#how dare it force me to choose only TEN baby shots

[lloonlloon]

Happy Birthday! I am politely requesting photos of your creature as puppies (bonus points for photos of the Sausage but I’m pretty sure she materialised on this earth full formed)

HAPPY TO OBLIGE

I do have some baby sausage I swear I will find them

[0mg-bird]

Sunrise~ Tyler Owens x Fem! Reader

Summary: The curious case of the tornado wranglers, down to earth, girlfriend.

A/n: I just watched Twisters and am in love. Right now Sunrise by Ryan Bingham is my favorite song so here’s a little one shot inspired by it.

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Everyone’s called you crazy ever since you were born. The people in your small Texas town said you were the wild child, your parents had four boys and when their baby girl came around, she had a mean streak just like her brothers. Ten years old and standing in an empty corn field, looking at the thunder heads forming above you, hot and muggy air gusting against your skin, the crack of thunder didn’t scare you, you were utterly curious and amazed. You’ve known storms since you were a babe, you remember the shrill sound of the sirens going off and your mama screaming for you to come inside. Your family was in a panic, you remember your daddy letting the horses loose and the way the cattle ran. That funnel touched down and prayers were prayed, you watched from the bathroom window despite the way your mama dragged you away.

It was beautiful, so utterly terrifying in the distance, a force of straight power.

You were hooked.

Telling your parents you were going to the University of Arkansas to study meteorology was a good idea in theory until they told you becoming a weather girl was a sweet job.

You told them about storm chasing and your mama almost had a stroke.

But you’ve worried everyone your whole life, only you would choose something so crazy.

You met Tyler your sophomore year when you had the same class, your energetic personality hid the fact you were a nerdy kind of cowgirl. The two of you quickly became best friends, despite his cocky personality. You formed a dare devil connection, you were the call he made when he got a lead on something.

Graduation came and you said you were going back home, he hated that idea.

“Come with me.” He said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere, everywhere.”

It’s hard to say no to a man with puppy dog eyes.

Somewhere between gathering a crew up from all over the boons and adopting a one eyed dog you found stranded after a storm in Little Rock, the two of you fell so deep for each other, it hit harder than any storm you experienced.

Here you are now in Oklahoma, cutting through fields in Tyler’s red Ram truck. “Lilly, talk to me.” You call over the radio system on the dash, looking for what data the girl in the vehicle following has. In the backseat, Boone, the right hand man, is recording like always, talking to the followers.

“Welcome back guys, we’re currently back at it again in the Oklahoma plains. This beauty we’re going into is gaining speed, turning into something good. What are we thinking, Tex?”

You look to the camera and smile. “You know, I’d like to call this an easy F2 but the strong updraft we’re getting here could push this baby into the F3 category.”

Also from the back seat, Ben, the London journalist asks to explain what you just said.

The rain cap starts and muddies the earth, the truck drifts as Tyler maneuvers it greatly. You pull your sunglasses off and lean forward to get a better look at what you’re driving into.

“What are you thinking, darlin’?” Tyler asks, seeing the way you evaluate the area.

“Take a left, it ain’t gonna hit the tree line, see the way the wind shifted?” You instruct.

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, giving you one of his perfect grins before making a sharp left.

Ben makes a sort of strangled cry of fear as he gets tossed around in the back. You, completely nonchalant, chewing on a Red Vine, turn to look at the Brit.

“Ben, baby, how you feeling back there?” You ask, pointing something else out to Tyler.

“Oh I’m bloody great.” He lies before getting knocked into the door again. You laugh. “Man, I love this guy.” You declare, finding him so amusing. “Let’s keep him, Ty.”

He rolls his eyes at you, making you scoff. You look at the dog in your lap who’s wearing a tiny helmet with the words ‘Killa’ written across the front. “What you think, Rocky? You wanna keep Ben?”

The dog lays his head down and places his paw over his small snout.

“Rude. Ty, Rock used to agree to everything I say, now you’ve done gone and brain washed him. Poor fella.” You pout before yelping in surprise at the way Tyler drifts into a spot. He grips the radio, calling for the convoy to assume their positions.

“Sorry, I’m no expert but it looks like the twister is going to roll right over us.” Ben says as everyone buckles their harnesses.

“You’re exactly right Benny boy.” You say, opening the center console and placing Rocky inside his designated safety seat. “We need to be in its path so the data bugs we’ll launch have enough wind speed to reach the height needed. Put your harness on and you’ll be about as secure as a pistol in a PTA Mama’s purse.”

Ben looks to Boone in question. Boone just shrugs. “At some point you get used to all the odd shit she says.”

Tyler cranks the E brake, then looks at you with a smirk. “You wanna touch my joystick?” He ask, motioning to the control stick that has the button to activate the drills that will anchor the truck into the ground.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” You scrunch your nose, pushing the button.

The truck is secured, you’re all buckled in tight, now you have to focus on when it’s the perfect time to launch the processors. Things are blowing against the windows, Tyler’s laughing and Boone is howling into the camera, showing the viewers what they see.

“Tell me when.” Tyler says, and as thick water drops pummel the windshield, you stay silent, waiting…watching.

“Now!” You shout and he presses the button that activates the hydraulic opening lid to the tub in the truck bed, the small bug sensors fly out and are carried up into the funnel that is passing over you.

“Breaker breaker, what are we seeing?” You call into the radio, Dexter in the caravan off in the clearing responds. “We got eyes, Tex. Data is coming in clear.”

You shoot your arms up in victory, this was the first time you were launching the 2.0 sensors. “There we go!” You look directly into the camera Boone is pointing at you. “You see that kids? I still got it.”

You watch the storm pass you, the funnel goes into the distance and the winds calm a bit as you unbuckle your harness. You’re pulling the pup from its safety and throwing open the door, running to the spot it just was.

“Whoo!” You hear Tyler whoop, and you throw that snapback hat of his you were wearing, adrenaline pumping through you. He sweeps you into his large arms, twirling you around. “Did you see that, baby? God, that was beautiful.” He laughs and you pull on the brim of his cowboy hat. “I sure did, let’s go get those bugs before we lose their signals, cowboy.”

Later as you set up camp in some cheap motel, Ben is approaching Lilly and Boone with questions.

“I need a story about the girl, uh Tex? Does she have a name?” He settles into one of the fold out chairs and motions to you sitting on the roof of the truck, looking up at the stars and listening to the music playing on the radio.

Lilly chuckles and then makes an adjustment to her drone. “She does, but she’d kill you if she found out you was using her government name in your fancy paper.”

Ben finds that interesting, he writes a few notes about a very mysterious persona you have. “How long has she been in this business? I tried to ask her some questions but she shushed me and told me she was ‘meditating to a Childers song’ and it was very important that she did this.”

Boone shakes his head. “She says confusing stuff to make people go away when she wants her peace.” He explains. “Tex is the original, her and T were the ones to assemble the squad of us, they taught me everything I know. She might be crazier than he is if I’m bein’ honest, always pushing the limits but every move she makes is calculated.”

Lilly agrees. “She’s my best friend, but has always been a curious case. She comes from Texas, hence the nickname and the accent that gets too thick when she’s drunk. Mama wanted her to be this Southern belle but she turned out to be a real wrangler. She’s the smartest person I know, but has a very relaxed way about her.”

“Who?” Dexter asks as he passes by.

“Tex.” They answer.

He shakes his head. “That girl’s a tree hugging loon.”

Ben quickly comes to know the dynamic of you and Tyler. There is no home but each other, you make the best of every situation because you are together. Two pairs of cowboy boots and wide eyes, that’s what you two are.

“I’d compare her to like…a coyote.” Lilly determines. “She’s the perfect balance of wisdom and foolishness, always willing to make light of situations. One time, we were tracking a desert storm in New Mexico and we were camping in our trucks, it was hot, all our leads were gone and we’re ready to turn back. The sunrise comes and it’s prettiest thing I ever seen, we wake up to just a color spill of orange and pink. We open our doors up and Tex is out there dancing in a sports bra and boxers.”

Boone leans back in his chair, laughing at the memory. “Man, we thought she finally lost it, that being with Tyler for so long finally made her go off the rails. T is standing there, watching her, asking what the hell she was doing and she claims she was doing a rain dance.” He says, making Ben chuckle to himself.

Lilly lights a cigarette and rolls her eyes. “She was out there shaking her ass.”

“You fucking joined her!” Boone argues, taking the cigarette from her.

“Well yeah, you don’t let your best friend dance alone. And what happened that day? The rain came and the biggest thunderheads I had ever seen blew in. The lightning was beautiful, Ben, you shoulda been there.”

New Mexico rain was a memory you thought of often, it just felt a little fresher. Blame it on the heat you were dying of or the thirsty land you stood on, but you stood out in it, getting soaked to the bone and then fell into Tyler’s arms.

Now, far away in Oklahoma, Tyler stands looking up at you soaking in the moonlight. “Come down from there.” He calls. You lean over the edge of the roof and look at him. “Why don’t you come up here?” You challenge.

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m tired, darlin’. Let me take you inside.”

You look back up at the stars, then slide from the top of the truck, making him reach out and catch you. “Alright, take me to bed you old man.”

He shakes his head at your comment. It’s hard to resist anymore, you just looked so gorgeous underneath the moonlight. He leans to kiss you, nothing too deep but still of passion because he loves tasting the sugar of your lips, you were always so sweet that it made his head cloudy.

Arm around your shoulders, yours around his waist, the two of you say goodnight to your friends and head to your motel room, Rocky trotting after you. The lock on the door is hard to budge open, the room has a sort of stale smell.

As Tyler is distracted by setting up a bed for the dog, you grab your things from your duffel. “Dibs in the bathroom.” You shout before making a run for it. Tyler groans and tries to beat you, but you stand in the doorway, sticking your tongue out at him. “You just gotta be faster.” You tease before shutting the door in his face.

The low bulb light casts a hazy orange glow to everything, you start the shower and find it to have weak water pressure. Your clothes make a pile on the floor and soon the air steams up.

Your muscles relax as you wash off, you let out a small groan at your fingers scrubbing your scalp. The sound of the shower curtain being pulled back and Tyler stepping in behind you makes you turn. “I haven’t even been in here that long.”

He shrugs, then moves to hog the water. “I got impatient.”

After being with someone for so long and sharing everything, nothing really fazes you. The crew jokes that you and Tyler could probably morph into one body at this point.

By the time the two of you are mostly rinsed off, he’s getting handsy. His fingers trace over your handful of tattoos, wet skin sliding across you in a feverish way. You lean your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him. “Ty…”

He looks down you was an innocent smile. “Oh come on, we’ve been traveling with people for too long. We get one night without Boone gagging when I kiss you.” He says, then leans his head down, nuzzling into your neck.

You bite your lip at the feeling, your arm coming up to run your hand through his hair. “Who’s in the room next to us? These walls are thin.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.” He mumbles, hand slipping far past your navel, earning a loud gasp from you.

You lean your weight back against him, nodding feverishly as his fingers do wonders to an aching spot between your legs. “Okay, not having Boone around is really good.” You breathe.

He’s practically holding you up, his other arm is around you, holding you to his chest while he makes you fall apart.

It didn’t matter that the room hasn’t been updated since the 80’s or that the mattress groaned under the weight of the two of you or that Rocky runs and hides, the two of you were savoring this alone time because you didn’t know when the next time would be when you got it.

You’re laughing, making out and switching positions. The feel of his hand running past the valley of your breasts and giving your throat the lightest grip, it makes you feel on fire. The headboard’s getting knocked into the wall, you’re breathlessly whining and he’s loving every reaction you give him. By the time you’re gripping his shoulders so tight and his name is sounding broken as it cuts from your throat, he’s barely holding himself up.

The air conditioning makes an odd hum sound as you lay against him, skin on skin. You never understood how people could get bored of sex after being with someone for a while, having sex with Tyler Owens was hotter than west Texas in the Summer.

Well, the first time was a little awkward. Most people don’t establish they love each other before they sleep with each other, but you guys did. When you sat in his lap, lips slotted against his, you had to fight to push the idea out of your mind that you were grinding against your best friend. Everything was slow and every touch was unsure, after it ended you were scared that the relationship dynamic would never work if this was how sex was together.

You laugh now, thinking about it.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, fingers tracing the long horn skull that is tramp stamped on you.

“I’m just remembering the first time we had sex.” You shake with amusement. He groans. “You have to stop bringing that up.”

Pushing up from his chest, the blanket falls off of you. He watches in amazement as you swing your leg over his waist, your hands planted on his chest. “I think it’s cute, we were just babies.”

“Yeah, sometimes I miss the days where I didn’t know how insane you were.”

You glare, immediately going to move off of him before his grip yanks you back to your spot.

“I’m kidding, I always knew you were crazy.” He says.

“You love it.” You lean over him, and his hand comes to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “You know I do, darlin’.”

Falling asleep was easy, you could fall asleep anywhere, but in a bed with Tyler holding you to his chest, it had you dreaming in seconds. You wake before he does, slowly sliding away to get dressed. You stand at the balcony outside, a cup of coffee in your hand as you watch the sunrise. After a few moments of peace, the door behind you opens and out comes your lover boy.

“No rain dance this morning?” He asks, kissing the top of your head.

“There’s plenty of rain in Oklahoma, they don’t need me to shake my ass in the parking lot for it to come.” You state, leaning down to pick up Rocky who trailed out after Tyler.

The two- well, three of you, look out at the horizon line, the air is already getting hot.

“You ready?” He asks you, and you turn to kiss his jaw. “I’m always ready.”

[1kook]

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v  wc; 4.6k 

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍���‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[ericspinkhair]

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

[nightowlfandom]

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Reader- 27 (Part 2)

Hey beautiful people! SOOOO I got a comment on my last Scream imagine and they said...

ok but like a part 2 where we go picking them all off one by one and tell them what happened to (y/n) before we end them? and the revenge on the parents for it too? make them feel sorry for what they did and expose them to everyone. I mean not forcing but lightly tapping an idea

and....I AM IN LOVE...SO I GOT YOU BRAH 

READ PART 1?

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Okay so you know the drill, I will let you know when to proceed with caution.

LEGGO!

... (Picking up directly after the events of part 1)

“...My parents weren’t the most loving people around.” you stared down at your fingertips. “They were overbearing...very controlling...loved to gaslight me from time to time.” you felt a lump form in your throat. “After the Hanna thing, they tried to sent me to boarding school.”

You three sat in Stu’s basement. You sat cross-legged on the floor and Stu and Billy cleaned up the dead body. Stu had given you a rag to wipe the blood off your face and hands. 

“A while back before we all met...my parents weren’t too bad. Then Hanna came along and decided to ruin that for me too. She and her friends dragged me into the woods and beat me up...I was bleeding out everywhere...she told my parents I attacked her...she told them that I-..That I tried to kill her.” you shook your head. “My parents never looked at me the same...like they disowned me without saying they did.” you sniffed.

“What about the others?” Billy ceased his activities to stare at you. He was impressed how well you seemed to be taking everything. 

“ Dylan leaked my friend’s nudes, Jennifer is Hanna’s slave...she was Hanna Number 2 when she couldn’t torture anyone else. Rachel....I just hate Rachel, and Cameron...is my ex.” you explained. “There are others...many others.” you seethed. 

“And we’ll get to all of them.” Stu finished his job of tying Hanna’s legs together. “But first...how do you feel?”

“Like I just killed someone.” you half-joked, bringing your knees to your chest. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“We didn’t want to scare you.” Billy reminded you. “We know how you are Y/N.”

“Still.” you pouted. “It would have been nice to know that you two were behind all this.” you stared at the floor. “Why didn’t you guys...y’know-”

“We wanted to...” Billy dusted himself off. “We tried...then you just had to charm us with that smile of yours.” he bit his lip as he smiled at the thought. “You just had to go and be adorable.”

There he was, standing with Stu hunched over a notebook of possible victims. They had agreed you’d be next, they really did. They had introduced themselves to you and gained your trust, but along the way, your kindness, your willingness to be so vulnerable around then...accepting them (especially Billy) for their flaws, they couldn’t...they wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” you asked, standing to your feet. 

“Not unless you know a place to dump this body.” Billy replied. 

“There’s a lake behind Hanna’s house...” you recalled. “I saw it when my parents used to go over there for dinner.”

“Great!” Stu skipped over and took you in a hug. “So who do you wanna get first?”

“Me? You’re letting me choose?” you stared up at Stu who swore up and down you looked the most adorable you ever have, if that was even possible. 

“This is your list, isn’t it?” Billy casually strode over. He tilted your chin up at him. “Just let us take care of it.”

“...Dylan first.” you concluded. “It’s for my friend...he has to go.” you asserted. 

“As you wish princess.” 

...(The Next Day)

   You trudged away from your parent’s car, doing your usual habits of ignoring them as they saw you off. You saw Billy and Stu waiting for you on some benches. They glared behind you, obviously getting a good look of your parents. 

“Hey cutie.” Stu threw himself at you, hugging you super tight. “How’d you sleep?”

“Shitty...” you mumbled. “Guess who just caught word of Hannas’s...untimely demise.”

“Serves the bitch right.” Billy flicked his middle finger at your parents as they drove off. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dylan throwing around a football with his friends. His gaze darted in your direction. He looked surprised to see you and Stu so close, so much so that he hesitated to throw the ball back to his friends. “Hey asshole, you got your turn. Hand her over.” Billy flicked Stu on the head as he pulled your out of Stu’s embrace.

“Oh you’re no fun.” Stu laughed, waving him off. Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest and gingerly trailing his fingers down your back. 

“Hey Y/N...” 

You paused your momentary happy moment when Dylan came jogging up. You pulled away from Billy and faced your friend’s ex-boyfriend. “What?”

“Um...Hey.” he did that douche-bag hair flip. “What’s up?”

“I’m just spectacular.” you grimaced. He was really talking to you like he wasn’t the reason your only other friend switched schools. “Need something?”

“Yeah. I wanted to invite you to my party tonight.”

‘I’d rather-” you began, only to realize the mega opportunity you’d receive. 

“Are your other friends coming?” you shifted all your weight to one side and pretended to absentmindedly twirl your hair. 

“Um...Y-yeah.” he nodded.

“Can my friends come?” you acted oblivious and dumb, the only language he and his friends seemed to understand when it came to women.

“Sure. They can come join the fun.” he winked. “Tonight, 8:00 o’clock.”

“Splendid, you winked. I’ll be there.” 

As Dylan returned to his friends, all of them laughing about the joke they thought you didn’t understand, Billy and Stu stood at your sides.

“You’re killer is showing, love.” Stu kissed the side of your head. “Easy now.” he laughed, even though he knew he was talking complete bullshit.

“I’m gonna have so much fun slitting that one’s throat.” Billy pointed to Rachel. “This is gonna be awesome.”

...(That Night)

You had managed to make it a few hours. Without completely losing your mind. Billy had taken it upon himself to put up him brooding angst-filled sadboi attitude and Stu showed up in his honorary pimp robe. 

Now you all were sitting in a circle, playing stupid games.

“Y/N...truth or dare?” Jennifer called on you next, noticing how quiet you had been.

“Kiss, Fuck, Or Kill. Stu Macher, Cameron Kent, and Dylan Bayle.”

With a bored grin, you looked her right in the eye. She dared you to say you would fuck her boyfriend, little does she know...

“I guess I’d have to kiss Cameron...” you began warmly, recalling how you two used to date. Gross... “And as much as I love pissing you off...I wouldn’t touch Dylan with a ten foot pole...so I’d have sex with Stu.”

A few wolf whistles from the guy chorused around the circle as a few guys pat Stu on the back. Your eyes looked over at Stu whose cheeks were tinted pink. He shot you a smile and a quick wink.

“And you know what that leaves?...I’d kill Dylan.” you smirked, only to put on a front again. Before anyone could say anything else, you all heard a phone ring. Coincidentally, the phone was right next to you. 

“Y/N, get that will you. Put it on speaker.”

“I got you.” you grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” you replied.

“I dunno...”

“Sure buddy.” you rolled your eyes as you hung up.

“Okay! Dylan!” Rachel drunkenly asked. “Truth or Dare!”

“Dare baby!” Dylan laughed.

“I dare you to go into the bedroom with Y/N and do something with her!” she laughed. “You can’t leave until you do something!”

“Did anyone ask my opinion on this?” you felt disgusted as the words left your mouth. How much longer were you gonna have to put up with this? “Stu, help me out!” 

“A dare’s a dare, babe.” he laughed as he took another swig of whatever. 

“Ugh!!” you grimaced as you stood up and followed Dylan. You made sure to lightly bump your shoulder against Stu’s as you walked. You two looked eyes momentarily, sharing a discrete smirk between eachother.

The door closed behind you. (PROCEED WITH CAUTION! READ MORE BELOW THE LINE BREAK)

...

You stood there, playing with your fingers as Dylan came up to you.

“You know Y/N...I’ve always liked you.”

“Oh really?” you asked shyly. “W-well why didn’t you tell me?” you half giggled half gagged.

“I couldn’t find the right words.” he reached out to touch your cheek.

Meanwhile downstairs, everyone laughed at the hidden camera footage they were watching. They couldn’t wait to post this to the school’s website. 

“Oh my god!” you screamed at you pointed behind Dylan. Everyone watched as a dark hooded figure creeped up behind Dylan and grabbed him buy the back of his head, digging a knife into his shoulder. Then he charged for you, stabbing you in the stomach...slowly but surely he creeped up to the camera, looking directly at it. “Nuh uh uh~” he sang before he punched the camera, causing the signal to break.

This caused everyone to scream bloody murder and attempted to scream.

Back in the bedroom, you had managed to hear the screaming. “Can I get up now?” you rolled over. “Pretending to die is so weird.”

“Allow me.” Billy walked over and helped you to your feet, ridding himself of his Ghostface mask. “You look good covered in fake blood.”

“Do I?” you fake pouted. Billy didn’t answer and instead kissed you. He held your face in his hands, gently moving his soft lips against yours. He would have went crazy is Dylan managed to get that far. He was glad that he could finally show how he felt about you in a personal way. 

“You do.” he bit his lip as he pulled away.

“W-what the fuck?!” Dylan, who was very much alive looked between you two. “You’re in on this.”

“Oh shut up!” you grabbed Billy’s knife and walked up to him. “Kyla Grayson, who is she?”

“Kyla Grayson?”

“ARE YOU AN ECHO?” you snapped. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know! I swear!” he tried to cower away from you.

“You don’t remember showing private pictures of a young impressionable freshman to your fucking friends?” you glared. “She trusted you...she liked you a lot...and because of you she had to move to a different county.” you raised the knife over your head. “Any last words?”

“SURPRISE!” Stu burst through the door, also dawning a Ghostface getup, only without the voice changer. He was dragging Jennifer and Rachel by the hair.

“You’re just in time for the show.” you said, not looking up from Dylan. 

“Y/N...y-you’re-”

“Don’t talk.” you kept your eyes on Dylan. “I’ll get to you soon.”

(Part 3 will be revenge against your parents)

[onceupona-chaos]

Feathers and dawn

Day 15 of Elriel month/ Explosion of power

The half-wraith gave her friend a feral grin, white teeth flashing against her dark skin, and said quietly in her midnight voice, “Stealthy as a doe.”

Elain matched Nuala’s smile, sending a thrill down Azriel’s spine. “Fierce as a wolf.”

Word count:  3838

Warnings: Language

Disclaimer: This was a huge challenge for me, because English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Part II is coming out on day 18 (I think). Be kind!

“ELAIN!”

Azriel was kneeling on the ground, panting through gritted teeth as he tried not to succumb to that invisible force covering him like a heavy blanket. Whatever spells and wards casted upon that place were draining his magic little by little as if he had been hit by several ash arrows - only ten times worse. 

Even with the cold rain soaking him, the raindrops like ice needles against his skin and wings, he managed to fix his eyes on the cave, scanning and scanning through the dark dots that were beginning to form, trying to see something, anything. 

But the cave was as dark as the sky above him. A never ending darkness that seemed to swallow any blue light from his almost drained Siphons.

His shadows detected nothing. Not a whisper, not a move, no sign of her. 

After Elain had disappeared inside the Cave and his shadows couldn't get a reading, he had immediately sent Nuala to get Rhysand whilst he tried to find a way in. But he couldn't pass the wards just like his shadows couldn't sense her.

When a female scream echoed from inside the cave, Azriel couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Pure, clear panic was all he knew.

When he had been summoned to the river house in the morning, not in his five hundred years he’d expected it to turn out like this. 

 Shit. Shit.

________________

Azriel hadn't been able to sleep for more than a few hours, and even so dreams and nightmares made him roll in his bed the entire time. He’d  been awake for hours, staring at the two Solstice gifts he’d got from her when dawn came. And with it, Rhys’ orders. 

He made a point not to arrive earlier than he needed, so he wouldn’t be - couldn't be -  in the same place as her longer than necessary. Keeping his distance when he wasn't at the river house was torture enough, but being in the same house and still feel as if they were at opposite edges of the same abyss…  

And yet when Azriel landed outside the river house, his shadows quickly whispered in his ear that Rhysand wasn't alone in his studio. 

The warning did nothing to stop his body from stiffen when he stepped through the door, the illusion of a meeting only between him and his brother quickly dissipating, and his eyes shot straight to the window - and there she was.

He didn't know if it was the lilac dress or the sunlight casting through the window, but her eyes were almost the color of pure honey. But something was off, her usually open expression was stark and hard, and then he noticed the pallidness on that beautiful face and the faint black bruises under her eyes. Even though he knew his face was the portrait of boredom, his shadows swarmed him, sensing his unease.

Azriel made his eyes move to where Amren was sitting crossed-legged, her petite body almost hidden beneath a white fur coat. Feyre cradling Nyx in her arms was sitting next to Rhysand, the baby soundly asleep, warm against his mother's chest. 

Azriel looked back to where Elain was, her shoulders tensing a bit as if she could sense his gaze on her even when she was peering through  the window, and he knew she was deliberately avoiding looking at him. It was only a stolen glimpse from his part - Azriel was well aware of Rhysand's violet eyes on him, almost daring him to disobey his orders. 

Azriel made the boiling rage cool down, kept his face carefully blank, his mask of cool boredom still in place whilst he faced his brother, lifting an eyebrow in question. 

Amren, on the other hand, didn’t bother to mask her impatience. “We’re waiting, Rhysand.”

The High Lord of The Night Court nodded to Elain, and Azriel felt his body stiffened once again. Rhysand announced, "It looks like we have another Made object to worry about.”

Silence.

Azriel’s blood went cold in his veins. He asked quietly, "How would you know?"

Elain didn't give many details. But she emphasized it was more of a sense than a normal vision, as if she could smell a storm coming but the skies remained clear. As if she could hear an ancient whisper in the wind. She wasn't sure what it was until last night - when  something long forgotten had presented itself in a dream. Azriel was well aware of what kind of objects could call for someone like that.

“What is this object?” Feyre asked.

Elain replied, “I… I can’t See what it is.” Azriel tracked the way she swallowed. “It’s veiled in shadows. Hidden among the silence itself."

Nodding more to herself, Amren said, "Whatever this is, it wants to be found at last.” She narrowed her eyes at Elain’s direction. "It's calling for you, girl."

Azriel's shadows gathered even closer, sensing his concern. He remembered of Oorid, how Nesta’s body shook after she retrieved The Mask. For Elain to be exposed to the same danger…

And yet, he couldn’t - wouldn’t interfere. He knew how much each choice Elain got to make was precious to her. She’d told him that herself on one of those nights in front of the fireplace. Her eyes had been filled with a mix of sadness and hope as if she still could feel her own choices slipping through her fingers as if they were grains of sand. 

He had only stared at her back then, imagining how it had been like for her going into the Cauldron - and then spending months trapped in her own visions to the point she couldn't tell dreams and reality apart. So he'd kept silent, let his understanding rise to the surface so she could see it and watched as her body relaxed under his gaze.

So different from now when she looked in every direction except his as she watched the harsh argument, Amren insisting vigorously that Elain should go look for the object. 

That explained why Nesta wasn't there, why Rhysand hadn't asked him to fly her down.

Whilst Cassian was in Illyria for an inspection of the aerial legions, the priestesses had recently received another female. Nesta didn't so much hesitate in wanting to help her the way she could and have been spending more time than usual at the library. But not to tell her, to keep this away from her… 

"Does Nesta know about this?", Azriel cut in.

"She would take this task for herself." Rhysand didn't even bother to look guilty. "And if it's calling for Elain, we can't risk sending anyone else, even if she chooses not to go. It could end very badly."  

"Maybe Nesta would be right to hesitate to send Elain,"  Azriel argued back, violet eyes narrowing. "Either way, that doesn't justify not telling her."

Feyre was glaring at her mate, undoubtedly saying something in his head, as if they had that discussion before. Many times. 

But before she could say anything out loud, Amren cut in, "It's not calling for Nesta, boy."

Azriel's voice was cold as ice. "Do not forget that we already kept information from her before." 

Amren didn’t even have time to open her mouth - to disagree or snarl, Azriel didn't know - before Elain stood up from her seat at the window, "That’s enough."

They all twisted toward her, brows raised. The only sound in the room now was the soft rustle of Nyx delicate wings.

Elain looked at Rhys, eyes sharp but voice even. "You of all people should know what it is like to want to protect those who you love and that is no excuse for keeping things from Nesta." Sadness coated her expression. “Not again, Rhys.” 

This time, Rhys had the decency to look at least guilty. Ferey intervened, "I'll tell her this afternoon. I want Cassian there, too."

Elain nodded. "I'm not a child for anyone to decide for me. If it's calling for me, I won’t run away.” She said squaring her shoulders, never looking away from her older sister, who was just about to say something. "And I am not asking for permission." 

And her posture, her words, her tone were so fierce, those large caramel-brown eyes flickering while she studied them all and Azriel knew that she’d do whatever was necessary to help this court. 

A  reminder that the Archeron sisters were forged by the same fire.

Azriel's chest ached with pride - and terror. Terror for her. But he pushed aside those instincts that were screaming to keep her safe, to not let her near any danger, and asked at last, "Then how do we find it?"

_________________

In a matter of minutes, Elain was sitting before a map, her eyes shifting beneath her lids as if she could See the entire world. Everyone was watching her as she searched for the right place, the one that appeared in her dreams - so Azriel used the moment to admire her.

Beautiful. She was so beautiful, he could admire her for the rest of his days in the same way he looked at the rising sun.

Elain’s hand hovered over that map, the creamy, soft skin marked by small scars, her delicate fingers were calloused, no doubt from her gardening. She cocked her head, as if listening to those whispering to find the right path. Azriel could’ve sworn the room was getting warmer.

She let a finger down and opened her eyes. For a second it looked like a faint golden glow shone behind the familiar brown, just like one could see the faelights behind a piece of glass, but then Elain blinked a few times -  and it faded away.

 "Here," she said.

Feyre sighted deeply as she cupped Nyx’s head as if she could protect him from her very words. "Of course it's in the Middle."

______________________

Nuala didn't ask any questions. She'd only showed up in the afternoon as they had agreed, passing right through the wall. Elain appeared a second later, opening the door and almost scrambling Azriel's brain cells to the point of uselessness. 

Her hair was braided behind her head, a blue surcoat, similar to the one she wore in the war, reached the middle of her thighs. It wasn’t Illyrian leathers, but the slits in the lower part of the surcoat  combined with her leather pants did absolutely nothing to hide her curves and the color made her skin look almost golden.

His shadows brightened as if to let him see all of her more clearly. He knew he was staring, that he should say something about them going somewhere, but he couldn't even remember his words. When Feyre had suggested he accompany Elain, he’d made his best to not look at Rhys, to just naturally nod in agreement. 

Rhysand wouldn't say a word about Solstice. Not in front of Feyre, that is.

But that didn't stop his High Lord to make Nuala play chaperone with a bullshit excuse that her gifts might end up being useful in the place they were heading to and her friendship with Elain could help. 

The message was crystal clear.

Azriel's eyes dropped without his acknowledgement to her lips, those sweet lips he had been so close to taste. He heard someone coughing, but his mind didn’t register the sound.

When he finally realized he was staring, he quickly snapped his eyes to hold her gaze. Despite the faint pink coloring her cheeks, a flicker of amusement sparkled in Elain’s expression.

Behind him, someone cleared their throat. 

Azriel ignored the smirk curving Feyre’s lips just like he ignored Nuala’s amusement, trying his best to contain the heat spreading across his cheeks at the thought of them watching the staring contest between the two of them.

Finally Nuala decided to put him out of his misery and asked, "Shall we?".

________________

By the time the swirl of shadows disappeared, Azriel was half distracted by the feeling of Elain's small hand in his. But the moment Azriel was able to have a good look at the place before them, he felt the hair on his arms rose. 

A deep forest was revealed, huge, gigantic trees side by side, making him feel the same size as Amren. Nuala let go of his other hand and almost unconsciously he tightened his grip on Elain's as she looked wild-eyed at the view before them.

As if one could call it that.

Where the forest should be rejoicing with life, there was none. Not a single leaf remained in those trees, the naked branches curling above the small, meandering trail like black claws. There wasn't a single animal or insect anywhere beneath the dark gray sky, making the atmosphere grievously melancholic. 

No light, no life. A place of utter sadness, as silent as Death.

"I've seen worse." Nuala's midnight voice was almost a whisper, but still reverberated like a thunder in that deadly silence, her attempt of being playful covered by the tenseness in her tone.

Azriel studied Elain, who swallowed before saying, "Me too." Her face was cautious, tight. She cocked her head as if heading some inner voice.

He asked, "Can you See where it is?"

She gently let go of his hand, blushing a little as if she had just realized they were still touching. "No, not See it" She said, scanning the forest. "But I can hear it."

"The shadows don't hear anything," Nuala said, moving to be at Elain’s side. “Do you remember what we discussed?”

Elain nodded.

“Once we enter the forest, watch your steps and try to walk toe to heels most of the time. Listen carefully to our breathing,” Nuala said, gesturing to her and then Azriel, who was watching the scene with raised brows. “And match yours with it always. Be as quiet as you can.” 

To his surprise, Elain just lifted a brow at the command in Nuala’s tone, who gave her a Look. “I’m serious, if you can help it, do not make a sound in this place.” The half-wraith gave her friend a feral grin, white teeths flashing against her dark skin and said quietly in her midnight voice, “Stealthy as a doe.”

Elain matched Nuala’s smile, sending a thrill down Azriel’s spine. “Fierce as a wolf.”

And then they walk right into The Silent Forest, living an almost dumbfounded Azriel behind.

_________________

They had been walking for what it felt like hours now. 

Even with his five hundred years worth of daily training, Azriel could feel his strength being drained slowly as if a heavy hand was pushing them back. With every step he took, it was like the forest itself, every single inch of that damn forest, didn’t want them there.

He kept his wings tucked in tight while eyeing their surroundings, once or twice he saw what seemed a glimpse of eyes watching them. The children of The Silent Forest. He could only pray for them to get the hell out of that place before sunset. 

Nuala seemed just as uncomfortable. Shadows gathered around her like a veil of darkness as if they could shield her from that invisible force, even though she was holding Elain’s hand now. 

Elain, who did not balk. She just kept walking, stopping sometimes along the way, her head cocked as if she could hear an inner voice luring her into the right direction until, at some point, Elain left the small forest trail to venture in an invisible path between the trees. 

More than once Nuala looked at Elain and smirked, causing a blush to spread across Elain’s pale cheeks.  

Despite the circumstances why Nuala was there, Azriel was grateful for the female attempts to distract Elain from her visible, growing tension. So he kept a few steps behind, offering the two females some privacy.  And when the temptation of using his shadows to know the cause of that blush crossed his mind, which was every five minutes, he pushed it aside and tried to focus on the surroundings or on the infinity, dark sky above them. With the sun almost down, the charged clouds waltzing through it in a promise of desolation.

They kept walking against that invisible force, almost unbearable now until… there. Azriel stiffened.

Deep in the forest, where the darkness seemed to unfold out of it, the entrance into a cave opened as if it was a path to another world, one made of Darkness and nothing more.  

Azriel’s shadows whispered to not go further. 

Nuala seemed to sense the same thing. "It feels… so wrong.” Her voice was quiet, but it seemed to be swallowed by the cave as if it was greedy to devour any sound, any light. 

“Strange,” Elain whispered back, brows furrowing. “It doesn’t feel like that to me.”

Azriel looked once again at the sky. They didn’t have much more time before night - and the beasts - came. He was almost suggesting to turn around, maybe they could convince Rhysand to come along. 

"I’ll be right back."

It took a moment to her words sink in, to Azriel make sense of what had just come out of Elain’s mouth. Elain, who was already moving. Elain, who was already walking towards the cave, getting closer with each step. 

Azriel moved out of sheer instinct, rushing forward to grab her hand, but again that damn force was pushing him back now. He flared his wings, trying to find some balance to keep going. "Elain," he snarled. 

She paused right before the entrance and looked back at him,  "I can hear its calling, it won't hurt me.”

Azriel was breathing hard, so lost on his mind that he didn’t realize the rain soaking him. He didn't like that one bit. He wanted to reach her, put his arms around her and shot to the skies. But he only unsheathed Truth-Teller and offered it to her. Elain bit her lip and walked back.  

He pressed his dagger to her hands, their eyes meeting - just like he had done once. Elain didn't hesitate this time. “Just…” He took his hand, trying to find the words. And there were so many words. “Come back," he said at last. A request and a prayer.

Elain squeezed his fingers and looked at Nuala before turning around. Azriel tracked every breath, every movement she made. His shadows speared toward the cave, watching over Elain, until darkness swallowed her. 

He was still monitoring her through his shadows, Nuala by his side. None of them dared to speak - not that he wanted to. Nuala worked as his spy long enough to know he kept to himself. His shadows were still curling around his neck to whisper in his ear.

Then, they became silent. As silent as they could be as they lost Elain’s track.

The screams came not long after she disappeared. 

______________________

"ELAIN!"

The female scream was still echoing in Azriel’s ears, his own panic was a fog he couldn't see through. He tried to use his Shiphons, but whatever twisted magic ruling that place, it could not be affected. 

And Elain was there somewhere. 

So Azriel lunged forward  - to be pushed back by that invisible form. He felt a tentacle of darkness grab him, sinking its talons deep in his very bones, sucking on his killing power.

He turned to Nuala, who was trying to summon her own shadows, to see beyond the darkness. “Go back, right now and bring Rhysand.” Her face drained of color. “Now, Nuala.”

“I won’t leave her.”

“That’s an order," he snarled.  

She looked back at the cave, before assuming her shadowy form and ran back, passing directly through the trees in her way. 

Fuck. Seven Shiphons never felt so powerless. He could only imagine what the hell was happening, ancient spells and wards, casted by god knows what kind of creatures and now Elain - Elain - was there and -

Think. He needed to try to calm the hell down and think. He was always planning, always calculating, that was his fucking job.

But he couldn’t think. Those talons thigned, more and more. He felt his magic leaving him slowly.

And then everything stopped.

When he  looked through the raindrops once more to the cave, - 

Elain’s head broke the darkness first. A solemn expression printed on her beautiful face and her eyes... they glowed. Nothing like Nesta’s silver fire, nothing like Amren’s once were, but gone was the familiar chocolate brown that Azriel had lost himself in it more times he could count, replaced by a light of white and golden. As if the sun itself was behind her skull and, just like that, the air in the forest grew hotter, wave after wave of heat crashing through him, his own strength being restored. He was only half-conscious about the dark forms of beasts older than Darkness who lived there in absolute silence, that now ran from that promise of light.

And in her hands… a small golden orb.

Any trace of that unholy darkness was gone as Elain stepped closer and on her back... the hair on Azriel arms rose, pure awe ran though his body. A pair of beautiful, strong, powerful wings, covered in feathers, each one white as snow, gleaming and glowing as if they have been sewed with golden thread, perfectly matching her otherworldly eyes. They seemed impermeable despite the water running down, like they were covered by a protection layer where drops glittered under starlight, similar to pearls. 

Azriel only stood there, drinking her image and memorizing it as she walked toward him. For she was something from dreams, from tales as old as the forest around them. 

Sweat began to run down his back, between his wings, in great rivers and in that moment she was the sun itself. Her face was sheer power, so luminous that radiated from her, warming the world, and he knew that despite the heavenly glow, she could release hell upon them all with nothing but a blink - no kindness, no mercy whatsoever.

Despite the heat, he did not flinch, did not so much as move. This was different from the fire that gave him his scars, a constant reminder of hate and fear. Whatever that fire was made of, this was something else entirely. 

It was the warmth of firelights on Solstice nights with his family, of spring days when he would sunny his wings. The warmth of Nyx’s laughter, of Elain’s smile. He wanted her closer, wanted to slide his arms around her and let her light cast through him until the darkness of his very soul faded away. For she was light, always have been. And for someone who is lost in the dark, light is salvation. 

Slowly Elain stepped out of the cave. The moment she crossed the dorway, after a few steps, that light dimmed, her wings dropped as if she couldn't sustain its weight any longer. Azriel saw when her hands tightened around the orb, bringing it to her chest. She blinked and every trace of light disappeared, her beautiful face was now mortal - and pale. 

Caramel-brown eyes met hazel ones before rolling back into her head. Azriel only had time to catch Elain in his arms before she could collapse on hard rock.   

[cal-puddies]

caught in between || poly!lashton

idk how many more sexual scenarios i can push, but i am loving on the character and relationship development. @kindahoping4forever​ cheered your girl on as she always does. 

Poly! Lashton: the blow job || daddy’s home || cream pie || take the pleasure, take it with the pain || all at once this is enough || caught in between || take my heart, hit the back || daddy issues || needy || only you know the way that I break || picked all my weeds but kept the flowers

Ash comes home from work early one day, neither you or Luke were expecting him. You just knew he’d been tired a lot and there had been a lot of late nights at the office and him coming in and collapsing in bed with you and Luke. You can only remember one night he spent in his own bed since the three of you had the incredibly intimate night, and that was only because he had zero energy to join you. 

You’d made note and made sure anything you and Luke wanted to do was done before he got home. He seemed to need to be with the two of you, re-energized by the closeness, at least enough to get through another crazy day. 

But he was in high spirits. He grins at you, calls for Luke and collapses with you on the couch. Luke looks confused when he walks in, handing you a sandwich wrapped in a napkin and a bottle of water and sits on the other side of Ash, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

“Babes.” He grins, “big news! Projects done. Which means I have time for a vacation with

My two favorite people in the world.” 

Luke grins wide, “does this also mean we’ll see you at normal times again?” 

“Yes, babe, it does.” 

“I’ve missed you two.” He quickly grabs Lukes face and kisses his cheek and then yours. “I’m gonna change real quick and then we can talk about where we wanna go.”

Luke’s brain is already working for where they can go, he likes the idea of the beach again, because you in a bikini and Ash half naked for basically the entire trip? Hell yeah. But Ash wasn’t usually too keen on long beach trips. Maybe they could do Vegas though, Luke did love the night life. 

Ash comes back, black athletic shorts only, “any thoughts babes?” He asks, sitting back between you. 

“I liked the beach house.” You pipe up. 

“The beach house was fun.” Ash agrees, “but I’d like to take you two somewhere else.” He drapes his arm across your shoulders. “Vegas?” Ash asks, looking at Luke like he could read his mind. 

“Eh.. I dunno if I’m ready to share baby girl like that. Way too many eyes would be all over her. Look at this hot piece of ass.” Luke reaches over and playfully pinches your thigh. 

“That’s fair… though, you seem to have trouble keeping your hands to yourself in Vegas.” Ash mentions to him. “We haven’t been to New York in awhile. Shopping’s good, plenty to do, good food… and it’d be nice to actually have you there. That place lacks so much of you two when I go for work.” 

“Can I also pitch Hawaii?” Luke asks, “I’ve never been, have you?” He asks you and Ash watches as you shake your head, “and she'd be in a bikini a lot… and that’s a selling point.” He explains. 

“That… is also an excellent idea.” Ash agrees, “both of you half naked for the whole trip and sun kissed… pretty girl, thoughts?”  He asks. 

“Oh… you two can choose. I’ve never been to either.” You shrug, getting up to exit the conversation. 

Ash grabs your hand as you breeze by, “no love, it’s for all of us, we can all decide.” He pulls you back into his lap. “You really don’t have an opinion?” He checks. 

“All that will matter to me is that I get to be with you guys.” You shrug. Ash squeezes you and kisses your cheek, “if you’re sure babe…” he watches you nod and let’s you go. 

That lands you in the small airport a week later. You knew Ash flew private for work, but you weren’t expecting to fly private, probably ever. Your fingers are tangled in Luke’s shirt as you wait, they'd decided on New York and neither of them were aware you’d never flown. But you could feel a panic attack say they were both gonna find out. 

“Hey.” Luke says, cupping your chin. “What is it? You’ve been pulling at my shirt for like the last ten minutes.” 

“It’s nothing.” You mumble, not meeting his eyes. 

“Talk to me.” Luke coaxes. 

“No. It’s fine.” You untangle your fingers and walk away from him, a little annoyed he wasn’t more sensitive to your obvious mood change. Ash would pick up on it, even though he might not say anything, but Luke could be oblivious if it would interfere with his own good time. 

You sit on the floor in a corner. Away from eyes. 

Luke spots you, head between your knees, and he knows it’s more serious than he initially thought. He walks up to Ashton and bumps him gently on his shoulder, “you gonna be on your phone the whole trip, because you’re gonna miss things like… that.” He points toward you and Ash’s eyes snap in your direction. 

“No, the second we leave I’m done… what’s wrong there?” He asks, shoving his phone in his pocket. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t quite recognize the vibe. She was pulling at my shirt and wouldn't tell me what’s up.” Luke shrugs, but he’s clearly worried now. 

“Pulling at your shirt?” Ash asks, still trying to get details and assess you. Luke shows him, twisting his fingers in his own shirt. “Mmkay. Stay here, I'll get it.” 

And then ash is in front of you, kneeling, gently running his fingers over the back of your neck. You flinch and he rests his hand there until you look up. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” He asks quietly. 

“I’ve never flown before.” The tears well up and spill over. 

“Hey, it’s ok. Why didn’t you say something?” He moves closer. 

“You and Luke seemed so excited and I didn’t want to just ask to stay here, I’ve never left the state.” 

“Ok. It’s ok to be scared baby, but do you think I would ever do anything to put you in danger? After we’ve said “I love you” without our attention whore boyfriend?” 

He watches you smirk, “he’s just so pretty.” You relax a little. 

“And nothing but trouble.” Ashton grins. “C’mon, you’ll sit with me. I’ll keep you safe.” He holds his hand out and then the three of you are walking out to the tarmac to board the plane. 

Ash sits, and you sit in the seat next to him, it seems a lot more spacious than it looked from the outside, and everything was so expensive looking, from the white leather seats, down to the trim. Ash’s thumb rubs over the back of your hand, and he pulls it to his mouth to kiss it. 

Luke stops, rests his hand on your cheek. “You ok?” He murmurs. “You’ve been crying.” 

“I’m fine.” You nod, meeting his eyes. He leans in and kisses you. And then is taking a seat across the aisle. 

An attendant comes around, “Mr. Irwin, can I get you guys anything before take off?” She asks. 

“Yes, we’ll have a whiskey on the rocks.” He points between you and himself, “and he’ll drink whatever you give him, I’m sure.” Ash laughs. 

“I’ll do vodka and ginger.” Luke orders. 

You spend 65% of the flight in Ashton’s lap, Luke occupying the seat next to you. He’s being as reassuring as possible but every time the plane so much as jostles from turbulence, you’re freaking out. So, he holds you tight, murmurs that you’re ok, and kisses your cheek. “Hope you enjoy this more on the way back.”

You both watch Luke flirt with the flight attendant, and you’d be more worried except you know for a fact that the first thing Luke is gonna wanna do when you get settled is get naked. But you feel the jealousy radiate off Ashton as Luke continues to flirt with her, touching her, making little comments. 

“Sucks not to be the center of his world.” Ash murmurs to you. Both of you situated to look out of the window instead of at Luke. 

“We’re both still the center of his world.” You assure him, “sometimes he just needs other people in his orbit.” You chuckle. 

“He found the only two people that would love each other just to love him.” Ash smirks. 

“You don’t believe that?” You challenge. 

“I think… Luke is someone who needs attention, and he doesn’t mind sharing my attention with you, but when I focus on you, it can be too much for him.” 

“I don’t disagree but I was talking about loving each other to love him.” You chuckle. “I think I would have wound up loving you if we’d met without Luke.” You shrug, daring to actually lean in to look out the window. Ash tightens his grip on you. 

“I haven’t thought of it, honestly.” He hums. 

And to no one's surprise, Luke whines about wanting to order in, and begging to go down on either of you. Somehow, Luke has become the most submissive, getting himself down to his underwear, unbelieving that either of you wouldn’t want a thing from him at the moment. 

“Why didn’t you get the flight attendants number?” Ashton teases, you and him unpacking. 

“I didn’t want her.” He whines.

“Coulda fooled us, baby.” Ash laughs. “You couldn’t have been more all over her.” 

“What about you two?” He groans. 

“Love. The food menus are in the kitchen, top drawer across from the sink. Go find something you wanna eat.” Ash says, shooing Luke. 

“Don’t fuck my girl.” Luke warns, narrowing his eyes. 

“I’ll do whatever me and our girl wants.” Ash warns, “now go.” Ashton rolls his eyes. “He’s a needy one.” He says when Luke is out of ear shot. 

“Not really news.” You chuckle. 

“I want to talk to you about something.” Ash mentions moving closer. “I wanna put Luke between us.” His hands push up under the hem of your shirt, “but I think you’ll need to bring it up to Luke.”

“Like?” 

“Luke fucks you, while I fuck him.” He says quietly, kissing you. “I know we’ve been playing with the dynamic a little bit. You a little less sub and a lot less pawn, but I don’t think he’ll be able to control himself… having both of us.”

“God.” You sigh, “his hips forced by yours? Will I survive?” You chuckle, rubbing your hands along his biceps. 

“To wreck you both would be the goal.” He admits, smiling, pulling you in closer. 

“Ooh daddy… keep talking dirty to me.” You grin, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. 

“Luke would be so mad if we did anything right now without him.” Ash chuckles. 

“And Luke played grab ass with the flight attendant for half the flight… besides, you just taking care of me, no questions asked for the flight today. Really hot, and I’m ready for you to just bend me over this bed and rail me.” You admit. 

“Can’t argue with that, now can I?” He chuckles, pressing his lips to yours. “I like this side of you where you ask for what you want.” 

“I’ve found I have a better chance of getting what I want, and I dunno… you’ve made me more confident in myself.” You shrug. 

“What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t give my baby what she needed?” He wonders aloud. 

“The absolute worst.” You nod. 

“I’m not bending you over this bed though.” Ash says, pulling your shirt over your head. You start kissing him and he works on getting the both of you naked before settling in the middle of the bed. He holds his hand out and pulls you into him, swiping the tip of his cock through your wet folds, before pulling you down on top of him. “Figured it’s about time for me to have you like this.” He murmurs, kissing you, “stay quiet for me?” 

“Yeah, Ash I will.” You agree, ‘daddy’ didn’t seem appropriate for this kind of intimate. 

You tuck your face against ash’s neck as the two of you work together. He groans when your little whines start to reach his ears. “Hey, look at me.” He whispers, waiting for your eyes to meet his. You look up and press your lips to his. He holds the back of your head to hold you close. “Needed this with you.” He murmurs. 

“Me too.” You agree, slightly nodding and gripping into him. 

“Still gonna fill you with cum for Luke though.” He smirks. 

“I’d expect nothing less.” You laugh. “Like this.” You hum, pressing your lips back to his. 

“I do too.” He groans. “I never thought we’d get here.” He mumbles into your mouth. 

“Fuck.” You whine, head falling back, exposing your neck. Ash moves his lips along your skin, making small marks that’ll be covered by hair or a shirt collar. 

“C’mon pretty girl, give it to me.” He murmurs. He can tell you’re close, you’re digging in your nails and letting out small moans. He knows Luke must be able to hear you two, and he’s probably pouting. Not daring to come back and make a scene since he’d been sent away. 

“Yeah…” you breathe, nodding your head. “Fill me up Ash. Fill me with your cum.” You moan, you press your cheek to his, letting your whimpers fill his ears. 

He groans louder than he means to when you squeeze around him. “Fuck fuck fuck…. always so good.” 

“Please ash,” you moan. 

“M’right there pretty girl.” He bites your shoulder and you feel the hot cum start to spurt into you, his groan rumbles against your skin. Ash is quickly tilting you back, “keep your hips up for me, wanna keep as much cum as we can in you for Lukey.” He whispers, kissing you. He pulls out slowly and you hold your hips up. He climbs off the bed and grabs your panties, helping you put them back on, he pulls them into place and then helps you off the bed, you watch him clean his cock, and then pull his underwear and a pair of athletic shorts on. He helps you slip his button down on and he chooses a few buttons in the middle to button. 

The two of you walk out to the living room, hand in hand and Luke is clearly pouting. 

“Did you pick something to eat?” Ash asks, pulling you to the couch to sit with Luke. 

“D’you guys fuck?” He retorts. 

“I wouldn’t say we fucked, no, but if you’re gonna continue to be a little shit then I’ll happily clean baby girl up.” 

You watch Luke’s eyes narrow at Ashton and then he turns and looks at you, his eyes fall to your thighs and he grabs one and pushes it aside, seeing the wet spot seep through the thin cloth. “You full of cum, pretty girl?”

“Yeah.” You nod, watching him. 

“I want Thai. Menus on the counter.” He murmurs, eyes not leaving you. 

“Mmkay. I’ll order, I trust you’ll take care of the mess?” Ash smirks, he hears Luke’s slurping begin almost immediately after he leaves the room. And he’s not surprised when he walks in and sees you with your ass on the edge of the couch, panties on the floor and Luke on his knees. Ash sits next to you, “Lukey.” He murmurs. “How is it?” Luke's eyes flicker to him momentarily and he grins, he makes eye contact with you while he pushes two fingers in to scoop out cum. “You better give her another orgasm baby.” Ash warns. 

Ash enjoys watching you two, he likes Luke on his knees even if it isn’t for him. “Lukey.” You whimper. 

Ash gently caresses your face, wanting your attention, “feel good pretty girl? On that already sensitive clit?” He asks, and you nod. “Give her another finger Luke.” 

“She’s already got two.” He murmurs. 

“She can take 3.” Ash assures him. Luke follows directions and slips a third finger in you, causing you to gasp. Ash kisses your bottom lip, pushes his hand down your body and tangles his fingers in Luke's hair. “Stick your tongue out.” He says to Luke and he does, “now you, my pretty little thing, get your orgasm.” It takes you a minute to get what he means but then you’re working your hips against Luke’s tongue, simultaneously fucking his fingers in the meantime. “That’s it, look at you two.” He grins. “Get yourself off. Use Luke like daddy does.” He encourages. He uses his free hand to pull you into a kiss, swallowing your moans and whimpers meant for Luke. “Look at how bad you want it.” He grins. “Just came for me and now look at how bad you need to cum for Luke. My pretty little sluts.” He grins against your mouth. 

Your hips stutter a bit, “fuck, Lukey.” You whine. You relax, resting back into the couch. 

Luke continues to work his fingers in and out, gently licking at where your juices are spreading on your thighs and around your opening. He pushes up off the floor and sits next to you, he pulls his fingers out and you holds them up, Ash leans across you and starts sucking on them, his hand pushes over your thigh so he could grab Luke’s cock. When Luke pulls his fingers from Ash’s mouth he leans in and kisses him. You can feel Ash’s hand working on Luke’s cock, the Pre cum leaking onto your thigh. 

There’s a knock on the door and Ash pulls from the kiss. “Finish him.” He murmurs, “kiss him. He needs it.” He kisses your cheek and pulls away from both of you. 

Luke whimpers and you reach over and grab his cock. His lips immediately find yours. You pull out of the kiss and watch him, watch his face scrunch up, lips part. “Wanna ask you something.” You murmur, kissing on his neck while jerking him off. 

“Anything you want, baby girl.” He groans when you swipe your thumb over his slit. 

“Wanna put you between Ash and I.” You admit, pulling back as he continues to look for your lips. 

“Can we come back to this?” He moans. 

“Babes, food.” Ash calls. 

“I’m almost there!” Luke whines. 

You hear Ash coming back toward you. “Thought I told you to kiss him.” He murmurs to you, reaching over the back of the couch and replacing your hand with his. “Let him cum on you.” 

You lean in to kiss Luke like Ash wants and Luke bites your lip and then goes on the suck on it before pulling out to moan. You feel his hot cum coat your thigh, “good boy Lukey.” You grin at him, “thank you.” 

Ash swipes his finger tips in Luke's cum and holds them up to your mouth. You suck the cum off Ash’s fingers. 

“Let’s get you two cleaned up so we can just relax tonight.” Ash grins. 

The next couple days are mostly for relaxing, Ash sleeps in, you and Luke explore all the little shops in the neighborhood, letting Ash get some much needed r&r. 

“C’mon babes.” He says, rousing you and Luke from a very snuggly cuddled position on the couch. “We’re gonna do some shopping in the city.” He says, smacking your ass. You yelp, and slowly push up off of Luke. “Go get changed.” And sends you and Luke off. 

“Hey, I had a question.” Luke says, pulling on a tight pair of black jeans. ‘Mmm’ you hum, turning to him. “The other night, you said something about getting me between you and ash?” 

“Oh, yeah… just like…  you’d be getting fucked by him while you fuck me?” You shrug, picking a lacy bra to pull on. 

“She says so nonchalantly.” He smirks. 

“What? It sounds fun for all of us.” You give him innocent eyes. 

“You sure you can take that?” 

“The goal would be to wreck you.” You move closer to him and rub your hand over his cock. “You in my tight, wet pussy… ash filling you the way you love.” 

He lets out a low groan. “Yeah… yes.” He nods, “let’s do it.” 

You bite your lip, “mmmkay, I’ll talk to ash.” You squeeze him and then finish getting dressed and throw on some makeup. 

When you walk out ahead of Luke, you grin at Ash, “he agreed.” 

It’s actually a long day, a lot of flirting between the three of you, Ash getting you in as much lingerie as possible and you of course showing it off for them, Luke got some new pants that showed off his ass. 

“Lukey’s got a nice Peachy ass, huh daddy?” You smirk in the empty fitting room area as Luke shows them off for the two of you. Ash watches as you cock your head to the side and Luke turns back to you two. 

“Do we like?” He checks. 

“We love, peachy.” You murmur. 

“I like that.” Ash admits. “Peachy. They look good.” 

“That ass don’t quit.” You laugh. 

“No it does not and thank god for it.” Ash laughs.

As Luke’s changing you tug on Ashtons shirt, “can we go home?” You ask quietly, “I’m kinda tired.” 

“Of course babe, you wanna get dinner first or go straight home?” 

“I wanna go straight home.” Luke mentions, standing in front of you two, ready to go. You nod in agreement. 

Ash pulls out his wallet and gives you one of his cards, “you two go check out; and I’ll go order something for delivery.” He hands Luke the few items he was getting and then heads off, while you two head to the registers, card in hand.

“Today was fun.” Luke hums, resting his hand on your back. “Nice to see Ash relaxed.” 

“Yeah, it is. Don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relaxed.” You smile at Luke. 

“I forget there was what now seems like a whole life before you.” He murmurs and looks at you for a minute, then leans in to kiss your forehead. “But we're lucky to have you and we both know it. We’re better with you.” He assures you. You squeeze your arm around Luke’s waist. 

You guys get home as the doorman is leaving the food in the kitchen. Ashton thanks him and tips him and you send Luke to the bedroom with the bags and work on getting plates out. 

“You tryin to have Peachy between us tonight?” You ask. 

“Yeah, if you’re up for it. You said you were tired.” 

“Well… trying to keep up with both of your attention like that was a lot.” You laugh. “And I wanted to get home.” You wink at him, “color preference for the night.” 

“Want you in black.” He nods, “and Yeah, guess we don’t usually tag team you with that much attention.” 

“It’s usually me and you with Luke.” You laugh. 

Ash pulls you into a kiss, “we gotta treat our girl.” He murmurs. 

“Y’all are too good sometimes.” 

“No such thing, I love taking care of the two of you. Now. I want you to go put on something sexy, black, easy to get off, and then throw on one of my t shirts and we’ll get started with dinner, and I’ll start teasing our boy… peachy.” 

You grin and head off, crossing Luke in the hall. “Where are you going?” He asks. 

“Just gonna put on something more comfortable to eat noodles in.” You gesture to your tight jeans. He nods and leaves it be, heading back out to Ash. 

You take your time choosing the right black lingerie. You know your best features and you know what parts make Luke happiest and what makes Ash happiest, and ultimately it didn’t matter, just a means to an end. 

You head back out, swallowed in one of Ashton’s hoodies and take your seat between them. You eat, laughing and making conversation. Very rarely do you have silent moments between the three of you. And then you’re up, “anyone thirsty?” You ask, reaching for a cup. 

“Yeah, let’s do wine though.” Ash mentions, getting up too. He comes up behind you and his hands snake up under the hoodie, first feeling along your panties, “crotchless, nice.” He whispers, and then moving his hands up over your body, bare except the lacy push up bra you’d put on. “Daddy approved baby girl.” He nibbles your ear and then goes for a bottle of wine and you grab the glasses. “What do you guys wanna do tonight?” Ash asks, uncorking the wine. 

“I think there’s already a plan brewing.” Luke smirks at the two of you. “The question you asked, the peek of lace I saw when you sat down, Ash all over you… tonight’s the night? I’m between you?” He asks. 

“Is that what you want peachy?” You ask. 

“I honestly couldn’t think of anything I’d want more.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that baby boy.” Ash grins. “Logistics might be a little weird at first… but let’s clean up and see what we come up with babes.” Ash smirks. 

The bottle of wine makes it to the bedroom, Ash actually grabbed a second. “Want this to be fun, but good.” He admits. 

He kisses you first, pulling you in; and it starts slow. Barely open mouths. His hands slowly move down your body, by the time he grabs your ass, it’s open mouth and lots of tongue. He slowly strips the hoodie off of you. He cups your tits and Luke groans, eyes never leaving the two of you. He holds the back of your neck, kissing you harder before pulling out of the kiss. He slowly turns you toward Luke. “She looks good doesn’t she.” He asks Luke. 

“She always does.” Luke agrees, timidly stepping closer. 

He wasn’t sure if Ash was inviting him, but you reach for Luke and pull him in, “thanks peachy.” You grin into a kiss with Luke. You carefully turn him so he’s between you and Ash. “You want more play baby boy?” You hum against his mouth. 

“Uh-Uh, You fuckers have been teasing me since we got home. I’m fuckin ready.” He growls. 

“Have patience, peachy.” Ashton tsks, grabbing his cock over his jeans. “You have no clue what this is gonna be like.” His other hand gently ghosts over Luke’s neck.” A lot of stimulation.” He pulls his head back for a kiss while you undo Luke’s jeans. “But should be fun… and, you know I love watching you two.” He nibbles on Luke’s ear. Ash pulls Luke’s jeans down, “why don’t you two get started for me?” He asks, gently nudging Luke forward. 

You watch Luke strip, and then he’s scooping his arm behind your back, and pushing you to the bed. He gets you situated on the pillows and leans in for a kiss. “I love having you like this.” He murmurs. 

You push your fingers in his curls and he immediately moves on to exploring your body, hands, lips, anything to drink you in… and then he finds out that your panties are crotchless and his face is immediately between your thighs. 

“Can’t ever resist a chance to eat, can you baby boy?” Ash smirks, coming over and pulling you into a kiss. He unhooks your bra and pulls it off and you suck in a sharp breath when he plays with your tits. 

“This is supposed to be about Luke.” You murmur. 

“It's still about Luke.” He murmurs back, pulling his shirt off. He kneels on the bed, holding you in the kiss. “But you gotta feel good too.” He tangle his fingers in Luke's hair and gently pulls him away from you, “don’t need you too worked up peachy, get her panties off and get in there.” He lets go. 

“So crude.” You smirk, and Luke's scrambling to do as he was asked. You lift your hips as Luke pulls your panties down. Ash works his jeans off while Luke settles between your thigh, pushing his cock in with no warning. “Fuckk peachy.” You whine. 

“You knew  it was coming.” He laughs. 

“Thought you’d give a girl some warning, maybe a kiss.” You smirk. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry baby girl.” He presses his lips to yours, you let out a giggle. 

Ash likes that it’s fun so far, it doesn’t always seem so fun in the bedroom. But he likes all the smiling and giggling that’s going on. 

Luke starts slow and you’re hyper aware of everything Ash is doing. Grabbing the lube, getting naked getting in the bed. “I’m gonna touch you, peachy.” Ash warns. His hand smoothes over Luke’s ass, and Luke's hips stutter and then he just settles against you, but you don’t mind. You tangle your fingers into his hair and kiss him while Ash works on opening him up. “Think you’re ready.” Ash murmurs, 5 minutes later. 

Luke agrees and you watch, him still buried in you, as they work out the logistics and get settled. Luke’s barely holding it together when your thighs are pulled on top of his, with Ash knelt behind him and buried inside as well. His breathing is already shallow and Ash has only pushed in. 

“You ok, peachy?” You ask, reaching up to touch his chest. 

“Yeah…” he sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes as Ash slowly pulls his hips back. 

“Daddy filling you so good?” You ask. 

“Yeah…” he barely nods, and Ash’s hips press against his. 

Ash only gives him a couple more slow, shallow thrusts before he’s picking up the pace and it’s having more of an impact on you. He’s holding one if your thighs, and Luke’s hip. Luke’s holding your hand and the headboard and you are trying to touch him in a soothing way. 

Taking Ash was never easy, no matter how many times he’d done it, but it was always worth it. 

“You ok baby?” Ash asks, kissing Luke’s neck. Luke nods, “Mmkay.” The first harder thrust doesn’t do a lot for you, but Luke stopped most of the impact. “Relax peachy, the point is to fuck you both.” He reminds him. 

And Luke does, because the next one gets you, and as they get harder, Ash does more directing. “Rub her clit baby.” He groans, “you feel so fuckin good.” 

When Luke presses his thumb to your clit, you jolt, “fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You moan, “fuck me… fuck us, daddy please.” 

He smirks at you over Luke’s shoulder and then presses another kiss to Luke’s neck, “you ready baby boy? I can feel you’re close, and you know what having your tight ass does to me.” He groans, teeth skimming Luke’s skin. 

“Yeah, yes.” Luke groans, his eyes open and he looks down at you as Ash picks up the pace, fucking him into you. It turns into a mess of moans and skin. “Daddy, fuck… I’m cumming.” Luke barely warns before you feel him start to cum. 

He collapses against your chest and you immediately wrap your arms around him. “So good peachy.” You praise him, kissing his head. You watch as Ash pulls out and starts jerking himself off, quickly finishing on Luke’s back. You pull Luke into a quick kiss. 

And Ash is quickly moving, getting something to clean you up with. He wipes Luke's back, and cleans both of their cocks and finishes cleaning you and Luke up. He collapses on his back in the middle of the bed. “C’mere babes.” He beckons, and you and Luke, lay on either side, cuddling into his chest. Luke’s spent, entirely. It shows on his face and in the way he moves his body. Ash pets his hair and kisses his forehead, and his fingers snake their way between your thighs. You look up at him, and he presses his lips to yours, “you think I didn’t notice you didn’t cum?” He asks. 

“We both noticed.” Luke agrees, throwing his arm across your back. 

“It’s fine, this was about Luke.” You murmur, looking between them. 

“No.” Luke shakes his head and moves closer to kiss you. “You can say it was about me; but it was about all three of us. You’re gonna cum too.” 

“Peachy’s right.” Ash agrees, working his fingers in the slow rhythm you like best with him. You close your eyes and just let him work you, letting out your little whines as Luke leans across Ash’s chest to kiss on your neck and shoulder. 

“Daddy, peachy..” you moan, squeezing around Ash’s fingers. 

“There she is.” Ash grins, letting his fingertips rub gently over your clit a few more times, before pulling his fingers out and holding them up for Luke to lick. 

“This was fun.” Luke murmurs once Ash’s fingers were clean. “Can we do it again sometime?” He settles back next to Ash. 

“Absolutely, if baby girl is down.” Ash agrees.

“Yeah. I’d love that.” You grin.

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gc tags: @sublimehood​ @sugarcoated-pain​ @5sosnsfw​ @angelbabylu​ @aspiringwildfire​ @irwinkitten​ @lashtoncurls​ @myloverboyash​ @singt0mecalum​

masterlist || ashton || calum || luke || michael

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[kimnjss]

the hardest part | requested

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader ⇢ fic type: one shot ⇢ genre: angst ⇢ word count: 2.5K ⇢ theme: bestfriend!jungkook + friend zone ⇢ warnings: i don’t think there are any?? its kinda sad lol. ⇢ synopsis: for years, you have been in love with your best friend. you regretted not saying anything about it... and it only gets worse when his wedding is just around the corner. ⇢ A/N: hope you like this! wrote the entire thing listening to the the hardest part by roy kim, listen to it while reading it... it’s even sadder that way :(

It was so hard to see him with her. Happy with her. Jungkook and you have been best friends basically your whole lives. You met in first grade and ever since then your parents made sure that you had the same teacher, same classes, same lunches. They didn't want to separate you.

Even back than Jungkook was a bit of a hothead, snapping at any one who dared to cross him. You were way more calm and thoughtful, managing to put the fire out every time. You balanced each other out.

The closeness between you only grew as the years went on. You never spent more than a few days apart. When family trips came around it was always: 'Can Jungkook come too?' or 'Y/n's coming, right?'. You two were the definition of inseparable.

You fell in love with Jungkook your freshmen year of high school. He had taken you to winter formal after Yoongi Min dumped you with no explanation. Of course, you were surprised when Jungkook  broke his date with Seulgi Kang to take you.

You danced the entire night and then he walked you home. You still remembered how often you thought about him in that suit that night. He looked so good all dressed up and matching you. When you got to my door, he smiled his brace-face smile at you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before telling you goodnight and walking off.

That's when he had you. You started to notice things about Jungkook that you're not supposed to notice about your best friend. The subtle dimples on his cheeks that appeared only when he smiled real wide. How he snorted quietly if he laughed too hard. That tiny vein that stuck out on his forehead whenever he was pissed. How he treated his baby sister like a little princess.

Each time noticing something new, you fell deeper in love with him – until it was too late. You were in too deep and you had no idea what to do.

It had been years since that first realization. Nine to be exact. You had kept your feelings a secret for nine whole years. Now he was engaged. To his soulmate as he liked to call her. You liked to stick to just referring to her as the 'stupid bitch that stole my best friend'.

Her name was Eunae. Eunae Choi. She looked like a freaking Victoria Secret model. Long pin straight jet black hair, porcelain smooth skin, high cheek bones and an amazing body. On top of that she was a genius. She was working on her Master's in Psychology.

It was no wonder he fell for her.

“Hand me the banana peppers,” Jungkook nodded his head towards the jar and you slowly reached for it. It had been a long while since we had a pizza-building-movie-bingeing-sleepover.

You figured it had been just as long as him and Eunae had been together. What was it? Two years, five months and thirteen days? Yeah, but who's counting?

“Can you believe I'm getting married in a week?” Jungkook spoke as he scattered the peppers around the pie.

“Hardly.” He only mentioned it every half hour.

“You got your best ladies' speech ready?” Having Jungkook ask you to be his best man but call it a best lady was the epitome of friend zone. You nearly cried yourself to sleep after that. Nodding your head, you plucked a pepper from the jar and shoving it into your mouth.

“Eunae sent you the dresses, right? She wanted you to wear a bridesmaid's dress even though you're not one of the bridesmaids, it would just make more sense.” Eunae had sent the picture to you and that entire sentence. You nodded once again.

You loved the dress. It was a dusty rose long halter neck dress. “I still can't fucking believe it,” Jungkook mumbled to himself as he pushed the pizza into the oven. He tapped a few things on the screen before coming to sit next to you.

“Have you found a plus one yet?” The two of them were threatening you with the single's table if you didn't find someone to bring to this wedding. The thing was, you didn't want a date. It would just be a waste of time to find one. It wasn't like you would even be interested.

You honestly hated yourself for not speaking up when you had the chance. You should've just sucked it up and admitted your feelings to him. Maybe he would've rejected you but you wouldn't be in this situation that you were in right now. Watching him get married to someone you knew he loves while you're sitting there in love with him. It was pathetic.

“No, I'm gonna go stag and I'm completely okay with it,” You put extra emphasis on the last bit hoping he'd get the hint.

“Alright, alright. Go pick the first movie, I'm going to give Eunae a quick call.” You almost rolled your eyes. Of course he'd find a way to bring her into your night. Plastering a smile on your face you headed into the living room, scrolling through the movies on Netflix before deciding on a comedy.

You waited for him with the bowl of popcorn in your lap. Jungkook didn't find his way back into the living room until twenty minutes had passed. He sat down beside you, stealing the popcorn off of your lap before shoveling a handful into his mouth.

“What did you pick?” He spoke through his mouthful.

“Sausage Party.” You laughed as Jungkook's eyes widened. “That movie is so bad!” He chuckled, leaning back against the cushions and turning his attention to the screen.

As the movie progressed, Jungkook had managed to pull you against him. Your pizza laid half eaten on the coffee table and the popcorn bowl empty. His arms were wrapped around your shoulders, the tips of his fingers tickling the skin on your bare arm.

Him doing things like this is what fucked you up in the first place. Shifting away from him, you tried to calm the racing of your heart. He gave you a weird look, confusion written all over his face.

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing,”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else but refrained from doing so. You watched the rest of the movie in silence.

All these thoughts were bubbling in your head. You wanted to tell him, you wanted him to know how you felt about him before he went and got married. You couldn't form a sentence for the life of you, though.

Would it be wrong? To tell him this ten days before his wedding? What if he changed his mind? What if he called the entire thing off? What if he changed his mind? What if he called the entire thing off? 

You sighed, watching as he turned the couch into a makeshift bed, dusting the popcorn bits off and onto the floor. “You heading into your room?” When you were younger he use to sleep up in your room with you. Then puberty hit and morning wood became a thing. It was safer for everyone if you slept in separate areas.

“In a little bit,” You paused, eyeing him as he laid back on the cushions. “Why? Are you tried?” You questioned and he shook his head.

“Nope.” A smirk grew on his face. “Remember when I dared you to streak around the dorm?” Of course you remembered that shit. You tripped and fell into a pile of mud. Had dirt in your cooch for days.

“Yes, why?” You laid my body down beside his, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke.

“Jimin Park saw that. He thought you were hot and asked if you were single. You weren't at the time but now you are. Would you like me to give him a call? Maybe he could be your plus one?” He suggested and you scoffed.

“No thank you.” Jimin was the king of the douche bags. Fraternity president and ignorant as fuck. You wouldn't waste a second on him.

“I don't want you to have to go alone,”

“I am choosing to go alone, Koo. If I wanted a date, I would've gotten one.” It was lost on you why he was making out of you bringing a date. Him and his bride wouldn't leave you alone about it.

“Okay, fine.” He made it seem like he was letting it go, but he was far from letting anything go.

“You're gorgeous, you know that right, Y/N? Any guy would be lucky to have you if you just gave one a chance...” You glared at him, warning him to shut up about it. You were in no mood to hear this speech for the thousandth time.

“In all the years that I've known you, you've only ever had one real boyfriend and that was a few years ago.” He pointed out. “Guys approach you too, I've seen it. Why don't you give any of them a chance?”

You sighed, running my hands over your face. “I'm just not interested.” This had become a mantra of yours.

“Yeah, but why not?”

“They're not my type.”

“You have a type?” He sounded surprised, a chuckle dying on his lips.

“Yes, I have a type.” You were quickly growing annoyed with this conversation.

“No you don't.”

You scoffed. “Yes, I do.”

“What's your type then?”

“You.” The word left your mouth before you could pull it back. Jungkook was sitting up, staring down at you with wide eyes.

“What did you just say?” He sat there staring at you. Your heart was beating in your ears. Slowly, you were sitting yourself up. Preparing yourself for what was to come next, there was no backing out now. You needed to finish what you started.

“You. You're my type, Jungkook. I'm in love with you, I have always been,” You could feel your throat closing up. But you weren't able to stop the word vomit from tumbling from between your lips.

He sat there silent for a minute. You just dropped something huge and the impact was written all over his face. He opened his mouth as if he finally came up with an answer, did that twice before his face furrowed in confusion.

“You're in love with me?” He repeated, just to clarify. You nodded.

Jungkook just continued to stare at you. Forcing your eyes shut, you cleared your throat. You couldn't look at him. There it was right on his face, how much he didn't love you. Had you expected him to admit the same, call off the wedding so you could ride off into the sunset? Yeah, right.

Maybe.

You started to head towards the stairs, quickly coming to my senses. He was getting married! “Holy shit, forget I said anything... I-I...I don't know what I was thinking. I'm going to head up,” Avoiding his gaze you rushed towards the stairs and into your room, slamming the door shut.

Overwhelmed with humiliation and the sting of rejection, tears began to stream down your face which only intensified when you heard the front door slam.

Ten days had went by and you hadn't heard anything from Jungkook. A brief message from Eunae this morning was what confirmed that you were still invited to this stupid party. You got dressed in the bridesmaid's dress, did your own hair and makeup and showed up at the church minutes before the start.

Not wanting to leave any time to mingle.

It was unbelievably hard to stand there with a smile on your face as you watched them recite their vows, staring all lovingly in each others' eyes with these dopey smiles on their faces. 'I do's' were said and they were kissing.

Not the sloppy wolfish kiss that they often displayed in front of their friends, this one was elegant one that dragged an 'awe' from the lips of the crowd. You inwardly rolled your eyes.

Your speech was quick and extremely general. You avoided getting into too much detail and you didn't tell any stories. It was the type of speech you could copy and paste and recite at any wedding. You weren't up for anything else.

Nursing your third glass of Chardonnay, Jungkook approached you. “How you holding up?” You felt yourself swaying, but you were certain you were standing still.

“I'm fine,” Another mantra.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“I liked your speech,” He tried.

You laughed. “Okay,” Gulping down the rest of your drink, you set the empty glass down on the table. “I'm going to grab a cab. Great party,” You commented, shooting him a thumbs up before exiting the hall.

It was raining very hard. You were soaked the second you stepped outside. Not letting that slow you down, you made your way to the sidewalk, calling for a taxi. A hand on your shoulder stopped you from entering the first one that pulled up.

“Why are you pissed at me?” Jungkook stood, tux soaked and hair sticking to his face.

“I'm not,”

“Yes you are, Y/N. I know when you're pissed.” He spat. “Did you expect me to call off the wedding?”

“No,” Yes.

“I'm sorry. I hate that this hurts you but you got to understand how I feel about Eunae. She's it for me, you know? I wish that it didn't hurt you so bad,” He looked sincere, it honestly hurt him that he was hurting you.

Now you felt bad. “You deserve to be happy, Koo. You shouldn't have to apologize. It's just hard to see you with her... I'm just going to stay away for a little bit,” You actually planned to stay away for more than a little bit.

Yesterday morning you were getting a call about a job in Boston. It paid a lot more than the job that you had now and it was actually related to what I=you got a degree for in the first place.

“Okay,” He was so understanding. How can someone break your heart and make it swell all at the same time? “I love you, Y/N.” You nodded, knowing the exact way that he meant. You called for another cab, slipping in without him stopping you.

Telling the driver your address, I sat back against the seats. You forced yourself not to look back. He wasn't going to be standing there waving you off. This wasn't like a movie. He wasn't going to realize that he had been in love with you all along and you'd live happily ever after. Nope.

Jungkook was to go back inside, dry off and live his life with his perfect wife. You were to go to Boston, study the behavior of the animals and their environment and that was it. Maybe you'd cross paths in the future, but for now – that was it.

[dudeandduchess]

How about a really angsty screaming fight that makes the reader question about her marriage and future with modern kyo pls? Thanks soooo much 🙏 I’m ready to cry this week. I got my tissues (T_T)

Oooh, hey bby. I do apologize bc there isn’t much screaming here. But I did cry while writing this bc I felt so sorry for Kyō... so there’s that. Hope you like it tho. 💜✨

***

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Regrets (Modern AU, SFW Scenario):

Warnings: Angst, Financial Problems, Screaming, Marital Problems, Language

A frustrated sigh passed (Y/n)’s lips, as she tossed the whole sheaf of bills in her hand onto the table. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, while a frown marred her usually cheerful face.

She couldn’t even begin to describe how she felt— just looking at the small stack of papers in front of her made her head spin. Not because she didn’t understand them, but more because of the fact that she didn’t know where she was going to get the money to pay for them.

Having grown up in a privileged home— with parents who paid for everything for her— she wasn’t used to not having them to fall back on. And, even though it had been three years since she’d run away to get married to Kyōjurō, she still still had a hard time coming to grips with the fact that she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself anymore.

Not even her husband could help her out; what with him already holding a full time job at Kimetsu Academy.

Hell, she was already juggling two part-time jobs, on top of having to attend nursing school— in an effort to make something of herself. She didn’t want to give her parents the satisfaction of knowing that they had been right all along.

That choosing Kyōjurō had been wrong all along.

Because, even she knew, that things would have been drastically different if she’d chosen to stay with her parents all those years ago. She would have gone off to ToDai as a medical student— like she’d always dreamed of.

She wouldn’t have had to settle for working from six in the morning to twelve in the afternoon at a coffee shop near her school on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays— while having to work from five in the evening to ten at night on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On top of that, she had to attend her classes during her free time.

(Y/n) only ever got Sundays off but, even then, her Sundays were spent doing homework and studying. Her schedule was stretched so thin that she barely even had time to eat or sleep, let alone clean their apartment and run the errands that needed to be done.

Before she knew it, her tears had already begun to fall down her face in hot rivulets. And she could do nothing but to bury her head in her hands, as well as press the heels of her palms against her eyes; all in an effort to keep her tears at bay.

Because she knew that her tears would solve nothing. They wouldn’t pay for the huge difference that they still needed to pay their rent and all of their utilities on time.

Still, her tears never ceased. In fact, they only gained more traction as the minutes ticked by; dulling her senses and wreaking havoc on her ability to breathe.

Her lungs felt like hell, and her eyes were so red and puffy by the time that her tears had dried out.

But, even then, she couldn’t pull herself up from her hunched position against the dining table.

In the end, she had to admit that her parents were right.

Marrying Kyōjurō was a mistake.

“I’m home!” The aforementioned man called out tiredly from the front door. He made quick work of taking his shoes off, then moved to loosen his tie— right before he padded down the dark hallway, right to where the only room in their tiny apartment where the light was on. “Why is it so dark in here? (Y/n)?”

She didn’t want to blame him— she really didn’t— but part of her knew that it was also because of him that they were in their current predicament.

Kyōjurō had blown off all of their savings to pay for his father’s debts and, while that was noble of him to do, it was also extremely stupid— because the old bastard had never even thanked them for their help.

“(Y/n)? Baby, what’s wrong?” The young man asked quietly, his eyes immediately landing on the small stack of bills on the table— before flitting up to his crying wife, and immediately putting the pieces together.

Slowly, he set his bag down on the floor and moved to pat her shoulder.

Only, the moment his hand made contact with her body, she slapped it away and turned to cast him the most hateful look he’d ever seen on her face.

“You know very well what the fuck’s wrong!” (Y/n) snarled angrily, not caring if the neighbors heard her. Because she had been keeping things in for a long time, and had been trying to be optimistic about things— but enough was enough.

She was done trying to fool herself into thinking that she was going to be fine; that they were going to be fine.

Because, frankly, they weren’t.

Abruptly, she stood up from the rickety, old chair that she’d been sitting on, and gritted her teeth in an effort to muffle the sobs that threatened to bubble free from her lips.

It hurt her throat to keep forcing them down, making it feel so tight and strained that all her effort became wasted when the first sob managed to break free. “Our life is shit, Kyōjurō! We don’t have enough money to pay our bills, to pay our rent, hell— we don’t even have enough money for food! On top of that, you’re rarely even home early; always preferring to go out with your co-teachers after class!

“Well, they can afford to go out; you can’t. We can’t. And you’re not even trying to help me out here— I’m tired, Kyō,” (Y/n) uttered brokenly through sobs and breathless gasps, her glare never wavering in its intensity. “I’m so fucking tired.”

Her voice had tapered down to a quieter tone towards the end of her spiel, but it made her sound even more ominous than anything.

“It’s not like I’m not trying to find another job, (Y/n),” Kyōjurō shot back at his wife, his own expression filled with irritation and frustration at her previous words to him.

Because she wasn’t the only one who was tired. He also had to take his job home, as making lesson plans had to be done over the weekend for a multitude of classes. And, on top of that, he was also looking for a part time job that would allow him to work from home.

But, so far, he hadn’t had any luck.

“I’m trying here. I really am!” The last sentence came out as a shout, as the young man threw his hands up in the air. “Fuck!”

It wasn’t like him to curse, but he didn’t know what else to say. His own tears pricked the backs of his eyes, yet no matter how hard he tried to push them back, they still escaped and began to mar his cheeks.

A long and very uncomfortable silence stretched between the couple after that; with both of them simply staring at the other as they cried. No one dared to make a move— not that they could have deigned to even lift a finger, as all of their limbs felt heavy.

All weighed down with hopelessness and grief.

And, as if their situation wasn’t worse enough, (Y/n) finally opened her mouth to put more fuel to the fire.

“Getting married was a mistake. Look at how we turned out; this wasn’t what I saw in our future,” The young woman whispered through her tears. Her vision was blurry, and her voice was scratchy at best, yet she never looked away from her husband. “Look at us, Kyō. I can’t do this anymore. I want a divorce.”

“No, (Y/n)... please...” Kyōjurō pleaded, shaking his head and moving to hold his wife by her biceps. “Please, don’t do this to me. I need you. I love you. Please, (Y/n), I’m begging you...”

His hands were shaking, and he felt as if he were having an out of body experience— what with how lightheaded he suddenly felt.

However, despite his tear-filled pleas, the young woman still shook her head sadly. “Ask yourself, Kyōjurō: is this marriage still worth fighting for? Because I don’t think it is anymore.”

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 120 Thoughts

A Fleeting Moment.

You blinked and missed it.

Is there some sort of deadline that I am unaware of? Because I think this is the second chapter in a row that reads so YOLO that it carries the desperation of a death soon at hand.

Yes, that’s right.

This chapter.

Is a Zekesona.

Maybe it’s because I’m a heartless monster, but my predominant thought throughout this chapter--well, fine, we’re getting to the real one later, but mostly my thought was wow, we’re really just diving straight in to the plot magic.

I’m not going to stop calling it plot magic.

Starting out it might have been a deliberate attempt to avoid the grammar of all things Paths, but at this point... it’s here to make the plot go. Sense is optional.

.

.

Zeke, you’re fucking killing me.

I.

Let me. just.

Let me attempt to form words with my fingers. Or my head. Or anything at all. This chapter has beaten me. I read it, I consumed the information, and so help me, I think if I let myself, I would never stop laughing over this.

It’s not funny, it’s just.

This, as we have here, is the pinnacle of everything wrong with letting the Yeager Bros take the wheel of a car that is not only missing seat belts and brakes, but perhaps also a functioning wheel.

In the world that is still sort of maybe occupied by sanity, there’s. Zeke.

Holding his brother’s decapitated head.

While he and his brother have an extended Inception dream sequence to manage the fact that Eren should really be very dead.

Really, I could probably spare a few minutes on that, but I don’t want to, because the logistics of how dead Eren is, exactly, when years have to pass in the plot magic in the seconds it’s been since his head was shot off--

I feel like someone shot my head off.

So okay.

A dream level up, the fight goes on in excruciating slowmo.

Meanwhile, Zeke and Eren are.

Okay, yeah, can’t do it. Nope.

This is not a criticism of the writing, as of right now. Like, I have my severe hysteria because of course Zeke has spent his Inception time growing to surpass the chains the First King adorned himself with, and of course, for some unholy reason, those chains bind Zeke at all despite him rightly pointing out he’s not of the Reiss branch and Zeke not actually being the Founding Titan.

Those are things I am noting, and I am completely failing to have a reaction to them because my entire jaw is in pain from holding back laughter, but that is not my present comment.

My present comment.

Is that these two are fucking morons.

I do not mean that disrespectfully. I mean it with the full sincerity of someone who is absolutely okay with the text making them fucking morons.

But holy damn fuck these kids do not have a clue what they’re doing.

Zeke first meets Ymir Fritz when he nearly dies in an unexpected near-incidental suicide. That’s when he has his first hands-on experience with Paths.

Sorry, plot magic.

So um.

Both Eren and Zeke plan to finally make use of the Founder’s power by showing up at this place. They don’t know that at the time they make their plan, because it’s still new to them, they just know that they’re going to hold hands and stuff and somehow things will happen.

Eren thinks the things Zeke wants to happen are bullshit.

Shocking.

Zeke thinks the things Eren wants to happen are bullshit, despite having no clue what those things even are.

Shocking.

And like.

Neither one is getting what they want, because Eren can’t actually use the power he’s journeyed all this way to get, because if this were a real anime, Zeke would have pink hair of warning. Zeke’s royal blood matters more than Eren having the Titan.

Sort of.

Zeke can dismantle the chains on the Founding Titan that attach to him for some reason, but Eren seems to still be required to pull the trigger. (ETA)

So if Inception-verse did not exist, Eren would have just gotten whatever it is he’s after, which would be bad for Zeke by measure of it not being what Zeke wants, but because Inception-verse does exist, they have all the time in the world, Zeke has the means to get what he wants, only technically he doesn’t really because he still needs Eren to agree with him and that hasn’t happened yet.

All of this work.

All...

Good fucking what.

ALL OF THOSE DEAD BODIES, BOYS, AND NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAS JACK SHIT TO SHOW FOR IT.

SOMEHOW

BEYOND ALL COMPREHENSION

BOTH OF YOU ARE FAILING TO GET WHAT YOU WANT. BECAUSE OF THE VERY SIMPLE FACT THAT YOU NEVER TRULY BOTHERED TO UNDERSTAND THE PERSON OR THE POWER YOU WERE ASKING TO MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE.

EREN MISUNDERSTANDS THE NATURE OF THE FOUNDER.

ZEKE MISUNDERSTANDS HIS BABY BROTHER.

BOY I’M SURE GLAD WE’VE SPENT THIRTY CHAPTERS ON THE CLUSTERFUCK OF YOUR MUTUAL DECISIONS JUST TO FIND OUT NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAS A FUCKING CLUE HOW TO MAKE ANY OF THIS WORK.

YOU BROKE THE WORLD, FULLY CONFIDENT IN YOUR DUCT TAPE, ONLY TO DISCOVER THAT THE ROLL YOU WERE HOLDING WAS SOME OTHER COLLECTION OF TAPE THAT SOMEONE GAVE A SILVER PAINT JOB.

THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T GIVE CHILDREN GUNS.

THEY SHOOT THINGS.

YOU INCOMPREHENSIBLY DUMB FUCKS.

Once more, this is not a criticism of the writing. I think it’s very fair for Zeke and Eren to be interacting with forces beyond their understanding, and screw it all up badly. In Eren’s case, that force is some weird demigod demon who possibly sold their soul to the devil. In Zeke’s case, it’s the will to live.

Both very confusing things. It is perfectly reasonable for them to be having difficulties.

-pre-corpses screaming in the background, only in slowmo because the moment of Eren’s head being blown off hasn’t actually passed-

-Falco steaming in the dirt-

-all Eren’s friends risking their lives so they might maybe use the Founding Titan to fix this all up-

You can tell Eren and Zeke have a doctor for a father, because their elaborate plan depending on thousands of years of history and starting international incidents fails in the face of basic common sense.

No, I’m not done.

These would be the people who would change the world.

Eren.

This is why, when you were ten, your mother was already telling another ten-year-old to look after you. BECAUSE SHE KNEW. SHE KNEW THIS IS WHAT YOU WOULD CHOOSE TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE.

LO, BEHOLD THE NEW UNDERSTANDING OF CARLA’S TEARS AS HER CHILDREN LEAVE HER TO HER DEATH.

IF ONLY EITHER OF YOU HAD A BRAIN.

I’m sorry, I know I should be making comments on other parts of the chapter, but this is all just so typical, and so blisteringly obvious an outcome, and.

Well, we got a lot of nice shots of Grisha and his family. Yay.

Plus--

Oh.

Fuck.

No no no no no, no, I don’t want that.

The thought occurred that this probably is one of the many functions of the plot magic’s oddness around people remembering things they shouldn’t, and blah blah blah Eren crying at the start of the series, but...

Grisha sees Zeke for a moment. Just a moment, but he taps into their link in the Paths.

If Mikasa goes back to watch the memory of Eren sleeping while he’s supposed to be collecting firewood, I have objections. I don’t know what they are, but there’s a visceral reaction of how dare you if that’s where this is all heading.

But you know, that’s for people who do things like speculation about things that aren’t related to people with the last name Reiss, so not my problem.

Anyway, the flashbacks are not a surprise. Grisha loves Eren. He makes his mistakes with Zeke, and comes to regret them terribly. He becomes a better man, and leaves his obsession behind to hold his new family.

This explains what happens the night he kills the Reiss family very well.

In that moment, he must have felt, so keenly, that this is all his fault. He walks away from the Founder. He leaves his mission. He leaves the power behind.

The walls fall, and in the hands of the Reisses, the Founder can do nothing to assist.

His wife dies.

The obsession returns, and Grisha’s last act is saddling Eren with all of his mistakes. Because he learned from his old ones, but he found that those lessons just destroyed the new life he comes to love. Grisha abandons his cause, and Carla dies. Eldians die. Marley creates more victims.

How many people suffer needlessly because Grisha hesitates?

That’s not a burden he takes to well, and the Grisha in these memories never wanted his last moments with Eren to be what they were. It’s one more piece to the insanity that took hold that night. One more tragedy.

When Kruger gives Grisha the Attack Titan, he tells Grisha to love someone inside the walls. The instruction becomes to make a family, but its root is in love. The important part is that Grisha loves someone. Otherwise, the cycle continues.

Grisha loves his sons. He abuses one and nearly ruins him, and takes the next and loves him properly. That’s the son who rejects the idea that they should all die. He’s been given a life that he understands has glory in even its beginning moments, and understands how horrendous it is that Zeke would remove generations of future moments.

The problem that continues, however, is one that I imagine we’ll be addressing with future flashback episodes.

Zeke loves his little brother. Until time allows otherwise, he takes it for granted that his precious little brother will see things his way. He needs so little convincing to bring Eren into the fold. Even before he knows how much control he truly has, he fully accepts Eren.

He doesn’t know Eren.

Eren knows Zeke, because the truth of Zeke’s heart is in this plan.

He knows Zeke, and doesn’t do anything with that knowledge.

Eren and Zeke use each other to reach this place, and in the end, their failure to be there for one another results in neither one being able to wield the power that their union creates.

There might be love there, but it’s the ruined kind Grisha bestows on Zeke. Control is what matters. Reaching the end is what matters.

“Your wife. You child. Even someone on the street. It does not matter. Love someone inside the walls. If you can’t, we’re doomed to repeat it all again. The same history. The same mistakes. Again and again.”

The mistake Eren and Zeke make is the opposite of the one their father chooses in this memory. He puts his love for his family over his mission.

Eren and Zeke prioritize their mission so deeply that they might as well be strangers, no matter how often they refer to each other as brothers. Of course it’s a disaster.

The audience has been waiting for Eren’s side of this story for years, because we’ve watched him grow up. We’ve watched him struggle and triumph and lose himself, and none of that was enough to establish the train of thought that led to these choices that Zeke is so proud of him for making, so it’s been a known thing to us that he’ll have some sort of eventual reveal (which we’re still waiting on; this chapter just does us the favor of confirming that we are waiting).

Zeke wants to confirm Eren’s mindset before they kick things off, since he has the luxury of time in this space.

He never bothers to confirm Eren’s thoughts out in the living world. Not actively. Eren lies, and Zeke lets it pass as enough.

These two never try to help each other. They use each other up.

Zeke can swear to be there for Eren, can swear to set him free, but he does not see who his brother is, and Eren, knowing exactly what kind of person Zeke is, chooses to ignore that in favor of playing the long con.

They fail.

They fail their family by failing to see them as such, and so fail every other task they sought to accomplish.

The story’s forcing them to deal with that now, since they have so much time, but it is so easy to see why this happens. They’re desperate, and they grab their lifelines, and they decide that if there’s something wrong, it can wait.

In the metaphor, that’s fine. They need to stop drowning.

But they see each other as a lifeline before they see each other as siblings.

Grisha sees Zeke as a tool before he sees him as a son.

The same mistakes, over and over.

Some more familiar than others.

We’ve reached the above thing.

What I’m referencing is that really, all through this chapter my only concrete thought was Eren looks a lot like Frieda. Naturally not greatly evident in the shot that’s actually relevant to why I’m bringing it up. Why should I get nice things.

Like. A lot. To the point where it starts to feel intentional, not the result of my brain linking everything back to the Reiss lands. Eren’s hair doesn’t part like Grisha’s or Carla’s, and conveniently we’ve got the comparisons readily available. He has Frieda’s. The young woman his father took the Founding Titan from.

After a long series of consensual (with heavy sarcastic quotes, yes, but putting that aside for the moment) sacrifices, Frieda and Eren are the first in recent history to have their consent overridden. Frieda’s ripped to pieces by Grisha, and has her family slaughtered by him. Hours later, understanding nothing of either Titan he’s inheriting, Eren takes up the mantle.

Eren first sees Frieda through her eyes, looking in a mirror, and I absolutely know I’m reading too much into this, but give me a sec of indulgence. I rarely get to talk about Frieda in these posts.

Frieda, the one who Eren really does look bizarrely like, is Zeke’s foil.

In the two shots above, we have an older half-sibling using their powers to convince their younger sibling to see the world they want them to.

Zeke’s having his difficulties, but Frieda has none.

Frieda has a loving relationship with her little sister, and touches her head to Historia’s gently.

Zeke bashes his head to Eren’s forcefully.

Frieda loves Historia. She has no reason but love to come and pay her visits. She helps her learn to read, she rides horses with her, and provides her company.

Historia has all those memories taken away. Their relationship only exists on Frieda’s terms until five years after Frieda’s death.

In an attempt to keep this post from turning into me shouting about how the Reiss family is symbolic of the manga as a whole, and Historia needs to come back and rightfully re-dethrone Eren as the main protagonist, I’ll be brief:

Frieda screws Historia up.

She adores her little sister, but in a world without Frieda, Historia is left with neglect and an overwhelming sense that no one wants her to be alive. Frieda routinely takes away the memories that prove that belief wrong. For complicated reasons that a teenager shouldn’t be expected to handle, but Historia’s problems are still actively exacerbated by Frieda forcing her will on Historia.

Eren has more say in what his brother’s trying to pull, thanks to his own plot magic, but we see the problem, with the same dynamic.

Zeke loves Eren.

He can’t see past his view of the world to see Eren well enough to try to do what’s best for Eren.

This is not a collaboration. It’s two people fiercely opposed who have put that argument off until the last possible second rather than approach one another as equals.

Eren’s head is blown off. He’s due to be dead.

Zeke is still trying to rescue him from his own free will.

Love without respect is useless. It’s what turns the emotion selfish.

Idiots.

I’m torn on what this chapter means for future chapters, because I don’t see how Eren and Zeke are moving past this roadblock without finally dealing with the issues that landed them here, aaaand theoretically that means that Eren’s plan wins.

I guess we get to look forward to what that means if that’s the case.

But Eren’s head is still kind of. Not. On his body.

Which makes me think that whatever decision makes it out of Inception, it’s probably going to be one that alters the reality they’re playing with, and that is really hard to do satisfyingly.

Those are problems for another month, though.

I have trouble calling this chapter good, because a lot of it is. well, what did you expect when you chose to do things like this? There’s some satisfaction in the fact that the characters are truly being respected as the numbskulls they’ve behaved as, but that does little to make the overall situation better.

Thankfully, emotional flashbacks pander to my needs directly, so this will be a satisfying trainwreck, but, uh.

Yeah.

Local siblings don’t listen to each other on family roadtrip down memory lane, feat. apocalypse in the background. That is the chapter.

It needs to be drawn as the Renaissance painting it clearly is in spirit.

[kurokoros]

i may not be your cup of tea (but i’ll be your tenth shot of tequila) | part 1

Title: i may not be your cup of tea (but i’ll be your tenth shot of tequila)

Rated: M (smut, language, implied threesomes)

Words: 7.7K

Pairing: Sweet Pea x reader

Summary: Friends with benefits aside, you and Sweet Pea are just a bad idea waiting to happen.

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

The Wyrm is surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night. While usually the bar is packed to the brim with bodies and alcohol this late at night with everyone celebrating that weeks new initiates, it’s nearly dead just after eleven tonight. Most of the senior members are out of town tonight, off taking care of business with another gang in Centerville, their fight not with the Ghoulies for once. Most of the Serpents you graduated with left for the quarry around nine, deciding to get smashed there instead of at the Wyrm for once, and you and Toni had momed most of the Serpents still in high school into going home before they got anymore piss drunk so close to their final exams.

You brother Jughead left nearly an hour ago for some date with Betty, and that left just you, Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs in the bar, Hog Eye leaving his keys with Toni and telling her to lock-up whenever they were ready as he left early for the night.

With everyone else gone, the four of you fell into a lazy game of pool, mostly just knocking the balls around aimlessly and trash talking each other, all a bit wobbly from the shots of tequila Toni brought out earlier. You’ve managed to keep yourself upright fairly well so far, giggly but lucid. Toni didn’t handle the shots as well as you and has been leaning on Fangs for the better part of the night, and he’s gained a particular delight in recording her stumbling around the Wyrm in her heels.

Even Sweet Pea has loosened up since the night started, grinning more freely now, able to let down his walls with everyone gone.

It’s nice, the four of you having a quiet night together. It’s something that doesn’t happen often anymore.

That’s when Sweet Pea makes an offhanded crack about your height.

You should ignore it, really. It’s not exactly uncommon for the boys to make jokes about how short you and Toni are compared to them, or for the two of you to make jokes the other way around. That’s just how you all are.

But Sweet Pea has always had a way of getting under your skin like no one else. It’s almost a talent on your part. The two of you have gotten along like fire and gasoline since you met back in your Sophomore year, once Jughead joined the Serpents. Your brother has always had a tendency to run his mouth and get himself into trouble, and you’ve always been the one to make sure he didn’t get his ass beaten because of it, so when Jughead started having problems with the other young Serpent you begrudgingly stepped in.

Everything he threw at you, you sent right back, your venom matching his biting comments, and that only made him try harder to push your buttons. Your arguments are practically infamous among the Serpents, the younger ones taking bets on which of you would win whenever the two of you would get into it. Despite that, there’s always been that air of protective affection between you that all Serpents have.

There was one time you overstepped in an argument and you both knew it. Your banter, while biting, has always been meant to rile each other up, not hurt each other, and you crossed that line with an ill-placed jab. Sweet Pea had clammed up, practically shut down, and you’d felt sick to your stomach for days, even after apologizing with Mongolian takeout and his favorite movies. And Sweet Pea got into his fair share of fights back in high school to defend you, even though you weren’t a Serpent back then. You might not always get along, but you take care of each other.

So, no, you don’t hate sweet Pea or even dislike him, really. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t an asshole over ninety percent of the time. An absolutely smoking hot asshole, sure, but still an asshole.

You blame the tequila for what you snap back at him.

“Why don’t you shut up and put your money where your mouth is, Skyscraper?” You prop your hands on your hips, tilting your chin up at him almost defiantly as you purse your lips. Eyes narrowing just a tick, you can’t help the slight quirk of your lips as his gaze snaps over to you, Sweet Pea stilling instead of taking his shot.

Toni and Fangs exchange a bemused look from the other side of the pool table. Nothing good ever comes from you and Sweets going at it like this, especially not in an empty bar.

He straightens to his full height slowly, curious eyes on you as he weights his pool cue in his hands, fingers flexing against the smooth wood. Sweet Pea glances you up and down, seemingly interested in your challenge, and you know you have him hook, line, and sinker. “What do you have in mind, Doll?” he asks, voice lower and throatier than usual from the tequila and you have to force yourself not to shiver.

“Strip. Pool.” You enunciate each word carefully, making sure he’s watching the way your lips work around the syllables. He seems to straighten even further at the proposition, all six-and-a-half feet of him towering over you as Sweet Pea shifts to face you more directly, only a few short steps away. “You and Fangs against me and Toni.”

Toni shakes her head as soon as you mention her, looking vaguely disgusted at the idea of playing a stripping game with people she grew up with. “No, no we are not doing that! Absolutely not!” You force your gaze away from Sweet Pea to shoot her a brief pleading look, but she only shakes her head again, eyes saying no fucking way bitch, you’re on your own.

Fangs peeks down at Toni, crossing his arms as a small smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “I can call Cheryl Blossom over. Would you be up for it then?”

“What did you just say Fogarty?” The too sweet tone of Toni’s voice makes him take a step away from her.

He takes a step away from her. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

Sweet Pea ignores their exchange, dark eyes staring you down and swallowing you up. His brows furrow slightly, as if he can’t quite figure you out. He places his pool cue on the table, crossing his arms and leaning back against the table. “And what makes you think I want to play?”

“Because you like risks,” you muse, taking a half step closer to him. “We both do. And playing the same crowd of guys every night just isn’t doing it for you anymore, is it, Sweets?” It’s not a question. Not really. You both know he’s been frustrated lately, playing the same group of guys every week and already knowing how the game will end before it starts. “You need a challenge again.”

He doesn’t bother with masking his interest. “Why strip pool?”

You shrug, pretending like you haven’t thought about this before, like you haven’t thought about what it would be like to play with him. “The high stakes,” you tell him simply, ignoring Toni and Fangs standing there, absolutely flabbergasted. “And because I’m better than you and want to prove it,” you add cheekily, taking your lower lip between your teeth as you stare up at him.

“And what do I get out of it?”

You raise a brow at him. “What? the strip tease isn’t enough?”

A grin tugs at his lips, Sweet Pea shaking his head incredulously. “You do realize that if you lose you’ll be naked, right?” he asks, as if she hasn’t already thought of that, but there’s a touch of concern there as well, like he wants to make sure it’s not just the alcohol talking. “I don’t think your dad or brother would like that much.”

He takes another step towards you and your back hits the edge of the pool table, your neck craned back to look at him as you bat your eyelashes. “I won’t tell if you don’t.

A low sound that’s almost a groan rumbles in the back of his throat. “All right.”

“Shoes count.”

He glances at the golden snake necklace at your throat. “Accessories don’t.”

“I choose what you lose when I get a ball in.”

“And I choose what you lose.”

“Game ends when you lose all of your clothes.” It’s not the traditional take on eight-ball, but neither of you are complaining about that. A buzz of excitement tingles along your skin at the prospect of the game and making him eat his words for once.

His smirk grows as he takes another step towards you, amusement and something else flickering in his dark eyes. “You mean you, Baby.”

The look you send him is positively wicked. “I know what I said, Sasquatch.”

Fangs blinks rapidly, looking between the two of you in absolute bewilderment before looking down at Toni. “What the fuck is going on?”

“That?” Toni asks, a look of disgust and amusement flickering across her face. “That’s called foreplay, Fangs.” She claps her hands sharply to gain the two of yous attention, but neither you nor Sweet Pea dare break away from the magnetic gaze you’re locked in. “All right, you two have fun. We’re gonna go. I’m leaving the keys, so lock up when you’re done. And for the love of god, please try not to make a mess.” She shakes her head, eyes rolling when the two of you simply wave her off.

Sweet Pea cocks his head to one side, his tongue flicking out across his lips as he stares down at you, offering Toni no promises to keep things clean. He breaks your stare to let his gaze wander down your frame, eyes lingering not for the first time on the bare expanse of your thighs. His gaze drags back up slowly, and you could swear you can feel it sliding across your skin. The edges of Sweet Pea’s mouth twist up in a grin, gaze heated as he looks at you, and the sudden urge to take that lip between your teeth and bite it pools low in your stomach.

Fangs watches this exchange in disgust and vague fascination. “Yeah, I’m gonna go too. I can’t in good conscience watch you two fuck on the pool table.”

The two of them leave quickly, shooting the pair of you disturbed and amused glances over their shoulders as they make a break for the door before either of you can call them back to whatever crazy game it is that’s going on between you and Sweet Pea.

Sweet Pea takes a step towards you, torso barely brushing against yours as he boxes you in against the pool table, big hands grasping at the edge. Your breath catches as his presence wraps around you like a vice, his thumb teasing the hem of your skirt. Sweet Pea smirks as he dips his chin down to whisper in your ear. “When I win,” he tells you, lips brushing against your ear, breath hot against the side of your neck, “I’m keeping your panties.”

You tilt your chin up to meet his eyes again, Sweet Pea pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes dark. “You wish, Pervert.” You’re hands slide up his chest slowly and then you shove him away, Sweet Pea chuckling as he allows you to push him around.

Sweet Pea resets the table easily, grabbing his cue again before gesturing for you to start. “I’ll let you break, Sweetheart,” he jokes, winking at you as he moves to stand on the opposite side of the table.

You roll your eyes. “What a gentleman.”

Moving to the end of the table, you bend over dramatically, knowing you’re giving Sweet Pea a clear view down your black, lacy top, and line up the shot. Not for the first time, you’re glad you grew up playing pool in heels, the added height not throwing off your center of gravity too much.

Besides, the heels make your ass look great.

Ignoring the way Sweet Pea’s gaze burns right through you, you take the shot. The balls scatter across the table in a clean break and you pocket the seven ball. “Guess I’m solids,” you murmur, glancing up at Sweet Pea through your eyelashes and catching him watching you appraisingly.

You straighten and move around the table, looking for a clean shot.

The way you see it, it’s a fair match. You’ve never played Sweet Pea before, at least not seriously, and he’s good, really good. He knows it too, and that makes him cocky. You’ve had the added benefit of watching him play before where he hasn’t seen you sweep the table. You know his tricks, his taunting style of playing, how he’ll drag the game out even when everyone knows it’s over, he’s won.

You’re also fairly even when it comes to clothes. With the weather getting colder you’ve both shifted to wearing more layers, and that benefits you both in a game like this. That makes it seven for both of you, but you can only afford for him to get five balls compared to your six, unless you want to be playing with your ass or breasts out.

“Three in the corner pocket,” you call, easily making the shot. Grinning to yourself, you turn to Sweet Pea, finding him still watching you almost fondly, his dark gaze softer than usual as you look back at him. Humming to yourself, you look him up and down slowly, deciding how you want to play this game with him. “I’ll be taking your socks and shoes, Sweets,” you tell him after a beat.

He quirks a brow, but crouches to untie his shoes anyway. “Not starting off very strong there, Doll.”

You watch him toss his boots towards the bar, his socks following a moment later before he stands up again. “Maybe I like to take my time,” you say, ignoring the implication there.

Sweet Pea doesn’t. “And what if I don’t?” he asks lowly, something warm pooling low in your stomach at the question, but he doesn’t give you time to answer as he turns back to the table, pocketing two stripes without a word. “Jacket and flannel, Babe,” he calls over to you across the table.

You roll your eyes as you drop slip off the leather, clinging to your green flannel for a second longer before removing that as well. A chill immediately sweeps through you, goosebumps prickling across your skin, the Wyrm cold without your layers. Folding your clothes nicely, you set them across the back of a bar-stool, feeling Sweet Pea follow you with his eyes, you left in only a thin, lacy top and a short skirt.

You pocket two more balls on your next turn and take his jacket and flannel as well, Sweet Pea shaking his head in amusement as he slid the leather jacket from his shoulders and tossed it across the back of a nearby stool, his green and grey flannel following close behind. You hadn’t realized before that the two of you were nearly matching, and a part of you wonders how you never noticed.

Eyes following Sweet Pea, he practically makes a show of taking his next shots, and you don’t need to watch to know he pockets both of them, the distinct sound of the balls slipping into the pockets the only noise in the bar.

“Shirt,” he says immediately upon making the shots, making you snort. He looks you up and down, as if he can’t quite decide what else he wants you to do. Sweet Pea wets his lips, eyes shifting back to your face. “And your skirt.”

You hands find the hem of your top, easing it up slowly and feeling the weight of Sweet Pea’s gaze on you as you tug the flimsy shirt over your head, careful not to let it catch on your hair. You let the fabric trail off your shoulders and slip down your bare arms, past your hands, and down into a small heap at your feet. Eyes locked with his, you watch Sweet Pea swallow as your fingers find the zipper on your skirt, easing it down slowly as it loosens around your hips. It drops to the floor.

Suddenly you’re glad that you’re wearing the nice matching green bra and panties set that Toni made you buy the last time the two of you went shopping in Greendale. You hadn’t intended for it, but you’re suddenly all too aware that it’s his favorite color.

“Heels and my underwear?” You snort, stepping out of the pool of your skirt at your feet and trying to keep your heart from jumping out of your throat. “You’re such a guy, Sweets.”

He only grins back, gaze greedy as he drinks in the sight of you, eyes following the curve of your hip before drifting to your cleavage, barely concealed by green lace. Sweet Pea’s searching gaze falters, locking on something interesting. “I wondered where your tattoo was,” he mumbles, eyes on the two-headed serpent on the right side of your rib-cage, nearly hidden from view.

You’ve had the tattoo since you were eighteen, Toni inking the symbol onto you the day after completing your initiation, much to you brother and father’s begrudging approval. It wasn’t that you ever tried to hide it, exactly, but the location wasn’t one you let most people see. It’s always felt like something private to you, in the four years since you’ve had it.

You turn your back on Sweet Pea, suddenly feeling very exposed, and ignore the way his eyes follow you as you turn back to the table to take your next shot. You pick an easy shot, one that even an amateur player could make. Taking a slow breath through your nose, you try to steady the sudden jittery feeling that washes through you.

You look at him again once you’ve made the shot, something in the room shifting between you. “Shirt.”

His eyes don’t stray from yours as he takes the hem in his hands and pulls it over his head in once fluid move, tossing the dark T-shirt into the pile with the rest of his clothes. Inhaling sharply, you swallow, fighting the urge to stare.

Sweet Pea has always been some seriously damn delicious eye candy. You’ve never been blind to that. Over six feet tall, broad shoulders, the muscular expanse of his chest and strong torso. The defined shape of his arms and the dark trail of hair obscured by the top of his jeans riding low on his hips. He’s always been hot and he knows it too. The cocky bastard.

You must stare for a moment too long, because Sweet Pea’s lips twitch upwards in amusement. “Your turn again, Babygirl,” he tells you in a low throaty voice, chuckling softly and the sound goes right to your core, your thighs clenching slightly.

Turning back to the table, you try to steady your breathing, lining up another easy shot. A pair of hands settle on your waist, touch barely there, but it’s enough to make heat crawl up your spine as Sweet Pea presses himself against your ass. You jerk in surprise, hitting the cue ball too hard and making the five ball crack against the side of the table instead of slipping into the pocket.

Sweet Pea’s hands slide higher on your waist as you lower the pool cue, his big hands coming to settle just beneath your bra. “Come on, Baby, you can do better than that,” he teases, breath hot and teasing against the shell of your ear.

“Asshole,” you breathe back, shaky, and straighten your back, pressing your spine flush against his bare chest, his skin burning against yours. His thumb brushes against your Serpent tattoo, tracing the shape of it as his lips brush against your bare shoulder.

One of his hands slips around your front, palm pressing flat against your stomach to hold you to him. “Do you want me to stop?”

You push your ass back against his crotch, Sweet Pea grunting in surprise as you grind back against him. “Hell no.”

You twist around in his arms, heels giving you the added height you need to fist a hand in the hair at the back of his neck and drag his lips down to meet yours in a bruising kiss. A low sound rumbles in Sweet Pea’s chest as his weight presses against you, pinning you between the pool table and his towering frame so that you can feel him everywhere, his presence consuming you in a haze. You sigh against his mouth, as he forces your head to tilt back. His calloused fingertips slide along your spine, leaving fire in his wake.

A yelp leaves you as his hands hook under your thighs, his mouth immediately swallowing your appreciative moan as he lifts you clear off the ground, your legs wrapping around his hips as he drops you onto the edge of the pool table, the wood cool against the backs of your thighs. Sweet Pea’s grip on your thighs is bruising, but you only keen at the rough treatment, arching into his chest as your fingers rake through his hair, lips moving against his fiercely.

Your thighs quake around him when he grinds against you, a soft, fluttery sigh leaving you at the feeling. The breathy sound makes him shiver, his fingers sliding high on your legs, teasing the bare skin. Your fingers ghost down the sides of his neck, teasing touch making Sweet Pea’s hips snap against yours. You pull back to murmur his name against his lips, a shaky sound pulling from your chest.

Shivering against him as his palms slide higher up your thighs, fingertips pattering against your skin to his own rhythm, you bite at him, trapping his lower lip between both of your teeth and nibbling. Sweet Pea huffs at you, shuddering as you suck his lower lip into your mouth, tongue grazing it lightly, teasingly. His hands slip beneath you, fisting at your ass and giving you a rough squeeze. You moan against him, shuddering, and pull away from his lips for just a moment. Groaning against your mouth, Sweet Pea tears his lip from your grasp.

“How many shots did you take?” he demands, fingers kneading at your flesh, urging you to answer him. You know he’s talking about the tequila, not the game, and something almost fond builds in your chest at his concern.

Your hand tugs at his hair slightly, the other hanging loosely down his back, your fingers perusing the newly bared skin with a content sigh. “Not enough that you should be worried about it,” you murmur back, words muffled by his lips as you try to drag his mouth back to yours.

He grins before dipping his chin to drag you into another harsh kiss. His tongue slides across the seam of your lips slowly, tasting you and making you moan his name. You squirm, tugging at his hair harshly, encouraging him, and Sweet Pea groans, jerking you forward as he bucks against you, grinding his hard cock against your covered core. You gasp against him, hips rocking back against his.

Sweet Pea rips away from you with a lewd, wet pop, but doesn’t stay away for long. His lips meet your skin once more, hot wet kisses trailing over your jaw and down your neck without warning. You gasp, squirming against him as he roughly bites and sucks at your pulse point, lips lazily trailing down the column of your throat, nosing at your soft skin. “Oh,” you gasp as he peruses your neck, tilting your head up to give him better access. “Sweet Pea,” you murmur, eyes slipping shut as he finds a particularly sensitive spot below your jaw. Sweet Pea bites you roughly and you yelp, surprised, but he quickly soothes the spot with a slow lick, a hard suck following, sure to leave a bruise as he pays particular attention to that spot.

One hand slips down, groping at your ass and grinding your hips against his. A hiss leaves him at the rough contact of your core gyrating against him in a slow grind.

Your fingers ghost over his hips before grasping his arousal through his jeans, palming him roughly. Sweet Pea moans against your bare skin, teeth pressing into your shoulder to muffle the sound. One of his hands slams against the wood beside your hip, his hand clenched into a tight, desperate fist. His mouth leaves your skin, his breaths ragged as he presses into your hand, forehead dragging against your shoulder roughly.

He bats your fingers away suddenly and rips away from you, sending you an absolutely wicked look as he drops to his knees, eyes never once leaving yours. He slides his palms down your torso slowly, thumbs teasing the hem of your panties, already slick despite him barely touching you. Sweet Pea notices this as well, smirking up at you in a way that could only be described as dangerous.

Sweet Pea’s hands slip down to your knees, grip tight as he pushes your legs further apart until he slips easily between them. Sweet Pea wets his lips, drinking in the sight of the wet, green lace between your legs. His grip tightens appreciatively on your thighs. Sweet Pea’s thumb gently brushes against the lace between your legs, gauging how wet you truly are. He groans when the digit comes away slick and wet, his finger glistening when it catches the light. His thumb ghosts over your core, and you gasp, bucking into his teasing touch.

Swearing under his breath, Sweet Pea grabs you by the leg, your left thigh tossed over his shoulder as Sweet Pea yanks you to the edge of the table, leaving you balanced on the edge. He doesn’t give your a moment to breathe as he suddenly lunges forward, mouth latching onto your covered slit as he laps at you, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit through your panties.

You gasp, doubling over and fisting at his hair, yanking him tighter against you, shivering. Sweet Pea groans as you pull roughly at his hair, the sting of pain only spurring him on. You try to rock against his mouth but Sweet Pea holds your hips down tight against the pool table.

Quivering, you throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut against the onslaught of sensation. His tongue is hot and the drenched lace of your underwear rubs against your clit roughly as he grazes his teeth against you. It’s enough to make your toes curl, leaving you panting, his name slipping from your lips with a breathy sound. Your fingers twitch against his scalp and Sweet Pea hoists your leg higher over his shoulder.

There’s a delicious burn in your thighs from the stretch. “Sweet Pea,” you whimper, arching into him. It comes out breathy—needy, and you whine at the feeling. “Fuck, Sweet Pea,” you pant, hips rocking against his mouth as his tongue works against you. “Oh, god,” you choke out, nearly sobbing as he works you to your tipping point rapidly.

He yanks his mouth away from you suddenly, leaving you right at the edge, a quivering mess, and you groan, heel digging into his back as you try to guide him back to your center. Sweet Pea chuckles at your pout, breath hot against your covered core and making you squirm at the lack of friction.

“Tease,” you huff out, trying to steady your breathing as you glare down at him.

Sweet Pea’s fingers squeeze around the leg tossed over his shoulder, lips brushing against your skin in the ghost of a kiss. He looks up you from between your thighs, eyes dark with arousal and the room smelling of sex, and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. “You like it,” he quips, voice rough as he mouths at your inner thigh, nipping at your skin, gauging your reaction with sharp eyes.

You hum in response, back arching as he works a hickey onto your skin. “Maybe,” you concede, loath to admit that he’s right, that your arousal is only growing the more his teasing fingers work against you.

Sliding your leg off his shoulder, Sweet Pea rises back to his feet, standing between your splayed legs as his big hands wrap around your waist. His fingers trail up your spine until he finds the clasp of your bra, working a finger beneath it, but otherwise leaving it untouched. Sweet Pea’s hands on your back drag you to the edge of the table, coaxing you to slide off.

He jerks you around without warning as soon as your feet touch the ground, heels clicking against the wooden floors, pressing your back flush against him and pinning you between him and the old pool table. You gasp, surprised, and Sweet Pea curls one arm around your hips, the other coming up to tangle in your messy hair, tilting your head to the side. Sweet Pea presses a heated kiss just below your ear, working a hickey onto your skin and making you sigh as you lean back into him. Your head drops back against his shoulder as his teeth scrape along the side of your neck.

Both of his hands slide down to grab your hips, Sweet Pea thrusting against you roughly, grinding you ass back against him. His hot breath fans against your ear. “Bend over,” he demands, nosing at your throat and making you squirm.

You hesitate, glancing at him over your shoulder, but he’s Sweet Pea and you’ve never not trusted him before, so you take a slow breath and allow him to lower you into a deep bend, your chest flush against the cool table. “That’s it,” he breathes out, taking a moment to just look at you, at his hands sliding from your hips up your sides and to your ribs, his tattooed thumb ghosting the Serpent on your side. “Fuck, do you have any idea how hard it was not to bend you over and fuck you senseless earlier?” he asks you.

You tremble below him, the heat of him pressed along your spine as Sweet Pea looms over you, humming against your ear as he trails wet kisses along your neck. You arch against him, grinding back against him sharply. “I think I have an idea, yeah,” you manage to get out as he pulls away from you for just a moment, allowing you to breathe. For a moment there you thought you’d jump him too, but he beat you to it.

Sweet Pea’s hand leaves your hip to yank at his belt, nails ripping at the leather to set his cock free. You gasp below him as you hear the clatter of metal, Sweet Pea’s belt dropping to the floor with a sharp clang, the sound loud in the otherwise silent bar.

You can feel him then, hard and hot as he presses against you from behind. Sweet Pea’s hand slips between your legs to shove your panties to the side. A shaky breath slips passed your lips, your forehead dropping down onto the table as the head of his cock traces your drenched opening. “Sweets,” you manage to choke out, swallowing down a moan, “condom.”

He laughs and you can feel the sound rumble through you all the way down to your core. “I know, Babe.” He squeezes your hip before pulling back. As he fumbles around behind you your gaze turns to the half finished game of pool you had been playing. Luckily for you, the table is almost bare.

Sweet Pea’s fingers play with the clasp of your necklace before sliding up to gather your hair into his fist, guiding your head to the side until your cheek is pressed against the tabletop. His cock slides along your wetness suddenly, coating himself in your juices, and you claw at the table, his hand burning against your hip as he thrusts against your slick opening, panting in your ear, teasing. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, mouthing at the back at your sweaty neck, nosing at your sticky skin as he rolls his hips against your ass. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight,” Sweet Pea growls against your ear. It’s a promise, you know, and Sweet Pea has every intention of following through with it, his breaths heavy against the side of your throat and his hips moving against you harshly as he grinds into you.

“I’d bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks you, hand slipping around your hips to prod at your swollen clit. Your hips jerk back against his as you whimper his name. Rocking back against his hard cock, you bite your lower lip, silently begging him to just fuck you already.

As if knowing exactly what you’re thinking, he grins against your throat.

His grip tightens on your hip, his thrusts shallow against your dripping opening, the flared head of his member prodding at your entrance teasingly. You gasp, nails biting into the green fabric on the table. “Shit, Baby,” Sweet Pea groans against your ear, nipping at the lobe, “you’re so fucking wet.” You shiver, quivering as he continues. “Do you like it when I talk to you?” His tip kisses your clit, making you hiss as he ruts against you once more, pressing you further into the table. “Do you like it when I tell you what I’m going to do to you?”

You do, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of saying it out loud.

“I’m going to make you beg for it, Sweetness,” Sweet Pea tells you, flicking at your clit again, making you choke on his name. “And then I’m going to fuck you until all you can do is scream my name.” Sweet Pea noses at your exposed ear, making sure you’re paying attention to him and only him. “But I’m not gonna to let you cum until I want you to,” he promises, voice low and dark, raspy.

“Sweet Pea,” you whine, biting your lip as you grind into his hips, patience thinning as he thumbs at your clit and continues to tease your sopping opening, wanting to drag things out, wanting to drive you crazy.

He teases your sweaty skin, mouthing at your pulse point. “What do you want, Baby?” he coos, rocking against your ass sharply, groaning when you whimper, trembling. Your nails rake across the table as he thrusts against your thigh. “Tell me what you want.”

“Oh, God, Sweet Pea,” you moan, hearing him panting against your ear. You almost cum just feeling him slide along your slick skin, his fingers biting into your hip roughly as you squirm against him, wanting him inside you.

His fingers release your hair, his knuckles sliding against the back of your neck and you gasp at the feel of his rings on your skin, every part of you hyper-aware of him, sensitive to his touch. “Use your words, Doll,” he teases.

You huff, rolling your eyes at him, then gasp as he pinches your clit between his fingers sharply. You swallow your pride, aching for him terribly. “I want you inside me,” you admit. “Sweet Pea, please,” you beg, feeling him shiver above you. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Say it again,” he demands, voice rough as he grinds against you sharply. You grit your teeth to hold back a hiss and he smiles against your skin.

“Dammit, Sweet Pea,” you groan. “I want your cock inside me!”

You have no warning before he suddenly rears up and forces you down harder against the table, his cock shoving inside you brutally fast, sliding in easily you’re so wet. You gasp, clawing at the table as his thick length fills you completely, Sweet Pea long and hard inside of you. Your back arches as his hips press tight against your ass, Sweet Pea filling you to the brim. You release a shuddery breath, dropping your forehead to rest against the cool surface of the table, panting when he shifts inside you, stroking along your walls wonderfully.

“All you had to do was ask,” he teases, hips gyrating slowly, stirring your insides and making your whimper in pleasure.

“Asshole,” you choke out, but there’s no bite to it.

You relish the slight burn between your legs as you adjust to his size, Sweet Pea thick and imposing inside of you, stretching you to your limits. He rocks against you slowly, allowing you a moment to breathe, but it’s not what you want right now.

Your hips snap back to meet his and he moans. Sweet Pea presses flush against your back once more, hips thrusting against yours harshly in response. Your mouth falls open with a silent cry as he grinds into you, the tip of his cock prodding at a sweet spot inside you. He peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders as his cock drags along your walls, Sweet Pea pulling out slowly until only his tip is resting inside your. His hips snap forward roughly, filling your so suddenly that you moan his name.

Sweet Pea mumbles something you don’t catch, hand fisting at your ass as he forces you back to meet his powerful thrusts, your pants and the slapping of sweat slicked skin the only sounds in the empty room. A choked gasp tears from your throat as he shoves into your, whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you from behind, the sensation new and highly addictive.

At the sound of your high whine, Sweet Pea picks up the pace, stealing the breath from your lungs as his hips snap against yours, movements sharp and fast, Sweet Pea grinding against you roughly. You gasp at the unexpected power of his hips rutting against yours, your gaze going hazy with pleasure. Sweet Pea pounds into your relentlessly—hips thrusting against yours harshly, movements rough and sharp as he slides against you. Your hips jerk back to meet him, matching his thrusts with your own as you circle against him slowly.

Walls sucking at his retreating length, you moans as the head of his cock rubs against a sensitive spot along the top of your walls, pushing you closer to the edge. You sob as you shove yourself back on his cock, arching your back to let him reach deeper inside you.

He thumbs your clit and you pant his name, begging him to fuck your harder, so close to tipping over the edge.

“Y/N,” Sweet Pea moans in your ear, the coil inside you winding tight. You squeezes around him, shaking, your hips rolling against his roughly. He swallows down a moan, eyes rolling back as you clamp down on him tightly. He thrusts into you harder and faster, pulling out less than he did before, and you whimper, gasping, fingers twitching against the tabletop.

Your muscles seize around him, quivering, your toes curling.

Sweet Pea stops his fast pace, rocking into you at a more languid pace, and you whine, trying to shove yourself back onto his cock, but he stills you with the hand on your hip, grinning against the back of your neck as you cling to the threads of your impending orgasm, so close to bliss, but he denies you, edging you again.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he teases. “I said I was going to fuck you until I wanted you to cum, Sweetness,” he reminds you, hips snapping forward roughly. You moan at the feeling, but he begins rocking into you lazy instead. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You shiver in response, wetting your lips, and twist around slightly, tilting your head just enough for you to look at him as he rolls his hips against yours slowly, filling you with long, deep thrusts. “What?” you asks him, peering up at him through your lashes. “Afraid you’ll come too early, Sweet Pea?”

Sweet Pea pinches your clit roughly, making you keen. You arch into the table as he rolls your clit between his fingers, only for a moment before releasing your. “Smartass,” he hisses in your ear, eyes narrowing dangerously as he glares down at you. “Wipe that grin off your mouth,” he grumbles.

“Make me,” you snaps back at him, egging him on, hoping to get a rise out of him and get him to pick up the pace.

Sweet Pea pulls out of you suddenly, yanking you around and picking you up by your thighs. He drops you back onto the edge of the table and reenters you just as quickly, forcing your back flat against the pool table as his hand wraps around your throat, your own hands snapping up to grasp at his wrist in surprise. He doesn’t squeeze though, only holds his hand there, fingers stroking the side of your neck as he rocks lazily against you.

His hand leaves your neck, big hand grasping both of your wrists tightly and pinning them against the table above your head. You bite your lip, eyes squeezing shut as he presses into you, taking his time and letting you feel every inch of him as he slides along your walls.

“Fuck, Sweet Pea,” you murmur breathlessly, wanting to grab him and pull him down to you, but he holds you down easily. “You’re so big.” The praise slips from your lips with a throaty moan.

Sweet Pea suddenly thrusts against you roughly, a long, low moan slipping from your lips as you jerk back to meet him, only to whimper when he returns to his slow, steady pace, sliding out of you fully before pressing back into your tight heat.

You squirm again, but he only rocks into you slowly, releasing your wrists and ghosting his fingertips back down the length of your arm until he can grab you by the throat again, holding you there, grip firm but loose, enough for you to feel it, but not cut off your air.

His fingers prods at your clit and you whine, biting your lip as you rocks back against him, Sweet Pea leaving your clit to latch onto your hip, helping you to roll against him. He chuckles at the frustrated face you make, squeezing your throat gently. You only huff, but a pleased sigh pulls from your throat as his head rubs against your walls, drawing a shiver from you.

He slams into you suddenly, picking up the pace when you moan lowly, his name on your lips. Your hips jump when he drags along your sweet spot inside, you grinding back against him, uncaring of the table edge digging into your lower back, your legs tensing around him as he continues thrusting inside you.

Sweet Pea stares back at your with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth open as he pants, pleasure etched onto his face and sweat sliding down his neck.

“God, you feel so good around my cock,” he grunts, plowing into you. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. “Do I make you feel good, Baby?” You rocks back against him and Sweet Pea’s hand slips under you to fist at your ass. “Fuck, Doll, you take all of me like a good girl.”

Hand still on your neck, Sweet Pea pulls you up so that your front is pressed tight against his chest. He moans against your ear, breathing harshly against your throat. “I want you to cum, Baby,” he demands, groaning against your skin before dragging his tongue down the column of your throat, tasting your sweat-slicked skin. He grunts against you, a low, strangled sound shoving passed his lips before he nips at you. Sweet Pea begins jack-hammering into your center, not giving your a moment to breathe as he pounds into you. You whimper, clinging to him. “That’s it, Baby, just like that.”

Sweet Pea slips one hand between your legs. Two fingers rub furiously at your clit, Sweet Pea determined to get you off first. You sob his name, moaning, hips jerking against his as you claws at his back, nails dragging against his skin roughly. His breathing becomes erratic, a shuddery breath fanning across your lips. Sweet Pea pounds into your core so unbelievably fast that the breath is knocked from your lungs. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing through your so hard that the breath is knocked clear from your lungs.

Sweet Pea doesn’t stop pounding into you, his fingers still moving roughly against your clit, twisting and pinching, rubbing in fast circles to make you see stars. It only prolongs your release, stretching your climax until you’re twitching against him, moaning his name. White, hot light blinds your vision, your legs quivering around his hips as you shudder around him, sucking him in deeper and clenching down tightly, his thrusts becoming frenzied.

You pant his name and his hips snap forward against yours, his cock twitching inside of your as he pushes into you roughly, spilling himself deep inside of you, hips continuing to rock against yours slowly for several long moments.

His forehead drops onto your shoulder, arms slipping around you as he pulls you into an embrace that’s softer that expected, both of you breathing heavily. Your thumbs rub circles into the spot between his shoulder blades as you nuzzle his ear, panting against him and simply trying to catch your breath.

“So,” Sweet Pea starts, still trying to catch his breath as he lets his hands wander along your back, a finger dragging down your spine and making you arch into him, sensitive to the touch, “do you wanna finish the game, or do are you just gonna give me your panties now?”

You muffle a giggle against his shoulder, swatting at his arm as his laughter shakes you both.

Tag List (ask to be included OR reblog): @requested-memory, @serpentsweetspea, @southsidewrites, @sweetfogarty, @candyshellbell, @mari-cross, @wintersoldierbaby, @damfino-anything, @spazclaiire, @rosesandthornbushes, @sexxxychiq, @southsideglitter, @sweetpeasbabydoll, @humangrumpycat, @cupcakelyss, @i-like-it-like-that-262, @noirefemefatale, @madaboutlili, @sweetwaterprincess, @spokenforimagines, @lonely-full-of-secrets, @sweetpeas-sweetpea, @poolpartyingwithjaws, @worriestothewind, @sedanleystanley, @chipster-21

[spookadoop]

Old Habits Die Hard (Sweet Pea) Pt.2

Part One

The next time you saw Sweet Pea was after the little rumble between the North and Soutside. It was as a form of payment for the Serpent Prince, also known as Jughead Jones. He had used the help of Betty to get a message to you to meet him in Sunnyside Trailer park - he had a deal he wanted to discuss with you.

Turns out, he was determined to become a Serpent. FP was still in prison, someone had to run the Serpents. Even though you had moved to the Southside, Jughead had heard many of the teen Serpents talking about you like some sort of mega-badass. He figured if you were to back him up the Serpens would take him more seriously. In return he would take special care to make sure your friends your family wouldn’t get hurt.

You, of course, agreed. You figured it was about time you gave back your jacket. You cried on the way to the Whyte Wyrm from Jughead’s. You felt like you were giving up your entire life. From this point on, you would have no part of the Serpens left with you minus your tattoos. Your family had obviously disowned you, so why should you continue to keep them with you?

When Jughead flung open the doors to the Wyrm, you immediately spotted Sweet Pea at his usual pool table playing against Tallboy. You could feel the judging stares, but continued to keep your head up like you didn’t care. Like it didn’t hurt.

“I think these Northsiders are lost,” Sweet Pea called, making a shot before standing up straight to face Jughead.

“We’re not,” Jughead replied for the both of you. “I’m over being half a Serpent. “

“Wow,” Sweet Pea replied, bumping past Jughead to the other side of the pool table. “You will do anything to protect your Northside buddies.” You saw Toni looking at you from the corner of your eye but refused to look at her, staying focused on Jughead and acting like a cold-blooded bitch.

“My father was a Serpent,” Jughead shot back. “He led you. I wanna stand with you guys,” He looked around the bar before continuing. “Tallboy was the one who gave me this jacket. It’s finally time I start wearing it.”

Tallboy stood up from where he was lining up his shot, slowly walking over to Jughead. “So, now you wanna be a Serpent, huh?”

His eyes slowly shifted from Jughead to you, meeting your steely gaze. “What about you, Y/N? What are you here for?”

You cleared your throat, walking until you were face-to-face with the long-haired man. “Look, I know you aren’t going to take Jughead seriously. But, I’ve seen him exhibit Serpent traits on many occasions. I’ve seen how loyal he is, seen him fix problems with words instead of violence. Things many Serpents,” You paused you shoot a fixed look at the Serpents you once called your friends, “Have yet to learn. He knows what he’s getting into, Tallboy. And I know he’ll make FP proud.”

“So what?” Sweet Pea called out, stomping to Tallboy’s side. “You’re here to show your support for your little Northside buddy? You aren’t a Serpent anymore, Y/N. Your opinion doesn’t matter here.”

You knew Sweet Pea was talking out of his ass like always, just being his emotionally challenged self. He was never good with showing how he felt. But, it still pissed you off. You gritted your teeth, not giving him the satisfaction of a smartass response, instead choosing to cut right to the chase. You slid off your Serpent jacket, feeling the smooth leather glide against your skin.

The sound of leather hitting the wooden floor ceased all conversations nearby. You lifted your eyes from where your jacket now lay at your ex-boyfriend’s feet, gazing around the room at the faces of the people you once called your family.

Without another word you walked out the doors of the Whyte Wyrm, not turning back to glance at the only home you had ever known.

The next time you saw any of the Serpents was at a drag race against the Ghoulies. You were sitting beside your newfound friend Reggie on the hood of a truck, a cup filled with something in your hand, a pack of pixie-sticks in your pocket. You could finally stand to see the colorful paper straws without a sick feeling reminding you of Jingle Jangle.

You could see the Serpents on their bikes a mere few feet away. Seeing them made your heart ache, especially since all of your old friends had come along. It made you long for the feeling of a smooth leather Serpent Jacket on your skin again. But, no matter how sad it made you, that part of your life was over with. You had even taken to covering up your tattoos with bracelets and makeup, trying to hide the past you hated to admit you missed.

You cheered as Tallboy announced it was time for the race to start, laughing when Reggie almost fell off the hood when you shoved him for cheering right in your ear. “Reggie can you not be so obnoxious today?” You asked with a laugh as the boy pulled you to his side. “C’mon, Y/N! Get pumped!”

“I’m going to pump you if you don’t let go of me Reginald!”

Reggie groaned and removed his arm, allowing you to slide off the hood to get some more ice from the cooler everyone was -surprisingly- sharing. You filled your cup up, sliding a few pieces in your mouth to chew and relish in the refreshing cold. It was hot as hell outside.

“I see you’re having fun with your new friends,” A voice ridiculed from behind you.

You turned around, staring at your ex-boyfriend with an unamused expression. “Yes I am. That’s generally what you do when all of your old friends want nothing to do with you,” You replied easily, not allowing yourself to give him the reaction he wanted.

Sweet Pea scoffed, crossing his arms. “Just didn’t know you were such a mutt-lover, Honeybee.”

You could feel your anger spike at the name. How dare he call you that after how he had treated you. You took another chunk of ice into your mouth, coaxing yourself to cool down before responding.

“And I always thought Serpent law said no Serpent stands alone. But ever since I found out I was being forced to leave the Southside, I’ve been left standing alone. So in a way, I guess we were both wrong.”

With that you left the boy standing by himself, much like the Serpents had left you, not allowing him the chance to reply. It didn’t take long for Reggie to figure out something upset you. He shot the Serpent he had seen you talking to a glare, receiving one in return.

Sweet Pea didn’t speak a word to anyone for the rest of the day.

When you found out FP was finally getting released from prison, you cried. Like a baby. Not that you would ever admit to it. When you finally saw and hugged the man that raised you more than your parents ever did, you cried even harder, bottling up all of your sadness for months on end tends to make you cry about everything. Of course, you told Jughead if he ever told anyone you would gut him like a fish.

So, when Betty and Jughead came to you with the idea of throwing him a retirement party you reluctantly agreed. FP knew you were no longer a part of the Serpents, but he didn’t exactly know why. It made dancing around the topic kind of hard. But, you allowed yourself to forget your stresses when the party finally came.

Most of the older Serpents didn’t seem to care that you had turned in your jacket, they had known you since you were an annoying little brat begging for rides on motorcycles and trying to not cry when you scraped your knee on the rusty playground that resided on the Southside.

Eventually you had to take a break from catching up, settling down at the bar beside Archie, who was stressing over performing with Veronica (which she didn’t know was going to happen). You found it slightly amusing to see him so wound up, but you could understand where he was coming from. It was kind of intimidating to stand in front of all those gang members and have them judge you.

You decided to help calm his nerves, taking his mind off of his performance by telling him stories of embarrassing moments you had witnessed and unfortunately had in the Whyte Wyrm.

“When I still lived on the Southside my friends and I spent every single day here. It was before Sweet Pea and I started dating, back when we both danced around the fact we liked each other. Every time we came here he would spend a least an hour playing pool with Fangs. I never really saw the fun in it because I had never learned how to play.

Well, one day he decided he was going to teach me. He helped me get the so-called ‘form’ right, and showed me how to line up a shot. Well, he failed to inform me on how hard I should hit the ball. So, when he stood at the other end of the table, waiting for his turn I lined up the shot like he showed me and hit the ball with the poolstick. I hit it so hard that it practically flew through the air and hit him directly in the crotch. He blacked out for a good ten seconds and couldn't walk right for a day or two. Yet somehow he still wanted to be with me... I still think the ball hit him so hard it messed with his head.”

 Archie laughed at your story, relaxing a little bit. Then, he seemed to get a curious glint in his eyes. “Do you ever miss being a Serpent?” The ghost of a smile appeared on your face.

“More than you’ll ever know.”

The day you got your Serpent tattoo was probably both the happiest and most terrifying day of your life. It was happy because you would finally be an official member of the Southside Serpents, the group that had looked out for you since you were a kid.

It was terrifying because, well, you were scared of needles. It was a fact Sweet Pea often teased you for. In return you always brought up the time Fangs pantsed him in front of the whole school. He tried to run after him, but he tripped over his own pants.

But, despite his teasing, Sweet Pea refused to leave your side any time you had to get a shot or had to be around needles. And this time was no different.

While you settled into your chair, laying your arm wrist-up on the table so the guy could tattoo the Serpent Emblem on your inner-wrist he was right beside you. “It doesn’t hurt,” He promised, sliding his hand into your free one so you could squeeze it if you needed to.

“Remember that time you skinned from your wrist to your elbow? That hurt way worse than this will.” Giving him a smile, and his hand a tight squeeze, you nodded to the guy, letting him know to start the tattooing.

You didn’t let go of his hand until you were already at your trailer.

It wasn't long into your Christmas break that Jughead Jones marched through your door with a favor to ask of you. Apparently, he had trusted the Snake Charmer and fell right into her trap. And now FP was being brought into it as well.

“Jug, why are you telling me this? I’m not involved with the Serpents anymore, remember.”

Jughead groaned, giving you an extremely desperate look. “Please, Y/N. I just want you to come help me talk to the younger Serpents. They were your friends, right? Toni and Fangs talk about you all the time. Even if you don’t consider yourself a Serpent anymore, they trust your opinion. A Serpent never sheds its skin. You’ll always be a Serpent deep down. Even without the jacket.”

You could feel Sweet Pea’s eyes on you once you stepped off of your bike. Jughead had managed to coerce you into helping him yet again. You hated to admit I, but the boy had a way with words.

You knew he wanted to demand to know why you were at their little secret meeting. But, a sharp look from Toni made him keep his mouth shut. Fangs, however, gave you a smile, mouthing a ‘hi’ to you before he turned his attention to their leader’s son.

“So what’s this about, Jones?”

Jughead cleared his throat, a hard look overtaking his face as he began to explain the situation at hand. “Penny Peabody has my dad dealing drugs. I know this because she had me doing this before him. Now, she’s roped in Tallboy, and Sweet Pea-”

“Man, if you’re pissed because your old man tapped me instead of you-” Sweet Pea cut Jughead off, only to be cut off in return.

“No, Sweet Pea. I’m pissed because I don’t want the Serpents to end up like the Ghoulies. And I doubt that any of you became Serpents just to be at the beck-and-call of a drug Queen Pin. I know where this ends. Death, jail. Which is why, in the interest of self-preservation...we have to take out Penny.”

“Snake Charmer’s helped some of us,” Sweet Pea replied.

“Oh yeah?” Jughead asked, looking at the other Serpent. “And what did she ask for in return, Sweet PEa? How many favors? Now if we don’t stop Penny tonight, she is going to get every single one of us in on this. I promise you. I promise you, Sweet Pea.” You watched as Sweet Pea and Fangs shared a look, thinking over what Jughead just said.

“What I’m asking is,” Jughead continued. “Are you willing to risk your necks to save my dad’s life?” 

“What is the first law?” Toni called out, standing up from leaning on her motorcycle.

A minute later Sweet Pea answered. “No serpent stands alone.”

You looked up and saw him staring directly at you as he stood and walked to Jughead’.s side. “I’m in.”

“Me too.” Toni replied.

You watched as Fangs stood up, determination clear on his face. “Let’s do this.”

You felt their eyes turn to you from where you stood. You took a deep breath and shook your head. You slowly walked to join them at where they stood in front of the flaming barrel.

“In Unity There Is Strength.”

That night your group of rebellious Serpents went to Penny’s hideout, being careful to not alert the older Serpents as to what you were doing. The last thing you needed was for them to ruin your plan. It was strange being surrounded by Serpents again. But it also felt like coming home after a long trip.

You couldn’t help but snicker when you saw the fearless Snake Charmer helplessly tied up on the ground. It brought you a sick sort of pleasure to see her feel how most of the people she did business with felt. Helpless, cornered...fucked over.

When Jughead began informing her that she will never return to Riverdale, her eyes slid over to you. A pitiful look overtook her face, attempting to get you to soften up. “Honeybee, I’ve never done you wrong, have I? These snakes abandoned you when you needed them. But I’ve helped you out on more than one occasion. Especially when you were hooked on JJ.”

Time seemed to come to a standstill when those words left her mouth. Your past with Jingle Jangle was something you had never admitted to anyone. It was an addiction you had kept under everyone’s noses. Even now, no one knew. No one but FP, who had helped you get off of the stuff.

“What is she talking about?” Sweet Pea demanded, an intense look in his eyes.

“Oopsies,” Penny smirked. “I’m guessing you never told them about that? Yikes. If I would have known I wouldn’t have said anything. When you stopped coming to me for more I just assumed you found a cheaper supplier.”

“You were on Jingle Jangle? When?” Sweet Pea questioned angrily, hands balled into fists at his sides. But the anger wasn’t directed at you. He was angry at himself for not noticing.

Penny laughed, obviously finding it funny that he didn’t know. “When wasn’t she on it? She tried to stay away, but I guess you could say she had a big sweet tooth.”

“Were you just not going to tell us you were doing drugs, Y/N?” Sweet Pea demanded, obviously not very happy something like that had been kept hidden from him. “You should have fucking told me. Serpents shouldn’t have to go through that shit alone.”

“Yeah, well you’ve made it quite clear I’m no longer a Serpent, Sweet Pea, so it isn’t your fucking problem. Just yet another thing I had to deal with on my own while we were together,” You snapped.

“Maybe we should focus on the task at hand,” You remarked before Sweet Pea could open his mouth, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at the Snake Charmer. Taking the hint that you wanted the attention away from you, Jughead cleared his throat, getting the attention back on him.

“I don’t care where you set up shop. But it’s not going to be in Riverdale. And it’s not going to be with the Serpents. You wanna deal drugs? You wanna extort people? That’s your business. But not on the Southside. That belongs to us.”

Penny laughed, shaking her head. “You stupid, cocky kid. Serpent law says you can’t hurt one of your own,” She replied, lifting her sleeve to show her tattoo.

"Oh Penny...It’s time you learn,” Jughead stated, standing up and taking off his jacket. “Grab her.”

Toni and Sweet Pea quickly shot over to her sides, grabbing her arms and holding her down. She screamed to be let go, but you all knew that would never happen. Jughead knelt down and opened his knife. “You hurt one of your own by giving Y/N Jingle Jangle. And that tattoo doesn’t make you a Serpent.”

Penny’s screams filled the quiet night as Jughead slowly cut off the tattoo on her arm. She deserved it, there was no way you could deny it. But you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in her place. The thought of having a blade slice off the thin skin on your inner wrist made you turn away with a grimace, unable to watch the process any longer.

When all was said and done Penny was left a sobbing mess in the woods. Considering a couple of the young Serpents actually puked while watching the barbaric tattoo removal, you didn’t feel so bad about having to turn away.

You left wordlessly once it was over, not wanting to stick around a group you no longer belonged to any longer than necessary. You could feel Sweet Pea’s eyes on you, but you didn’t want to meet his gaze. The hurt you knew would be there would only make you regret the way you snapped at him.

His eyes didn’t leave your figure until you had disappeared from his sight. He was still trying to soak in the fact that you had went through an addiction to Jingle Jangle right under his nose. He never even noticed.

It made his chest ache, wondering how you must have felt when you were going through it. How abandoned you must feel thanks to his not knowing how to handle you leaving. It was his fault you had turned in your jacket. If he would have just told you that he was scared you would find someone better than him on the Northside you would still be spending every Friday night with him at his trailer, watching movies that would give you nightmares for weeks.

He had just been so scared you would find someone that could give you everything you wanted and would treat you like a boyfriend should - not be scared to tell you how he felt and cover up his emotions with snarky comments and a cold attitude.

He missed having you by his side, always ready to put him in his place when he had an attitude, somehow knowing how to calm down his explosive temper with a single touch. He had been in love with you since you were kids, and he would never be able to stop loving you. You were ingrained into ever fiber of his being.

He had to find a way to make things right.

The next morning you found a box with your name written on it in sharpie on your front porch. You brought it into your room and plopped on your bed, equal parts scared of and curious about what was in it.

When you opened it you saw a piece of paper with very familiar handwriting. Slowly, you picked it up, scanning the words written on it.

“Reasons I Suck At Being A Serpent

1) I let you stand alone because I was pissed you were leaving the Southside.

2)  I was too scared to tell you the real reason I was pissed that you were moving to the Northside. The truth is I was scared you would find a guy that can treat you better than I ever could.

3) I hurt you for the stupidest reasons when we were together.

4) I didn’t treat you like I should have. I was an asshole to you so many times when I should have been holding you close and telling you how beautiful you are. Even when you fell asleep in class and had marker smudged all over your face because you doodled on your hand.

5) I didn’t tell you that I love you enough. I wanted to tell you I love you every time I woke up with you in my arms, holding you tight like a lifeline. I was too afraid to let you break down the walls I worked so hard to put up. The truth is, those walls never kept you out. You’ve always been the one able to pass through them like a ghost and it terrified me.

6) I didn’t notice something was up with you when you were on Jingle Jangle. I should have been able to tell you were going through something and needed me to help you through it.

7) When you were on JJ, you should have felt like I was someone you could turn to and help you get through it. But, I never gave you enough proof that I was. It’s no one’s fault but my own, and if I’m ever given the chance I will make sure you never feel that way again.

I’m sorry for everything, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t love you the way I should have. I’m sorry I don’t know how to express my emotions properly. I’m sorry for being the reason you want nothing to do with the Serpents. We’re your family, and the fact I hurt you enough to make you feel like we don’t care shows just how much I fucked up.

But, if there is even the smallest chance you could ever forgive me and come back to us, meet me at the Whyte Wyrm Saturday at 9 pm. If not, I can’t blame you for not wanting to risk your heart again. I want to be the boyfriend you have always deserved.

- S.P “

You finished reading the letter, slowly sitting it down next to you before reaching back into the box. When you pulled your hand back out, it was holding your leather Serpent jacket.

Considering whether or not I should do a Part 3 to wrap it all up, or let you guys come up with the ending you want. What do you think?

@chloe-skywalker @unaveragewriterfreak @poolpartyingwithjaws

[vinodiriso]

CHARACTER SHEET --- TIMELINE.

NAME: Adrian Mihai Lupei.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Alba Iulia, Transylvania, Romania.

NATIONALITY: Romanian.

CALLSIGN: Prototip.

ALIASES: Lup-ul [formerly], Dmitry Blatov.

BIRTHDAY: 15/11 (Scorpio).

OCCUPATION: Soldier of fortune.

BASE OF OPERATION: Bucharest, Romania.

AFFILIATION: Romanian-Moldovan Fourth Anti-Omnic Regiment (Românesc și Moldovenesc Anti-Omnic A Patra Regiment) [formerly].

BACKGROUND: read more ‘cause it’s pretty long.

It’s hard as fuck to be a boy and grow up without a father. Shit, do you have any idea how goddamn disheartening it is to feel lost, hopeless, and seeing nothing when you dare looking back? Who the fuck was supposed to be my model? Who the fuck should I have been inspired from when choosing the man I had eventually to become?

But, hey, somehow I managed. I’ve become a man… and a fucking ugly one. The name’s Adrian — no, not Edrian, you fucker, it’s Adriàn — you know what? Call me Prototip. It’s gonna make it easier. Nowadays it feels more me than my actual name regardless.

I went to school for I think 8, maybe 9 years. My grades weren’t half bad, I was a smart kid, always been, but mamă alone couldn’t bring home enough money to sustain the family. It was only the two of us, sure, but when at every corner of the street you can find a fucking tin can doing whatever job better than a man in flesh and bones, who the fuck would hire a slow, sloppy, fragile human person? Soon enough, I was off my way. Already mentioned I was a smart boy, didn’t I? I learned not to shy away from anything. I am not lying when I tell ya I have literally swum in sewage, punched my way through asbestos and other cancerous shit (tsk, like today I should care!), breathed in mouthful of the toxic, radioactive wastes of old, abandoned Omnic factories to raid spare parts… surviving is surviving, dude. And surviving in an underdeveloped, poor, rural zone of Eastern Europe usually means to deal with the nastiest shit you could imagine. You want to know when was the first time I was clobbered over a job? The first time I had to shove a knife between a man’s ribs? Yeah, better.

Managed to stay in the world this way for six years, right before my beloved country, trăiască!, decided they had to do something to stop the raids of the Western Russia Omnium that had brought, in 10 years, Eastern Europe to its knees. Or rather, that we had to do something to stop the raids, because we had to enlist to the new formed Romanian-Moldovan Ally Military Force to save our houses and our families. I was… shit, 20? Yeah, somewhat around that. No future, no family, no home, no expectations… the army promised it would give me a job, warm food when I was hungry, some blankets when it was cold as fuck outside… I mean, for me, back then, it was a radiant future.

It was not only me anyway, if that face of yours want to hint at that. Do you have any idea how many fucking loners like me war in my country has produced? Finally the government had found a way to make use of us; turning us into meat to slaughter and butcher, testers for their new, shiny toys. There were others… shit, the names have become so hard to recall… Bogdan, Daniel, Eugen, Isabela… yeah, those were my friends at the boot camp.

Ha… it’s funny, at times, when I think back of it… six months of training non-stop, day and night, the food was even scarcer than what I used to eat, scrawny boys and girls sent off to die because, after all, it was not like the world was ever going to miss us.

However, I proved to be different. I don’t remember exactly what the head trainer back at the boot camp said, something like “a talent for shooting” or some shit along these lines. Apparently, my aim was naturally trained… yeah, ‘naturally’. Not like I had been aiming down the barrel of my American magnum for the previous six years. What a fucking retard.

I got signed up for something a little bit more special. Two years more off the front, Adi was about to become a sniper for the Fourth Regiment, the big names: Alexandru Averescu, Constantin Prezan, Ion Antonescu… never heard of them? Oh my God, remind me why the fuck I am still talking with you? Yeah, those were big names for us, mareșal, nothing to kid with. I was good, I mean, I don’t want to come out as big-mouthed or anything, but--- like, shit, I had proved to be worth my place. Again, it was not like I wanted to protect my nation, forget about that shit, but like… I finally had a place to feel good in, you know? Call me a romantic, but that was a good thing to have in your chest. And I was so sick of dealing only with anger and bruises.

The Regiment fought the Omnium on the Ukrainian border for 4 years. I got many a commendation for my work, started to make a name for myself little by little. It was like I was born to have a rifle in these scarred hands of mine, a gift from above I had just found out. They called me “Lup-ul”, back in the day; it means “the wolf” in Romanian, a reference to my surname, Lupei. Yeah, I know, pretty basic, but it does have its kick, no? Anyways… good times are always so fast to pass.

We were based in Lysychansk, lovely place to raise kids if you ignore the bomb dropping on your head every 3 hours either from the regular army, the anarchists or the fucking bots. Mission was going smooth, backup was waiting for us just a couple of kilometres away, but it happened: my whole team got captured. There is a reason why I mentioned the anarchists, my friend. Ever heard of Beznă? Mh, at least what Romanians call Beznă; the Polishes, Ciemność; the Ukrainians, Темрява; the Russians, темнота́… and I don’t know what else. Terrorists. People that believe that a  world strangulated in chaos would be better than the mess we have now. At this point, I don’t know if they are entirely wrong.

At first, we thought we would have been sort of pieces to trade for Beznă to seal an unregistered deal with the Romanian Army… no, we were too naive to think that. I can’t and won’t tell you just what they did us, because the last ten years of my life I have tried to tear those memories away from my brain as hard as I could. If you really are eager to know, I was detained in their Siberian facility for four years before I broke free… I was the sole survivor of my team. The shit I got exposed to made me faster, stronger, smarter, more sensitive to stimuli. Paradoxically, I became a better soldier than I already was by getting captured by the enemy. I already knew a bit of Ukrainian back when I was detained so I got to catch some whispers, some gossips, but still I couldn’t understand why we got experimented and tested after, for what goal. Apparently, we were weapons for the Beznă to take over the Eastern Europe regimens. The shot didn’t miss the mark any which ways: my companions still died for ideals they did not stand for.

Back to the story, I learned that the Fourth Regiment had me and my teammates listed as deserters and we were actively sought after by the hounds of the Romanian Army. So I decided to hide in Siberia for the following year, got a new identity, lived off a nomadic style, killing animals and humans alike to eat; animals for their meat, humans for their bounties. What? Do you think I am some sort of cannibal? Oh, yeah, just because I am Romanian you think I am a vampire? Fuck off, dude.

Eventually the Romanians gave up… mostly because they lost the war. That was a hard blow for the country, but we didn’t crumble under the weight of that defeat. Romanians are tough people. We have come back from worse. As long as I was regarded, I came out of hiding, intentioned to get my name back, a new life away from conflicts, blood, war… it was impossible. Believe me, I have tried, I have tried hard, but I was no longer fit for the society. PTSD, maybe, or just I got too used to have my hands drenched in blood, whatever shit it is, I have never been able to be Adrian again. So I just embraced what I had become: Prototip AE92890, Prototip for friends.

Killer for hire, undercover agent, soldier, terrorist, I have been everything. But the job that signed me for my life was probably the only one I did for the big shots; yeah, you know who I am talking about, the heroes of the world, or rather the self-proclaimed heroes. Worked with late Commander Reyes Gabriel and Sarge Gérard Lacroix at the Lacroix Extraction Operation; intended to be back-up, I was given a more relevant position when Commander Reyes got a taste of what I was worth. I remember that day like it was yesterday, not because I was particularly attached to that job –- or at least, I wasn’t before I met him. Clarence Duncan, daughter of James Duncan, an American senator. God, I remember those bright, baby blue eyes looking up at me in fright and confusion when we got him and Madame Amelie out of the Talon labs. I was so in fucking rapture after seeing those eyes; yes, he was sickly pale, and he smelled like that chemical miasma I grew to hate when I was detained by Beznă, he was skinny, weak, frail, unable to stand on his own, but those eyes spoke to me at a level deeper than I could have ever imagined.

Even after the mission, I kept in touch with Clarence. He knew I was a mercenary, that I risked my life out there everyday, and many times he had asked me to give up that crap and join him in a normal life but… I have already told you. I was no longer fit for society. He ended up entering my world, although from an external point of view: he became a member of Overwatch council board. I was so proud of him, watching him as he fulfilled her dreams made me foolishly think that maybe if he was by my side I could have succeeded being a civilian… we tried, after Overwatch was disbanded.  Rainy Washington D.C., a small house as far as possible from his dad he started to fall out with. Those were good days, dude: got a job as an omnic repair operator (what? no, never did it once in my life, but after all the strains they got into me to enhance my ‘brain capacity’ do you think I could care less?), he was getting into politics, he was doing good, and the bed was warm every night, if you know what I mean. He was my dream, dude--- he still is. A dream I fucking destroyed.

Blame it on the drink, blame it on the fact that I was growing restless without gripping a weapon, blame it on whatever you wish, but blame it on me. I sent everything to Hell. I guess I don’t deserve to have nice things after all, uh? I can’t keep them. He kicked my ass back to where it belonged: the dark alleys, the rot-smelling corners of the metropolis, the cold world where being Adrian would only mean being weak, the world where I can be what I need to be: Prototip.

[ms-maj]

whatever tomorrow brings

So, @weheartscorose is an absolute gem. Which I’m sure most of you already know, but, she’s been nudging me to get back to writing and today she gave me a prompt, and this is what came out. 

Cara, thank you for being you. <3

Prompt: “I’ve been driving for hours and wound up at your door.”

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

Jughead Jones picked up and looked at the black screen of his too quiet phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. Gently sitting it back on the coffee table, he let out a heavy sigh, letting his head fall into his hands. He sat like that for a minute, heels of his hands pressing against his eyes, hoping against hope that he’d be able to relieve the pressure building inside his head.

It didn’t work.

It had been seven hours, eight minutes and eleven seconds since they’d hung up. Her voice hung heavy in his ears even now. The catch in her throat when she pushed the words through her lips, as if she couldn’t believe she had to say them. The tremble of tears he could practically feel spilling down her cheeks, as she hiccupped through.

With an audible groan and fistfuls of his own hair, he stood from the couch, no longer content to sit and wait for the shrill ring to pierce the air. He paced the small space, surely wearing tracks in the already threadbare carpeting.

He’d known, for the last week or so, that this was a possibility. That at the exact moment when everything was coming together, in ways Jughead had never even dared let himself dream, it would all crumble spectacularly at his feet.

Pain shot down his neck and he swallowed thickly, forcing the muscles of his jaw to relax even if the rest of him couldn’t. His jaw unclenched as a familiar sting moved its way up his face, taking root in his eyes.

He’d willed himself not to cry too many times in his life; he’d thought this night would be no different, but he fought against the instinct and let the tears fall.

 “Hey, Betty, what’s going on?”

“Juggie…” her voice was hoarser than it had been when they spoke the day before. “I—I’m so scared.”

In all the years they’d known each other—been together—she’d never sounded so pitiful. His heart constricted at the thought. Until that very moment, he’d have never imagined those two thoughts would ever intersect in his mind. “What’s happening, Betts?”

He waited through her tears, and the half-garbled quasi-sentences until her breathing evened out and the words took shape. And weight.

“It doesn’t look good, Jug,” is all she’d said before she promised to call him back and was hurried off by a cacophony of voices he didn’t recognize.

 Sighing again, he picked the phone off the table.

No new notifications, it mocked. It sat like a brick in his hand. The urge to throw the device against the wall rippled through him. With what barely could pass for a chuckle, he clutched it tighter in his hand instead and pulled it against his chest.

He knew he was getting ahead of himself, that he had no reason to be in panic mode. But aside from a few dalliances in separation through their nearly ten-year tenure, they didn’t go this long without speaking. It had been a good ten years. They struggled and fought and almost—almost—gave up, but neither could let go. And since that fateful week their senior year of college, they’d plowed a steady path through adulthood.

But that didn’t stop the thoughts from echoing through his skull. He was worried. Not about them; about her. But the thing about worry, no matter how righteously placed, was that it bred anxiety. It’s needle-like talons pierced his lungs, filling him with a chill he couldn’t escape. He felt it in his bones, the despair. Her voice had been riddled with it. Knowing he had to get in control of his faculties if Betty called…

When, he reminded himself. When she calls. Betty would call. He pulled the chair out from the dining room table, its heavy legs scraping the pocked hardwood.

Jughead looked around the room. It was sparse, old and not a little decrepit, but it was home. The walls were white but not bright. It was dull and worn, absorbing more of the light than reflecting it. It felt like him.

The grayscale between two values.

Heaving a sigh, he sat, throwing his phone on the table before his head collapsed onto his crossed arms. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there before soft rapping at his door roused him.

Jughead rose slowly, taking only a few cautious steps before the knocking started again. This time with more urgency.

He crossed the room in three large steps, throwing the door open without checking who may be on the other side.

She stood haloed by the porch light, her hair haphazardly pulled back, smudges of black under her impossibly red eyes. “Betts? What are you doing?”

“I’ve been driving for hours and wound up at your door,” her lips turned to the ghost of a smile before dropping again.

“You know I don’t mean what are you doing here,” his voiced trailed as he followed the path to keys she held in her shaking hands.

“There’s so many keys on here,” she muttered lowly. “I couldn’t find the right one. Juggie, I can’t remember which key opens the front door of our house.” And there she broke, his arms reaching to catch her before she could collapse. He held her close while her tears soaked through the cotton of his shirt, pressing kisses in to her hair that seemed to glow under the artificial incandescence.

Betty shivered against him, the brisk night and fragile state taking its toll. Without thinking, he swept her legs from under her, and carried her through the door bridal style. Jughead kicked the door closed behind them before turning toward the living room.

“You know,” her muffled voice came from where her face was nestled against his chest, “we skipped a pretty big step for that antiquated tradition, Mr. Jones.”

He smiled for the first time that day. “All in good time, beautiful.”

Jughead went to set her on the couch but felt her head shake against him as the arms that encircled his neck gripped tighter. He sat down carefully, settling her into his lap as he collapsed against the cushions.

When she started to cry again he rubbed her back, and tried to keep the hair from sticking to her eyes with clumsy hands. They seemed to shake more with every passing second she didn’t speak.

“Baby, please tell me what’s going on,” he pleaded when she’d stopped crying the second time.

She sniffled and sat up, turning so she could face him fully. “It’s Avery.”

Polly’s daughter. He could feel his brows knit together. Betty reached up, the sleeve of his flannel shirt that she was wearing practically covered her whole hand, but her thumb stretched out to try and rub away the lines from his forehead. His face relaxed but his eyes never left hers. Jughead had seen so many emotions flicker through them in the course of the twenty minutes since she’d gotten back. He felt her fingers slide over his cheek and trace his jaw. He grabbed her hand before she could pull it away, pressed kisses to each of her fingertips and held their laced hands between them.

“She’s sick, Juggie.”

Jughead pressed his lips together quickly before choosing his words. “Av’s been sick before, she got through it once. She’ll do it again. She is a Cooper after all.”

Betty tried to smile, but the tears were faster. Her eyes looked positively painful, yet still the most mesmerizing shade of green he knew he’d ever see.

“She’s also a Blossom. Which, unfortunately, means not but bad luck,” she paused and squeezed his hand tighter. “It’s back. Worse than before, and not likely to respond to treatment. Cheryl has insisted on the best care, on her dime, but Avery isn’t sure she wants to do it.”

That was the exact moment his heart shattered. The broken woman crying in his arms; her tough-as-nails niece who’d already endured way more than anyone should; the realization that he could do absolutely nothing to help any of it.

“What do you mean she doesn’t want to do it? She’s ten, Betty. Does anybody know what they want at ten?”

“She said to the doctor: ‘I don’t think that course of action suits me. I will fight with all I have, but I don’t think I can go through that again.’ Of course he looked at her like she had three heads, he looked at Polly and asked her: who talks like that?” She smirked up at him. “Avery laughed, and she may have mentioned her too-cool Uncle Jughead being a writer and teaching her how to use her words when she was sick the first time. She might physically be ten, Jug, but not in here,” she tapped his temple with her free hand and smiled. “Avery could have a couple of good months before she…before, but with the treatment her chance of survival increases, just not enough for her to condemn her last few months of life to waste away in a hospice, away from all the things that make life worth living.”

He could feel the tears threatening again and this time, he didn’t even try to stop them, letting them cascade down his face and catching on their still tightly entwined hand. “Jesus, Betty. How’s Polly handling that? And Alice? Oh fuck, how’s Caleb taking it?”

“No one is coping well. Except Avery. She’s not resigned, she seems at peace. I don’t know. Polly and Mom aren’t going to accept it. And most of me is totally okay with that, you know? She’s a baby; she has a chance! Make her fight! But then I look at her, and though I never, ever, ever want to let her go…I just want what’s best.”

He brushed his thumb under her eye gently, careful not to irritate the delicate skin more than tears and tissues have already done.

“Of course you want what’s best; you’re Betty Cooper. No matter what happens—now, in the future, whenever—I will be right beside you. We’ll get through this, together. Always.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jug. I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, but it was a lot to process and I knew I didn’t just need to hear your voice. I had to see you, feel your arms around me.” Without preamble, he leaned into her space and pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t a particularly passionate kiss, but the kind of steady pressure meant to reassure and convey things that words always seem to fail.

Betty pulled away abruptly, a yawn escaping her past her lips. “Let’s get you to bed. We can talk in the morning.” He kissed her quickly before securing her against him, and this time as he carried her through the house, he felt a semblance of peace.

“I can’t believe we closed on this house a week ago and this is the first night I get to sleep here,” Betty mumbled after she’d shucked her clothes and curled up under the covers with Jughead.

“The first night of many, baby,” he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. He felt, rather than heard, the contended sigh against his chest. “Every tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll take them all on together. No matter what they may hold.”

Betty was quickly snoring softly, wrapped in the safe cocoon of his arms and their faux-down comforter. Even though she was here, now, in his arms, he couldn’t help the litany of self-destructive thoughts from earlier that came rushing back. But he could finally breathe through it as long as the air carried her scent. Yes, everything was collapsing, but it was around their feet, not just his. And they would have each other to pick up the pieces.

[sending-the-message]

Targeted by M59Gar

I was on my phone idly browsing Reddit and talking on speakerphone with Shannon when it happened: I saw her face on a sidebar ad. It went by too fast. I pressed a link and went to another page; hitting 'back' did not return me to the original ad. "That was weird."

"What was?" Shannon asked. "Are you looking at the Internet instead of paying attention to me again?"

"No, not at all," I lied. Well, only half-lied. The front page was filled with the same reposted nonsense and sensational titles it always held. Browsing it had become a matter of habit without any real attention paid. "I'm just—" I froze halfway through the sentence as I saw her face again. This time I was ready and I tapped the ad with my finger. The first thing that loaded up was a still shot of Shannon at a gas station refueling her car. The only light came from the harsh gas station overheads. "Shannon, did you stop for gas on the way home?"

"I mean yeah," she responded. "I'm still twenty minutes out, though."

I quickly did the mental math. She lived in Newark, about forty-five minutes east of Columbus. That put her squarely in the forested middle of nowhere. "Someone has a picture of you up on their website."

She laughed. "I bet it's an ex-boyfriend." After a pause, she asked, "Wait, are you serious?"

I scrolled up and down trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at. "It's like they just took the picture. Are you in a dark red hoodie and jeans right now?"

Her reply came after a strained noise of confusion. "I am! But who would have taken that? And when? What the hell site is that?"

I slid my finger down to pull the website address into view on my phone. "Live," I murmured, like living, or was it "Live," like live television? I went with the first, since living and dying were opposites and thus the name sounded vaguely business-like. "Live Death dot com?"

"Live Death? What even is that? Is it like one of those extortion sites that demand cash to take photos down?"

I scrolled the other way and found a timer for a streaming video about to start in eighteen seconds. "I'm not sure. I don't think I like this. They're about to stream something." I watched as the circling indicator appeared and then black filled the screen. The view moved around wildly for a moment as someone got ready, and then I could see a lit dashboard from a large vehicle, possibly an SUV. The camera panned up to focus on a man in a black ski mask—but he was not the one holding the camera.

"Alright folks," he said with excitement as he drove. His voice was ever so slightly distorted. "This is our first run for our new site. We're going to show those assholes who's boss, really give 'em somethin' to fear." While using his other hand to guide the steering wheel, he held up a phone with the gas station picture of Shannon on it. "This is our first target. We're about two minutes behind her, but catching up fast. It's a straightaway and there are no turnoffs for the next six miles, so we won't lose her." The unseen cameraman turned the view to show the night-clad road rolling under their headlights ahead of a black-painted hood. I heard a click; the headlights went off. That distorted voice said, "Night mode now, baby! She'll never see us coming."

My blood ran cold.

"Shannon."

"What is it? Did you figure out what's going on?"

"Shannon," I said again, unable to process what I was seeing. "There are men in ski masks in a black SUV with its lights off coming up behind you on the road."

"What?" She sounded half-humored and half-terrified. "What are you talking about?"

That distorted voice said, "Payback is gonna be sweet. They think they're better than us, but we'll show them."

"Shannon!" I shouted at my phone. "Get off the road! They tagged you at the gas station and they're coming after you!"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes! I'm watching their live stream right now!"

"How is that even possible?"

"I don't know, but it's happening!" I screamed even louder: "Get off the road!"

She was starting to believe me, and I could hear panic in her voice. "There's nowhere to turn—"

"Anywhere! Just go anywhere!"

I heard her gasp; the sounds of branches and bushes smacking against her car in rapid succession emanated from my phone. A loud crunch and a repetitive electronic beeping followed as she breathed, "Oh God, oh God..."

Still watching the stream, I asked her, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said with a dazed tone that belied her words. I heard her push open her door and climb out into scraping bushes. "I'm fine..."

On the stream, I saw a pair of headlights off the side of the road swing into view. "Oh my God, turn off your headlights!"

"I can't," she murmured. "I can't get back in."

The SUV's hood began turning toward those headlights, and I could vaguely make out a car in the distance. She'd smashed what looked like a quarter-mile deep into the undergrowth. They never would have found her if she had turned off her lights.

That distorted voice said, "There she is!"

I screamed at the phone for her to run, and I heard her take off panting and pushing through branches. What the hell was going on? I fumbled with my phone. "I'm going to call the police—"

"No!" she cried. "Don't hang up! Don't you dare hang up!" I could hear her tumble and slide down a dirt hill. "Where are they?"

"They're running through the woods," I told her, panicking myself. I screamed for one of my roommates. Then, I saw another detail. Something long, dark, and metallic was swinging in and out of view at the bottom of the stream. "Shannon—they've got guns."

She broke into full on crying as she ran.

I screamed for my roommates again. Finally, one tapped on the door and peeked inside. I screamed at the top of my lungs: "CALL THE GODDAMN POLICE! MEN WITH GUNS ARE CHASING SHANNON THROUGH THE WOODS!"

My roommate's eyes widened, but he ran off to find his phone.

My heart was still racing. This couldn't be happening. "Shannon?" She didn't respond. I could still hear her running, scraping around, and falling. Finally, I heard her seem to freefall down a rocky slope; there was a scream, a crunch, and then—nothing. "Shannon?!"

After ten seconds of absolute silence—the longest ten seconds of my life—I heard her rasp and then whisper, "I'm alive. I think I broke my ribs."

I didn't have good news for her. I could hardly speak myself. "They're at the top of a big slope. They're coming for you."

"I can't move," she whispered.

The distorted voice from the stream said, "I think we got her now. Is that her down there? Oh, boy, this is gonna be fun."

She asked, "Was that them?"

The phone shook in my hand. "Did you hear them?"

"Only over the phone," she rasped back. "I don't hear anyone nearby."

They had the wrong slope! "Shannon, I know it hurts, but you have to hide. Alright? Do you hear me? You have to drag yourself under something, behind something, anything. We're calling the cops."

My roommate appeared at my door, phone against his ear, his face pale.

"On her way to Newark," I told him. "About twenty minutes west of it."

He nodded and began answering questions I couldn't hear.

The only noises from my phone were of Shannon dragging herself through leaves and dirt while sobbing.

"There she is!" the distorted voice shouted, and the cameraman took off running along the forest floor alongside him.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My roommate was crying while talking to the police. I just stared at the stream. Please no, please no, please no—oh God, there was a human form on the ground in the dark; the form was wearing a red hoodie. "Shannon, they see you! They're running at you!"

She began to scream with the absolute utmost terror I'd ever heard from human lungs. The two masked men in the video ran right at the person on the ground, grabbed her forcefully, and began to turn her over.

Suddenly, the stream froze.

I looked up at my roommate in confusion and horror.

He moved closer to look at the frozen video.

I asked tentatively, "Shannon?"

With the speaker right up to my ear, I listened. I could hear her pained breathing. After nearly ten seconds, she forced out, "I don't see them."

I lowered the phone and looked at the frozen video. Text had appeared across it: Like the video? Only $5.99 to unlock the rest!

I swallowed a lump in my throat.

My roommate asked, "What the fuck is this?"

While Shannon kept struggling to breathe on the other end, I scrolled down to a new section of the site that had not been available before.

Here at LiveDeath.com, we use information and pictures from your phone and Facebook profile to autogenerate scary videos! It's the ultimate in Targeted Marketing! Did you enjoy Two Men in Ski Masks? Choose from a wide range of selections—

I was still shaking, but now for a very different reason. Below the words was a picture of the masked man holding up his phone like he had at the start of the stream. The phone's screen was blank blue, and then a series of different people appeared in it.

LiveDeath.com even uses the newest in audio and visual technology. While you and your friends might think your phones are off, we're still watching and listening through your camera and microphone, letting us choose which path and scenes the 'live stream' takes. We guarantee you'll be scared out of your socks!

"What's happening?" Shannon choked out. We could hear her pulling herself along the forest floor. "Where are they?"

We didn't immediately answer. We couldn't. Overcome by rage and a sense of violation I'd never experienced before, I clicked through to the Terms of Service for the website. Apparently, I'd agreed to let them have access to my data, profile, camera, and microphone simply by visiting the site. In a way, it was my fault. My God.

It was an ad. I'd literally tapped a sidebar ad. What had I thought would happen?

+ + +.

[imagine-loki]

I Love to Hate You

TITLE: I Love To Hate You

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Thirteen

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki and you dislike each other, but you are forced into an arranged marriage and as time goes by, it barely gets better. It seems to be a marriage that will hardly be amiable but certain events causes Loki to be the husband you never thought he could be.

RATING: Teen

NOTE: Remember this story? Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, I could not retrieve it from my old laptop so I had to wait for inspiration to work on it again, here is some, enjoy.  

Alexandra sighed as the warm water surrounded her as her body sank into the bath tub, in the four months since her parents had died and she and Loki had taken the throne, there were very few issues, bar the usual expected teething issues, and the baby continued to grow well and safe.

Mikhail’s accusations and comments were met with open hostility by most every member of the court, some outright asking the new royals if they wanted him whipped and imprisoned for treason. Both agreed the shock of the suggestion, and the banning of him and his sons from the Privy Council was punishment enough, for now. Should he continue to act as he was, perhaps that was an option.

Exhausted, she dunked her head under the water for a moment to wet her hair and came up again and grabbed a towel to place behind her back, which ached considerably of late with the weight of the child she was carrying.

She knew that soon it would be time to birth the baby, Frigga was arriving from Asgard in a few days to be there should Alexandra require support. Loki, as expected, had met resistance from the healers when he declared that so long as his wife wanted him there, he would be present for the birth. The idea was met with shock and disgust from his father and brother when he told them of his plans when he and Alexandra had gone to Asgard for Thor's engagement celebrations, both going on about tradition and how it was just not something a man should deal with. Loki reminded them very quickly who was partly to blame for when a woman became with child and mocked both, saying that there was a reason men were not usually present, because they had not sufficient mettle for what happened at such a time, and he was no ordinary man. Thor simply shuddered, and Anna revealed in a letter to Alexandra that he had shied from her since Loki told him of what he suspected he had to witness as his wife birthed, both Vanir monarchs laughed at that.

Alexandra groaned as her back ached again, sharp and strong pains began to irk her on and off a few hours before as she sat on the throne, but this was the first time she could relax for any amount of time. She had hoped the bath would assist, and though the aches were not as painful, they were still sore. It was only when she got to get out of the bath and she felt a sudden gush of fluid leave her body, staining the bathwater pink did she realise what had happened. “Loki!” she had not even thought, it was her body’s first instinct, call for her husband. Loki, who had been reading in their quarters, tired from the day’s duties and not able to get a good night’s sleep with his wife’s tossing in her sleep, rushed in at the sound of her calling his name, looking at her worriedly as she stood holding onto the side of the bathtub, feeling the first contraction since her waters broke, which was substantially stronger than the ones before. “The healers…”

“It…” he stood staring fearfully. “But it is not yet due…”

“I do not think our child cares for when the healers think it was due, it wants to come now.”

“It is early.”

“Of course it is, when have you ever arrived to something either at the time told or after, you are always early.” She snapped in retort as the contraction finally finished.

“Further proof that he is my son,” Loki grinned, walking over and helping her from the bath.

“So sure of yourself.” She scoffed, holding on to his shoulder.

“Wait and see, Nikolas Lokison will be here before sunup.” He declared.

“How confident can one man be?” Alexandra shook her head. “I need to get dressed.” She looked around for her dressing gown, “So much for washing away the day.”

“What do you mean?”

“My waters broke, in the bath.”

“I dare say after all of this, you will wish for another one anyway.” Loki dismissed.

“Loki?” he looked at Alexandra, who seemed somewhat scared. “If it is not a boy…”

Loki gave her a reassuring smile, “Then I must forewarn you, no man will ever be good enough for Mya Lokidottir.”

“Why do men get to name children?”

“Are you saying you dislike the names?” he asked with a raised brow as he brought her to their bed, getting a sheet for her to lie on, knowing that she would continue to make a small mess for another few minutes as the last of her waters came out.

“I cannot say no, you chose Vanir names.”

“Well our child could very much be the future ruler of the realm.”

“I thought you would choose an Aesir name.”

Loki took her hands in his, “Alexandra, you are my wife and this is our home, I know and respect that.” she looked at him sceptically, but nodded. “Now, you get as comfortable as is possible with a baby trying to birth from you and I will get everything required.”

“I like how you acknowledge that comfort is not really an option.”

“I am a realist, my dear.” Loki grinned.

“Loki?” Loki had turned from her to do as he stated he would but turned back to her again when she had called on him. “If something happens…”

Loki cupped her cheeks gently “nothing will happen, I am here with you, it will be alright.”

“But…”

“If anything happens, it is not your fault.” He looked her dead in the eye as he spoke, “You are doing everything right, you have kept our child safe, you have made them know love since you discovered they were growing in you. When your world began to crumble, you kept our child protected and cared for.” He smiled encouragingly.  As she winced once more from a new contraction, he stepped back slightly, watching guiltily as pain surged through her.

“Your Majesty, perhaps you should take this chance to leave.” The healer suggested to Loki as Alexandra hissed through her teeth as the last of the pain rippled through her as her body prepared to birth their child.

“I swore to my wife that I would be here with her through this, and I meant it,” Loki stated adamantly. “So long as she wishes for me to be here, I will be.” Knowing she would not dissuade the stubborn royal, the healer decided to forego her attempts and deal with her patient instead, getting everything organised for when the Queen would have to begin to push.

Loki had read extensively on what he would witness as their child was born, he was not naive, he knew it was long, tedious and difficult, but in his opinion, Alexandra excelled at maintaining her calm and breathing her way through her contractions, and all too soon, the healers told her to sit up, that the baby was ready to arrive.

“Loki?”

“I am here.” He reached out and took her hand in his.

“You are never to touch me again.” She hissed as she squeezed his hand to the extent Loki was sure there was going to be circulation issues after, but he did not let it show, whatever pain he felt was nothing in comparison to hers.

“Every woman says that.” The healer dismissed as she sat in front of the queen, “if they meant it, I would not have delivered eight three infants since I took the position here.”

“Well, that is something,” Loki admitted.

“As soon as you feel the urge, you can push.” The healer smiled at Alexandra.

“Thank the Norns!” She hissed angrily. Only a minute later, an urge greater than her body’s will to breathe coursed through Alexandra and bearing down, she began to push. After several minutes and four contractions, she shook her head. “No.”

“You have to, your Majesty, you have to birth this baby.”

“I am aware I have to birth it, it is not like it can remain in me, but this is not working, it is too uncomfortable,” Alexandra explained, trying to pull herself up more.

“What are you doing?” Loki asked as she put her hand out to get him to help her turn.

“Changing to something else, it hurts too much.” She explained, sighing in relief as the pain ceased.

“It is supposed to hurt, you are birthing a child.” The healer stated.

“It is supposed to hurt where the baby is coming, not all the way up my spine, I cannot bear it and I refuse to endure it any longer.” she could not even begin to think of another way to position herself, but so long as it did not mean she would be lying on her back she was happy, as she rested on her knees for a moment thinking, another contraction started, to her surprise, she winced, but the pain was nowhere near as bad. “Okay, this works.” She declared, not caring what anyone else’s thought on it was.

“You need to lean forward slightly,” Loki advised, “the baby cannot be accessed if you have it so its head is to the sheets.”

The healer stared in horror as Loki assisted his wife to lean forward in a manner which replicated an animal birthing on all fours. “This is not how this is done.”

“With all due respect, but ‘the way it is done’ is not the manner in which this birth will be happening.” Loki pointed out. “I am in here, assisting my wife, and she will choose a manner to birth the child in the most comfortable manner there is to expel a living being from one's self.” The healer’s appalled face at her husband's words and tone caused Alexandra to chuckle before another contraction caused her to grip the sheets in her hands and bear down with all her might.

To the healer’s shock and Loki’s and Alexandra‘s combined delight, the birth progressed rapidly and within ten minutes of her deciding her own positioning, and a steady flow of encouragement from Loki, Alexandra pushed one final time before feeling the baby’s body leave her own.  Alexandra forced her breathing back to normal as best she could, she took the least amount of time she could to recover, but as she focused on regaining cognitive thought, she realised that she had yet to hear the baby cry. Terrified, she slowly turned to see Loki behind her, holding a blanket in his arms, staring at its contents, his face like one of shock. “Loki?” she asked fearfully.

“Nikolas.” He declared as he looked at her, his face one of elated joy before he began to laugh in disbelief. “I told you he was a son.”

“Why is he not crying?”

“Some children are not criers,” The healer explained, trying to get her to sit again now the baby was born.

“But he is Loki’s son, he is supposed to be irritating.” Loki looked at her bemusedly as she got herself comfortable, “I want to…” She extended her hands, and though he looked almost reluctant, Loki placed the infant in her cradling arms. “Oh Norn’s.” She declared in despair.

“What?” Loki stared at the baby, wondering what she saw that he did not.

“He has so many of your traits, the poor creature, he’ll never forgive me.” She smiled, looking to Loki who was staring ahead in disbelief. “He looks so put upon.” Alexandra could not help but laugh.

As Loki looked at their child, he had to chuckle in agreement, Nikolas seemed to be frowning, as though irritated to have been disturbed from his perfectly warm home into a bright and vast world. “Did I not tell you he would be fine, and you too?” Loki looked at Alexandra, who was looking at her son, her face one that confused him. “What is it?”

“I cannot say.” She looked at Nikolas more intently. “I feel like there is every form of emotion filling me right now, and I cannot cognitively display them.”

“You have just birthed our child, you are not supposed to be able to process much else, you have exhausted yourself and done such a tremendous labour.” he smiled fondly, placing her hair behind her ear, his touches affectionate in their nature. “You need to rest, recuperate.”

“But he is hungry,” Alexandra pointed out, looking at their son once more, Loki was forced to acknowledge her statement. Nikolas was moving his little head, mouth open in search of a nipple and in turn, milk.

“Well then, I assume you are aware of what he requires of you, lay back and let him do as is natural.” Loki encouraged.

“Perhaps a nursemaid would be best, the queen should not have to…”

A single glance by both monarchs silenced the healer’s aid, who immediately cowered under their intense glares. “My wife is his mother, she is the best possible manner for him to receive nourishment, ergo, until such time as she feels otherwise, he will be feeding from her, that is all,”  Loki stated clearly, daring the healers and their assistants to tell him again that such was not common practice, but they remained silent. Turning once more to Alexandra, he assisted her in allowing her nightdress to open in a manner to release one of her breasts, which to their surprise, was leaking milk, as though her very being sensed what was required of her for their son.

“Perhaps…” The healer looked at the King unsure of how to continue.

“I am curious, is it that you think I, in no manner, have seen my wife’s breasts whilst married, I fear you have little idea of how she came to bear our son if that is so?”Loki queried as Alexandra smiled, though a slight blush came to her cheeks. “I have seen every aspect of my wife’s body, and even if I had not, this is the purpose of breasts, to feed our young, which seems to be going well.” He smiled, watching as Nikolas suckled contently, his small fist clenching and unclenching against her breast as he did so. “He is perfect, except of course, in looking like me.” Loki smiled again, unable to focus any other feelings but the ones of joy he had for their child. Alexandra huffed a small laugh, “I was jesting.”

“I am aware,” Loki looked at her and his brow furrowed. “You need some rest.”

“He is not done.”

“As soon as he is, rest and I will keep watch over you both.”

“But the kingdom, you need to tend to it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, Vanaheim will have a day of leisure to celebrate the birth of a male heir, the prince and future king.”

“A lot of pressure for one so small.”

“He will excel as his parents did as youths.” Loki grinned.

“I hope,” Alexandra looked at their son who had fallen asleep feeding. The healer took the child and gave him to a maid to wind while she and others removed the stained sheets as Loki finally got ready for bed, the sun was almost rising and neither royal had rested. “Loki, where are you going?” She asked fearfully as sleep began to take her, but she noticed her husband leaving the room.

“To let you get some rest.” Loki stated factually, “I am going to send word to my family, I will return shortly.”  

Watching him leave, Alexandra felt a terrible pang of emotion after him. “But you said we are your family,” she stated meekly, though none heard her words.