving you a second glance as he walks out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Leon is restless as he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling. This was the first night he slept alone since bringing you here. Every time he closes his eyes, that night in Raccoon City comes rushing back to him, the groans of the undead haunting his subconscious. He felt a chill go through him, which immediately brought him back to when he was infected with Las Plagas, causing him to lay on his side, wrapping his arms around himself. 

You were the only one that kept the darkness of the past away and boy did he yearn for you now. But you were being punished and he needed to see that punishment through; he was not about to let you see him like this.

However, as time passed, his body began to tremble and he could feel a panic attack coming, something he hadn’t experienced since that night you had disappeared from his apartment back in D.C.. Grabbing a pillow, he stuffs his face into it and screams, unable to get the awful images of that night in 1998 out of his head. Why did you have to bring it up? Why were you in his office to begin with? He wanted to forget that night, the night his innocence was taken away from him. 

He graduated at the top of his class at the police academy, his heart full of light and hope. Filled with a desire to help people. The bright, hopeful police officer died that night in Raccoon City, leaving behind a jaded man full of anger and hate at the horrors and corruption he was exposed to. 

Clutching the pillow, trying to pretend it was you, he violently sobs, his voice no doubt echoing through the house. After what seems like hours of this, he couldn’t take it anymore. He tosses the blankets off himself and walks into the bathroom, flipping the light on before looking at himself in the mirror. His eyes were puffy and red with dark circles under them. He looks like hell. Turning on the sink, he splashes cold water onto his face before leaning over the sink, breathing heavily. He turns and leaves the bathroom, shutting off the light. He walks out of the bedroom, heading straight to the timeout room. 

He stops in front of the shut door, pressing his palm against it, dragging his hand down until his hand meets the door handle.

He unlocks the door.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You were startled awake by the sound of someone wailing. You were kind of irritated because you had just managed to finally fall asleep after exhausting yourself from crying. The first thought that crossed your mind was ‘oh great, is this place haunted?’ but no, you realize quickly it’s Leon. The wailing finally stops after awhile, much to your relief.

You close your eyes to go back to sleep until you hear the door to the timeout room unlock and open, the door letting out a creaking sound as it slowly swings open. You keep your eyes shut, thinking that if he thinks you’re asleep that he’ll go away. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Leon walks into the room, shutting the door behind him. You feel him collapse onto the bed behind you; you feel him press himself against you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. That’s when you feel it, his body subtly shaking and you hear soft sounds coming from him.

Is he crying…?

You open your eyes, turning over to look at him slightly, “Leon?”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” you hear him say, “I couldn’t do it, I’m not strong enough… it won’t stop…”

You turn over completely to face him, looking into his bloodshot blue eyes, “what won’t stop?”

“I couldn’t save them… I couldn’t save anyone…” Leon says, “I can still hear them…”

You realize he’s talking about Raccoon City and, judging by the report you read, he witnessed some truly horrific things that clearly scarred him. Your mind starts racing, trying to think of a way to calm him down so that you can go back to sleep. You recall the Kennedy Report, finally.

“But you were able to save the President’s daughter, weren't you?” you reach out, gently caressing his cheek, “you also stopped a horrible parasite from spreading. That’s something, isn’t it, Leon?”

You watch as his breaths slow down, his expression softening as a smile forms on his lips, a genuine one. You hadn’t seen that smile since when you first met him. For a minute you forget that he’s completely deranged. He pulls you in close, kissing the top of your head and he quickly falls asleep and, thankfully, you do, too.

🖤🖤🖤🖤����🖤

The next morning, you and Leon ate breakfast in complete silence. You mindlessly push your food around on your plate as Leon stands at the kitchen sink, doing the dishes. You look up at him, the silence now unbearable.

“Do you… want to talk about last night?” you ask hesitantly.

“No.”

You feel your heart sink, clearing your throat before continuing, “I think we should, Leon.”

“You’re becoming awfully comfortable with addressing me incorrectly, my sweet,” Leon says, his voice like venom.

You roll your eyes since his back is turned to you, “it’s not going to get easier if you keep ignoring it.”

He turns around, narrowing his eyes at you, “drop it. Now.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy… I’ll stop,” you say, conceding defeat.

“Good girl.”

The sudden sound of his cellphone ringing in his back pocket made you nearly jump out of your skin. Leon groans, pulling it out and answering it.

“Kennedy speaking… no I can’t come to Bangor today…”

Bangor… as in Bangor, Maine?

“What do you mean the President is here? Fuck… fine, I’ll be there in a couple hours,” Leon hangs up his cellphone, turning to face you, “I have to go into town, can I trust you to be good while I’m gone?”

He doesn’t realize his slip up…

“Yes, Daddy, I’ll be good, I promise.”

Your mind was now racing, trying to fathom where in Maine you potentially were until you suddenly recall a conversation you had with Leon when you two started dating.

“Yeah, I have some property up near Baxter State Park in Maine; I’d like to retire there someday!”

He inadvertently told you where he was going to take you without even realizing it. But what were you going to do with this information? You had no way of communicating with the outside. You finish up your breakfast with renewed vigor as Leon gets ready to leave the house.

Leon comes out of the bedroom, wearing one of his leather jackets with a dark blue button up shirt and a pair of jeans. Admittedly, he was very attractive in this outfit. You must not have hid that on your face very well because he gives you a playful smirk.

“Like what you see baby? Too bad I have to leave you, otherwise I’d fuck you right here. Unfortunately, I can’t refuse an order from the President."

He walks up to you, cupping your head in one of his hands and kissing the top of your head, “I’ll be back later, be good, ok?”

You watch Leon leave the kitchen, listening to the front door open and squeak closed, leaving you with your thoughts. Grabbing your plate, you bring it over to the sink and finish washing the dishes that Leon had started. Your mind continues to race over the fact that you now had a general idea of where Leon has taken you; you had to think of a way to take advantage of this.

You finish up the dishes, drying off your hands before going into the living room. You sit in Leon’s chair, turning on the TV and mindlessly flipping through the channels. You can’t seem to focus, your eyes wandering the room instead of staying on the TV. Your eyes settle on the front door, your eyes widening in shock.

The front door is unlatched.

Part 7

[xxsycamore]

𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

↬ But if he gets turned on by your obedience, you get turned on by the consequences of anything but.

Theodorus van Gogh x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Shoe Licking; Pet Play; Light Degradation; Dirty Talk; Master/Pet; Swearing; Light Masochism; Collars; Leashes; Rough Sex; Vaginal Penetration; Doggy Style; Squirting; Multiple Orgasms; PWP; Light dom/sub; Praise Kink • wordcount: 1, 180 • masterlist

a/n: @yanderepuck made me bark with her fic, and I was convinced by @candied-boys to write this. I forgot it was Theo's birthday, so hooray for happy accidents...and happy birthday to Theo ❤ I should write soft smut with him too some time, but...

"Lick."

You glare up at your Master behind your lashes, the tip of his shoe mere millimeters away and briefly grazing your lower lip. Theo looks stunning like that - control reeking from his form like his preferred choice of cologne, he occupies the armchair like a throne, legs crossed and chin propped up on an arm. Throwing a fit would make you a bad hondje, and you certainly wouldn't want that now…

"Hah. You got to it right away. I trained you well, my pet."

Wasn't it for the light note of entertainment in his tone, his posture would speak of boredom - but you know better than that. You know how to fascinate him, as well as how to set his blood boiling.

But he was so nice to you today. He even got you off the leash.

The leather on his shoe surprisingly doesn't taste bad on your tongue, it hardly tastes like anything at all. With how fucked-out and drunk on Theodorus you are, your brain is willing to come up with the slightest of tangs to associate with him: you want all of him, on your tongue, on your skin, everywhere you can sense him.

Too concentrated on your task of dragging your tongue on his shoes until they're all shiny and nice you could almost see your reflection in them, you barely miss the way he palms his bulge. Ah. His perversion knows no limits, humiliating you like that.

But if he gets turned on by your obedience, you get turned on by the consequences of anything but.

So while rubbing your cheek affectionately on his pointy shoe, you open your mouth to take it in… and chew.

It takes him a second or two to believe your stupidity before something so very rude and Dutch leaves his mouth. It's like music to your ears.

"You truly ARE a fucking knabbeltje, aren't you?"

Your chewtoy is taken away from you too soon as Theodorus uncrosses his legs, getting to his feet and thus coming to completely tower over your kneeling form. He's a tall man, and you're oh so close to the ground where your place is. It's so unfair.

His hands are so rough when he secures the leash back on your collar, and you fantasize about a miniature scar on the place where he clicks it on place in one haste movement. As if he didn't give you enough of those sweet reminders already.

He means to be punishing when he pulls the leash thus dragging you to where he wants you, but it's hard when you're already crawling there on your own. You climb the bed, half-expecting to hear that pets are not allowed on there - but the urgency in his body language tells you he'd rather take care of this in fastest and most convenient way - for him, that's it.

"I thought I disciplined you better. I taught you so many tricks, Hondje. Yet you still disappoint me."

"I'm sorr-AH!"

A sudden strike across your naked rear knocks the oxygen out of you momentarily, and your forehead meets the bedcovers as you struggle to keep your posture on all fours.

"Dogs don't talk. You'll have to show me that you're sorry."

You consider turning around and servicing his cock with your mouth - but such frivolity would only further disappoint him - if he put you in that position, then he wants you in that position.

Arching your back, you try to push back against Theo's frame, showing him how eager you are to take him inside. Your core is weeping for him at this point, staining his trousers as you hump against his legs.

The bed dips under the weight of his knee and the metallic clank of a belt buckle coming undone comes to your ears. Anticipating the contact, your pussy tightens and overflows with lubrication, legs parting further unintentionally.

Theo clicks his tongue and fixes your posture, his right hand remaining on your waist as the other is most probably occupied by his cock where you can't see it. Your suspicions are soon met with the affirming reality of something hard and blunt poking at your entrance. As if to rile you up, he only shallowly enters you and leaves you empty again. Only once satisfied with your whines, he pushes in all the way, and groans in satisfaction.

He sets a fast pace, with his thrusts reaching so deep inside you it feels like he's in your guts. You want him in your guts. You want to be praised for taking him so well.

"You like it like that, huh? You'll end up spraying all over my cock again."

It's like his words activate a switch in your brain that makes your body obey, because you swear you could handle him hitting your spot for longer than that. Theo must've felt the pressure build up and peak, because he pulls out at the right moment to witness his dirty prediction come true.

You feel yourself squirt and drench the man behind you, as well as the sheets. You know how bad Theo has it for you perfuming that "trick", so you don't even mind when he buries himself in your pussy right away, continuing his assault on your sensitive spots.

That's the thing, though - when he's settled on punishing you, he'd fuck you rough - but when he fucks you rough, he gets off on it.

Trying to picture it from the side, you wonder if you're the only one resembling an animal in this scenario, with Theo's groans increasing in frequency, and with his brutal pace. You love turning him into that - and even more you love it when your pussy is so good for him he can't help but curse his quickly building orgasm.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Hondje. Once I'm done fucking your cunt I'll be making use of you in other ways, seeing that you can't help cumming around my cock even if I tell you not to."

You wish he didn’t choose to say this while you're right at the brink of yet another orgasm, but maybe he timed it on purpose. Dropping your head between your arms and sticking your ass up, you melt and moan in yet another culmination, calling out your Master's name and hoping it won't count for "talking".

Theo's trusts grow sharp and uneven, breaths coming out heavy and warning of what is to come. You expect him to still completely, tip flush against your deepest depths, but instead he pulls out in the last second, and spills on your used pussy.

The milky white torrents of cum slide down the inside of your tights, some dripping down on the bed; you whine, collapsing and moaning at the softness of the bed finally handling your weight without any of your muscles put to work - but the satisfaction is only physical as you really hoped he'd finish in you.

"You don't get a treat. You can lick it off the bedding if you wish to behave like a dog so much."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @atelier-the-atelier @cilokgoang Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[dirty-bosmer]

The very talented @sheirukitriesfandom came up with this writing game. Thank you so much for the tag! I'm finally recovered enough from my trip to take a stab at all the tag-games I've missed. It was both nice and a bit challenging to revisit my old works. Forgot a lot of what I had written, honestly 😅

Tagging: @atypicalacademic @justafoxhound @elavoria @kookaburra1701 @nuwanders @thequeenofthewinter @skyrim-forever @gilgamish @chennnington @throughtrialbyfire @thana-topsy @mareenavee @paraparadigm @ladytanithia @nine-blessed-hero @wispstalk @sylvienerevarine @expended-sleeper

And as always no pressure if you're not feeling it. Also consider yourself tagged if you see this and are interested in joining in :D

The rules are to share:

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

lmao I don't think humor is a strength of mine, so I combed through very briefly and pulled at the first thing I saw that made me snort.

Mathieu swore he'd had conversations of more substance with mudcrabs while five brandies deep, and yet it always fascinated him how little his Speaker could say in so many words.

(from The Illusionist Part 2)

A line from your fic that makes you sad

If she could hold the quill steady, she would write it ten times over. She’d say, I miss doing nothing with you, being nothing but with you. If nothing were as blissful as those hours spent beside you, perhaps I wouldn’t fear it so.

(from The Illusionist Part 2)

A line from your fic you're proud of

The Midyear sun blazed high and proud above Kvatch. Below, the city scrambled on. Another Midyear, another Middas. Magnus rose, its ascent resolute.

(it's actually the first line of The Illusionist Part 1, and it has surprisingly remained unchanged since my first iteration of the fic??? Unfathomable to me lol)

A line from your fic you think could have been better

Only one? 😅 Truth is, I'm perpetually editing old chapters, so I could pretty much insert the entire series of The Illusionist here.

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

Lucien gurgled or perhaps chortled, then spat out a mouthful of blood. “I thought you preferred silence, dear Sister.”

(Lucien sucks so baaaaddd and I get progressively meaner to him, sorry. Kinda hate what I've done to him, but he is a loser and someone has to bully him, and the burden so happened to fall upon me 🤷‍♀️)

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

Nim's hair draped around his face, shielding him from the dancing flames of the brazier, and when Raminus closed his eyes, she was the only light that existed in all of Mundus, brilliant and blinding. 

(Crying about my nerd Raminus Polus, what's new.)

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

The shop windows taunt him from his periphery, but he will pass one hundred more if that’s what it takes to prove his presence. His footfalls are heavy. He persists, learns how to walk again, how to exert his body upon the world if only to feel it press up against his feet. 

(From Treacle)

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

“If we’re such pious servants, then why does Nana always speak of the Daedra as though she drinks with them every Fredas?”

From Slither and Writhe. It is referencing an OC of mine so idk if its really an easter egg, but I just think it's funny how the protagonists in TES games go about collecting daedric artifacts like they're halloween candy.

A line from your fic that's shocking

And if her mother had only been more inquisitive about her work, she’d know the difference between the stench of decay and fouled wounds and that of flesh mending itself together beneath fresh stitches and salves that Sylawen lathered on diligently with deft fingers everyday.

(from Slither and Writhe. A lot of lines in that fic are kind of er... gross 😅 It is about a necromancer, after all)

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

Abrim is gilded in the torch flame. Every part of him is a different shade of brown such that Scar-Tail needs only look at him in flickering light to feel he’s travelled all of Tamriel’s woods, seen every kind of tree there is.

Ramble time. While trying to describe this character, I was thinking of my uncles, how dark their complexion, how different the shades of brown are in their skin, their eyes, their hair. Growing up as a latina I used to find brown so boring and so common because I was preoccupied with a set of beauty standards that women in my community paraded about, only to realize they were full of internalized colorism :D Anyway, that was a decade ago, and there's this line I remember reading, and I have no idea where from— somos el color de la tierra, we are the color of the earth, and I think more people should be romanticizing brown because it's so diverse and so beautiful 💕

[archduke-enver-gortash]

UNUSUAL OC ASSOCIATIONS

tagged by @camelliagwerm thank you! god i am so sorry i completely forgot to post this, it was rotting in my drafts😭 i’ll do ven and ollie.

VEN

Seasoning: hm. my gut says curry powder for some reason

Weather: typical april weather

Colour: pink, grey and violet

Magic Power: conjuring her kinetic fire?

House Plant: cactus. one of those small, round ones with flowers on top

Weapon: she doesn’t normally use weapons, but i think she’d have fun with a sling.

Subject: drama. yes she’s a fucking theater kid

Social Media: don’t think she’d use a specific site, she’d be an annoying troll on everything

Make-up Product: she has a collection of lipsticks that are all wildly different in colour. so that, i guess.

Candy: center shock! does anyone else know these. they’re like sour gum with tons of wild flavours

Fear: having emotions; accepting that she is an actual person and not some puppet

Ice cube shape: dinosaurs! other cool creatures! she’d use those trays you can put the water in all the time

Method of long distance travel: getting carried by regongar

Art style: abstract + surrealism

Mythological creature: imp

Piece of stationary: one of those multi-colour pens

3 emojis: 🎭🃏🤡

Celestial body: comet

OLEANDER

Seasoning: herbs

Weather: eerie, dark rainy day in the countryside

Colour: dark green and a reddish brown

Sky: cloudy

Magic Power: shapeshifting, making people rot from the inside with a touch of his hand (charming fellow!)

House Plant: trick question! all of them!

Weapon: again, mostly does not use weapons but instead gores people on his shambling mound shape branches. does that count? if it doesn’t, he’s also able to use bows pretty efficiently.

Subject: Biology + Philosophy

Social Media: obscure wildlife/nature forum, one of those ppl who has the best and most informative posts but it’s very obvious to everyone reading that he has issues when he briefly mentions his personal life in one of them (“uhh why is apocynaceae43 talking about the mother of beasts in his latest gardening tutorial??”)

Make-up Products: blood and guts :)

Candy: blueberries, all berries are good though

Fear: failing

Ice cube shape: cubes

Method of long distance travel: transforming into a vulture and flying

Art style: Romantic

Mythological creature: witches (almost was one before i went with druid)

Piece of stationary: old handmade journal for his poetry

3 emojis: 🥀🌳🙏

Celestial body: hm. black hole maybe?

[4joonkookie]

After Midnight

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Words: 1.8K

Warnings/Tags: shameless smut, fuckboi!Namjoon, choking, strangling, reverse cowgirl,thigh riding, ruined orgasm, angst, fluff, masturbation, mutual masturbation.

Summary: You prey on Namjoon when he can’t be peeled away from his work in the studio and after a slight speed bump, it continues in the bedroom.

OR

(In order) thigh riding, Yoongi Cameo, ruined orgasm, mutual masturbation, (eventual orgasms) and reverse cowgirl.

It’s Midnight.

You’ve been waiting in bed almost 2 hours for Namjoon to finish in the studio. You texted again and he’s been “almost done” for over an hour now.

You’re panty-clad only but throw on his nearby hoodie and quietly head downstairs to fetch him. You gently open the studio door, hoping not to disturb anyone.

“Hey.”, he turns from a computer screen as you close the door behind you.

He quickly turns his attention back to the screen, engrossed in his work. You reach him and turn the rolling chair just enough to squeeze onto his lap.

“Almost, I swear.”, he says, eyes not leaving the computer screen.

“You said that at 10.”, you whine, placing little kisses on his neck.

You brace yourself on his lap and lean forward facing away from him to reach the mouse of the computer, closing all of the applications.

“Oh I like this”, he says, grazing his hands over your near-bare ass and admiring this coincidental view. He’s pleasantly distracted until he sees what you’re doing.

“Wait , wait, wait, I'm not do__…”, he begins to scold you.

“You’re done.”, you look at him convincingly and nod, turning to straddle him face-to-face in the chair. You bluff, “...unless you’d like me to go.” beginning to stand from his lap.

He uses a large arm to pull you back straight away and locks his lips with yours.

“Mmph… 20 minutes...”, he negotiates between heated kisses. Just give me 20 minutes and I’ll head upstairs and we can finish this.”, he says, grinding his lap up.

“We haven’t started anything yet.”, you groan as you reach for the waistband of his shorts.

He lifts you by your waist and spreads your legs over one of his thighs. He begins guiding your hips back and forth and you both groan into the feeling.

“We can start like this.” he says.

“Not while you’re working.”, you counter, wanting, needing to be more important.

“No?” he says, not letting his lips leave yours but rolls the both of you back to the computer.

He lifts you off his lap briefly to raise one leg of his shorts and pulls your panties to the side. Your lips hug his bare thigh, dragging your swelling center over his smooth skin. He pushes his leg up, causing you to cry out.

The moisture flowing allows you to slide easily, Namjoon keeping his leg firm in place. The increase in sensation makes your mind foggy but you tease anyway:

“And exactly how many girls have you convinced to grind on you while you work in this studio?, you ask, not disrupting the rhythm you've created.

“None that look as good in my sweater as you do”, he says softly, sliding a hand under the sweater and feeling up your breasts underneath.

Your core slips and slides on his thigh, orgasm hot in your belly. You try to distract yourself to pull him farther from even considering touching that computer again.

“Mmmm...and how many girls have worn your sweater?”, you moan in his ear, grinding with pleasure.

“None that look as sexy with my hand wrapped around their neck as you do.”, he replies, not missing a beat. Damn. His hand in the sweater grips around your throat with light pressure, Namjoon eoying watching your boobs bounce while you move on him.’

“More?” he asks.

“More.”,you reply, moans becoming needier and breathier.

The sweater rides higher on your body when he squeezes your neck a bit tighter, pushing you down on his thigh harder. You’re swept away, hips moving instinctively, chasing the climax.

“Come, baby. Make a mess on me.” He swoons and tightens his grip on your throat ,catapulting you to your orgasm. Your legs are shaking when the studio door swings open.

Only you can see a mortified Yoongi squint his eyes shut, use a hand to cover his already shut eyes and never lets the other hand leave the door handle before slamming it back shut.

“Oh my God.” you say, humiliated and softly and drop your head to Namjoon’s shoulder.

“ ...I forgot.”,he says, frozen with his hands on your waist. He was expecting Yoongi.

“You knew he was coming?!”, you grip his shoulders, feeling your blood boil.

“I asked him to come down to help me finish_”

“Ugh!” You grunt, interrupting. You angrily hop off his lap. “Have him finish you off then, see if I care!”.

You storm out of the studio, not even minding Yoongi still outside the door with a view of your bare ass, trotting away.

Stomping upstairs, you return to the bedroom. You take off Namjoon’s sweatshirt, your body overheated with embarrassment and ruined orgasm. You shut off the lights, hide under the blanket and hope to fall asleep and put off the discomfort and frustration until morning.

You expect Namjoon to stay with Yoongi in the studio and are surprised when a flash of light pans the room when the door opens. The lights turn on and he laughs when he sees your curled up body under the blankets, surely pouting. He jumps on the bed and wrestles you out from underneath the blanket.

“You pull tight at the covers and fight to keep shielded.” He finds your ribs on your blanketed form and tickles you until you let go of the sheets. You greeted with his sweet smile.

“Don’t be embarrassed…” he begins.

“But I am.”, you snap back more roughly than you intend. “I’m embarrassed that I had to literally hunt and pin you down to try and get laid.”, you're noticing real feelings coming out under the heat of embarrassment. “That I had to all but beg to tear you away from your work.”

He hangs his head in realization. He looks at you to speak. “I'm sorry, you’re right...”, he says, sincerely. He continues “....but I'm so glad you did...”, insufferably sweet.

“ Well, next time I won't.”, you reply, still cross with him. “I’ll just take care of it myself.”

“Only if you let me watch.”, he teases and begins to stroke your body and kiss your neck. It’s enticing but your ego is still bruised and you’re not ready to give back in to him yet.

“Take off Your pants.”, you demand and gesture at him to sit on the end of the bed. He complies readily, undresses and sits with his exposed cock on one end of the bed.

You pull the still-sticky panties off your body and get on all-fours to arrange pillows on the opposite end of Namjoon, revealing your ass to him. You mimic the view he’d enjoyed earlier. You gather several pillows to prop your back up and use one to sit on.

You settle yourself on the pillow and spread your thighs apart to expose your glistening cunt, still wet. Namjoon’s cock swells further, eyes darting across your body while his brain catches up to his dick.

You begin by dragging some wetness above to your clit. Your leg twitches when you move over the sensitive nub. You use the flat pads of 2 fingers to circle around, breath quickening.

Namjoon runs an antsy hand through his hair while exhaling deeply, mesmerized.

“Fuck baby…”, he groans while grabbing at the base of his leaking cock.

You spread wetness around your opening before sinking your middle and ring finger inside. Using your other hand to spread your lips apart so Namjoon can see.

He moans and uses building precum to turn his wrist around his shaft.

The image of him working his own cock propels you faster, rubbing faster and your pelvis instinctively grinds against your own fingers.

Namjoon strokes up and down his length. “You sure you don’t want to come over here, baby?”, he growls, tempting you with his dripping cock.

You look at him thoughtfully for a half-second before nearly pouncing on him across the bed. You’d kill to get that moment on his thighs back. It’s an offer that can’t be denied.

You straddle the same thigh and settle yourself on either side. Namjoon is keen on your idea and replaces his hand around your neck.

“Where were we?”, he whispers, setting a rhythm with his lap.

“I was telling you how sexy you looked with my hand wrapped around your neck…”

It’s just a few rolls Of your hips before the sensation captures you again.

“...and how I wanted that pretty pussy to make a mess on me”, he praises.

You start to see white when his grip tightens around your neck.

“Mmm...Joonie” you moan as your peak takes you over.. He keeps his grip tight on your throat until your orgasm and hips roll slower.

“Turn around.'' he says. You can hardly make out what he’s saying in your blissed state but turn to allow him to envelope his cock inside you.

He groans when you bottom out, You rotate your hips, grinding over his shaft until Namjoon can’t control his breathing.

He lays little slaps on your skin, grabbing and groping your ass cheeks.

You rotate your hips, grinding over his shaft.

“mmmph_ I love the way you move.”, he praises. You glance back to find him with one hand behind his neck and the other guiding your ass as it bounces, eyes fixated on the work on his cock.

You arch your back, and he uses his hand to keep you high up, impossibly deep. He pushes down on your shoulders as he thrusts from below you, eventually lifting himself up to his knees for a better angle. He still pushes the small of your back to guide you around his cock.

He gorans out and moves faster causing you to lose your balance. He doesn’t let you slip off but catches you bent on all fours, never losing stride.

“I’m gonna make a mess of that pussy, baby.”, he threatens as he fucks his orgasm into you. He keeps his rapid pace and bottoms out a final time.

He falls beside you and gives your ass a rewarding rub.

“I’m sorry.”, he begins. “It’s hard for me to walk away from work”, he says, still catching his breath. “ But you’re a welcome distraction. and I love it when you ‘hunt and pin’ me down.” he kisses you.

In a teasing tone, he continues, “And how many guys have watched you touch yourself like that?”

He looks truly curious but you leave him guessing anyway.

“None that look as sexy watching me as you do”. You tease back as you stroke his cheek.

[une-femme-de-lettres]

 KINKTOBER Day 1

Knife Play | Zoro x Reader

Words: 1400

Content: kinky and suggestive but nothing really explicit

A/N: This is not exactly knife play, but close enough…

There was an unspoken rule between you and your crewmates. Whether Zoro was napping, plunged deep into an alcohol daze, or simply zoned out while training, you should never sneak up on him or take him by surprise. Ever.

So you didn’t really know what crossed your mind the moment you decided it was a good idea to climb up the ladder leading to the crow’s nest to bring him a blanket. It was a rather cold night and you thought it wouldn’t hurt for him to have something in case he needed some warmth. At least it was what you told yourself to avoid admitting that you couldn’t find sleep, alone in your bed, while he was on watch.

You quietly made your way through the trap door and closed it behind you only to find Zoro sitting in a corner, his head kept down as he snored softly in the silence of the night. You smiled slightly at the sight, noting the katana he held against his torso.

As predicted, the air was rather chilly in the crow’s nest and as usual, Zoro’s upper body was only covered with his green coat. You slowly made your way towards him, unfolding the blanket before bending over slowly in front of him.

You didn’t have time to lay the blanket on his sleeping figure before you were, in what felt like an instant, pushed back against the wall. The silence was broken by the sound of a blade sliding out a its sheath and you gasped, feeling the coolness of the metal sink ever so slightly into the skin of your neck.

Your hands still clutched the blanket tightly as you laid eyes on the glistening blade. Zoro stood completely still, every one of his muscles had precisely moved into a fighting stance. He was a couple of feet away from you, the arm that held the katana to your throat only slightly bent at the elbow.

You watched the tendons in his hand move ever so slightly under his skin as he gripped the handle tighter. The movement, while practically imperceptible, made the metal of the blade sink deeper into your skin, not yet drawing blood, but enough to make you feel like the coldness of it slowly seeping into the pulsing veins of your neck.

You blamed confusion, or surprise perhaps, for what happened in the next few seconds. Maybe it was pure instinct or maybe it was your subconscious taking over your body in this moment. But when your felt the blade on your neck, the sheer power that he had over you in this instant, in this position, you let out a moan.

You thought it was a gasp, or a sigh when it formed in your chest. But as it passed your vocal cords, your eyes travelled along the blade to his chest and along his neck to his face, it turned into a deep moan of both fear and anticipation.

You could pinpoint exactly the moment the sound reached his ears because his eyebrows, previously furrowed in deep focus, raised in genuine surprise. You could also tell the exact moment he figured it out as his eyebrows furrowed again, his eyes darkening and the corner of his lips bending into a smirk. He knows, you thought, he knows…

“Sorry I startled you,” you said, your voice a mere whisper, scared of moving too abruptly as the blade was still pressed to your skin. You looked at him in the eyes, waiting for a response but he remained still, his gaze baring into yours. “You can… you can put that down now,” you said, looking at the katana not sure what you were afraid of exactly.

He then took a step towards you, his arm expertly moving to accommodate the change of position while still holding the metal in its exact place. He was so close however, that you could now feel the heat radiating from his body, you could feel his calm breath meet your ragged one in the empty space left between you. The mere sight and feeling of his body so close to you awakened something in you. You slowly let out a shallow sigh.

“You never told me,” he said, making you look at him in the eyes again. His voice had deepened but that same smirk was still on his lips. You could pretend you didn’t know what he meant, but could you really…?

“I didn’t know,” you simply said, stating the truth, waiting for his next move. He only inched closer to you, ever so slowly, his every move precisely calculated. He was now so close that you could feel his breath against the other side of your neck.

“Do you want me to put it down…?” he whispered into your ear, making you shudder. You found his eyes from the corner of yours. You already knew the answer, but would you dare saying it out loud?

Zoro patiently waited for your answer. Your breath was still irregular, and you struggled to contain the rising heat inside your core. He had often found himself in a position of power during your intimate time together, but you never felt something so strong and enticing. The danger made it all the more exquisite.

“I’m yours,” you let out, you voice shaky yet your words resolute. As the sweet sound of your voice reached his ears, his smile widened. He looked briefly to the side before laying eyes on you again, looking at your mouth, your jaw, your neck.

“I like to hear that,” he said, coming even closer and gently biting the lobe of your ear, making you moan and close your eyes. You finally dropped the blanket you were holding this whole time and for a moment forgot your position. You felt the metal dig deeper into your flesh and gasped, your eyes suddenly open and you mind alert again.

He kept staring at you, drinking in the sight of you, helpless under his blade. You sighed when the sharp edge left your skin, only leaving a scratch where it had previously laid. Your eyes found his hand as it gripped the handle of the katana tighter, turning it every so slightly so that the flat side of the blade was pressed into your flesh.

He moved deliberately slowly to ensure you could watch every second of the little show he was putting on. He moved the sword down gently, letting the metal glide along your skin, down your neck, along your collar bone and onto your clothed breast.

His body, pressed into yours made you feel just how much he desired you. You now couldn’t help the flow of heat towards your core. You felt your nipples harden under the fine fabric of your top as the blade passed over your breast. The coolness of the metal against your perked nipple made you sigh in pleasure and he smiled again, looking down at your chest.

With extreme care, he moved the blade to the side, gliding in along the fabric, revealing your nipple from underneath. The friction of the beveled edge of the blade against your sensitive nipple and the imminent danger of having a sharp edge so close to a part of your body drew a moan from the depths of your throat.

“Do you like it?” Zoro asked in a breath. You looked back at him. An almost imperceptible nod from you was enough for him and he dipped into the crook of your neck again, kissing and nibbling at the skin under your ear. “We’re certainly going to have some fun with this later…” he announced in the shell of your ear, slowly withdrawing his sword.

You didn’t anticipate the void you felt when he did so. You looked at him in the eyes again and you could swear he saw the disappointment in your gaze. Once the sword was carefully laid down against the wall beside you, he pressed his lips to yours to capture you into a passionate kiss.

With the blade gone, you found a burst of energy within you and you cupped his face with your hands, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss. Both of your bodies ignited with a new flame, you let yourselves go in each other’s arms. At this point, you did not care to find sleep, you just wanted to feel him against you, to feel him inside you.

__________

tags: @some-piece​ I’m tagging you cause I saw your post and I think you like Zoro?👉👈 I don’t know if you’re into this kink though😳

[godwrecks]

um.. can i req for kuroo just being so mean to his girlfriend with a huge size kink on top? i just love the idea of him deliberately being mean bcs he likes seeing his baby cry for him then immediately change to a loving bf after that 🙈

Mean Dom! Kuroo - Too Dumb

word count: 1.7k

tags: dacryphilia; heavy degradation; daddy kink; dom! kuroo; mean kuroo tbh; size kink; throat fucking; some aftercare (?).

Always in a world of incessant business and black suits, you should have guessed Kuroo would need release somewhere else. Yet out of all things he could enjoy, out of everything that could be his if he just wished it to be, you turned out to be the subject of his adoration. He absolutely worshipped you - showered you with gifts and praise so much so that you would never doubt yourself or his love for you. And considering the way his eyes shone with tenderness whenever you were around, you never did. Not usually, at least.

But right now, when he was so deep inside you yet his face branded utter boredom, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest. You had struggled against his almost suffocating embrace, writhing like a prey facing death, when he ripped your panties aside and aligned himself along your folds. There had been a few protests, yet his dark gaze was enough to silence you.

“Tetsu,” you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders for leverage when he finally directed his eyes towards you.

“You fucking done yet, princess? You’ve had me waiting here for a while now,” Kuroo grunted, lowering himself down to his elbows and pushing a hand down against your abdomen. He was well aware of how much bigger he was in comparison to you. “Been inside you so many times, baby, and you still need fucking time to adjust?” He chuckled cruelly, his mocks only making your walls tighten around him. It wasn’t your fault - you wailed it wasn’t. Taking his long, girthy cock now was no easier now than it was before. No matter how many times you did it, he always managed to stretch you out until he made you his, turning the disastrous burn into pure ecstacy. Each and every time.

“I- I’m okay now, ‘s just too big…” Your whisper was borderline inaudible as he began thrusting inside you, setting a merciless pace that knocked the air off your lungs every time he bottomed out.

“You sound like a dumb whore the way you’re talking. Daddy’s cock, is that what you meant?” To your terror, he sat up on his knees, lifting up your thighs against you to gain more speed. Your back arched with moans as he rammed into you harshly, forcing you to take his full length with every buckle of his hips. “Fucking answer me, are you that hopeless of a case?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I meant. Daddy’s-” Cut off by a scream, your sentence got lost in a sea of heavy breaths. The low growls he emitted by your ear, coupled with the twitching and swelling of his cock inside you was nauseating. Sickeningly perverted.

Wrapping a large hand around your throat, you gasped for air while Kuroo gazed down at you with a sinister smile, zeroing in on the tears welling up. The bruising force of his hips clashing against yours was enough for you to hold his wrist in a desperate plea, begging for a breath of air as he kept tightening his hold.

“T-testu!” The raw panic ringing in his ears instantly tore his hands away from your neck, but the lifted corners of his mouth were unmovable as he pulled out all the way, just to slowly sink in back to you.

Your back pathetically arched into his touch, clit rubbing just right against the smooth skin of his defined abdomen. The way he looked down at you as if you were nothing but a used toy he’d throw away soon had your hand pushing against his chest, attempting to slow the reckless grinding of his hips.

“What now?” His eyes were so cold, only letting the slightly feral tone underneath the ice flicker through.

“Slow down, please, it hurts.” Contradicting your plea, you let it out a shameful moan when his thumb began circling the swollen bud. Oh, it was so clear he enjoyed watching you unravel under him, as if you were a little porcelain doll - the favorite in his collection.

“Princess, I don’t think I ever stated you have a fucking say,” he rolled his eyes, and the carelessness with which he threw you around in the bed - bringing you up to your knees on the edge of the bed while he stood - left an unfamiliar distaste reverberating through your system.

With another hand gripping your shoulder to keep you in place, he pried your mouth open slowly, savoring the crimson of your lips. His digits sensually pushed against your tongue, to which you responded by swirling your tongue around them. The hand previously restraining you lowered down to his cock, where he began pumping his fist up and down. Precum quickly began pooling from his tip and without realizing, your tongue had surely stuck out, ready for him to use your mouth.

At least that’s what you thought, but the moment he fisted your hair and forced you down his length, you knew it would be too much. You tried to relax your mouth, but his cock twitching inside your mouth made you choke even more. You couldn’t breathe, you only ogled up at him with tears that threatened to fall at any moment, hoping maybe he’d have some mercy. “You said you'd take it so why are you struggling, huh? Do you not want to?” He finally let go of you, and as much as you tried to compensate for the air your lungs were begging for, it was hard to even relish in the emptiness again when he sounded so damn disappointed.

“No! It’s not that, daddy, I just can’t fit you inside my mouth, it hurts,” you uttered the words as your arms wrapped around his legs, bringing him closer until his length was raised taut against your cheek.

“So everything hurts now for you,” the laugh that echoed off was strange, condemning. His cringe at the sight made your heart tremble. “I’m taking the time to train your useless little throat and this is how you behave? You should be fucking thankful, or would you rather I use my secretary’s?” You tried to listen for any sign of hesitance or teasing in his tone, but it was cold steel you heard. Shaking your head swiftly, your bottom lip quivered as his tip set against your mouth once again.

“So then why, baby? Why are you acting like such a stupid slut, as if you haven’t learned anything?” Using your throat as nothing more than a cock sleeve, he thrusted into your mouth continuously, ignoring all signs of your struggle. “You’re too dumb to remember, is that it? Maybe it’s time I throw you away and find someone new to play with.” Those were the words you lost it at, when the tears began cascading down your cheeks. Even as you sobbed, even as the oxygen barely managed to reach your blood and dizzied you, you kept him inside your mouth. Wishing - clinging to the hope that you could satisfy him again like you used to. But just as your spotted vision started going black, you were suddenly pulled up into his embrace, his arms holding you tightly against him. No, not like the claustrophobic hold he had on you earlier, but with that warm strength you were always met with when you needed it.

“I got you, pretty girl. C’mon, look at me,” Kuroo’s words were once again dripping with honey, his index finger lifting up your chin so your teary eyes could lock with his. “So fucking pretty when you cry, you know that right? Know how much I love you?” His charming smile was like a lullaby, easily dissipating every concern you had.

“Keep crying for me, angel, yeah? Wanna see those pretty tears when I make you cum.” Those words were the last you registered before he sat down and pulled you onto his lap, easily slipping inside you with how much you had been dripping onto the sheets.

Though you hadn’t come before, every thrust was worse than the previous. You were so sensitive you could feel absolutely everything - every vein and pulsing of his cock, every place where you clamped down on him, every brush of your hardened nipples against his firm chest.

“Tetsu, it feels so good! Feels so good, I’m gonna cum,” you sobbed on his shoulder, bouncing on his lap each time he plunged into you.

“Go on, princess. Cum with me, make daddy proud.”

With a kiss to your dampened cheek, his rhythm increased enough to send you both into your high. For a moment, you felt awfully aware of your surroundings, your heavy pants and the lewd sound of naked skin slapping against another. It was like the calm before a storm, right when your orgasm rushed in and cascaded over you, milking every last drop of the creamy liquid from Kuroo without even noticing.

You still trembled weakly from the pleasure when you felt Kuroo’s fingers draw circles on your stomach. It was then, when you looked down, that you discovered you were trying to keep in every bit of his seed inside you, unwilling to let any pour outside.

“Look at that bulge, too full with my cum, huh? You always do so fucking good for me,” Kuroo grunted with a smirk, the sweat on his forehead glistening with every labored breath.

“I love you,” you looked at him with furrowed brows and a pout, still unable to shake away the words from before.

He smiled briefly, wiping away the tears before cupping your cheeks and bringing you closer. “I love you so fucking much. Never forget that, okay? No matter what I say when I’m like that, you’re the only one for me. Only girl I wanna spend my life with, and only girl I want to absolutely fucking ruin every night.” His lips ghosted above yours with the whisper, merely brushing against yours with every spoken word. “Got that?” A brow lifted up with the question, seeking for the confirmation he needed to hear.

“Got that,” you smiled, taking the reins and lunging forward for a kiss.

my dumbass literally forgot abt the size kink?? i’m so sorry, i tried to go back & include it but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. thank u for the request!

[emikadreams]

You are dead to me

A/N: Um.. yah so this is a fic where Feyre confronts Nesta, I really needed Feyre to confront her properly so this is self indulgent in a way and I will not be writing a part 2 for the anniversary fic cuz I lost all motivation for that 💕😅

main masterlist

Feyre was seething in fury.

She had half a mind to mist Nesta and knock her off her high horse. 

She wanted to rip her sister’s throat out for having the audacity to accuse Rhys of not caring enough for Feyre before doing the unthinkable and throwing Tamlin’s name in his face.

“Darling, you know that’s not true so let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Rhys replied cautiously with his hands raised in surrender, his eyes softening. She couldn’t believe that he was the calm one in this scenario, if the roles were reserved-if Nesta had uttered some bullshit about Feyre Rhys would forget negotiation altogether, retorting to action before consulting her.

Feyre scoffed, “I don’t care! She had the gall to accuse you about-” her voice wavered in pain, thinking of how it must’ve affected Rhys before continuing, I’m not going to let her think she is untouchable-even if Cassian is going to hate me for it I’m going to end her ridiculous notion of superiority.” Her hands curled in a desire to punch her sister. Feyre was done- absolutely done with defending someone who deserved none of her mercy. 

Rhys swallowed- probably worried. Feyre smirked with barely contained anger.

He should be. 

                                                          ~

“Nesta Archeron.” 

Feyre stormed into the house of wind, the floor shaking with her rage. Cassian breezed into the room with a concerned look, “Feyre- what happened?” He started to walk towards her but she stopped him with a look, “Are you Nesta Archeron?” she asked, her voice dripping with venom. Cassian had the decency to not ask why she had stormed into the room, “No- but I would like to know why you’re asking for her.”

 He looked at her with worry but his body settled into a defensive stance before walking towards her, Feyre’s hand twitched and she bit out,

 “I really don’t need to explain myself to you Cassian, I want to speak to my sister,” his eyebrow raised knowing that the reason was clearly not friendly but she ploughed on, undeterred, “ I’m going to see her whether you like it or not.” She moved to sidestep him saying, “move,” but he blocked her, “Feyre, you look really angry-” she cut him off, “ I said move Cassian.” 

He crossed his arms across his chest, unrelenting.

Feyre slapped him faster than the general to register, using his momentary surprise she kicked him in the groin and gracefully walked away as he doubled over in pain.Feyre looked back at him and said, her voice softer, “ I’m sorry but I really need to see her.”

 Cassian nodded, his eyes closed in pain he said weakly, “I’ll get you for that.” Feyre smirked, a bit of the anger leaving her, “I look forward to it general.” with one last look over her shoulder she walked to the library, knowing exactly where her sorry excuse for a sister will be holed up.

                                                               ~

On seeing her sister look completely unworried in the library, all the anger that was leeched out of Feyre came back in startling force, she straightened her spine and drew herself up to her full height, she stood in front of her older sister and cleared her throat.

Nesta looked up, blinking in surprise and smiled making Feyre see red. 

Nesta was going to die tonight 

Nesta continued, ignoring her sister’s tense stance, “ Feyre, I was coming to see you actually-” she cut her off, her voice dangerously low, “How could you Nesta! How dare you,” Feyre snarled, baring her teeth. 

Nesta looked confused and stood, her book forgotten, “I- what?” she stammered, Feyre laughed darkly, “Of course you wouldn’t know. How could I forget you are the very definition of a hypocrite.” 

Nesta straightened and retorted calmly, “ You talked to Rhysand.”

 Feyre looked at her as if she was a mere inconvenience, “Of course I did, did you think this would get past me?” She held her sister’s glare, “Well, I’m not going to apologise, I meant every word.” Feyre didn’t miss a beat, “You think I came here to ask for an apology, you may not have any dignity left but then again, I’m not you.” 

Nesta’s jaw dropped, but Feyre was far from finished, “I actually thought that you had changed, but there’s no ripping away the deep-rooted poison in you is there?” Nest tried to cut her off but she ignored her, “ I tried confronting you the civil way, but that didn’t work, I left you alone thinking you needed space but then you threw that in my face and I thought- I genuinely thought,” Feyre laughed in disbelief, “ that after saving not only my life-but also Rhys’s and Nyx’s that you had changed but I was wrong again.” 

Nesta shook her head, her eyes flashing with her power, “Feyre what are you saying I love-” She lifted a hand cutting her off, “ You will let me finish, I don’t care about whatever half-assed apology you have planned, “ she looked at her sister, and saw fear reflecting in Nesta’s eyes, only then did she realise that her grip on her powers had lessened. 

Fire was now licking at her fingers and darkness swirled around them but Feyre didn’t care, let her sister realise that she was a wolf who can tear her apart with half a thought.

“You have done nothing for me, you refused to help when we were stuck in that godforsaken cottage and instead opted to leech off of me till I was taken by Tamlin, need I remind you that he looked at you.” she pointed a finger at Nesta accusingly. “ You could’ve gone instead of me but of course, that would deter your plans of being the Queen of a no man’s land right?” 

Nesta only stared at her with her face impassive but she could see the shame in Nesta’s eyes, “ You did help me, yes, only to further the insecurity that you planted in me and when I was killed and drowning in despair I had no one but Rhys.” Feyre’s heart squeezed in pain at the thought of her mate, her breathing became shallow yet she continued,“ He was the only one there for me when I was wasting away, he saved me.” 

Tears were now flowing freely down her cheek but Feyre refused to wipe them away, “He is not perfect, he has made many mistakes, believe me, I know and I haven’t forgotten or forgiven them but I would not be here without him.” her gaze softened briefly as she said, “ You have gone through hell Nesta I know that,” 

Nesta straightened and bit out, “You have no clue what I have gone through while you were busy galavanting with high lords.” Feyre knew this was coming so she drew in a breath before saying, “ Fine. If that’s what you think, be it, but can you disagree with the fact that you weren’t there to help me when I was in a hell hole.” 

Nesta looked down at her feet, feyre smirked, satisfied, “ Of course you can’t and you what I don’t even blame you! When you were suffocating from the pressure of life, I reached out but you refused.” 

Feyre barked a laugh, “ Me being me, I respected your wishes out of love but you  crossed the line when you opted to drink and fuck your life away. So look at where we are now, a year after I forcefully sent you to the Illyrian mountains,” Feyre gestured to Nesta and she looked up with tears in her eyes, Feyre’s anger took a back row on seeing them but she needed to get things off her chest,

 “ You can hold your own in a fight, can use powers and even made friends with people that you call your sisters, remember when you had scoffed at me for saying I forgot you and Elain when I said that I made a different family, one that treated me with  love and respect that my own flesh and blood refused to give me.” 

Nesta opened her mouth to speak but closed it instantly,

 “ Then to add fuel to fire, you insulted the very man who helped me become myself, do you know what he said when he let it slip what you said, “It doesn’t matter darling, I’m sure she didn’t mean it” 

Nesta looked surprised and ashamed, “ Exactly. So all I have to say now is, Fuck you. Don’t you dare disrespect Rhys or my family ever again because if you do Nesta, I will show you exactly how I treat my abusers, because that’s what you are, my abuser.” 

Feyre was exhausted but she spat the words in Nesta’s face knowing that it would hurt and turned on her heel and all but ran to the door but not before hearing Nesta’s whispered words, “I’m sorry Feyre. I truly am.”

Feyre’s tears returned, her knees buckled from the weight of what she had said but she responded softly, twisting the knife deeper into her sister’s heart, 

“Too little too late Nesta” 

 she walked out as sobs racked her body and slammed into a chest, she looked up to find Rhys gazing into her eyes with concern and pride, he gave her a sad smile and she broke down. His arms encircled her stroking her hair, soon  she was in their room, the high lord held her while she wept with pain, hatred and regret.

Taglist: let me know if you wanna be tagged💕 

@thebonecarver @story-scribbler @surielandiareendgame @kayla-2​ @feysand-loml @ratabrasileira @feysandandnyxsworld @wintersouldier57 @flyingtortillasworldsblog  @stromysea  @rhysandswingspan   @live-the-fangirl-life @pagemasters  @nehemikkele @pagemasters @evolving-dreamer @tanvee1231

*bolded tags don’t work

[ahtsumu]

the mystery of love ; kuroo tetsurou

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

synopsis: kuroo tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. he believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. but that doesn’t mean he can’t believe in love.

tag(s): sweet summer lovin’, friends to lovers, inspired by call my by your name, university student!kuroo tetsurou, lab intern!kuroo tetsurou, so much pining lol, fluff, angst, slow burn ; warning(s): profanity, mentions of alcohol ingestion (it’s legal bc they’re in italy!), suggestive themes ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday tetsu!! i hope you guys like this. i really enjoyed writing it ♡

Kuroo Tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. He believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. At least, that’s what he tells you. Sometimes you treat this information as a source of hope; other times, you’re not sure what to make of it.

This, you realise with his shoulder pressed against yours and both your bodies sprawled across his wrinkled bed sheets, is one of those other times. You turn your face to look at his.

“What?” he asks, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you just said it. You could blame the alcohol. Get away with it scot-free. While you mull the option over in the dead silence of his room, your brain suddenly registers the music still playing from the living room. The low bass reverberating through the walls. How close your lips are. The sound of his breaths.

“Earth to Y/N?”

And like that, the little what-if that rose in your mind falls back with its tail between its legs. You bite your lip, look around his room like the walls have a script printed on them. Unfortunately, they do not.

“I was just thinking about my shirt.” It’s not great, but it’s the best you can do while still feeling the vodka and orange juice burn in your stomach. And smelling it on yourself.

Kuroo’s laugh booms through the room and you can’t help but giggle along with him. “I said I was sorry!” he says, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. He pauses and glances at his closet, then nods his head in its direction. “Take a hoodie. Your pick.”

A smile–– one you try to downplay but fail miserably to–– creeps up your face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “You can also shower here if you want. It's the least I can do after spilling my drink all over you.”

When you emerge from Kuroo’s bathroom in one of his thinner hoodies, a lot soberer and drying your hair, he’s not on the bed anymore. Quietly, you step out of his room and look for him through the house. People are crashed everywhere–– on the sofa, over the kitchen counter, even propped up against walls. The floor is covered with plastic cups and mysterious pools of liquid. Wrinkling your nose, you try your best to step around the messes, looking in every corner in the house for the raven-haired boy.

You find him back in his room, actually. He’s back on his bed scrolling through his phone, the light illuminating his sharp features. When he hears you close the door behind you, he looks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on the black hoodie over your torso. The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“Where’d you go?” you both ask at the same time. He chuckles; you grin. Crawling back onto the bed, you tell him to go first.

“I went around to make sure nothing’s broken,” he explains. “Perks of being the only sober intern in the house, I guess.”

A beat passes.

This house is rented. You forgot about that. All his expenses are paid for by your mother’s lab. You forgot about that. He fits in your world so well, like maybe he’s always had a spot there, that you forgot that Kuroo Tetsurou is only here for the summer.

“Right.”

Kuroo raises a brow. “And you?”

“I went to look for you.”

He smiles and holds his hands out like a magician at the end of a trick. “Well, you found me.”

“Yeah,” you muse. “I guess I did.” Aren’t you lucky.

With that, something shifts in the air. A contemplative expression crosses Kuroo’s face. Maybe he’s realised how his words come out sometimes. Kuroo often says things that sound like they have more than one meaning and it used to throw you off, but now you just go with it. You’ve even picked up that habit yourself. “Do you ever wish that you’d met someone earlier? Maybe under different circumstances?” he asks.

Sighing, you fall back against his mattress and stare up at the ceiling. Telling the truth feels easier when you can’t see him. “Yeah. All the time.” A few seconds pass. “Do you think we would’ve been friends if we went to the same college?”

He also lies down. You’re both back in the same positions you were in an hour ago, but something’s changed. “No,” he admits. You’re not surprised–– that’s what you’d expected. “I’d be a junior and you’d be a freshman. We probably would’ve never met. And even if we had, I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a… freshie.” He chuckles softly at the end. “And look at me now,” he adds softly, more to himself than you. You look over at his face. A contemplative smile rests on his lips.

That urge to just say it returns.

“Kuroo, I think––”

“You’re my favourite p–– oh, my bad. You first.”

And it goes away again.

“Um, uh,” you stutter, “how long do you have left here?”

Kuroo raises his brows. “On this planet? Hopefully a while, Y/N.” He sees your unamused expression and drops the front. “Three more weeks.”

Your eyes widen. Eight weeks have already passed. Blood rushes to your ears. Eight entire weeks have already passed, meaning that in three weeks, Kuroo Tetsurou will leave forever. And in four, you will, too. Except you’ll come back. You’ve done so every summer since you were born, probably will do until you die.

But this place will never be the same as it used to. Not after him.

“Y/N?” Once everything comes back into focus, you see the concern riddling his features. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

Say it.

“You didn’t have too much to drink, right?”

Say it.

“I just got buzzed. What about you?”

“The only drink I was planning on having all went to your shirt.”

Say it.

“Kuroo.”

“Yeah?”

Not yet.

“Let’s go on an adventure.”

At two AM, everything is different. The streets feel different, the villas look different, and you–– you can’t put your finger on it but Kuroo Tetsurou has changed, too. He sits behind the wheel of your father’s white 1953 Cadillac with the convertible roof down, unruly hair blown back by the breeze, a euphoric grin stretched over his face. In the passenger’s seat, you sit with an equally large beam and your hands raised into the dark sky.

“Where to, Miss?” he shouts over the wind.

“The stars,” you shout back with a laugh. Kuroo’s cat-like eyes briefly flit over to your side profile, lips curving to form a smaller, more tender smile. But you miss that–– your gaze falls on him just a second after his return to the road.

“I heard you say Jack’s,” he says, smirking.

The 24/7 diner sticks out like a sore thumb in the row of sun-baked stucco and stone buildings with its bold neon lights and shiny exterior. During the day, it seems gaudy, way too American for a small town in northern Italy. But at night, this place feels like home. You’ve been stumbling into Jack’s completely shit-faced since you were sixteen. Of course, all those other times had been with the kids of your mother’s coworkers. All those other times, you could hardly remember what you even ordered when you woke up hours later.

But this time, you walk in with Kuroo Tetsurou at half-past-two in the morning, the chemicals running through your bloodstream epinephrine and dopamine, not ethanol; if you’re drunk then it’s on a feeling and your only poison is the boy next to you. You study his face and consider that thought. No, he’s not poison. He’s the antidote.

“Y/N!” the server exclaims, rushing over with two menus. “And Kuroo! My two favourite customers, but together this time!” Giovanni ushers you two to a booth by the window and takes your orders, purely for show, of course. He knows your orders by heart: the Lorenzo for Kuroo and the Quentin for you.

“With fries on both, please,” Kuroo adds, throwing you a wink. “Aren’t I a gentleman?”

“You only did that to have more for yourself,” you reply drily. Having him over at your house for dinner every night made picking up his idiosyncrasies so unbelievably easy. You know them like they’re your own. You know him like he’s your own.

Kuroo clutches his chest and pretends to be offended, then changes the conversation to what happened at the lab today, or rather, yesterday. That your mother and the other researchers are so close to finding a cure for the strain of virus that’s recently hit crickets in southern Italy.

“You should drop by again sometime,” he says. “Last time you came around was, what, two weeks ago?”

Your face breaks in a grin. “Are you saying you’ve missed me? Chemistry getting boring?” you tease, drawing a loud laugh from him.

“Sodium hydrogen, you little shit.” Your mother’s used this one on you before, but hearing it from him makes you giggle anyway.

Giovanni comes back with two plates, each loaded with fries. You both say your thanks and he retreats to the kitchen again, but not before wiggling his eyebrows at your reddening faces. Wordlessly, you grab your fork and knife and transfer at least half of your fries onto Kuroo’s plate. Kuroo stares at you with the slightest smile. That look sends your stomach into flips.

“What?” you question nonchalantly, cutting into your burger.

“Nothing,” he says, mirroring your actions. “Nothing at all.”

It’s hard to imagine that after spending almost every day together for eight weeks straight that there’s still more to learn about each other, but there is. You tell him more about your real home. Your best friend who called you at 3 AM last night because of timezones. Stories from every summer before this one, when you were a different person in the same place you are now.

He tells you more about Kenma, his best friend from high school. How they played on one of the best volleyball teams in Japan. Stories from training camp, literature class, the metro ride home after school–– you listen to every single one in rapt attention. There’s not enough time in the world for all the things you want to know about Kuroo Tetsurou, so you take what you can get. If only you’d known him before you’d known him.

“If we’d met earlier here, do you think we would’ve been friends?” you ask after paging Giovanni for the check.

“No,” he replies, picking up a few remaining fries with his fork instead of his fingers. The corners of your mouth turn up. That’s your thing. He considers the scenario seriously. “I think we met right when we should have.”

“What about the future?” you press, leaning into the conversation. “Let’s say we meet in two years here, instead of now. Would we be friends?”

Kuroo sets his fork down, eyes you steadily. “What’s this about?”

You blink. “What?”

“What’s with all these hypotheticals today?” Perhaps worried that he came off too harshly, Kuroo adds, “I thought I was the scientist.”

“I just… it feels like I’ve known you since forever.” This feels like it was meant to be, you don’t say. And I want to know you forever.

A sigh–– fond, but still a sigh–– blows through his lips. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates,” he says with a wicked grin.

“Are you calling me your soulmate?” The question, shamelessly genuine, painfully hopeful, leaves your mouth without you intending it to and you regret it instantly. Because Kuroo Tetsurou has told you many times that he does not believe in soulmates.

Is it so bad to dream, though?

You watch him carefully but he doesn’t say anything, just continues smiling wryly like you’d intended to tease him. Like he knows that you know better. But you don’t.

“Are you?” he suddenly replies. Sharp eyes hold yours, daring you to respond. Do you dare?

At that moment, Giovanni returns with the check. “Who’s paying?” he asks, unaware of the tense exchange that just occurred across the table. Inaudibly, you sigh in relief. Kuroo is about to say that it’s on him when he catches himself in the middle of his sentence, looks your way, then back to Giovanni. He says you’ll go Dutch. You nod in approval.

“So,” Kuroo drawls once you’ve both paid for your meals. “Where do we go from here?”

Good question.

Kuroo Tetsurou has never been to an outdoor club period. And though he’s been clubbing, he has never once gone dancing in his lifetime. You tell him that’s about to change as he parks the car in a lot near the venue. Before him, all your summer nights were spent here.

“You’ve been here for two months and you haven’t been to an outdoor club yet?” you ask while unbuckling your seatbelt. That can’t be possible. If you’d been in his shoes… an attractive college student in a foreign country for the summer, you would have gone wild.

“Nope. I’ve been a little busy, y’know, spending my days in a lab, handling chemicals, studying viruses, washing lab equipment, writing up reports for your mother and her colleagues, working on my own research on the side… the usual.” He flashes you a bright, sarcastic smile.

“Poor baby,” you coo, ruffling his hair. Kuroo laughs while you continue messing with the dark locks. “Was your first full day here the only tourist-day you’ve had so far?” His weekends, you already know, are spent either lounging around cafés, pools, or the great outdoors with you or the interns. But you’d assumed he’d had time to do some exploring on his own.

Kuroo nods. “And my guide wasn’t even that great,” he mutters, shooting you a dark look. “She sped through every attraction and hardly spoke a word outside of the tour to me. I think she hated me.”

You giggle and open the door, letting the music from the outdoor speakers infiltrate the bubble inside your car. “Maybe she was just nervous!” you say as you get out. That’s a lie.

“About what?” Kuroo follows suit, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “I was so friendly to you and you just brushed me off each time.” He pouts.

But you don’t reply. Instead, you just grab his hands and pull him towards the venue. As you step into the boundaries marked by fairy lights and rustic wooden fences, Kuroo stops in his tracks and tugs on your intertwined hands. You glance down before up, trying to memorise how his hand looks around yours in the few seconds you can steal.

“Y/N,” Kuroo says. The strobe lights paint his skin pink, blue, purple like it’s a canvas. “Tell me why you were nervous.” Grammatically, it’s a command. And yet it sounds like he’s begging.

“What’s it mean to you?” you ask, feeling your heartbeat speed up in your chest. So what if you just… said it? What would happen?

“Everything?” he replies with a cheeky smile. The odds that he seriously means that are slim. But… they’re there. You shake that possibility out of your mind. That’s just the hope talking.

“Depends how convincingly you say it.” You tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” But he doesn’t budge–– he just continues to stand by the entrance of the club with an expectant look on his face. People are starting to stare.

“Fine,” you say with an eye roll. “I’ll tell you." Kuroo smirks, something self-congratulatory ready to leave his mouth, but then you let go of his hand and dance backwards into the throng of moving bodies. “But first, you’re gonna have to dance with me!” 

You allow yourself to be swallowed by the lively music, the people, the moment. Seconds later you’re deep enough into the crowd that you lose sight of Kuroo. Something in you says that he’ll show up soon, though. For now, you let yourself breathe. Forget about the heaviness of what-if’s, the itch to confess, the dread of the aftermath. Feelings are a lot like gravity. Sometimes they keep you grounded, other times, they weigh you down. This is one of those other times.

You dance up to a friendly-looking group of teens your age. Three guys and two girls. You shout your name and follow up with how it’s nice to meet them, hoping one of them finds you nice enough to keep around. Dancing alone in a club is one of the worst things that can ever happen to someone. Luckily, one of the girls–– the one wearing a purple wig–– pulls you in for a hug, drunkenly shouting back, “Bianca!” Bianca pushes you into their circle next to one of the guys and, just like that, you two start moving to the beat, feeling it in your feet, shoulders, hips. At one point, you turn around and take a good look at his face. The guy’s cute enough, but he’s not Kuroo. Still, you say nothing as he moves closer to you and grabs your hand, lifting it up and motioning for you to twirl.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip firmly onto your waist and pull you out of the circle. “Hey!” You look down, suddenly realising they’re Kuroo’s. A shiver runs down your spine. He spins you around to face him. His lips are set in a firm line, eyes completely devoid of humour, nostrils slightly flared.

“Hi,” you say quietly, testing the waters.

“Hi,” he replies curtly. His hands are still on your waist. Selfishly, you choose not to point that out. Instead, you try to defuse the situation with a light question. Playful tone.

“Where were you this whole time?”

“Looking for you.”

“Well… you found me.” You flash him a sheepish grin. A peace offering of some sort.

“I did.” He doesn’t take it.

“Lucky you.”

Irritation finally seeps through his features. “You just left me on the dance floor!” he snaps. “And then when I find you after searching the entire venue, you’re dancing up on some random guy!”

“It was in good fun!” you retort, wriggling out of his grip. “And I wasn’t dancing up on him.” You want to ask if he’s jealous so badly, but you take a good look at his face and decide against that.

“Fun?” he asks incredulously. “Worrying about losing you, worrying about myself getting lost, then having to worry about that guy after finding you isn’t very fucking fun to me, Y/N!” The words fly out of his mouth like daggers without pause. Once finished, he looks at you with a disappointed gaze, shaking his head lightly, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down at your shoes. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with him–– a sort of shame drills itself so deeply into your conscience that all you can think about is making things right again. “I didn’t think my actions through.”

A second passes. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“Hey, look at me.” Kuroo lifts your chin up with an index finger. Your wide eyes meet his narrow ones. Just as a pink beam glides over his face, his gaze softens, falls down to your lips. And then you feel his thumb on your chin, barely grazing the skin of your bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. The revelry in the background fades to dull beats against your eardrums. Suddenly, you register that he smells of, as usual, blackcurrant and amber.

But now you also smell of blackcurrant and amber.

You’re wearing his clothes. You smell of him.

Kuroo’s eyes crawl back up to yours, wide like he’s just been caught in the middle of a crime. You blink expectantly, ignoring the furious way your heart pounds in your chest. Shallow breaths puff through your slightly parted mouth.

“I am.” It comes out barely a whisper. C’mon. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me––

You gently touch the hand he has on your chin. Kuroo jolts back like he’s been burned. “I’ll, uhm, I’ll be in the car,” he stutters, looking away from your face. He pushes through the sea of people, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, body doused in blue light, fingers touching the area his thumb had been as if preserving its print.

Kuroo hardly notices you slip into the passenger’s seat minutes later. He’s got his forearms hanging over the steering wheel and gaze fixed ahead into the darkness, mind probably running off to a place he wishes his body was, too.

As soon as you’ve buckled yourself in, Kuroo starts the car.

The entire drive home is silent.

Once Kuroo pulls into your courtyard and parks, he turns off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and steps out of the car. Wordlessly, you follow his actions and meet him by the stairs to your door.

“Hi,” you say quietly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Hey.”

The two of you stand outside your front door in silence as you both consider what to say next. This can’t be the way it ends.

“I shouldn’t have… done that,” Kuroo says first.

“Done what?” You choose to play dumb. Call it selfish, but you want to hear him say it. Maybe then it’ll feel as real as it had been. Kuroo sighs and leans his shoulder against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s no way he can dance around what happened. Perhaps the past two months can be summed up as the development of a strong friendship with skilled doublespeak and metaphors and just enough artistic licence, but this can’t. And Kuroo knows that. He can’t feed you an alternative truth like he’s done so many times before. What’s more, he can’t lie to himself anymore. So maybe it’s better just to not speak at all.

Your eyes burn holes into the side of his face. Fine. You’ll concede first. “I was never nervous.”

Kuroo blinks, turns his head around to look at you. “What?”

“I was never nervous. I was playing it cool because I didn’t want to risk befriending you and getting attached.” I’m still playing it cool, you don’t say. And I’m already attached. “Guess I just came off as a bitch instead.” You laugh. “But can you blame me? You were this cute, older guy. Smart, too, since you were interning with my mom. You were my dream guy.”

An amused breath blows out of his nose. “Were?” he questions, grinning, only remembering the fragility of your platonic relationship a second later. “Um––”

“Are.” It slips out of your mouth without you realising. Fuck. Kuroo stills. It’s too late to take back your words now, so you might as well just keep going. “You still are my dream guy.”

Seconds pass and neither of you says anything. Sweat gathers in the palms of your hands. You start to feel your heartbeat through your neck. The buzz of the cicadas grows louder. Oppressive. Behind Kuroo, the sky is starting to turn pale blue and pink in the horizon. That means it’s almost sunrise. The night is almost over, and, hopefully, so is this awful conversation.

“And… you don’t feel the same.” Funnily, you feel like you’re lying. You’re telling Kuroo how he feels and you think you’re lying. Does that make sense? None of this night even feels real. God, you hope this has all just been a dream. Mustering a soft smile, you say, “That’s okay. Thank you for the party. And the adventure.” It was fun while it lasted. You feel the house key in your pocket and turn to unlock the door. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, Kuroo. Can we still be friends?” The words leave your mouth feeling like barbed wire. You know damn well you can’t still be friends.

And suddenly, you feel his calloused hands around your cheeks. Suddenly, his hot breath fans over your face.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Your eyes close instantly. “Yes, please.”

And suddenly, his soft lips are on yours.

Kuroo breaks the kiss seconds later. “Fuck,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours, touching the tips of your noses together. “Y/N, I don’t want to be friends. Fuck.” A dry chuckle leaves his mouth. He pauses to collect his thoughts but decides that that can wait. Instead, he presses another kiss to your lips so fervently that he backs you up against the wall with no space between your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat like this, chest to chest. Kuroo’s hands travel down your waist and rest on your hips. His tongue runs across your tongue, your teeth, the insides of your mouth. You gently suck on it, drawing a satisfied moan from him. When the kiss ends, you see that his lips are red and cheeks are swollen. A warm feeling spreads through your chest. “I thought I could be happy just being friends with you but I can’t. I want you so bad it hurts. Not to mention, when I saw you in my hoodie?” His fingers pinch the material. “I thought God was testing me or some shit.”

“Sure didn’t feel like you wanted me that way,” you retort, still breathless.

“In my defence,” Kuroo says, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, “I was very scared.”

“Of what?”

It looks like he’s about to tell you, but he changes his mind and doesn’t answer. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the car with a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you only if you tell me where we can watch the sunrise.”

Kuroo holds your hand, stroking your thumb the entire drive there.

After a short hike, you plop down on the grassy hillside, supporting your body with outstretched arms in the back. Kuroo sits down beside you with one of his hands covering yours, fingers intertwined like a honeysuckle vine around a hazel tree. You tell him that you grew up running along this hill with your parents. It used to be your playground. Maybe, you think, it’s time to make new memories here.

“Beautiful,” Kuroo breathes, a wonderstruck look in his eyes. The sun’s just risen halfway above the pink and blue horizon, the saturated orange casting the entire city below gold. It’s not just the city, though. He’s also gold. He’s just as beautiful. You watch him with a soft smile on your lips, noting how his wide eyes and slack jaw return to normal as he stares off into the distance. After resting your head on his shoulder, you fix your eyes on the sunrise ahead. You wonder what he’s thinking so quietly about.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask once the sun has finished revealing itself.

Kuroo blinks, returning to reality, but continues to stare straight ahead. “I was just thinking about… soulmates.”

You lift your head off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates now,” you tease.

“Hmm.” He turns to look at you, the sun turning his hazel eyes the colour of honey. That same wry smirk from Jack’s returns to his face.

“You wanna know why I was so scared?”

“Pray tell.”

“Because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No,” Kuroo laughs, laying his head down in your lap, looking up into your eyes. “I’m serious. I used to purposely stay away from girls in high school. Same in college. Same all the way until you somehow wormed your way into my life. That’s why we wouldn’t have been friends.” You cock your head to the side.

“Why?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair.

Kuroo’s eyelids flutter shut. He inhales deeply before talking. “My parents are divorced. The years before the divorce were… very ugly.” 

(He spares you the details of the midnight arguments, the smashed plates, the holes in the walls. He spares you the details of how he only ever knew how to fall asleep with his head sandwiched between two pillows, how he hasn’t seen his sister in a decade, how he’ll curse and snap but never yell because he always feels like a child again around the noise. That’s for another time, if you’ll have any.) 

“I still remember all the fighting and yelling. For the longest time, that’s all I knew about marriage and relationships.”

“Did you think all relationships were like that? Fighting and yelling?” you ask.

“For a while, yeah. I’m still a little scared of that, to be honest. Ending up in a relationship where all you do is fight.” Kuroo sighs. “But that’s not the only thing. I thought I wouldn’t know how to love someone, growing up like that.” At that, your fingers pause in his hair.

“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. A wave of immense sadness (not for yourself, for him) washes over you. “You think you wouldn’t know how to love someone else?”

“Thought.” Kuroo cracks open his eyes and smiles up at you. “I’m in the process of changing my mind.”

[writingtoforgetreality]

Speak Of The Devil (Malcolm Bright x Winchester!Reader) | Prodigal Son/Supernatural Crossover

[Prodigal Son-Masterlist], [Supernatural-Masterlist]

Summary: What started as a normal case for the NYPD ended in you needing help from your family. Malcolm had never met your brothers & they had no idea you were dating. Things were bound to get complicated, it was inevitable. Still, you had to focus on this case before another person got killed.

Words: 5,557

Warnings: spoilers for 2x02 (doesn’t follow the actual plot obviously), murder, demons, language, confused Malcolm, lil hint at Destiel (barely there, could be missed if you don’t pay attention - sorry, I couldn’t help myself), I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun while writing something

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

The NYPD was assigned to solve a “creepy ass case”, as JT so lovingly put it. As Malcolm & you got to the crime scene, you understood what your fellow coworker had warned you about. Ugh, you hated churches with your guts. Well, that was not entirely true. But whenever a murder happened on a holy ground, nothing good ever came out of it. That was what you experienced before you started working for the police. Before that…you also worked for the police somehow? Just, they were not aware of that & you might have done some criminal things. For the greater good, though! Your brothers & you had saved thousands of people. They still did. You just needed to get out of this life & see if there was more for you to achieve. And there was. Not only did you find a great family who was also your team, at the same time you found Malcolm, your boyfriend.

Back to the case. Walking into a crime scene had always been bizarre to you. It showed you how close you still were to murder, even though you promised your brothers to distance yourself from it entirely. Technically, you did. This was different, though. At least you told yourself so. Gil, JT, Dani & Edrisa were already inspecting the scene when you two walked in. Oh no. This could not be good. The image in front of you seemed familiar & if it were not inappropriate to roll your eyes at a dead person, you would do it. Gil briefly explained the situation to you. Apparently the victim had been a member of the church for 30 years. The Lieutenant & Malcolm interrogated Sister Agnes. She was the one who found the body. There was another thing bothering you, so you did not really pay attention to whatever she was saying. Your focus was solely on JT, who had been through way too much to stand here & act as if everything was fine. A slight touch on his shoulder made him turn his head in your direction.

“Hey, you okay?” of course you were concerned about him. He was family, after all.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he brushed you off as if he did not know what point you were trying to get across.

“Really? Because usually when Malcolm says he’s fine…well, he’s everything but.” a chuckle lightened the mood a little. You had to keep a closer eye on JT for the time being. Just in case.

“Our victim here performed an exorcism.” Malcolm’s statement let your eyes snap back to where he was standing. Edrisa smiled excitedly at him. This woman…She was the sweetest soul. Could be annoying, too. But in a sweet & loving way. Maybe she should turn down her excitement for murder. Who were you kidding? Your boyfriend was probably worse when it came to that. Wanting to have a closer look at the book Malcolm was referring to, you put your gloves on & carefully walked over to him. Trying not to mess up any possible clues left behind by the killer.

“Can I have a look?” you gestured to the small book & Malcolm handed it over to you. Shit. If you remembered correctly, there was a similar one back at the bunker. A look inside the pages confirmed your assumption. No need to freak out right away. There were tons of crazy people out there. Just because of this murder in this church & this book did not mean that there was anything supernatural involved. You just hoped it would stay that way. For everyone’s sake.

Your face fell when Edrisa said that there was a note left behind, written in blood. To the others, it looked like a sign without meaning. It looked familiar to you but you could not quite pinpoint where you remembered it from. Sister Agnes’ words made you stop in your tracks.

“Abaddon.” she breathed out. Sure, why the hell not? Okay, maybe this case was something for your brothers. But wait a damn minute…last time you checked, Abaddon was stabbed with the First Blade. She could not possibly be back, could she?

“Now we know our killer’s name.” Malcolm’s words gained the attention of the entire team. There was no way he had everything figured out already. You knew he was a great profiler but even that would have been too fast for him.

“Oh? Who is it?” Gil asked intrigued.

“You know.” Malcolm paused for a few moments. Probably for dramatic effect but what did you know? “The devil.” you could not help but laugh at his words. Great, now everyone was looking at you weirdly. Oh, he made a joke. Of course he did. Sometimes you forgot that you were not an active part of the hunting life anymore. A few coughs from you stopped the awkward tension in the room. At least a bit.

In no way did you want to defend Lucifer. He had made your life literal hell one too many times. But even he would not go as far & do something as cruel as this. Again, last time you checked, he was dead. But death did not agree with Lucifer. How many times had he died? You probably should not be the one to judge. You were not better by any means.

Excusing yourself to get some fresh air, you grabbed your phone out of your pocket. Hopefully he would pick up. It had been a while since you last talked. The phone rang & rang & slowly you lost hope. Maybe he really was mad at you for being radio silent for so long.

“(Y/N)?” his voice startled you slightly.

“Sam! Uh, hi.” suddenly you turned shy.

“It’s so good to hear from you! How are you?” he was happy that you decided to call after so long.

“I’m good, thanks. Actually, I need to ask you for a favor…” you started.

“What is it? Everything alright?” Sam was growing concerned. Back then, you hated relying on another person, too stubborn to ask for help, because you wanted to do everything on your own.

“There’s a case here in New York…I believe it’s your kind. And I genuinely don’t think I can deal with this on my own.”

“But you’re safe, right?”

“I am, as safe as one can be.” you chuckled. Working for the police & all that. Not that you would tell Sam on the phone. If they were to come by, he would find out sooner or later. “I’ll send you the details, alright? Be here as fast as you can.”

“Okay, no problem. Take care, okay?”

“You too. See you soon.” wow, you were about to see your brothers again. Hopefully everything would be fine & nobody would rip your head off.

“See you, (Y/N).” Sam ended the call & you let out a breath you did not know you were holding.

The phone call should stay a secret for the time being. People breaking out in panic was everything but convenient. Besides, you did not need your team looking at you like you were a lunatic. Malcolm explained possession trance disorder when you joined everyone again. How could one human being know so much about so many unimportant things? Like, this man was a human dictionary. Looking over at Gil, you had to grin by how hard he was trying to make sense of what Malcolm was saying. Gil noticed you staring at him & gave you a look. The one that made you not want to mess with him. Still, you laughed shortly, you could not keep it in any longer. Malcolm gave you a questioning look but you simply shrugged him off by a wave of your hand.

The last interrogation of the day was with the guy who was currently doing the painting job inside the church. Unfortunately, you did not get any more information. Everything he told you, you had already heard from the others. Basically, after interrogating everyone, you were certain that this was not a common case for the NYPD. And you were more than happy that your brothers were on their way to come over. How would you explain any of this to Malcolm? He knew you had two brothers but you had also told him that you were not necessarily talking, only when it came to emergencies. Great, Malcolm would freak out. Even more so than normal, probably.

“Why do we have to visit your father again?” you shot the question at Malcolm as you were walking over the psychiatric yard, looking for Martin. He rolled his eyes at you, exhausted by your constant questioning.

“I’ve explained it a thousand times, (Y/N).”

“Well, I don’t see how any of this is connected to him.” you argued. Whenever Malcolm had the great idea to visit his father, you tagged along. Simply because you knew it was always hard for him & you wanted to support him wherever you could. Right now, though, you were losing your patience. After all, you knew the cause of this case. But your brothers had yet to arrive so you should play along for now.

“Malcolm, my boy. (Y/N)! Always nice to see you.” Martin started, excited to see his son accompanied by you. The first time you visited Martin, he took an immediate liking to you. Probably because he could see that you were good for Malcolm & his son meant the world to him. Still, he was a narcissistic psychopath. Remembering clearly how he had told you that everyone had flaws during your first meeting. Ah, good times.

“I wish I could say the same, Dr. Whitly.” a sarcastic smile plastered on your face. From then on, you let Malcolm do the talking, not really paying attention to what he was saying. Your thoughts were with your brothers, hoping they would get their asses here quickly before you had to endure more of this bullshit. It was frustrating when you knew how to solve this case but there was nobody you could talk to, not about this. Malcolm desperately tried searching for a non-supernatural explanation. Of course he did. And you just stood by, not being helpful at all. Malcolm did notice your quietness but did not comment on it. Not when you were with his father. He would ask you later today, when you were back at home.

Sam sent you a message earlier today, asking for your address to meet up. This meant that they would not take much longer. The knock on the door was confirmation enough. Malcolm walked over, ready to open it & you did not have enough time to warn him. Oh, this was bound to be fun.

“Uh…Hello?” Malcolm, everyone. Great first impression.

“You’re not (Y/N).” you could make out Dean’s voice. Walking up to where Malcolm was standing in the doorway, you looked over his shoulder & smiled at your brothers. They really were here, it had been too long. Softly pushing Malcolm out of the way, you pulled both of them in a long overdue hug. It was only then when you realized how much you had missed them. Malcolm observed the interaction from afar, confusion obviously shown on his face. Right now, you could only focus on the men in front of you, though.

“It’s good to see you guys again.” smiling widely at them. Sam nodded at you & even Dean could not hide the small smile that was forming on his face.

“I’m sorry…Can I help you guys?” Malcolm spoke up, waiting for answers from either you or the strangers that now entered his apartment.

“No, but we’ll help you.” Dean walked over to Malcolm & patted his shoulder.

“Sam, Dean. This is Malcolm. Malcolm. These are my brothers.” you awkwardly introduced them to each other. Malcolm’s mouth hang open & he could not form a coherent sentence.

“Nice to meet you.” Sam held out his hand & it took Malcolm a second to shake it.

“Your brothers?” Malcolm whisper-yelled.

“Yeah?”

“And what are they doing here?” it was not his intention to sound rude, you knew that. Yet, he seemed rather frustrated because you clearly knew they were coming over but decided against telling your boyfriend.

“Remember when I told you that they had a similar job to ours?” Malcolm nodded at you. “This case we’re working on…that’s one of their kind. We wouldn’t be able to solve it without their help.” you tried explaining.

“We have the best working team out there! Of course we could’ve solved it alone!” but you simply shook your head at him. He would understand sooner or later.

Sam & Dean sat down on the expensive couch, Dean putting his feet on the coffee table. Good thing Malcolm did not care too much about his furniture. Malcolm & you brought drinks from the kitchen & sat across from them. Dean only eyed Malcolm, though. The inevitable was about to happen, you just hoped Malcolm would deliver accordingly.

“Who the hell are you?” he was judging Malcolm & neither Sam’s elbow nudging him nor your dirty look changed the way he looked at him. What could you say? Dean was very protective of you, even after ages of not talking.

“Malcolm Bright, profiler for the NYPD.” that made the brothers’ eyebrows raise. Thank God he did not let slip that he was the son of a serial killer.

“You’re working for the police?” Sam eyed Malcolm, now being confused as to why you would get them involved with the police even though you were aware of what they had been through.

“Well, yeah. I mean, (Y/N) & I met there.” Malcolm reasoned. Great, the cat was out of the bag now.

“Seriously (Y/N)?” Dean looked…disappointed?

“Okay, wait a minute. Let me explain!” Sam & Dean nodded at you to continue. “When I left you guys, I really tried to leave this life behind. I did. But I still wanted to help people. So…one thing came to another & then I was part of the NYPD &-“ you were interrupted by Dean, of course.

“And slept around with this guy?” Dean looked Malcolm over & you rolled your eyes at him. Malcolm looked offended but stayed silent.

“This guy is my boyfriend. And his name is Malcolm.” you defended him. “And I asked you to help me with this case, not with my dating life.” looking at Dean sternly, he nodded at you & apologized. He could get caught up in the heat of the moment but you had more important things to focus on.

Throughout your talk, Malcolm sent you questioning looks every now & then. You brushed him off, telling him you would explain it later. Sam & Dean got the message & tried keeping the talk casual. Clearly, your boyfriend did not know about the supernatural & it would be better if it stayed that way.

“Okay, so tomorrow, we’ll talk to Norman & see what we can find out.” Malcolm concluded after some long confusing hours.

“Sammy & I need some sleep after that long ass drive anyway. We’ll be meeting at his house first thing in the morning. Don’t be late.” when he said that, he stared at Malcolm. Rolling your eyes at his childish antics, you slapped him lightly on the chest.

“Do you wanna stay here for the night?” you asked when they were walking to the front door.

“Um, no. We’re checked in at the motel a few blocks down. Besides…” Dean gestured wildly with his hands. “This entire apartment looks too luxurious for us. How did you get so much money anyway?” Dean asked, again motioning at the expensive looking apartment.

“It’s actually Malcolm’s…I moved in not too long ago.” explaining to both of them. Sam nodded, looking satisfied with your current living situation. Dean, of course, had another thing to comment on.

“Oh wow, (Y/N)…Good catch.” winking at you, you shoved him out of the apartment, shaking your head.

“Good night!” you said before closing the door behind them, letting out a long sigh.

“Your brothers are…nice.” Malcolm started. You winced at his choice of words. In your head, it all worked out way better.

“I’m sorry, Mal…They can be quite protective.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. They’re, uh, very into this religious thing, huh?”

“Oh, you have noooo idea.” you chuckled.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming by?”

“I don’t know…I guess I didn’t want you to think that you’re not good enough for this case.”

“But?”

“But I need you to trust me when I tell you that Sam & Dean are the ones who should handle this one.”

“I trust you, you know that, (Y/N). But you have to give me permission to say “I told you so.” when we solve this case without their help.” Malcolm held out his hand for you to shake.

“Deal.” you smiled at him. Your brothers & boyfriend might not become best friends but you did not expect them to. All you wanted was to get rid of whatever killed that priest. And you knew that the supernatural feared Sam & Dean. This would be over soon.

“You sure these are the same guys who were at our apartment yesterday?” Malcolm whispered to you when you were approaching two men in suits. Not their usual flannel attire, they were working a job after all.

“Just play along, alright?” Malcolm nodded at you. He promised to trust you on this & you seemed like you knew what you were doing.

“Detectives.” Dean greeted you.

“Shut up.” you threw back almost immediately. Sam & Dean laughed at your comment.

“I missed you, lil sis.” Dean said with a genuine tone, one that made you smile wildly.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Sam knocked on the door, waiting for it to open. They introduced themselves as FBI & showed the woman in the doorway their badges. Shooting Malcolm a look as if to say “Don’t ask.” & he just acted as if he had not seen this. The woman led you upstairs to a room. She warned you to not cross the salt lines. All of you nodded. Well, all but Malcolm. The poor man could not understand a thing. Sometimes you wished you were this innocent when it came to cases like this. If it were not for Malcolm, this would have felt like the good old days when you spent your time solving case after case with your brothers. Yeah, it had been dangerous & exhausting but you still liked being a hunter. Also, the three of you were one hell of a team.

The door opened & you were met with countless geometrical lines made out of salt. Because a simple circle would not do the job or what? Fucking show-off. Careful not to mess with the salt, the four of you stepped inside the dark room. Norman’s back was facing you. While Sam & Dean simply took in the room to check for any indicators of anything supernatural, Malcolm started interrogating Norman. You signaled the boys to let him do his job.

“The salt keeps him out.” suddenly, Norman’s voice was way deeper than when he first started talking. Weird guy. Still, you did not think it was him.

“Who?” Malcolm asked in a calm voice. He was good at this. Even though he almost always got himself killed.

“The demon.” Norman said. What the hell was wrong with him? Malcolm turned around to you & found the three of you rolling your eyes. Really desperate if a person wanted to be a demon.

“He’s clearly mentally ill.” Malcolm stated quietly.

“Oh, really?” you sarcastically shot back. Who would have thought? Malcolm started lifting one of his foot, meaning to cross the line.

“Mal, wait. Don’t.” you warned him but when did Malcolm ever listen? You were not sure how Norman even noticed Malcolm crossing the line, his back was still facing you after all, but all of a sudden things escalated. Apparently, Norman thought Malcolm was a demon. He was everything but, really. He just had some demons to fight but he was not one. Norman was grabbing a lamp, wanting to attack Malcolm with it but you got everything sorted before anything bad could happen. Norman was on his way in the hospital & you were just glad that everyone was fine.

When all of you were outside the house again, Sam & Dean looked annoyed.

“Dude, we wasted time with this madman.” Dean started. “That’s bullshit.”

“Dean, stop.” you cut him off before the situation got too intense. “He was the only suspect we had. We couldn’t have known he was mentally ill.”

“We should check out the church tonight.” Sam suggested.

“Why at night?” Malcolm asked curiously.

“Oh, look how precious he is.” Dean mocked. If he kept acting that way you might as well salt & burn his bones next. Turning to Malcolm, you tried reasoning with him.

“Because we can’t risk people watching us. Not when we’re doing this.” Malcolm understood but he also planned a lot of questions for when you were back home.

“Alright, we’ll meet there later. Dean & I will take care of everything we might need.” Sam said before walking off to Baby.

“I see you took great care of her.” nudging Dean, motioning at the beautiful ’67 Chevy Impala. Another thing you had missed dearly. Countless nights had been spent in the backseat, you associated this car with a lot of happy memories.

“Always.” Dean smiled at you. “Baby misses you, too, you know?”

“I’m sure she does. After all, I had the brains. Of course she misses my smartness.” Dean shook his head at you, rolling his eyes at the same time. Saying goodbye & turning around, Malcolm gave you a look.

“What?”

“Baby? Her? You sure you were talking about the car?” oh, that was bothering him. Now you understood.

“It’s a long story.” you laughed & gave him a kiss on the cheek before walking past him. He let out a short laugh & smiled at your actions.

“(Y/N)? I think we should talk.” Malcolm started shortly after you entered your shared apartment.

“Oh no…that’s never a good sign.”

“What’s going on here?” you could tell he was serious. Fuck, you hated lying to him. One of the reasons why you had barely mentioned your brothers was to avoid questions you did not want to answer. It was now or never. Telling Malcolm to sit down, you were about to start at the very beginning. There were still a few hours left before you had to be at the church, might as well use it appropriately. Hopefully, Malcolm did not decide to leave you after opening up to him.

“So…you’re telling me that monsters are real, your brothers hunt them down & you used to help them before you left.” you nodded when Malcolm tried processing what you had just told him. “And my girlfriend saved the world more than once.” he concluded.

“Pretty much, yeah.” he was silent for a few seconds. That would be the moment he would ask you to leave.

“My girlfriend is a badass.” Malcolm mumbled & started laughing then. You joined in.

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” you questioned, not really believing that he dealt with it so casually.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m freaking out.” he confessed. “You know, makes me think of all the cases we couldn’t solve. Maybe we weren’t successful because of…supernatural beings playing a part. But honestly, it’s just another thing that got added to my plate. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Mal…”

“No, really. I mean it. Besides, now I know that if I ever meet a monster, you’re here to fight it off. Or your brothers. If I were a monster, I’d be scared as shit of them.” Malcolm finished & you laughed, throwing your entire body back on the couch. That actually went quite well? At least something positive.

Churches were creepy in general. But churches at night? That was a whole other level of madness. You met Sam & Dean at the Impala, Dean’s face buried in the trunk, looking for suitable weapons. Malcolm had promised not to question your actions & you were thankful for it. Because you had other things to focus on. Dean handed out weapons which you gladly accepted.

“Mal? You gotta promise me to stay behind.” concerning eyes met his & he knew better than to argue with you. Malcolm gulped but nodded anyway.

“You ready to do this?” Sam asked.

“I am but I think (Y/N)’s a little rusty.” Dean commented.

“Just...let’s get this over with…” rolling your eyes at Dean, you hated to admit that he was most likely right. You had not been on a hunt in a very long time but you knew you could fight when push came to shove.

The four of you entered the church silently, weapons at ready. After walking around for a while, Dean lifted his hand to stop you all. Trying to get a better look at what made him freeze, you were shocked when you saw Jonah, the painter, pacing these holy grounds. Why did you not think of him? It was quite obvious, really. Maybe you were getting rusty.

“Well, he is a demon, no doubts, but he isn’t Abaddon.” Dean spoke, quietly enough as to not get caught. “So if you guys distract this son of a bitch, I can catch him off guard from behind & stab him.”

“No, wait. You can’t kill him, Dean.” you argued. There was still a possibility of a human being somewhere inside.

“What? Why?” Dean turned towards you & tilted his head in confusion. Sighing out, you tried to talk some sense into him.

“Let Sam do an exorcism. We don’t know if Jonah’s still in there.” Dean thought about this for a few seconds but nodded afterwards. Sam grabbed an old lore book with the exorcism inside. He remembered the words by heart but better safe than sorry, right? Your plan was to stay hidden, the church was dark enough to do that without getting caught.

The demon was confused when he heard the first words of the exorcism, already struggling to stay inside Jonah. Good, he was not a strong one. Malcolm stayed close with you. Sam & Dean each took one side of the church, just in case something went wrong. Sam continued with the latin words & the demon was unable to move anymore. He was trapped in one place. That was when all of you made yourself shown to him. Hopefully, Jonah was still alive in there. If not, you had a lot of explaining to do. You already had but another dead person would make everything even more complicated.

“I AM ABADDON!” the demon screamed & you noticed that he barely had enough strength to stay in Jonah’s body anymore. Malcolm stayed in the background, simply observing & letting you do your job.

“I’m sure you wanna be, pal.” Dean got closer to the demon but not too close for it to be dangerous. “But we got rid of her a long time ago.” and it was true. Abaddon’s death was years ago. Why this demon thought to be her? You were not sure. But you also did not care. You just wanted this to be over. Sam finished the ritual & black smoke came out of Jonah’s mouth. After that, he fell to the floor & all of you ran over to him. Malcolm checked for a pulse & nodded when he felt it. Letting out a breath, you were glad that you could save him. Grabbing your phone out of your pocket, you dialed 911 & called Gil right after.

In no time, cars were surrounding the church. Sam, Dean, Malcom & you were standing in a small circle outside. Gil approached you.

“What the hell happened? And who the hell are you guys?” the second question was directed at your brothers who coughed a little, not knowing how to answer. Time to sell a little fake story.

“Gil, these are Sam & Dean, my brothers.” Gil shook both men’s hands.

“Didn’t know you had brothers.” he noted.

“Long story…Anyway, they came to visit & stayed at our apartment. They kinda overheard Malcolm & I talking about the case. Sam, here, has the brains-“

“Hey!” Dean feigned hurt at your words.

“And he pieced everything together. We didn’t wanna waste time & before I even had the chance to call you, we had already caught him.” as soon as you finished, Malcolm joined in to help with your little white lie.

“Jonah was poisoned by the lead in the paint he was using. It can cause dissociative behavior that can be mistaken for possession.” thank God for Malcolm “Human Dictionary” Bright. Gil could not argue with this so he simply went back over to the rest of the team. Nice job.

“Thanks guys.” addressing Sam & Dean.

“So that’s it, huh?” Sam asked, sad that he knew he had to let you go again. Yet, he supported your decision.

“Hey, Malcolm?” Dean looked at him. “I wanna show you something, come on.” Malcolm followed Dean to the black car which left you alone with Sam.

“He’s gonna kill him, isn’t he?” Sam laughed at your words.

“Possibly.” then he turned serious again. “I miss you.” Sam confessed, his jaw clenching.

“I miss you, too, Sammy.” looking up at him, you continued. “And I’m sorry for disappearing off the radar. It’s just…when I left, this entire starting new thing took more time than I thought it would.”

“I get it & I’m not asking you to come back with us. I can see that you like it here. You’ve finally found your happiness & by the way Malcolm looks at you? He’s utterly in love with you, (Y/N). Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will, I promise. You, too. Call me when you’re starting the next apocalypse.” you joked with him. He then pulled you into a big hug, one that you had missed so much. Sam always gave the best hugs.

“What is it?” Malcolm asked Dean, nervous as to why he wanted to talk to him alone.

“Look, man, (Y/N)’s my little sister & I’d do anything for her. So if you ever hurt her…know that I’ll beat the crap outta you.” Malcolm gulped but found enough courage to answer him.

“I love (Y/N). I’d never to do anything to hurt her. I get why you worry, I do. But she’s safe here. I promise.”

“Hey Dean, go easy on him.” their heads snapped in the direction your voice was coming from. By the smile on your face, he knew you were joking. Sam & you reached the car.

“I’ll miss you.” approaching Dean, you were more than satisfied when he opened his arms for you to pull you into a hug. He pressed a soft kiss on top of your head before releasing you again.

“Malcolm promised me to keep you safe.”

“Did he now?” turning around, eyeing your boyfriend with a smirk.

“Check in with us, okay?” Dean grew serious.

“I will, I promise. You guys take care of yourselves, okay?” both men nodded. “Tell Cas I said hi. How are you two doing anyway?” you stopped briefly to wink at him which made Sam chuckle quietly. “And bring him next time.”

“Alright, goodbye.” Dean said, laughing at you, Sam joining him.

“Bye, guys.” you waved at them when they got into the car.

Leaning into Malcolm’s side, you could feel his arm sneaking around your waist to keep your close. For a few moments, you stood there in silence, watching the Impala slowly disappear out of your view.

“Do I need to be jealous of this Cas guy?” Malcolm asked all of a sudden & you broke out into laughter. His confused face was hilarious.

“Trust me, Mal. If you meet him, you’ll know that there’s no need to be jealous.” tears were threatening to escape your eyes. The simple image of you & Cas together made you laugh out loud.

“I guess I need to trust you on that.”

“Hey, remember what you said when you thought we wouldn’t need help solving this case?” you asked him, changing the topic entirely. His face showed you that he did, in fact, not remember.

“I told you so.” you smirked at him, enjoying how his smile slowly faltered. Rolling his eyes at you, he wanted to say a witty remark. You knew what he was trying to do but before he had the chance, you silenced him with a long, soft kiss. That always managed to do the job. Pulling away after a few seconds, you lovingly stared into his eyes. This moment could have been overly romantic. If it were not for you putting salt into his wound.

“I told you so.” repeating your previous words, you walked away from him, sarcastically smiling as you did so. You were right about this & Malcolm prepared himself to hear the same words over & over from now on.

Published (04/15/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @thefictionalgemini, @prodigalsonlovingbisexual, @octopus5555, @claudiaparker30, @the-unknown-fan-girl, @popcornanon, @jasminetea-andpaisho, @anatanotegami, @blackandwhitejoker (thanks for your support <3)

[jamespotterthefirst]

Most Ardently (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,200  Warning: Adult language Premise: Days after her recovery, he tells her of the Pride and Prejudice vibe they apparently give off. Set after the events of Book 2, Chapter 11.

  Quote: “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

The bright beams of moonlight spilling through his window were enough to stir him awake. The first thing he thought of was how he had forgotten to close the curtains shut, as was his custom every night before bed. A slight rustling next to him, however, followed by a sleepy hum reminded him he had been far too busy to remember the damn curtains. 

When she settled further into his side, Ethan smiled, watching her sleeping form, carefully taking in every detail with something akin to urgency. Inexplicably, his chest constricted as he took in the faint dusting of freckles at her nose, the dark fan of lashes splayed in a half moon, her rosy, parted lips that puckered slightly with her breathing. It was almost as if every part of him knew he had been so close to losing her. 

Almost two weeks had elapsed since the attack and the icy terror of losing her still gripped him like an iron fist. His arm flexed on instinct around her as he fought back the remnants of dread, choosing instead to pull her warm body closer to his as irrefutable proof that she was there, right by his side. 

Mere seconds after, Lilac stirred, opening her eyes briefly only to squint at the moonlight. 

“Hey,” she murmured sleepily. 

“Hey,” he returned softly. “Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?” 

“It's almost one.”

“Shit. I fell asleep.” 

With a jolt, she pushed away from him, frantically patting the nightstand for her phone. Ethan sat up with a frown, already missing the warmth of her body. 

“Where are you going?” 

Lilac clutched the covers to her front, all traces of sleep gone as she winked at him from over her shoulder. “I've finally had my way with you, Dr. Ramsey. Now for my escape.” 

The playful smile she gave him made his heart leap with elation. Laughing, Ethan reached over and pulled her on top of him with ease. Lilac half shrieked and half laughed, her hips settling comfortably over his, her hands flat against his chest to steady herself. The messy tendrils of her dark hair brushed against his skin, leaving his every sense at her disposal. 

“Now that you have me, you might not be able to get rid of me that easily,” he explained in a serious whisper, their lips almost touching. 

“Good.”

Ethan kissed her, exhilarated by the fact that he didn't have to hold back anymore. Her lips curved into a smile against his, perhaps knowing this too. They pulled away for breath several times, their lips meeting with renewed fervor right after, until they were both practically too dizzy to continue. They caught their breath in silence, basking in a haze of unbridled happiness. 

“I should go home,” she said at last. “We have work in the morning and I don't have a change of clothes.” 

“Sienna brought you an overnight bag. It's in the car.” 

At that, Lilac pushed herself far back enough to give him a stunned look. “She– what?” She blinked several times. “How would she– She doesn't even know–” 

“She knows.” 

This only made Lilac blink in quicker succession, mouth open as her brain struggled to verbalize all her questions. It was entirely too endearing and Ethan couldn't resist leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose. 

“I told her,” he explained. “Though that was unnecessary. You forget she caught me sneaking out of your apartment all those months ago?” 

Lilac's shock slowly melted as she realized this. Soon, her expression relaxed into a grin that gave way to unrestrained laughter. When she couldn't stop, Ethan joined in, shaking his head. 

“I forgot she saw that,” she said when she finally sobered up. “For being two highly intelligent doctors, we can be so stupid sometimes.”

Ethan shrugged. 

“Even if she hadn't seen me leaving that morning, she would have suspected. According to her, we give off a vibe.” 

“A vibe? What kind of vibe?” 

“A Pride and Prejudice vibe.”

At that, her face lit up in a way that made his stomach swoop. 

“I knew you would enjoy that.”

“You absolutely put out Mr. Darcy vibes,” she said, barely restrained joy seeping from every word. 

“Here we go.” 

“Aside from being rich, handsome, and short-tempered—” 

“Short-tempered?” 

“—you are also masterfully good at the longing glances and discreet hand touching.”

“Hand touching? I don't recall—” 

The lie was swiftly interrupted by her impressive recollection. One by one she listed all the stolen glances from across hospital halls and the way his fingers always seemed to find hers. Impressed, he only grinned at her, content in the knowledge that she remembered every instance as vividly as he did. 

Lilac, on the other hand, was too busy circling back to teasing him about Sienna's reference. She cleared her throat, lowered her voice to a supposed imitation of Ethan, and quoted in an impressive English accent: “I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself.”

Ethan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Despite being the subject of her playful taunts, he was ecstatic to hear her melodic laughter again. 

“My good opinion once lost, is lost forever,” he quoted, earning him an impressed, arched brow from her. 

It should have been embarrassing that even that small gesture was enough to tempt him because he was kissing her again. This time, when they pulled away, she bit her lip, a poor attempt to fight back a broad, radiant smile.

For his own part, Ethan allowed himself to smile as he looked at her, his fingers gently brushing a wayward lock of hair away from her face. Her eyes fluttered closed against his caress, making her nothing less than ethereal in the pale moonlight. The lovely sigh that followed inspired his very blood to buzz alive with warmth, like the spell of a quiet summer evening. 

Unbidden, another quote echoed in his mind, one that was far more fitting to the way his heart pounded fiercely against the confines of his chest— for her. Always for her. 

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” 

They were words he used to scoff at. 

But now…

He remained perfectly still as their truth dawned on him, casting color and warmth into his every thought. 

Lilac was watching him curiously. “What?” 

His response was a gentle kiss that should have lasted forever. When he pulled away, he did so to kiss her jaw. “You make me so happy.”

Eyes bright, Lilac searched his face with such reverence that Ethan held his breath. Her delicate hand slid from his neck to his chest, right above where his heart thrummed vividly, proving his words true with each beat. Whatever she was looking for, she found because she leaned in and kissed him yet again. 

“Completely and perfectly and incandescently happy?” 

“I know you're back to teasing me about the Austen reference but yes. Completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

___________________

Author’s Note: 

Me @ me:

Sorry. That reference killed me so I had to do this. I felt it in my soul. 

Thank you for reading this! And thank you for all the support you showed “Everything I Wanted” despite all the issues I had posting that one. 

 Love you guys!

-Bree

_______

Tags

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@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

[plaidbooks]

My Beautiful Rose

A/N: Oof, this is a long one, and I wanna thank Karen for helping me with the concept! It’s a Sonny Carisi x reader fic, covers the Flowers/Candy square in the VDay bingo, and may or may not get a part 2; who knows? Hope you enjoy! P.S. I’m sorry for my lack of medical knowledge! P.S.S. this jumps perspective a lot.

Tags: talks of stab wounds, blood, ventilators/tubes, whump

Words: 4197 

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @barbasimp @alwaysachorusgirl @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

Sonny was working late again tonight, you knew. It was obvious by the box of chocolates he had sent home, as an apology for not making it home for dinner. The bouquet of red roses was just a bonus, because he liked to call you “his beautiful rose.” You didn’t mind—he often worked late nights as detective—but you were always worried. Always afraid to get that phone call, that Sonny wasn’t coming home. You looked at your new engagement ring, twisting it gently around your finger. He was fine; he was always fine. But that didn’t stop the worry from eating away at you every time he stepped out that door, badge and gun on his hip. What you didn’t know was how much worse it was to not get that phone call.

***

The nurses burst through the doors of the ER, jogging with the gurney, the man passed out with an oxygen mask laying lifeless on top of it, blood staining his shirt. A doctor caught up with them, falling into step beside them.

“What do we have?” he asked.

“Multiple stab wounds in the chest area—heart rate is 74 and dropping, blood pressure is 90/60, respiratory rate is 10 per minute, O2Sat is 90% and temperature is 95. He lost a lot of blood, at least 10%,” a nurse listed off.

“Jesus…any vital organs punctured?”

“Hard to tell without X-rays, but by the way he’s rasping, he may have a punctured lung.”

The doctor nodded. “Prep him for X-rays and a transfusion. I’ll disinfect and be right in.”

***

You woke up in the morning with no word from Sonny, and your heart started to race. You tried to push the anxiety down; you had texted him the night before with no reply, but that wasn’t unheard of. Sometimes, he was super busy. Other times, he looked at the text, then got caught up in something else and simply forgot to respond. Though, when half the day went by and you had heard nothing, you couldn’t stop the panic that tore through you. Maybe he was working a triple shift and was napping at the precinct. Or maybe something terrible had happened. You tried texting him again, and then waited.

***

“No, I’m sorry Bella, you can’t visit him,” Olivia was saying into her phone. She was leaning against the wall in the hallway of the hospital. “It’s not safe right now; this was a hit, and his family can be targeted.” She waited, listening to the youngest Carisi on the phone. “I know that this is hard, but I promise to keep you updated, okay?” She hung up, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger before re-entering the hospital room.

Amanda was in the visitor’s chair by the bed, working on her laptop. Liv glanced at Sonny, unconscious in the hospital bed, his slowly rising and falling chest the only sign of life…though, the machine strapped to his face, tube down his throat, was helping him breathe. She felt overwhelming guilt that this had happened to the young detective, that he was now battling for his life.

It was supposed to be a routine escort—Sonny was simply taking a working girl to the hotel room that would act as her refuge until the trial against her pimp. But the information had leaked, and they were jumped, both Sonny and the girl being stabbed multiple times. The girl died on the way to the hospital, and Sonny had been barely clinging to life. The knife had punctured a lung, and it slowly filled with blood as he was rushed to the hospital. Another couple minutes, and he’d be dead.

The good news was that the doctor was optimistic about his chances of making a full recovery. The bad news was that this happened at all, and that they now didn’t have a witness to testify against the pimp. Though, if Sonny did pull through, he could hopefully testify…if there was a connection between the men that jumped him and the pimp, which there was no doubt in Olivia’s mind that the two were connected. Either way, Sonny wasn’t safe, which is why Olivia was barring anyone but officers or detectives from seeing him. And only then, it was people she knew, people she trusted. She didn’t know who leaked the location of the hotel room, but she would find out.

“Rollins; why don’t you head home? You’ve been here all night. I’ll stay here with him for the rest of the day until Fin switches out,” Olivia murmured, patting the blonde’s shoulder motherly.

Amanda looked like she would argue at first, but she was so exhausted, and she sighed. “Yeah, okay. Keep me updated, yeah?” She closed her laptop, pushing to stand.

“Of course. Stay safe—watch your six.”

Amanda nodded, heading out the door. Olivia didn’t really think that they could be in trouble for being associated with Sonny. But she wasn’t taking any chances. Glancing at Sonny, she sunk into the chair Amanda had abandoned, pulling out her phone, and going through emails.

***

After you awoke on the second morning with still nothing from Sonny, it solidified the notion that something was wrong. He has never gone this long without notifying you, work or no. And your calls and texts had been going unanswered—a bad sign indeed. With no other choice, you grabbed your things, heading to the precinct of SVU with shaking hands.

 *************************

The building was busy, officers mulling about, rushing to and from desks and file cabinets and fax machines and copiers. After being pointed towards the SVU department, you headed up the elevator, starting to feel very nervous indeed about being here. Sonny had made it clear that he kept his home life separate from his work life, and while he’d talk to you about work and cases, you didn’t know how much his coworkers knew about you…if at all.

Making your way towards all the desks, you glanced around the room, trying to find your fiancé. But when you didn’t see him, your eyes went glassy with tears, and you struggled to hold yourself together.

“May I help you?” a woman asked, coming over to you. “I’m Lieutenant Olivia Benson; are you okay?”

“I…is there a Detective Dominick Carisi Jr. here?” you asked, voice watery.

The lieutenant seemed to stiffen at his name and a wave of worry washed through you. You noticed the other personnel around you giving you a hard look, and you shuffled uncomfortably.

“Come with me,” Benson said tersely, leading you towards a room off to the side. You followed her, eager to get away from the probing stares. She gestured you to enter, then followed you in, closing the door behind her. “What’s your name and why are you looking for Carisi?”

You blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. “I…it’s been almost three days since I last saw him and I’m worried. He’s not answering his phone, and I don’t know how else to track him down—”

Benson put her hand up, stopping you. “Name and why you’re looking for him. Now.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you choked out your name. “H-he’s my…he’s my fiancé, and I just want to know if he’s alive—please. If you know where he is—”

“Fiancé? Funny, he never mentioned being engaged, let alone having a girlfriend.”

With shaky hands, you reached for your purse, and Benson reached for her gun. “I’m just…phone,” you sobbed, grabbing your cell and pulling it out. You unlocked your phone, turning it towards her. Your home screen was a picture of Sonny with his arm around your shoulders, kissing the side of your head while you showed off your new engagement ring. “I-I got more pictures,” you murmured, scrolling until you found the photo album, opening it to hundreds of pictures of you and Sonny, flipping through them, proving your relationship to him.

Benson seemed to deflate as she looked at your phone. “Oh…I’m so sorry…. He never mentioned—”

“He keeps work and home separate,” you said, putting your phone back in your purse. “Now, please tell me if he’s still alive.”

 ***************

Your heart was in your throat as you road in the squad car to the hospital. At first, Lieutenant Benson wasn’t willing to take you to the hospital to see Sonny, claiming it was too dangerous. But all your worry and anxiety turned into white-hot rage at being kept from him, and she reluctantly agreed, already feeling guilty about thinking you may be someone trying to finish the job. You followed the lieutenant closely, still shaking slightly, unable to remain calm until you saw him, confirmed that he was still alive.

You froze it the doorway to his room when she entered, moving to the blonde woman in the visitor’s chair and exchanging a few mumbled words with her. But they were deaf to your ears as you stared at Sonny’s lifeless form on the bed, ventilator strapped to his face, machines buzzing and whirring around him. Letting out a choked sob, you rushed over to him, reaching out for his hand then stopping yourself, afraid to touch him, to hurt him somehow.

In a calm voice, Benson explained what had happened, and you half-listened, wincing at words like “stabbed” and “punctured lung.”

“Will he be okay?” you asked, wiping away the tears trailing down your cheeks.

“The doctor said that he should make a full recovery, yes,” Benson replied, and for the first time in three days, relief swept through you. But only briefly, before worry and anxiety crashed back into you. You nodded, bringing the other visitor’s chair over and plopping down into it. You had found Sonny; he was alive.

“Oh, you can’t stay here, hun,” the blonde detective said softly, as if you were a child. “It’s not safe.”

“My fiancé has been missing for three days and is on a ventilator. I’m not leaving his side,” you replied through gritted teeth. This time, you did reach out and grab his hand; it was warm and reaffirmed that he was still alive.

“And if they come here to finish the job—”

“You’re going to have to arrest me, because I’m not leaving him. If someone tries to hurt my Dominick, then I’ll…I’ll…” you trailed off; you didn’t know what you’d do. But you wouldn’t go down without a fight. Sonny was your everything, and now that you found him again, you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Even the thought of leaving him to go to the bathroom filled you with dread.

Benson sighed heavily, looking defeated. “I…don’t want to arrest you, but I will to keep you safe. Especially for Carisi. But please don’t make me do that. Come quietly.”

“I’m not leaving him,” you said resolutely, gripping his hand tighter. Your breath caught when you felt him squeeze back gently, just a twitch of the fingers. Whipping your head to look at him, you stood from the chair, moving to stand directly over him. The machines were making a different noise now, but he still wasn’t moving.

“[y/n], you are under arrest,” Benson started, placing a cool, metal handcuff around your free wrist, unaware of the change in him. But she stopped as nurses rushed in, talking to each other in jargon you didn’t understand, checking the machines, and checking Sonny.

“What’s happening?” you asked, voice catching in your throat. You no longer felt the handcuff on your skin as a nurse gently pushed you away from Sonny’s body.

“Mr. Carisi is starting to breathe on his own—he doesn’t need the ventilator anymore. He also seems to be waking up; did you notice any change in his condition?” the nurse asked.

You blinked back the tears threatening to form. “He, uh, I squeezed his hand, and I thought he squeezed back….”

The nurse nodded before going back to the bed, helping the other nurses. You watched as Sonny’s eyelids slowly fluttered, the ventilator now gone, his breath coming in raspy through his slightly ajar mouth. You leaned forward, wanting nothing more than to hold him as he slowly came to, blinking and looking around at all the faces staring back at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse told him not to, that he was going to be sore for a little bit. Instead, she poured him some water, held it while he took a few sips from the straw.

Finally, his dull blue eyes found you, standing just to the side of his bed, behind the nurses surrounding him. “[y/n]?” he croaked, his voice sounding foreign.

You smiled softly at him, tears trailing down your cheeks. “I’m here, Dominick. You’re okay; you’re safe.”

After the nurses had finished doing whatever it was they had to, they left, reminding Sonny to try not to talk, giving him a small white board and pen to communicate. It seemed like you weren’t the only one entranced by the nurses—Benson still only had one handcuff on you, and the other detective had been watching with big eyes. Taking advantage of their latency, you pulled out of Benson’s grip, rushing back to Sonny’s side, clutching his hand.

“I’m so fucking glad you’re okay—that you’re alive. I was so fucking scared, Dom,” you murmured, kissing his hand.

“I love you,” he rasped, and you gave him a hard look that had no real weight behind it.

“I love you, too, but no talking. Use the board and pen, babe,” you urged, gesturing towards the board in his lap. ‘No talking’ for Sonny was going to be rough; he was the most talkative person you knew.

Sonny smiled at you, but it quickly faded as he saw the metal cuff hanging from your wrist. His eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Benson meaningfully, then gestured with his head to you. So, maybe he didn’t need to talk to get his point across.

Benson launched into the story of what happened yet again, ending with how he wasn’t safe in the hospital room. Then, you supplied what the last three days had been like at home, and that you went to the precinct for answers before being brought here.

“I was only going to arrest her to take her some place safe. In case you get attacked here,” Benson explained.

“But I’m not leaving your side,” you quickly added.

Sonny looked torn, his eyes downcast as he thought. Finally, he took his hand from you, opening the pen and bringing the board close to him, so you couldn’t see what he was writing. Finished, he flipped it back towards you, and you read: I love you, but go with Lieutenant Benson. It’s not safe here

You glanced back into his face, his now bright blue eyes sad, and he blinked away the tears quickly. “I can’t leave you, Dom,” you muttered.

“Please,” he croaked out, voice weak.

You closed your eyes as a few tears escaped down your cheeks. “Okay,” you finally agreed. “For you Dominick. You stay safe, you get better, and then you come home, okay?”

Sonny nodded, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. Then he quickly erased his board, writing something else, then showed it to Benson: Protect her, make sure she’s got unis at our place

“Of course,” Benson replied, and he visibly relaxed back onto the bed. You allowed her to lead you out of the room, taking one last look at your fiancé before you left.

 *******************

It had been two days since you had seen Sonny. He had his phone again, but he was still discouraged from talking, so you texted more than anything. Though, it was killing you not to see him. And yet, he still somehow managed to send you a new bouquet of roses. You chuckled sadly, tears in your eyes when they showed up at your door; Sonny was the only person you knew who could be in a hospital bed and sending you flowers. You made sure to have a florist take some to him, as well; even if you couldn’t be there in person, his beautiful rose was thinking of him.

There was a knock on the door, and you rolled your eyes, thinking Sonny had sent something else now. But opening the door, you were face-to-face with a gangster wannabe-looking man. You had a moment to be confused before he lunged at you, something sharp glinting in his hand. Acting on your most basic instincts, you dodged backwards, the knife only slicing through your shirt. Both of your momentums had you stumbling backwards into your loft. You regained your balance first, grabbing the closest thing to you as a weapon. It was the vase of beautiful red roses, and you whipped your arm around, smashing it into the side of his head. Glass, water, and flowers exploded everywhere as the man tumbled to the ground, blood seeping out from his head. Hands shaking and chest heaving, you scrambled to find your phone, calling Sonny.

You heard the call connect and you didn’t even wait for him to speak before your words rushed out of you. “I was attacked at home and I hit the guy in the head and now he’s bleeding out on the carpet and I don’t know what to do—"

“Woah, calm down,” Sonny replied hoarsely. His voice was getting stronger, but it wasn’t back to normal quite yet. “You were attacked?”

You sniffed, tears clouding your vision. “Y-yeah; he just…knocked on the door, and I answered like an idiot—”

“Holy shit, are you okay? What happened to the unis? I’m sending—” Sonny started hacking and coughing, and your heart sank.

“Calm down, Dom. I’m safe, babe. I’m okay. Drink water…. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called—”

He pulled himself together. “Fuck that; you call me first.” He coughed a moment more, and you heard him swallow liquid. He cleared his throat. “I’m sending Lieutenant Benson there, okay?”

You glanced at the man still unmoving on the floor. “What do I do with the guy? He’s laying face down…did I kill him?” you asked, voice soft.

“Shit, I forgot he’s still there! Get out of our loft—can you go next door to the Thompsons? Get away from him, but don’t go outside,” Sonny instructed.

“I-I don’t know, Dom…I’ll see if they’re home—” you stopped talking as you heard voices in the hallway outside your loft.

“What the hell is taking Juan so long? It’s just some bitch,” a man said.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and you rushed to the master bedroom, closing and locking the door. With a burst of inspiration, you opened the window leading to the fire escape before tucking yourself into the bathroom, locking the door, hoping beyond hope that they’d take the bait, thinking you escaped out the window.

You heard a muffled voice and realized that it was Sonny yelling into the phone still clutched in your hand. “[y/n]! What the hell’s happening?” he asked, voice raspy.

“Th-there’s more of them,” you whispered. “I can’t talk; gotta stay quiet.”

“Liv’s on her way—she should be there any minute now. Just stay calm, stay quiet. You’re going to be okay; I promise. I’ll stay on the line with you until you’re safe,” Sonny muttered back, trying his best to keep the panic from his voice.

You heard the exclamation from them finding their buddy on your floor in the foyer, then footsteps coming down the hallway. You clutched the phone closer to your ear, like Sonny’s voice was a lifeline. There was a loud pounding, then wood splintering as the door frame shattered in your bedroom. You let out a soft whimper, tears streaming down your face. You could no longer hear Sonny’s voice, all your focus trained on the footsteps on the other side of the bathroom door.

“Fuck; she went out the window. Find her before she makes it to the hospital—we can’t get her once she’s there,” the same man’s voice from before ordered. You let out a sigh of relief as the footsteps retreated. But you still didn’t hear Sonny’s voice. Glancing at your phone, you saw that it was dead.

***

“What is it? What happened?” Sonny asked desperately when he heard the door explode open, heard you let out a scared whimper. But you didn’t respond. All he got was a soft beeping, letting him know the call dropped. He frantically redialed, heart beating rapidly in his chest, but it went straight to voicemail. Tears in his eyes, he shoved himself up to sitting position, flinging the sheets off himself.

“What the hell are you doing?” Amanda asked, springing up for the visitor’s chair and grabbing his shoulder, trying to force him back in bed.

“[y/n] needs me; I can’t get ahold of her! There were men in our loft; she’s in danger. I gotta go—”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do in this condition?” Amanda forced him back in bed, but Sonny pushed and shoved at her. She was tired from spending all her time either there in the hospital or at work, having not slept a full night in days, while Sonny was well-rested, besides his injuries.

“I don’t care! She needs me!” Sonny got her hands off him, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Nurse!” Amanda yelled; her last resort, as she grabbed at Sonny’s shoulders, trying to wrestle him down. It took five nurses, plus Amanda, to shove Sonny back onto the bed, holding him still long enough to sedate him. He cursed at all of them in broken English and Italian, tears in his eyes as the drug worked its way through his system, and he finally passed out.

***

You never left the bathroom, even though the loft was quiet, until Olivia got there with officers in tow. The man you had hit, Juan, was still laying face down on the carpet, the blood now thoroughly staining your carpet. Olivia told you that he was miraculously still alive—you felt better knowing you didn’t kill someone—and that the officers would deal with getting an ambulance for him. She was more concerned about getting you somewhere safe; the unis charged with watching you were dead.

“The guys that came in after this guy said that they can’t get me at the hospital,” you said, remembering his words. Olivia gave you a look but didn’t argue; she seemed beaten down from the past week. So, she led you from the loft after you packed a few essentials—including your phone charger—and drove you back to the hospital.

You practically rush into Sonny’s room, Olivia on your heels, but you stopped short when you saw Sonny unconscious, that blonde detective from before sitting next to him.

“What happened?” you asked, coming to stand by his bed, trailing your fingers over his arm. His hair was slightly ruffled, his shirt askew.

“Had to sedate him—he tried to leave cause he couldn’t get ahold of you,” the woman explained.

Olivia ran a hand through her hair while your heart broke. “Rollins, go home; it’s my turn anyways.” The blonde nodded, waving a goodnight before leaving. You took her seat, pulling yourself close to Sonny’s bed, taking his limp hand in yours. Olivia joined you in the other visitor’s chair, but sat far enough back to make it seem like you had your own space with him.

You poured a glass of water for when he’d awake, and noticed all the cards, flowers, and small gifts on the table, making your heart full. You were happy that Sonny was so loved, that his friends and coworkers cared about him so much. You smiled at the bouquet of roses you had sent him, pushed to the front so that he could see them clearly.

Sonny was only out for another 30 minutes, and he was groggy when he awoke, disorientated. Though, his dull eyes found you immediately, latching on to your face like he was trying to memorize you.

He opened his mouth, but you shook your head. “Don’t speak; save your throat. Here,” you lifted the glass of water to his lips, letting him drink his fill from the straw.

Even with your words, Sonny cleared his throat. “I thought something bad happened to you,” he murmured, words slightly slurred from the medication still in him. He blinked a few times, trying to focus his eyes.

“I’m safe, babe. I’m…so sorry to have made you worry. But I’m here; I’m safe.” You broke on the last word, tears streaming down your face. Sonny reached for your hand, squeezing you in comfort.

“I’m glad you’re safe…my beautiful rose…I love you,” Sonny whispered, kissing your knuckles.

You tried to control yourself. “I love you, too, Dominick. I’m glad you’re safe, too. Let’s just…worry about getting you back to full health.”

He nodded. “With you here, I feel better already.”

[nerdyblogger06]

HI EVERYONE!

Okay so I’m sure many of you have forgotten my existence as I have been mostly dead to this site for some time. However, for anyone who may have remembered me, I am back, and I thought I’d do a little update. For anyone who doesn’t want to read, feel free to ignore this, it’s mostly a ramble.

(Please do not read this if you find pain, operations, or hospitals triggering. I won’t go into detail but I will briefly mention things)

Okay! I’ve been suffering from chronic migraines from a very young age. After some testing that showed nothing we decided they were probably anxiety induced, however, over the years they have gotten progressively worse. I reached a point where I was getting a severe headache every day. I was getting little to no work done and wasn’t able to function. I’ve been switching between medications for twoish years now, they have not helped.

I went to the optometrist for a usual checkup because I am lowkey blind (reading in the dark yknow). Turns out my optic nerves were swollen, so from there I saw an ophthalmologist, I ended up getting an MRI, and then I had to get a lumbar puncture and a blood test. Long story short: worst day of my life (I’m trypanophobic)

I was later told I had a cerebro-spinal fluid pressure of 42. Fun fact: that could have killed me, or I could have gone blind, so that’s fun!Anyway, it’s been drained, I’m on more drugs and I’m still getting headaches and have been handed off to other doctors. What can I say? Life’s a bitch.

Since I am now done with hell- sorry- classes now, I can simply roam on tumblr and pretend the real world does not exist.

I hope you’re all doing well, if not, I feel that and I wish you all the best for future days ❤️❤️❤️

Tagging a few people because I want to sincerely apologise for not reacting to, reblogging or responding to any posts, I’ll have to go stalk your blogs some time soon to see what I’ve missed ❤️

(I know I forgot some people that I should have tagged but everyone’s changed their names so I can’t tell who’s who at the moment I’m so sorry)

@griffxnnage @w1segirl @melmalone @amphxtrite

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony - Chapter 3

Decided to go ahead and post chapter 3!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, bullying, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word Count: 1148

This one is a little shorter cause it's a little intense.

Chapter 3 - Papercut

But everybody has a face that they hold inside

A face that awakes when I close my eyes

A face watches every time they lie

A face that laughs every time they fall

It has been two weeks since moving to Orynth. Lorcan wasn't looking forward to going to school. Elide and her friends kept talking to him and it was infuriating. All Lorcan wanted was to be left alone. He was about to start breakfast when he saw the note on the counter. "No breakfast."

Fine by him. He decided to leave early so he could go to the school library and read ahead in one of his textbooks.

He was almost to the front door when it swung open to a very pissed off looking James Perrington. Great. Why the fuck was he here?

"I don't think so, boy. Your aunt called you out for the rest of the week." Oh. Perrington's grin was wicked. Lorcan froze. Fuck. He knew this meant he was about to get a terrible beating if he was going to need days to heal so as not to be noticed. This wasn't the first time this happened and it wouldn't be last. Unfortunately.

The adults he lived with were good at hiding the crimes they did to Lorcan's body. And when they weren't, they kept him home. He closed his eyes, praying to Hellas that it wouldn't be as bad as it seemed it was going to be.

Perrington laughed. It was a cruel sound. "Get my tools, boy." Lorcan's eyes shot open. "Oh, yes, you little bastard." Evil was the only word for him. It had been a very long time since Perrington had been in a mood enough to use his brass knuckles or the belt on him. If only he had left a few minutes earlier.

Maybe he deserved this.

---

Fuck. His arm shouldn't bend that way, his forearm shouldn't bend at all. He could barely feel it over everything else that hurt. He could hear Maeve giving Perrington shit in the hall. His vision was blurry and tunneling.

"What the fuck were you thinking, James! You're never supposed to do enough damage that's hospital worthy!" She grunted in frustration. "This is coming out of your wages!"

Lorcan heard a smack. He figured that Maeve slapped Perrington for his loss of control.

He heard his door open, he couldn't look up without it hurting. An ice pack landed in the middle of the room. "Ice it so it can be cast." The door shut. It had already started swelling. It wasn’t pretty.

Lorcan wheezed. He closed his eyes. Ever so carefully, Lorcan managed to grab the ice pack. He hissed when it hit his skin. Hellas below, he hurt. This was definitely the worst beating he had received. They had never broken bones besides ribs before. Broken ribs were easy to hide.

Somehow he managed to lay down, his breathing was short, he closed his eyes and exhaustion took him.

---

When Lorcan finally awoke, the sun was shining through the window, he heard noises outside of his room and Hellas below, he fucking hurt. Everywhere. He had no idea what day it was. His head throbbed as did pretty much everything else. Very slowly he turned his head and found a plate with half a loaf of French bread and a bottle of water.

If it didn't hurt, he would have rolled his eyes. He managed to sit up after several minutes, lots of hissing and grunting. He drank half the water bottle. Snacked on the bread. That was exhausting.

Lorcan leaned his head on the wall and closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. He could see a fresh bottle of water and a protein bar. At least they gave him food this time. His stomach rumbled, so he finished the stale bread and the half of the water bottle, then moved on the protein bar and the other bottle.

++++

"Has anyone seen Lorcan?" Rowan looked towards Lorcan's usual table in the corner of the cafeteria. It was empty. "I haven't seen him the last three days." Nobody else had either.

Rowan hoped he was just sick. But he had a bad feeling rolling in his gut.

---

Lorcan was startled awake by Maeve pounding on the door and shoving it open. He hissed at his quick movements.

"We're getting your arm cast today." She left and didn't bother closing the door.

Hel, he had to piss. He grabbed some clothes, careful of his broken arm. "Don't forget to shower, you stink," Maeve yelled from somewhere in the house. He was covered in sweat and some dried blood, obviously he stunk.

Lorcan shuffled to the bathroom, took off his clothes after several minutes, and finally looked at himself in the mirror.

Fucking Hellas.

He looked like a fucking modern art painting. All sorts of colors plastered his body. Various shades of blues, purples, reds, greens, yellows, and some colors he didn't feel like he had a name for. His whole torso was painted in bruises. Front and back. From his neck down onto hips. With tender fingers, Lorcan touched his chest and hissed. Then he spotted the nicks in his skin from the edges of the brass knuckles. Those were going to sting in the shower.

Just as he was about to start the water, he noticed the coloring on his neck. A perfect handprint. He forgot about that part. That happened early on. Perrington had gagged him and then grabbed his throat so tight it was hard to breathe. Lorcan's vision had blackened around the edges before he was pinned to the wall and then punched in the gut. Multiple times.

Lorcan didn't know how many times he passed out during that beating. It had to have lasted hours. He sighed and retreated to the shower.

---

The doctor was full of concern when he walked into the room and saw Lorcan. Maeve talked loudly on her phone the whole time causing the doctor to glare at her every chance he got while setting and casting Lorcan's arm.

But Lorcan knew the doctor wasn't fooled by the story his aunt had given him about the cause of his patient's injuries. He saw the scars on Lorcan's arms, saw the bruises when he checked his heart and the obvious handprint bruise of his neck. Lorcan was also obviously too underweight for his height and build.

The doctor had finished up and was giving Lorcan instructions on keeping the cast dry when showering. His life for the next several weeks was going to be even harder. Both bones in his forearm were broken which meant the cast had nearly gone up to his shoulder.

"Finally," quietly huffed Maeve. She ushered Lorcan out of the hospital before any more questions could be asked.

_____

Thanks for reading! I hope you.. enjoyed? Sorry this one was rough. Let me know if you want to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire