#i can survive without anything else if i need to for a while setting it up

[aspiresse]

i'm becoming increasingly frustrated with the many small problems of pop os along with my partitions specifically

with that, not being able to boot into windows anyway, and the fact that the partition is only like 1/5 of my drive i think then ext time i have a few free days i might just archive the whole drive again and then wipe everything and fresh install a new distro

[hyckstarz]

breaking the rival code | l.mk

pairing. rival!mark lee x afab reader

word count. 6.1k

genre. smut · enemies to lovers trope · humour

synopsis. Mark had a way of getting on your nerves, to the point you'd even considered shutting him up for good. However, your best friend eventually planted a seed in your head that fucking your rival, and breaking the unspoken code, would be enough to finally end the long-standing feud.

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, fingering, use of pet name (baby), choking, oral (fem receiving), haechan as best friend and instigator

A/N. i had this buried in my drafts for months but it had me screaming into my own pillow whenever i read it so, it couldn't stay unpublished for long.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Mark Lee," she's fuming, as per usual. Eyebrows tightly knit and throwing daggers with her hard glare while Mark just laughs, "It's due next week, and you haven't even written up a plan?!"

Mark rolls his eyes, his glasses almost slipping down his nose, doodling absentmindedly in his notebook, "Relax, that's 168 hours of time to work on it, it's nothing."

She sinks back into her chair, crossing her arms in that arrogant way — as Mark would describe it, "Actually, it's less than 84 hours if you factor in sleep, other classes you have to go to, and fucking surviving. Mark, do you take anything seriously?"

Mark rubs his face in frustration, facing her, "It's the first year; none of this counts towards our grade," he goes back to doodling small Spider-Man caricatures but, as always, he can't resist having the last word, "And you're too serious, princess. Live a little."

Small things like that always set her off. She was aware of how she came across but, when it involved Mark, she only ever saw red. She somehow manages to calm herself down, realising they're in the campus library and already earning a few curious, judgemental stares.

"Mark...," she manages to whisper somewhat loudly, leaning in close enough for him to feel her minty breath against his skin, "Can we please get most of this done today? I'd very much like to be free of your presence."

Mark chuckled under his breath, his dark eyes slowly drifting over her subtle features, raising a brow in amusement — the weight of his gaze caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. Finally, he gave in and pulled out his laptop. He began clicking through their assignment brief and taking notes down, surprising even her, who started doing the same. As English literature students, it was a given that they had to read a stack of novels and articles, even for an assignment worth 0% towards their final grade.

Yet even small victories in their relationship were rare. It was a miracle that they were somehow able to work through the tasks efficiently, though that moment was short-lived before they were at each other’s throats, with Y/N starting it again.

"Mark, we're meant to critically analyse, not describe. Do you have any working brain cells in that thick head of yours?" Her fingers twitched, as if to hold herself back from clenching her fists and knocking some ounce of sense into him.

He rolls his eyes in response, jaw hardening as he scowled at her, clearly not in the mood for their usual back and forth, "We need to have a synopsis of the texts, I don't know how else you expect me to include all of the relevant info without having a short paragraph in there."

She simply looks at him in disbelief, shaking her head as if he'd just said the most absurd thing ever, "Mark... do you really think we can afford a whole paragraph just on a summary?"

He just chuckles in response, clearly uncaring. She leaned forward, her fingers digging into the desk and turning white as she struggled to maintain her composure. Mark’s casual smile only fuelled her irritation, but she lets out a heavy sigh, judgy eyes flicking across his face.

"You're like those pretty dumb blondes; the only thing you've got going for you are your looks, sorry to say," she sneers, going back to taking notes, but she internally curses at herself for admitting she found him at least objectively attractive.

Mark pauses, head snapping to her, his eyes flicking over her features, trying to decipher what she'd just said, or if he'd even heard her correctly under the hushed whispers of the library. He spins the pencil in his hand, eyes narrowing at her as a smug expression tugs on the corners of his lips, "You think I'm good looking? I'm flattered."

Y/N gives him an exasperated glance, snorting at his sudden change in demeanour and sitting up to look at him straight on, "I know you took me for a fool, but a blind one too? Damn," she said with a sarcastic lilt.

When Mark doesn't respond, just a cocky smirk widening — his gaze intense — she feels her heart rapidly beat against her chest and, as a way to hide the effect he has on her, she rolls her eyes for the nth time that hour, clearing her throat and focusing back on her task, "If you weren't so annoying, or if you learnt how to shut your mouth and do things correctly, you'd have a lot more going for you," she sends him a glare, "But you don't, so your looks only take you so far, and that's below average in my books."

He mocks in response, "Wow, you read? How surprising."

This time, she couldn't hold herself back. Mark did have a way with getting under her skin, so well in fact, that it led to them being asked to leave the library, only furthering their frustration and anger towards one another.

It wasn't always like this, either. When Mark had first met her, he was a shy, slightly awkward teenage boy and, the first impression she had of him, was cute. He was incredibly sweet and outgoing; it was easy for him to make friends and that meant they easily got close too. The only problem was, they were so alike in all the wrong ways. He was just too competitive and stubborn, always aiming for the top, and so was she. It was only natural that friends turned to rivals, competing with one another over everything. With that being an understatement.

From whom could get to the cafeteria the fastest, to who could submit their assignment the earliest and get the highest grade? It was competition, after competition. Most would get exhausted after the first two or three, but for them, it was thrilling, though they'd never admit that to one another.

"I can't believe your loudmouth got us kicked out of the library," his jaw hardened as he met her intense gaze, "Can't you sit still and take comments with some sort of, I don't know, strength? Because clearly, you're so sensitive over such simple, meaningless words," He slings his bag over his shoulder, already walking off.

Only further proving his point, she chases after him, tugging at his arm so that he wouldn't get away.

"You're the one who can't let things go either, always needing to have the last word, what are you, a child?" she crosses her arms and nods her head with a questioning brow, as if to say, 'go on'.

Mark just scoffs, about to walk off before turning around, his hands moving in frustration as he glares down at her, "You- you're such a pain in the ass, you know that? You really know how to drive me crazy."

He's panting, frustration evident. But it was the way he was looking at her that threw her completely off balance. His narrowed eyes flicked to her lips, brows furrowed as though he were etching her features into his long-term memory. She felt her heart drumming in her chest.

Before she could respond, a familiar yet equally as annoying mutual friend of theirs appears, snickering at the pair and their usual quarrelling, "Jeez, can't you two just fuck already?"

"Shut the fuck up, Haechan" they both say in unison, tearing their gaze away from one another with a scowl.

Haechan only snorts, glancing between the pair with an amused brow, "Clearly there's some sexual tension that I'm interrupting here, it would explain why you look at each other like that," He leans in-between them, as if to reveal the biggest secret in history, "I bet you two dream about each other too — in, you know, that kinda way."

Mark just stands there, mouth agape and in disbelief at the absurdity Haechan was spewing, looking between the two. Y/N just scoffed, grabbing the man by his bag and pulling him away without so much of a word. Haechan waved a chaste goodbye to Mark as he was being dragged off to God knows where.

Someone was going to die today, and it was definitely Haechan.

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The coffee shop was empty, hence for the low whispers of the baristas in the far corner, and a cheeky Haechan sitting before her, happily drinking his iced tea after telling his two closest friends that they should fuck each other. She groans, letting her head fall into the palm of her hands.

Usually, this coffee shop was a place where she could find peace and solitude. It was bright, with large windows that let light in all throughout the day, creating a florescent streak of amber and pink through the thin stickers attached to the panels. The colour schemes could easily brighten one's day as whites and pinks peppered along the walls.

The foliage brought life to what would otherwise seem like a cold, simple design, and the bakery added a subtle hint of beige, creating a natural environment. But the best thing about any coffee shop, was the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, and the sounds of the machine working, or even the quiet conversations. Though, sounds were non-existent today, except for her constant groaning, which started to bother her best friend.

"If you make one more frustrated sound, I'm leaving," he takes another sip of his cool drink, "Is it because of what I said earlier? Just know, I wasn't lying, that would definitely help you two."

She pulls her hands away, pursing her lips as she started twirling her straw, watching the milk mix with the coffee and caramel, "No, it's because I'm... I don't know, frustrated?"

Haechan glared incredulously, "Clearly."

"Not like that, I meant... I miss how Mark and I used to be, how we would laugh at silly jokes, or talk for hours without it having to turn into a competition, but now everything he says or does has a way of getting under my skin," She takes a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling at the taste, "He could just be sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, and I'd I just want to-"

"Want to what?" Haechan asks, ears perking up, waiting for a gotcha moment.

"Well, what I usually do." She shrugs, going back to her drink.

Haechan takes everything she says in, nodding his head slowly, "Anyway, it's sort of funny as Mark said the same kinda thing to me the other day...," Haechan takes a sip of his drink, whining when he finds it empty, "He said he missed the old you, or when you guys used to be friends."

She pauses, meeting her waiting friend’s gaze. Her brows furrow. Mark... missed how they used to be? But she doesn't say anything to Haechan, keeping her thoughts to herself.

The usual smug expression returns as he leans back in his chair, leg bouncing under the table out of habit as he crossed his arms behind his head, "Anyway, as I said, you need to get your frustrations out in other ways. You clearly have a thing for each other. The way you express it is a little... unconventional, but you're both immature, so I'm not surprised."

She simply looks at her friend in disbelief, lips parted as she gapes at him, to which Haechan only grins annoyingly at her. He also had a way with words, just like Mark, except he seemed to understand boundaries a lot better, and was chill enough to not want to fight back.

"What? Please tell me you two at least have moments of either flirting with each other or checking the other person out-"

"No." She scowls, shivering at the thought. Though, she couldn't help but remember the way he'd looked at her earlier, brushing off the thought, "It's hard enough to even look at him without wanting to strangle him."

"Okay, so you're into choking, got it." Haechan chuckles, nodding as if to make a mental note of it.

"No, I'm not into that! Whatever, look, I don't have a thing for him, so just drop it." She looks at him with a serious, intense gaze, as if to emphasise the fact she really didn't want to talk about this anymore.

Her friend only nods, putting his hands up in mock surrender, "Okay, just know Mark would definitely jump you if he had the chance — I mean, which guy would put up with your shit? No offence."

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink in hopes it would be refreshing enough to block out her growing irritation, "Anyway, the sooner I get this assignment done, the sooner I can move on from this Mark topic."

She quickly pulls out her phone before Haechan could drop in another one of his grand ideas, finding Mark's contact and immediately sending him a text. She almost spat out her drink at how fast he had responded.

You: Let's just get this assignment done with. I don't feel like getting kicked out of yet another establishment, so just come over to mine tomorrow or something.

You: *sends her address*

Mark: Fun.

Mark: I'll be there around 4 if that works

You: 👍

She bit her nails anxiously, eyes glancing between the door and the clock on the wall - each tick of the hands signalled it was only getting closer to 4, which was when Mark said he would arrive.

That wasn't why she was anxiously boring holes into the clock, however. She could curse the heavens, the earth and the 12 Olympians, but instead, she chose to curse the lust demon himself, aka Haechan. She buried her head in her hands, tugging at the roots of her hair in frustration. She can't believe she dreamt of Mark last night for the first time and, it wasn't just any dream — which was the worst part. Why did her mind have to be so vivid and make Mark so incredibly sexy? She had no idea.

When a knock came from the door, she stood up a little too quickly, rushing to it and praying that Mark looked far from presentable than he had been in her dream. But he wasn't, of course. She'd never seen him in jeans before and the green hoodie was the cherry on top. She swallowed hard, peering up at him as he adjusted his glasses.

"Are you going to let me in?" He raised a brow, his dark eyes glancing over her features in suspicion, taking a quick, subtle glimpse at her plaid sweatpants and pink t-shirt that didn't do much to hide the outline of her bra. He swallowed hard, tonguing the inside of his cheek in annoyance yet, the only thing that swirled in his mind were thoughts of how fucking attractive she was without even trying.

His annoyed expression grounded her temporarily, falling back into her usual demeanour as she rolled her eyes and held the door open wider for him, "If I catch you slacking once, I'll kick your ass out of here."

Mark gives her a side eye, frowning before kicking his shoes off, "Are you trying to motivate me not to do the work?"

She laughs sarcastically, leading him to her room as she props herself on her bed, noticing Mark looking over her interior.

"I expected your place to be put together, but not drenched in pink," his gaze trailed over her shelf, taking note of the various photo frames and mini ornaments.

She chuckles under her breath, pulling out her laptop and notes, "What, too girly for me?"

He turns his gaze to her, a quiet silence envelops them for a moment, and she takes that time to admire him. She knew he was attractive — objectively — but never had she looked at him in that way. The kind of way that made her heart and mind race.

Mark finally straightens up with a shrug, sitting down on the edge of the bed and getting his things out as well.

It felt strange having Mark in her home. If it weren't for getting kicked out of the library, her apartment would have been the last place he would be at. Though, now seeing him sat almost politely at a respectable distance from her, typing away on his keyboard quietly, made it start to feel right somehow.

She opened their shared document, reading the notes he was typing up. Even though he tended to be a lazy ass — or a procrastinator, as he would call it — there was no doubt he had a way with words. When he really put his mind to something, he would always deliver quality work. At times, she'd look back on why they had turned rivals, or enemies, and then she'd see what a complete genius he was. Maybe it was always her. Maybe she was just jealous that, no matter how hard she worked, Mark would always be ten steps ahead.

"I wrote up all the notes," Mark's voice cut through her thoughts, "How far did you get?"

She turned back to her laptop, pursing her lips at the blank screen. When she took her time responding, Mark scrolled down the document to where her cursor was and sent her a deadpanned expression, "What did you say about slacking off...?"

She doesn't know whether to laugh or smack him, so she picks the secret third option and scowls, "I did more work than you yesterday."

"That's old news," he sighed, looking through their to-do list, "I thought you wanted to get this assignment done and dusted because... what was the reason again? Oh yeah, you wanted nothing to do with me."

She scoffs, sitting up as she points an accusatory finger at him, "Don't act like you don't feel the same way."

Mark clears out the already completed tasks on the list, colour coding the other bullet points to distribute the work evenly between them, "Oh I do, and I wonder why." He doesn't even spare her a glance.

"Go on."

"Maybe it's because you continuously bitch over every little thing, it's no wonder Haechan is the only friend you have and, it's probably because he's waiting for some kind of green light," Mark's bitter words reeked of jealousy as he spoke through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me?" She shrieks before she leans over the bed and grasps at his hoodie, his hand immediately grabbing her wrist, "That's too far, Mark, even for you."

He raised an unamused brow at her, fingers tightening on her wrists, yet she doesn't waver, "Maybe, but I'm sick of it. All you ever do is complain and treat me like some sort of idiot and, when I give you the same energy, I'm the problem."

His voice is tight, jaw hard as he doesn't break the eye-contact. She pulls him in closer, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach, "What a joke, you're just as much of a problem as I am and, you know what? Maybe Haechan was right, maybe we need to fuck for us to finally pull our shit together."

The moment those words leave her lips, she regrets them. From up close, he was even more attractive that those words naturally came out. Mark's eyes widened comically and she could almost see the cogs turning in his mind.

His brows furrowed, "Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually suggesting that?" his voice carried a disbelieving tone despite his cheeks growing redder by the minute.

If it weren't for the dream she had last night, or that stupid green hoodie he was wearing right now, she would have laughed it off as a joke or even knocked him out in hopes he'd forget what nonsense she'd just spewed. However, all she could think about in that moment were his hands gripping at her plush thighs, spreading them apart as he lodged himself between her legs, his soft lips parting against hers desperately. She swallowed hard.

"Yes, I am suggesting that," she doubles down, the words more confident now. She knew she wanted him, even if he drove her bat-shit crazy. Even if he'd think she's bat-shit crazy.

It was almost laughable how wide Mark's eyes had gotten, his lips parted in shock, "you're fucking serious, Y/N?" This was too cruel of a joke from someone like Y/N. He knew she would rather curse him out than make absurd suggestions such as sleeping with each other. And the more he thought about it, on top of the intense gaze she carried, the more he believed she was being serious.

She leaned in, her warm breath fanning against his skin. She could smell his musky cologne — it was a scent she felt she could easily get addicted to, "I am serious, Mark," her big, doe eyes peered up at him through her lashes, "Hell, I even dreamt of you last night thanks to that blabby-mouthed Haechan."

Mark suddenly grows flustered, averting his gaze. She dreamt of him? His words practically came out like a croak from the nerves, "H-hey, that's a little..."

She raised a brow, waiting for him to continue his sentence yet he'd only grown quiet, his jaw clenched as he processed the situation. He felt his throat go dry and, the way she was staring at him made him feel breathless - a little too out in the open under her gaze. It was taking everything in him to hold back, but their shared history and his growing annoyance towards her kept him stuck in place.

"What? Mark, don't be a pussy," she scoffed. Despite her harsh words, they had rolled off of her tongue like honey, "Do you want this or not?"

Mark's head whips to her, his brows furrowed, "I am not...," the words faltered on his tongue as his hands came to rest behind her on the bed, his nose brushing against hers. He was way bigger than her, his arms caging her in, looming over her, "I'm not as much of a loser as you think I am, Y/N," the words were bitter; however, he felt like he was falling too deep.

Being this close to her, with her wide, surprised eyes staring back at him, her flowery perfume more prominent at the proximity, and her warm breath... He couldn't find it in him to deny it anymore, "Fuck, I do want this," he muttered, the whispered confession slipping past his lips before he himself could process the words.

At that, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing his nose fully against hers, "I want this too." Her soft words drew him in like a moth to a flame and it felt like the string that held onto his sanity had snapped.

Mark pressed his lips to her glossy, pink ones that tasted like cherry, breathing in her flowery scent, to which she parted her lips against his in response. His hands gripped at the soft flesh of her waist, pulling her in impossibly close. He tasted minty, mixing with his musky cologne and it was like she couldn't think straight anymore, losing her grip on reality and, instead, losing herself in him. In Mark. Her supposed enemy and rival.

It didn't take long for her to pull him on top of her, her back falling against the mattress whilst her leg rode up his side, hooking over his hips. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, nipping at her skin and down the valley of her clothed breasts. She was going insane, and it was his fault, "Mark, take off my damn shirt already," she groaned in frustration, sitting up.

He didn't waste any time. Stripping off her shirt, he subtly admired her plush breasts which sat pretty in her lilac laced bra, barely leaving anything up to his imagination. As much as she got on his nerves, he couldn't deny the effect she had on him by being effortlessly gorgeous even as her brows were tightly knit. He pushed her back down onto the bed, planting his hands on either side of her head, "Are you always this demanding?"

"Only with you," she mutters, tugging at his hoodie impatiently, to which he chuckles, taking it off. She couldn’t help but gawk at him, sending him a glare for being more attractive than her dreams could ever do justice.

He kisses her again, his hand trailing down the side of her breasts, not giving her time to run her mouth. Then, his hand pulls the bra down, letting her breasts slip out as he cupped and kneaded the soft mounds, groaning into her mouth at how they fit perfectly in his hand. He rolled the nub between his fingers, grazing his thumb over them.

Mark kisses down her body, taking a nipple into his mouth — biting and tugging at it as his hand continued to twist the other between his thumb and index. He relished in the soft sounds that escaped her lips and the way she tugged at the locks of his hair.

He continued to move down her body, his finger hooking under the waistband of her sweatpants as he met her gaze, "I know you beat my ass over this, but you sure this is what you want?"

She deadpanned at him, "You just made out with my breasts, Mark. If I didn't want this, I would have stopped you there."

Mark just rolls his eyes in response, slipping her sweatpants down, "Could have just said yes."

She's about to retort when she feels his hand cup her, finger tracing the clothed slit of her pussy and she has to bite her lip to stop her from making a sound. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction so soon. Didn't want him to know just how badly she wanted him — more than she'd like to admit.

However, Mark was as stubborn and competitive as she was, and he wouldn't hold back until she gave in. He pushes her underwear to the side, leaning in so that his warm breath fanned against her sensitive folds, causing her to whimper.

'Fuck,' she thought.

Mark, without warning, slowly licks a stripe up her slit, his flat tongue drawing out a shudder from her — back naturally arching. Each time, he'd go in for more, slowly bringing up the pace. Her thighs clamped around his head, holding him hostage until he groaned and grabbed onto her plush thighs, pinning them to the bed; fingers leaving marks along her soft skin. Her own fingers grabbed at anything they could, from the sheets beneath her, to the healthy lock of hair on his head, letting them knot around her digits and tug with every wave of pleasure he had given her.

She could feel his cocky smirk as he sucked on her clit, enjoying every moment of her falling apart on his mouth. Falling apart for him. When he pulls away from her, she let's out a frustrated whine to which Mark only laughs at, "Open your mouth."

She sends him a skeptical look, "Fuck no."

Mark's patience wears thin, "Don't be a stubborn brat now."

Surprisingly, she obliged and he pushes his fingers past her plush, kiss-swollen lips. Her mouth suckles on the digits, tongue swirling around them, and he retracts his fingers with a pop.

"Fuck, your mouth really does have uses other than spewing insults and demands," he teases, voice low, tracing her entrance which had her letting out shallow breaths.

"At least it has more use than your fingers-" her words cut short when he pushes his finger in, palm pressed to her clit as he looks up at her with a 'you sure about that?' look.

It doesn't take long for Mark to add a second finger, curling them in search for the spot that would make her see stars. And then, he finds it, and she let's out a sharp gasp which only grows louder when his lips wrap around her clit, continuing his earlier ministrations of lapping at her folds like a man starved.

Just as her dreams failed in visualising just how attractive her nemesis was, it had also failed in expressing how utterly, impossibly, and irritatingly good he was with his hands, lips, tongue-

"Mark, fuck-!" She starts to tense under him, eyes pierced shut as she chases that feeling of ecstasy.

"I believe I'm getting there...," Mark chuckles, the vibration of his voice fluttering against her.

And, just as she starts to see the twinkling behind her eyelids, the light at the end of the dark tunnel, and a glimpse of the heavens, Mark pulls away, leaving her empty, wanting, and embarrassingly needy.

Forget Haechan, Mark was the number one man on her hit list.

In a second, he's over her again, cupping the back of her neck and lifting her slightly up to kiss her. She can taste herself on his tongue, feel the way his lips apply just the right amount of pressure to say he's here, and it's so soft, so gentle, so wanting — it was the perfect contrast, the perfect contradiction to the image she'd created in her mind of him. His thumb brushes against her jaw, fingers tangling in her hair, before he pulls away, forehead resting on hers as he breaths against her.

His eyes flicker open to gaze down at her; warm and oh so inviting. It felt like the Mark she once knew. The genuine, loving and calming person. Though his next words threw her completely off balance, and she was quick to retract her claims.

"I'm going to fuck that sexy, infuriating attitude out of you, baby," he lets the pet name draw out. In every other context, with any other person, she would have cringed at that word, but it felt so undeniably attractive coming out of his lips, that she wanted to hear him say it more than once.

Mark got up off of the bed, pulling out his wallet to fish for a condom that had been in there for God knows how long, chucking it on the bed next to her and kicking off his jeans and boxers in record speed. She barely had a millisecond to admire the sheer length of him before he was on her again.

His deep brown eyes kept their hold on hers and she could see a subtle hint of affection; the space between his brows crinkling in focus as he slowly pushed into her. His calloused fingers pressed along her waist, leaving white marks along her curves, while she could feel every ridge, vein and pulse of his cock.

When he bottomed out, she immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in impossibly close. Needing him closer to her. She could feel the rough planes of his body pressed to her soft ones as he started to rock against her. He gripped her thigh, pushing it further up so he could angle himself better, remembering the spot that had her seeing stars earlier.

Each time he'd hit that spot, she'd clench naturally, rocking her hips to meet his that had him softly groaning by her ear. He smelt so good, felt so good, was so good. She felt her mind start to fog up, jaw slack from the loud, erotic sounds that forced its way out from her throat. It was too much in the best possible way.

That wasn't as far as Mark would go though, he wouldn't stop at just good. He wanted best. His hand snakes up her body, gently wrapping around her neck — thumb pressed to her jaw — as he applied enough pressure to her pulse point. She knew then that maybe she did actually enjoy being choked or, at least, enjoyed anything Mark did.

She throws her legs around his waist, pulling him down, desperate to feel more of him, to reach her release she craved, pride long forgotten, "Mark... Mark, fuck- please..."

Mark pressed a sweet, uncharacteristic kiss to her cheek, "Please what, baby?" he brushed the strands away from her forehead, never halting his movements.

"Need more of you...," She could barely get the words out, but Mark knew exactly what she meant. Without time for her to process, he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her face against the pillows, fingers tangled in her silky hair as he snapped his hips into her with more strength.

She could have sworn she started hallucinating seeing stars in the room from how deep he was reaching in this new angle, hitting her spot with added ease. Her glossy lips stayed parted against the pillows, drool staining the cotton case as she let out soft grunts.

Mark's head rolled back at the filthy sounds of her and how fucked out she looked. It made him want to carve this scene into the deepest part of his memory, "You're doing so good for me... So pretty like this."

His soft voice did not match the roughness of his fucking, but it made her clench around him, "C-close..."

Mark hummed, grabbing locks of her hair and tugging it back so that she arches against him, "Be a good girl and come all over my cock, then."

She nods eagerly, reaching behind him to grab at his hips, urging him to go faster, harder. She chased that release as if seeking closure from her pent up frustrations at Mark and hers usual bickering and challenges. She sits up to lean against him, knees pressed to the mattress and head rested on his collarbone — his own arms wrapping around her body. Finally, she came, body shuddering in his hold and, at the feel of her convulsing around his length, Mark bit her neck, muffling his sweet sounds as he followed suit.

They stayed like that for a while, panting, hair sticking to their foreheads. She wouldn't be close to exaggerating by saying this was the best sex she'd ever had, but she would also blame that on the sheer tension they carried for years around one another.

When Mark slips out of her, she fully expects him to make some usual smart comment, but he only pulls her with him as he lay in her bed, keeping his arms around her, "Who knew we'd be so compatible?"

She snorts, "I can name at least one person," she thinks of her best friend, the whole reason this night even happened and speeding up the process between them.

Mark smiles, snuggling into her and letting out a soft sigh, feeling sleep catching up to him, "I hope this isn't just a one time thing, though," he says suddenly with a soft voice, "you don't know how long I wanted this for. Wanted you. It drove me insane trying to be... I guess, respectful and casual about it all."

She sat up, turning to look down at him with a playful look of disbelief, "I call bullshit, you weren't respectful about nothing. Not that I'm complaining, it's attractive seeing you annoyed."

Mark rolls his eyes, smirking at her, his cockiness returning, "I knew you found me more than just objectively attractive, you're down bad."

She easily admits it, "Yeah, I am. But you're in way deeper for asking Haechan for advice of all people."

Mark immediately sits up, his face pale from the shock despite his cheeks being flushed, "Dude- Wait, what?"

"We're on dude terms now after you fucked an outline of my body into this mattress?" she scoffs, her crude words making Mark increasingly more flustered than he already was, "The choking kinda gave it away. I just know Haechan threw that in conversation with you."

Mark laughed sheepishly, pulling her into his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple, "Guilty as charged. Though, I'm proposing we get back at his arrogant ass by not telling him a thing. We'll slowly drop hints to mess with him a little — see how long it takes for him to catch on."

"I'm in," She giggles, feeling sleep overtake her as she nestled into Mark's chest.

Before today, neither of them would have imagined that fucking each others rival would be the secret to finally ending the long-standing feud and breaking the rival code.

© hyckstarz

[xinganhao]

🥊 older brother!soonyoung vs. boyfriend!jihoon.

@choco-scoups -> "what do we think about brother's best friend jihoon, but your brother is soonyoung"

ⓘ cussing, good-natured sibling bickering, suggestive joke. headcanons under the cut.

🥊 jihoon's notes on surviving the kwon siblings .ᐟ

The Kwon siblings are sulky as hell. Jihoon had thought that Soonyoung was the king of brooding, but then he met you. If he weren't dating you, he might even be impressed. As it is, though, he can only focus on managing the two of you's moods. Sure, Jihoon is a little biased. He thinks you're cute when you get all pouty; it makes him want to pinch your cheeks and hold you until that frown is gone from your face. When it's Soonyoung, though, he's a lot more exasperated. "You're a grown man, Soon. Get over it," he might grouse— right before turning to a sullen you and asking if you want a kiss.

The Kwon siblings bicker. A lot. Jihoon doesn't have any brothers or sisters of his own, so he spent quite a bit of time worrying if the two of you were normal. He quickly learned that most siblings tend to butt heads, though you and Soonyoung tended to be a little more... over the top than the average pair. One too many times, Jihoon has been caught in between the two of you's screaming matches. His three-step plan to coming out unscathed is to 1) not take sides, 2) only step in if/when physical altercation occurs, and 3) try not to insult either of you. Even if he is inclined to believe that you're right, more often than not.

The Kwon siblings can be clingy. Before he was your boyfriend, Jihoon was Soonyoung's best friend. And so Jihoon had grown used to Soonyoung's insistences for meals out, Soonyoung's need to be responded to lest he thinks it's the end of the world. When it turned out that you were more or less similar, Jihoon could only shake his head and sigh to himself. He should have known what he was getting into. Really, Jihoon has the patience of a saint in balancing your overthinking and Soonyoung's peskiness. It's a whole love language, and Jihoon is fluent.

Soonyoung loves you. It's not something he says often. Call it the tendency of brothers to brush off emotion or downplay their own sentiments. But Soonyoung loves you in a ride-or-die kind of way, in an if-anything-happens-to-you-I-don't-know-what-I'd-do kind of way. Jihoon knows this. He knows it well. When you and Jihoon had started dating, Soonyoung had been fully supportive. He made a couple of 'jabs' here and there— "If you break their heart, I'll never forgive you!"— but Jihoon knew from the look in his best friend's eye, the set in Soonyoung's jaw, that it wasn't that much of a joke. Jihoon knows that Soonyoung trusting him with you is no small thing. He makes sure not to take it for granted.

You love Jihoon. You love Soonyoung. You would never— not in a million lifetimes— choose Jihoon over Soonyoung. Even though you've threatened bodily harm on Soonyoung more times than can be counted; even though Jihoon is everything that you could want and more. Blood runs thicker than water. Jihoon knows that, too. That's why he never makes you choose. He's content to share the spot of 'favorite person' with your brother, the same way that there's no one else in the world that he trusts more than you two.

+ When the three of you are able to get it together long enough to go somewhere without gauging each other's eyes out, it's those moments that Jihoon secretly adores the most. He sometimes falls quiet, letting you and Kwon fill the conversation at the table, and he thinks of the time you forced him to watch that one Disney movie. Looks like the princess was right; Jihoon is spoken for. Everyone he's ever loved is here, within these walls, at this table, and he couldn't be more happy about it.

✉︎ jayyy! i know you said i could "keep this for a while," but when the req features two people on my bias line.. well! (ᗒᗨᗕ)

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

A/N: I wanted to try out making Bob more sassy like he got in the movie. Lmk what you think 

Summary: You left for a mission without warning and end up hurt. You try to hide your pain but Bob notices you're hurt quickly, it shouldn't be a surprise since he notices everything about you.

Warnings: Bob is more sassy than what I usually write, reader is hurt and talks about thinking they wouldn't survive the mission.

You were doing a fantastic job pretending nothing was wrong. To anyone else, you looked the same as always. Same steady walk, same calm expression, a fake little smile to show that you weren't screaming in pain on the inside. You even made it all the way through the side entrance, past the elevator, and into the kitchen with a granola bar halfway to your mouth before a voice behind you called your bluff.

“Really?” Bob said, from across the room. “That’s the limp we’re going with?”

You froze mid-bite. “What?”

He was leaning against the counter with a glass of water in one hand and the most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen on his face. “You heard me,” he said, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. “You disappear for eleven hours, you come back looking like you got thrown through a brick wall, and you think you can just waltz in here like nothing’s wrong?”

“I didn’t get thrown through a wall,” you muttered.

“Okay, so what was it? Off a roof? Into a dumpster? Side of a building? Plate of glass?... Your dignity?”

You scowled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Bob raised a brow and made a face that clearly said, Tough shit.

“You think I don’t notice you wincing every time you breathe in too deep? You’re holding your arm like it’s about to fall off, and don’t even get me started on the very fresh bruise I saw peeking under your shirt right now.” You glanced down, realizing too late your hoodie had ridden up. “It’s fine.” You mumble as you adjusted your hoodie.

“You know, for someone so smart, you’re really bad at lying, at least to me.” he said, already walking toward the cabinet where he kept the first-aid kit. “Sit your ass down before I have to carry you.”

“I don’t need—”

“If you say ‘I don’t need help,’ I swear to God I will smack you with the ice pack.”

You blinked at him, stunned into silence, before finally sinking down into a chair with a long sigh. Bob dropped the kit on the table and gave you a look half fond, half are you kidding me right now? as he pulled out antiseptic wipes and gauze. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered, crouching in front of you to inspect the bruise. “Because if anyone else tried to sneak in here all beat to hell like this, I’d’ve locked them in the med bay for a week out of spite.” You let out a low laugh. “So this is what I get for being your favorite.”

Bob glanced up at you with a smirk and slightly softened eyes. “Damn right. You get my full, undivided, judgmental care.” He was gentle with his hands, even while cursing you under his breath. He cleaned the cut along your ribs like he was handling something delicate, but that didn’t stop the commentary.

“Didn’t tell anyone how the mission was going, you never checked in. Classic move truly. Texted me some vague shitty update about being ‘fine’ which, for the record, you are not.” He mumbled as he wrapped the gaze around you. You hung your head low knowing how upset you made him, you tried to explain yourself, “It's your day off. I thought you were off duty.”

“I’m never off duty when it comes to you,” he said, too fast, too easily, too sternly to not mean anything then looked away like he didn’t just casually throw complex feelings at your feet. The words hit harder than they should’ve, but you didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. Not when he was already kneeling there, patching you up, cracking jokes to hide the tight worry in his eyes. Once he finished bandaging your side, he stood and set the ice pack against your shoulder.

“You’re lucky I’m not dragging you to the infirmary.”

“You’re lucky I’m letting you sass me.” Bob leaned in slightly, his voice low but teasing. “You say that like I wouldn’t do that either way.” You snorted. “You're unbelievable.” He just grinned. “That’s what you get for coming back half-dead and thinking I wouldn’t notice.”

And even though he kept joking, even though he was smirking like it was all in good fun—you saw it. The little flicker of worry he hadn’t quite managed to hide. The way his eyes kept scanning you like he was making sure you were still here.

“Seriously,” he said more softly now. “Next time? Just tell me. Let me have your back.” You nodded, guilt and gratitude mixing in your chest. “Okay.” Bob didn’t push the moment. He just pulled out a fresh ice pack, handed it to you, and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch.

“Good,” he said, tossing it over your lap. “Now sit there and pretend to rest while I make you tea, and don’t even think about getting up. I’ll duct tape you to that chair if I have to.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re oddly threatening for a guy who just tucked me in.” Bob shrugged, heading for the stove. “Yeah, well. I multitask.”

And he was good at multitasking. He worried while he teased. Scolded and comforted. And lucky for you, Bob Reynolds never let a bruise, or a lie go untreated.

Especially when it came to you.

Later, after the tea’s gone cold and the TV hums in the background playing some half-watched documentary, Bob is still there. You’re curled up on the couch under the blanket he gave you, eyes heavy but refusing to close all the way. The soreness in your ribs makes every shift uncomfortable, and your shoulder still throbs in dull pulses. But worse than that is the restlessness the leftover adrenaline and quiet shame twisting in your chest.

Bob doesn’t say much. He just settles into the armchair across from you, long legs stretched out, a second mug of tea forgotten on the table. “Go to sleep,” he says softly, noticing your eyes flick open again. “I’m trying,” you mumble. “Yeah? You’re failing pretty hard.” You glare halfheartedly. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

“That’s because you are being watched. Get over it.” You huff a laugh, and he smiles–just barely. “Why are you still here?” you ask, voice hushed. Bob shrugs, like it should be obvious. “You don’t sleep well after missions. Especially when they go sideways.” You blink at him. “You… know it went sideways?” He gives you a look like you just asked if the sky was blue. “I know everything.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” He shifts, elbows on his knees, voice quiet but certain. “You came back stiff, wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. You hovered like you’re trying not to take up any space. And when you’re really rattled? You fake being sleepy but you don’t actually sleep. You just lie there and stew.”

You stare at him for a moment, and something inside your chest softens, it finally gives. You didn’t think anyone noticed those things hell, you didn’t notice most of that. Bob notices everything. And now he’s watching you the way he always does gently, patiently, like he’s not in a rush for you to admit anything, just waiting for when you’re ready. 

It’s sometime after midnight when the words finally come. The room is dark except for the flicker of the TV and the harsh lights that come through the windows when cars drive by. Bob’s head is tipped back against the chair, eyes closed—but he’s not asleep. You know he’s not. You can always tell.

“…I thought I was going to die out there,” you say, voice barely audible. His eyes snap open instantly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just waits completely still as if he's holding his breath waiting for you to speak again. “There was this moment where I just…I froze. For the first time in a long time. And it was over something so stupid. It was a small thing. A tripwire. I should’ve seen it. I’ve seen a thousand of them. But I didn’t. And I thought, ‘shit this is really it.’”

The words tumble out, cracked and raw. “And I couldn’t stop thinking how no one would know. Not for a few of hours at least. I didn’t even tell anyone I was leaving. I just... left. And then I was alone. And terrified. And pissed at myself for even being scared.”

Bob doesn’t interrupt. He just listens.

“I got out. I mean obviously I did. But—” You exhale shakily. “I didn’t know who I’d be when I got back. Or if I even deserved to come back here.” There’s a pause. You’re not crying, but your throat burns like you could. Bob finally leans forward, elbows on his knees again, voice low and steady. “You came back.”

You nod, eyes down. “And for the record,” he adds, “you always deserve to come back.” You shake your head, a bitter laugh in your throat. “You don’t get it.” He leans in, voice sharper now, but not unkind. “No you don’t get it. I do get it. I know exactly what it feels like to walk away from something and wonder if you earned the right to survive it.”

You look up, startled.

He holds your gaze. “You think I haven’t screwed up? You think I haven’t made a call I regret, or gotten someone hurt, or came back from a mission thinking I should’ve stayed behind?” Bob reaches forward and takes your hand steady, warm, grounding. “I’m not gonna let you sit here and punish yourself for surviving. You didn’t fail. You made it out. You survived. And if you’d just told me what you were planning in the first place, I would’ve been there.”

Your eyes sting, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. He squeezes your hand. “You’re allowed to mess up. You’re allowed to get scared; hell, you should feel that at times. But don’t shut me out. I notice when you disappear on me. And that matters. You matter, especially to me.”

You close your eyes, trying to breathe through the tight ache in your chest.

When you open them again, Bob is still looking at you, looking at you as if you were soft, strong, unshakable.

He doesn’t let go.

And you don’t want him to.

I making a taglist lmk if youd like to be added to Bob's :)

taglist: @itsjustisa

[27spoons]

There's No Pleasure in Resisting | Natalie Scatorccio

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

request: could you write smut or fluff with wilderness nat and reader? they do not have an established relationship, but a bunch of girls stranded in the wilderness is bound to lead to lesbian stuff? (anon)

wc: 2800

warnings: smut (afab!reader), fingering (nat receiving), minor hair pulling and biting, canon-typical survival stuff (mentions of starvation/discomfort), banter as foreplay, technically fluff by my standards

a/n: set in mid s1, pre-doomcoming, travnat never happened. regretably, i made the ending fluffy instead of angsty. who am i and what have i done with spoons

ao3

Two months, three weeks, and four days since that stupid fucking plane went down.

Two months, two weeks, and six days since you were supposed to be back home. 

You weren't even supposed to be on the plane. You were Van's backup goalkeeper, the same person who had never missed a single game unless they were literally dying. You had played maybe two games the entire season. The only reason you even agreed to go was because it was free (thank you, Mr. Matthews), and you'd do anything to get out of Wiskayok.

Now you had an actual role to play. Survival. It's hardly the same as sitting on the bench and watching everyone else do the hard work while you cheer them on. You're no hunter. You don't have first aid training. You don't stitch pelts together or know what berries won't kill you. Mostly, you just do what you're told and try not to be a burden.

The cabin is loud, and you miss having your own sleeping space. Desperately. So, you slip away when the others start getting pissy about dinner again (namely Mari, who constantly whines about the lack of seasoning). They won't miss you.

You wander for a while before ending up at the lake. It's quiet, almost peaceful. True, it's hard to find peace out here, but you'll take the reprieve when you can. There's a stillness out here that sometimes you could find in the late nights behind the school after a soccer game—smoking a joint or sipping on warm beer with the rest of the team.

This isn't that. But it'll do. 

You stand on the shore for a beat or several, staring into the massive body of water as you idly skim stones across the surface. It's not that hot—nothing is out here—but it's warm enough. Warm enough that your sweat sticks to the pits of your shirt and makes you want to claw at your skin. At least in Jersey, you were close enough to the ocean that the heat was never totally intolerable. Here? Here, you sweat like you're in a sauna the moment it hits seventy.

Without even really considering it, you strip down to your bra and underwear and wade in. The water's colder than expected, but so worth it. You would have never disrobed so easily when you first crashed out here. But by now, you've seen just about everyone half-naked, if not fully nude.

You float on your back, eyes closed, letting the cool water lap at your skin and erase some of the noise rattling around inside you. It's the first time you feel even remotely clean in days—maybe weeks. If you were worried about the plane crashing, you would have brought more than just a travel bottle of shampoo and body wash.

Oh, well.

The sun is warm on your face, cool water prunes your skin the longer you remain in it, and the stillness suddenly doesn't feel as oppressive as it did mere moments ago.

You're almost asleep—just barely hovering in that place between consciousness and rest—when you hear a familiar dragging of boots across the rocky shore. You don't need to crack an eye open to see who it is—you've come to memorise the distinct gait that everyone walks with.

When the sound stops, you crack an eye open and see the familiar sight of Natalie Scatorccio standing on the shore. The hunting rifle is slung across her back, hands on her hips, and a smirk on her face.

"This is how horror movies start, y'know?" she hums idly, tossing the rifle onto a large rock before untying the laces on her combat boots. "You'd be the first to die, too."

You bark out a laugh at that, turning your head to look at her as you continue to float. "Yeah? You gonna be the one to kill me, then?"

Nat scoffs as she removes her right boot, "Nah, I'm not giving you the easy way out. I'll let a bear maul your ass before I shoot you."

Her second boot gets tossed beside the first, and she pulls her socks off with an overdramaticized grimace. "Jesus. I think my feet might be starting to rot."

A sound of disgust leaves your mouth before you can stop it, face contorting at the thought. "Oh, gross. That's your own fault for wearing the same socks and nasty-ass boots since the plane crashed."

"Yeah, well," Nat grumbles, kicking her socks away like they've personally wronged her. "Didn't exactly pack a summer wardrobe, so."

You shrug lazily, letting yourself drift a little farther out. "That's your own fault for failing to bring into the equation that we would crash…" You gesture to your surroundings vaguely, "somewhere. Should've planned ahead."

A dry laugh spills from her as she peels her sweat-stained shirt over her head, tossing it onto the pile with her boots. "My bad. Should have packed less booze and more… jackets, or whatever."

She doesn't hesitate much after the shirt comes off—you've seen it all before, anyway. Her red sports bra is a little damp with sweat, sticking awkwardly to her skin as she tugs it into place. Her hands, adorned with rings of various shapes and colours, move to her belt next, undoing it with a practiced flick of her fingers before pushing her pants down and off. She stands there for a beat in her stripped boxers, pausing long enough to glance at you floating just beyond reach.

"What? No comment on my hot new summer look?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow as her feet disappear under the waters surface. 

You crack a grin, letting the current push you back towards her. "If that's hot, I'd hate to see what you'd call tragic."

"Tragic is what I'd call your little… floaty starfish routine," she fires back, wading in until the water is just above her hips.

"Rude," you say dramatically, mimicking Jackie's voice. "Some of us like pretending to be at peace."

"Peace is a myth," Nat snorts, moving to float on her back. "Don't know who lied to you and said that it was."

"Oh, that's cynical Scatorccio, even for you."

She doesn't respond with anything more than a roll of her eyes, letting the water move her around as she lazes in the lake with you. 

It's nice, admittedly. There are no expectations right now, just two teenagers relaxing for what feels like the first time in years.

The corners of her mouth twitch, but she says nothing else. Just tilts her head and watches you. Her legs drift towards you as she floats around, casually brushing yours under the water—except not really. Because when you don't move, she does it again.

And whether it's the water or of her own volition, she's drifting closer. Her thigh bumps yours, slower this time, and then lingers. Not aggressive. Not even bold. Just enough to make you aware of every inch of space between you, or lack thereof.

You glance at her. She's staring at the setting sun, still pretending it's nothing.

You could say something. Crack a joke. Splash her. Look away.

You don't.

She doesn't look at you, but her body shifts just enough that her thigh presses flush against yours. Unmistakably intentional, but you don't comment on it yet.

Maybe it's because you haven't touched anyone in months, and you're starting to get an itch. Maybe it's because it's Nat and she's hot. Maybe because it's Nat and she's a decent fucking human that you've had a crush on for ages, but you find yourself licking your lips as your eyes trace the slope of her jaw.

Then, slowly—almost lazily—she turns to face you. Her eyes flick over your features as her brow creases, like she's taking mental note of how the setting sun reflects in your sclera, or how your damp hair sticks to your forehead. 

Without much thought to the action, she reaches a hand forward to brush some loose hair out of your eyes, then lets it linger on the side of your face.

"Y're quiet," she murmurs.

You blink once. Twice. "So are you."

Natalie snorts, and for a second, it's light again. Almost nothing. But then her thumb swipes across your cheekbone, and you know you're fucked.

She doesn't pull her hand away when you think she will.

Instead, her eyes flick down to your mouth and back up again, giving you an unreadable look that makes your stomach twist. Her fingers twitch slightly where they rest against your cheek, like she's fighting some internal debate.

Whatever it is, she loses.

You don't know who leans in first. Maybe it was mutual. Regardless, it doesn't matter. Not when her lips are on yours, warm and wanting. It isn't dramatic, like something out of a movie scene where the guy gets the girl. It's not hungry. No, it's tentative. Careful, like you're both exploring the other and ensuring this isn't a mistake.

There's a beat of that gentle exploration before Nat exhales hard through her nose, then starts kissing you for real. It's open-mouthed and desperate, like she's needed skin-on-skin contact as much as you have. Her hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling you towards her.

Your hands find her waist without thinking, thumbs brushing along the edge of her boxers as you draw her in. You don't know when you started treading the water or when she draped her free arm over your shoulder, but you do clock the moment she shifts in the water and begins to draw you deeper into her orbit.

The lake laps gently around you, cool against overheated skin. Natalie's legs bracket your hips now, water beading off her shoulders and rolling in small rivers down her torso. Her arms dangle loosely around your shoulders, like she's trying to play it casual, like this isn't about to turn into something else entirely. 

"Not gonna drown, are you?" she murmurs, eyes flicking to your mouth, still trying to keep up that facade of nonchalance she tries so hard to maintain. 

You scoff, "Not unless you hold me under."

"I can make that happen if you're into it, y'know?" Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging on the wet strands. "I'm willing to work with you."

You huff a laugh, but it breaks halfway into a gasp when she rolls her hips forward. 

"Jesus, Nat," you whisper, breath catching as your fingers dig into the curve of her ass. "You always this charming?"

"Only when trying to get someone off," she says deadpan as her lips move to your jaw, tracing a bead of water with her tongue. 

You grunt at that, feet touching against the stony lake floor. "You trying to get me off, then?"

Nat laughs softly against your ear, sending warm puffs of air against your slick skin. "Was that not obvious?" She punctuates the words with a steady roll of her hips against yours, teeth catching on the lobe of your ear as she does. 

"You could make it more obvious, I think." Your hand slips around her front and beneath the waistband of her boxers, finding a warm heat that's slick from more than just the water. 

She sucks in a sharp breath at your touch, and her hips jerk forward reflexively, grinding against your hand. 

"Fuck," she hisses, voice shaky as her nails dig into your scalp. "God, shut up—"

And then her lips are on yours with a feverish desperation, kissing you as though the world were ending—maybe it is. Maybe it already has, given the plane crash and the hell you've since walked through.

Her lips are rough from sunburn and too many days without balm, but it doesn't stop her. Doesn't stop you from biting on her lower lip, either.

While your tongue runs along the seam of her lips, your fingers slide seamlessly through her folds to tease her aching cunt. Usually, you'd probably draw this out. Make her work for it. Maybe see if you could get Natalie Scatorccio to beg—but you're feeling kind today. 

Your middle finger slips into her around the same time you bite down on her lower lip, earning a soft hiss at the duelling sensations of pleasure and pain. A full-bodied shudder runs through her, her hips stuttering forward as her hands scramble for purchase—one clutching at your shoulder, the other so deeply wound up in your hair you worry she'll rip it out from the root.

"Jesus," she breathes against your mouth, eyes screwed shut as though the feeling is too much to look at.

You curl your finger inside her now, testing the waters before you add your ring finger to the mix, and start slowly pumping them in and out of her. She's tight, warm, and impossibly wet around your fingers, muscles clenching rhythmically around your digits as they tease her slowly, searching for that one spot that makes her whine and fall apart beneath your touch.

You find it on the third pass. All it takes is just the slightest shift of angle, a curl of your fingers upward—and her whole body goes taut.

"There—" she gasps, voice cracking like a snapped branch or sudden gust of wind through a warm summer's day. "Fuck, right there—" 

You keep the pressure steady, pressing up into that spot with every stroke, your palm grinding against her clit in time. Her thighs twitch around your waist, as though she's still trying to pull you in deeper. 

She's panting now, trying to bury her face in your shoulder, but the involuntary moans keep escaping despite her best efforts. Her nails scrape down your back the next time you crook your fingers, hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you work her open, coaxing her closer to the edge with every perfectly timed thrust.

"Yeah, that's it, c'mon." Your own breathing has picked up, coming out in sharp puffs against Nat's temple as she clings to you. "You're already so close, aren't you? I got you. I got you, Nat. C'mon. Come for me."

And, for once in her life, Nat listens the first time she's told to do something. Her orgasm washes over her like the water lapping against your bodies, her heels digging into the backs of your thighs as she tries to hold herself steady. She isn't loud—not that you expected her to be—but she doesn't need to be loud when you can feel her walls clamping around your fingers, her body unable to decide whether to keep your fingers inside or force them out. 

Nat slumps against you after the final tremors leave her body, forehead resting heavy on your shoulder. You don't rush her despite the constant need for movement out here. Instead, you press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head and hold her there, your fingers still curled lazily inside her.

Eventually, she lifts her head (with great effort) and meets your eyes with a lopsided smile. "C'mon. Your turn."

Before you can respond to that, she's already moving, untangling her limbs from around you and dragging you toward the rocky shore with a hunger in her eyes that has nothing to do with the minor starvation starting to set in.

The rocks dig into the backs of your knees as she pushes you gently down onto your back, but you barely register the sharp dig of stones against your skin as she hovers above you, hair wild and eyes wide.

"Y'gonna let me return the favour?" she murmurs, dragging her lips against the hollow of your throat as she speaks. "Or y'gonna be difficult about it?"

Usually, you'd fire back with some sort of fiery remark. Something about how she's being far too cocky for someone who literally just came on your hand—but then there's a loud rustle in the trees.

"—I'm just saying! You could be less of a bitch about it sometimes, Shauna!"

"You can't keep not pitching in! People are noticing, Jackie!"

Nat freezes.

So do you.

There's a beat of dead silence before Nat collapses sideways beside you with a frustrated groan, dragging her forearm over her eyes. "Un-fucking-believable. This goddamn uptight, prudish little bitch and her—"

You have to bite back laughter as you sit up, readjusting your soaked underwear. "You think they saw?"

"No," Nat scoffs, and you swear you can hear her rolling her eyes. "But they're going to. We've got about sixty seconds before they start acting like they invited skinny-dipping."

You lean over and press a quick kiss to her shoulder as she drops her arms from around her eyes, glaring at you heatlessly. "Rain check?"

Her lips twitch upward despite everything, and you wonder what kissing her on dry land would taste like.

"Yeah," she says quietly. "Rain check."

a/n: natalie scatorccio in boxers and a sports bra save me..... natalei scatorcio in a boxers and sports bra sav me........ nataliescatoriucopsaveme

[suguann]

✎. you've been on the run for a while. you knew someone would come eventually—but not him.

tags. fem!reader, old west era, bounty hunter simon, size difference, size kink, implied the reader's husband is a terrible human, accidental voyeurism, period-typical sexism, masturbation [18+ only]

masterlist

You’ve been running for months, first from your husband (the phantom grip of his hand still sending an ache through your wrist) and now as a wanted conwoman for stealing the clothes from an unsuspecting cowpoke who thought he was getting lucky. You can only imagine what Mama would say about trading your ruffled skirts for grass-stained trousers and boiled-leather suspenders.

(It’s unbecoming of a respectable woman, dear. Uncouth.)

She’d probably have a lot to say if she knew everything you’ve done to survive.

You hop from one place to the next only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a helpless woman accompany them on their travels. Nearly a month has passed since being stranded in a dusty old mining town after a man and his wife dump you off and leave you behind. Washoe’s a little gritty and not welcoming unless there’s money to spend.

It’s not exactly safe, not unsafe, either, but nobody asks questions as long as you keep your head down and play the part of a mourning widow just passing through.

You know you’ve overextended your stay when you can’t leave your room during the day without worrying about a noose and the open end of a barrel meeting you outside. 

(That your husband or that gun-waving cowpoke finally found you.)

Sleep practically clings to you like a second skin, but you don’t dare close your eyes—you can’t.

This is how you end up sitting in the corner of the saloon, using the last of whatever you have in your change purse to order something strong, something your husband kept locked away, and anything else he thought women shouldn’t have a part in. 

You don’t even realize that your eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the flickering lantern on the wall while you wait for your drink. 

You catch yourself once or twice before your head can hit the table, rapidly blinking away the exhaustion before your eyes slide to the swinging doors.

You should stay awake. 

You need to stay awake just a little bit longer—

Your luck runs out that day. 

It’s one thing to know it’d happen eventually, and something else to realize that you make it easy for him—the man with an infamous name and a faded black bandana covering half his face—how he walked into the saloon and scooped you up (all unladylike sleepy dead weight) out of the weathered booth without a fight.

When you’d woken up to find yourself trussed up and thrown over the back of his horse, you cursed him out with every word you could think of that would make Mama clutch her skirts. Your captor ignored you, only talking to you whenever he warned you he was about to set up camp. 

“Did my husband send you?” Acknowledging him after all this time tasted like pennies on your tongue.

The man, Simon Riley, had leaned back against his bedroll and tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

That was several weeks ago. 

Now, you find yourself stranded in another state that’s more green and vibrant than anything you’re familiar with, stuck with a man who refuses to answer the questions you throw at him. He doesn’t talk outside a few cursory words you greedily latch onto. Anything’s better than silence and the sound of hooves hitting earth. 

The pace he keeps you at is exhausting. You complain about it enough until he moves you in front of him, tying your hands to the saddle's horn.

“I would strongly advise you to shut that mouth for the rest of the ride unless you want me to do something about that, too.” The low growl of his voice in your ear makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up, muddling your brain.

You’re distantly aware you had something to say to that, but you don’t. 

And that is really saying something.

It’s because there’s someone he needs to meet in town—an errand that lawbreakers who run their mouths aren’t allowed to go on.

This is how you end up sitting in camp alone, twirling around a knife he gave you solely for emergencies. 

(Surprise, sharp and quick through your middle, when he tosses his pocket knife into the grass beside you. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”

You could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “Will you?”

It doesn’t seem worth dignifying with a reply. You don’t want to travel alone, and there’s a high possibility of getting lost, finding yourself saddled up with worse company than the one you’re stuck with.

Until he evidently catches you again.)

He’s a lot nicer than you first gave him credit for—if only by a fraction—not that you know much about Simon other than what you overheard from gossip circles before you became Mrs. Thornton. Afternoons spent sipping tea laden with honey and lounging around a table full of cakes in the sun parlor while wealthy women talked behind their lace-covered hands to hide secret smiles you were too naive to understand. 

Trying not to stare at the bulge of his arms with thin pink scars—unlike the men you’re used to who got through life with a silver spoon hanging from their mouth—as he places his saddle back on his horse, you think you finally know what they smiled about.

You learn those scars also litter his torso from the time you accidentally walked upon him mid-way through putting his trousers on after washing in the river. It’d been too dark for you to see much else, and you quickly returned to camp before he could say something that would embarrass you both. 

Then, of course, tucked away into your bedroll, you can’t help wondering what the rest of him would have looked like if you had stayed a second longer. 

If his jaw is sharp or soft behind that mask he insists on wearing—that’s if he’d let you see at all. 

Simon’s always so serious that it’s often hard to determine whether he’s merely tolerating your existence until he can get rid of you or if he’s unused to traveling accompanied for so long. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to make pleasant conversation with you for you to assume otherwise.

You look off in the direction where he disappeared into the dense line of trees hours ago, wondering if you should go out looking for him (mainly because you’re hot and sticky from the humidity) despite his order to stay put. 

But after four hours turns into five, you head off, searching for something to help cool you off.

Luckily, unlike the heavily eroded lands you’re used to, there isn’t any water shortage in a place that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take long to find a lake. You set your knife down on the stone-covered beach, followed by your boots, until you’re left in nothing but your undergarments. 

The water is icy cold and laps gently at your feet when you step in. You can’t find it in you to complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further you walk in and find a wide ledge to sit on. 

Your thoughts drift back to Simon, incessant and intruding even though you shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. And suddenly, you can picture it: his hands replacing yours as they trace along your neck. You have a feeling they’re probably rough and scarred from years of living hard and gunslinging, extracting the readily available knowledge that they’re big enough to encase your waist.

He could maneuver you around however he wants (you know this), and you feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the water while your hands smooth over the tips of your breasts and down your stomach. 

You wish you could see him without violating whatever personal preservations hide him from the rest of the world. Instead, you’re left with your imagination—the benefits of being a married woman and the little experience you have in the bedroom finally coming into play. 

Closing your eyes, you picture what he might look like under those sun-weathered leathers, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his vest and holsters but also from how his job has shaped him.

Your hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the creamy, soft wetness between your legs, evidence of what Simon does to you even when he’s not around. A moan, too high and breathy, slips past your lips as you use your middle finger to circle your clit in slow, clumsy swirls from lack of practice and patience that spreads warmth through your middle despite the cold water. 

It’s good, your fingers discovering places your husband always ignored—too many nights spent with your hand under your nightgown long after he’d tucked his cock away and gone to sleep—but probably don’t compare to the ones you’ve caught yourself staring at far too many times. 

They don’t fill you nearly enough, unlike how you know Simon’s would—thick and unrelenting. Rough and long, reaching deep enough to make you breathless.

Your breath hitches from pinching the tight, sensitive peak of your nipple until you feel a slight sting, and then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to your ears—Simon—a secret you now share with the lightning bugs and crickets.

“Dirty, no good rotten—” he’d tell you for thinking such lewd thoughts about him, for sinning so easily. Maybe you are, for getting so worked up over a man who isn’t your husband (no matter how terrible a husband he may be).

A man who’s so big that he makes you feel small, the type that gives before he takes. It’s enough to make you work your hand faster—your body vibrating from the chill of the water and the ache between your trembling thighs.  

Fantasies aren’t enough to sate the deep longing in your chest. Yet you’re slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking your next breath—all of it builds up and gradually crests inside you like the lake rippling against the shore.

Afterward, it leaves you feeling soft and blurred around the edges, a watercolor painting drying under the sun while you wait for your rapid heartbeat to slow.

You don’t realize your eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and you’re startled to find Simon standing at the shoreline, his chest heaving as if he ran here. 

(Though he probably did to see if you took the opportunity to leave.)

You’re glued to your spot on the rock, suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen you come—that he possibly heard you cry out his name so intimately.

You watch him remove his hat and hang it on a branch with wide eyes. Followed by his undershirt, guns, and—

He keeps removing clothes until he’s completely naked on the shore—aside from his face that stays hidden—scars marred his chest, spreading to his collarbones and below the water as he steps into the lake and sits on another ledge across from you.

His mask makes him look more menacing, erasing any trace of softness there. And you wonder if he’s angry at you for wandering off.

"Come here." His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

You don't think he'd hurt you. If he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

At least, that’s what you’re going with to settle the nervous fluttering in your middle.

Water laps at your arms as you wade through the water, each shaky step bringing you closer until you stop before him.

"In my lap."

Your breath sticks in your throat as you do as he says, settling down onto his sturdy thighs, palms falling flat against his broad chest. That same breath comes out in one large exhale as his fingers slide along your jaw, to the nape of your neck, curling into your hair, wet and falling around your shoulders.

“Like this?” you ask, trying to ignore how breathy you sound.

He grunts, apparently in confirmation.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so conflicted in your life—fear and arousal turning into a messy cocktail in your veins.

“Why do I always have to use a heavy hand to make you listen?”

Your lips part. Breath growing short. “I’m sorry.”

And then—

Simon pulls your head back sharply, exposing your throat.

Your body goes slack against his. Mind blissfully blank.

“No,” he says, tone flat. “But you will be.”

[nikovraskol]

Crack baby is very *chief kiss*🤌

I wonder if MC knows that legally they can't live alone as a minor without the involvement of an adult? Like you can do that at 16 but for this to be legal you still need a legal guardian and to get an ok from the government by giving a good reason like your parents working out of the country and you stay for school.

If I was MC I'd not ask because Bruce will not care enough to think of a good lie to give the government (but also he can just pay the right people)

Also what would happen if MC didn't ask for money for the House? Will Bruce tell them that he decided to move their room to the family wing? What else will he want to talk about? And how will he react to MC refusing to move rooms calmly and saying that they are who moved that room that that section (it can be a lie) and that they prefer the quite.

Alfred finding that he has more work to do, and also gets worried that you saddenly don't want to be close to the family

you're very perceptive anon, i do have plans regarding mc's age and all that jazz

masterlist

but if mc weren't too ask bruce for money, let's say you convienently had enough money saved up or you had a friend to stay with, you would likely leave silently.

you pack their bags and dip, just like that. of course, alfred would be the first to notice and he would be absolutely devastated! he cares for mc like a child and you just left without a word!! but not to worry, he's sure you'll be back, evident by the way the family reacts.

just -- don't be surprised by how closely he lingers when you're back, he must make sure you don't do anything rash anymore.

slowly but surely, the manor would become strangely silence, a lack of a presence that nobody can put their finger on what's changed .. i mean, they didn't take notice of you anyway so it's not like they'd suddenly realise straight away.

it's definetly damian who notices first .. he takes a walk around your room hoping to bump into you and (see you) remind you how useless you are.. but there's a silence around your room that puts him on edge.

he's completely disgruntled when he realises you've gone! blasphemous! how could this be?

he then tells bruce, who is just as perplexed -- how did you leave? you're a child! way too young to survive gotham alone. he then recruits the others and they track you down with ease ! you're obviously upset -- who do they think they are? they suddenly want to take interest in you now? after all that's happened.

like, you'd probably be casually lounging around, doing what you do and you turn your head and there's a family gathering in your room.. except they don't look too pleased.

you can cry as much as you want, kick, scream -- they'll take you back, you felt neglected, right? that's why you left, don't worry. they'll take care of you, just don't try running away again, yeah?

as for mc refusing to move wings.. that's really interesting to me because it opens up so many possiblities.

first of all, you refusing just adds to bruce's guilt. he takes it less as you being resentful and more-so you being scared, it adds to his image of you being some helpless, naive fool.

he'll probably relent for a week, but the image of you stuck in your room, crying alone has him clutching his hair until he can't take it and he'll just move u in ur sleep.

you go to sleep peacefully in your little box room only to wake up in some fancy, way too big room that has you gaping in shock -- you're obviously pissed off, where does he get off treating you like a child!

he sighs whenever you kick and scream, gently soothing you much to your chagrin. he'll change his plan from dropping in every once in a while to every single day.

he sees you as a child, so each time you shout at him, telling him you no longer want his attention, that you're not a child -- it just adds to his helpless image of you !!

there's nothing you can do now, there's no moving out or running away, because as soon as bruce sets his eyes on you, so does everyone else.

you're stuck, poor you, but don't worry, with bruce holding your hand you don't have anything you need to wish for! isn't that great?

[misasimagines]

I know they use the normal Framing for the video calls in lads because it's easier and they can use the basic animations, but I think it would be so much funnier if they actually were holding their phones. Very basic and unserious HCS 💜

Like I think Xavier is that kind of person who never holds the phone at a reasonable distance or angle away from him. it's either comically close to his face or aimed at like this shoulder or something. You can be like hey sweetie, I think I'm staring at your elbow rn, and he's like oh sorry [fixes it and it's worse] is that better? No, but you love him so. It's fine. Also the most likely to fall asleep mid video call, so you sometimes get a livestream of his cute sleeping face. Sometimes... other times the phone falls to the floor and you don't get anything. Its rng.

Zayne would prop his phone up against something so he can multitask so it'll be at a weird angle, too low probably, and occasionally it falls over so you're just staring at the ceiling until he realizes he can't see you and fixes it. If he has to hold it, he tries to keep it still for you and stay in focus, but he really mostly cares about being able to see you so sometimes it wavers. Most likely to be distracted by someone or something else on his side so you end up patiently waiting while he talks to someone, and then they're like oh no I'm sorry you were on a call! And he's like it's okay. And you get to be like hi! I'm here! And he finds it very cute and endearing.

Rafayel is 100% hitting his best angles in the best lighting and he's going to kill you for screenshotting him mid sneeze. He also would prop his phone up on smth when necessary but it would be like on a tower of things so he gets the best possible angle. He'll send a pic of the makeshift set up afterwards every time and it's Always more wobbly than the last time. Occasionally it falls apart mid call and he's like dang, the tower of single use creamers didn't survive that, huh? Like babe did you really think???? He also will be the most likely to start a video call already Posed for effect for whatever he wants to share with you. Tied with Caleb for most likely to screenshot you constantly.

Sylus holds his phone pretty still and it's disconcerting how unmoving the view is sometimes. Most likely for you to see random ass bullets flying by his head and you're like??? Are you good?? And he's like aw you're worried about me? [Gunshot sounds, people screaming, phone is completely still] I'm perfectly fine. You do start to think he must have a professional camera man with a gimbal for these videos calls. Most likely to video call you without asking if you're free before hand, and when you're like hold up, I'm in the shower, he's like [missed video call] [missed video call] [missed video call]

Caleb either uses his evol to hold it up so he can multitask and not worry about it, or he's laying down holding it above his face and then drops it on his face and you're left wondering how someone so smart and capable can also be such a hot mess. Most likely to answer your call even if he's in the middle of showering or something, like he's drenched and you're staring at his shirtless form like um....is now a bad time....and he's like nope, all good, what did you need? [Currently washing his hair]. I mean. Amen and God bless if you ask me. Tied with Rafayel for most likely to screenshot you constantly.

[silkscream]

once bitten, twice shy

megumi fushiguro x reader

ੈ✩ wc: 3.1k (i cannot write anything under 2k to save my life)

ੈ✩ tags: emotionally constipated megumi, tsundere basically, friends to lovers, a lil angst, not actually unrequited love, pining, alcohol, typical yuuji nobara antics

ੈ✩ a/n: this is not xmas themed despite the title BUT it does end up taking place on satoru's birthday for plot reasons. megumi fushiguro your intimacy issues bewitch me mind body and soul.....

megumi does not know what to do with his feelings.

he’s never been the type to be particularly in touch with them — he didn’t remember his parents enough to blame them for whatever avoidant attachment he’d accustomed himself to. or maybe, that was the exact cause of said attachment style. gojo taking him in when he was a child didn’t help either — the man also refused to be very vulnerable around him, merely acting as a benefactor and a nuisance at best.

and while he was closest to tsumiki, he’d still built up a wall around himself that she couldn’t get through, and she knew it. she couldn’t break through it in his pre-teen years, and certainly not his teenage years when he was taking out his aggression on his classmates. he would ignore her soothing words and resent her kindness. perhaps he’d taken after toji in that way. constantly fending for himself for the sake of survival. always convinced that he was doomed to be alone.

and then there was you.

he’d met you first at jujutsu tech before any of the other students could. after sparring with maki, he’d been dismissed to shoko’s office. he’d opened the door that september day and was immediately met with your wide eyes, your searing cursed energy. gojo had found another stray.

shoko had made him your first experiment and you excelled. his injuries were healed within minutes. if anything, he felt better than he had in months — after battling insomnia and panic attacks, he felt… calm. like his brain was cleansed and that he had nothing to stress about. (until the next time gojo had gotten on his nerves.)

your introduction to his class was nothing extravagant despite gojo’s theatrics. megumi couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you after that — during practice battles, lectures, or lunch. he was always hyperaware of your presence. he blamed it on your cursed energy.

he hates how enthusiastic yuuji is about you, how yuuji tells him about how he manages to get you alone even though you often keep to yourself, and how he thinks you’re so fucking pretty, and that you’d agreed to watch the human earthworm movies with him. (megumi had refused when yuuji asked.)

he stews in that anger quietly because he’d rather die than let anyone know. nobara knows better, of course. she teases him about it and brings up jealousy.

why should megumi ever be jealous of yuuji? the boy was a freak accident in human form, with no inherent technique. who fucking cares that he can make you laugh without any effort?

it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t. because you have no direct effect on megumi and you don’t distract him during school. he doesn’t cling onto the memory of your hands on his skin. he doesn’t wish for the feeling again. of course not.

he tells this to yuuji and nobara, too. there’s one day where nobara goes too far — she teases him about setting up a date, that you rave about him, that he’s definitely your type. megumi doesn’t believe a word of it, especially because you’re probably more comfortable with yuuji. he doesn’t care to date because it would hold him back. he’s too focused on his training, on being the best, because he’s determined to follow in gojo’s shadow even if he won’t admit it. he could be the second strongest. he could be the most reliable.

it comes out in all the wrong ways. he’s more irritable than usual, so he yells at nobara instead of seething in hushed tones. he rants about how he does’t need someone by his side, certainly not you, whose only benefit is to heal superficial injuries and not much else. how your combat skills are poor, how easily you get beat when you spar on the field. how compared to him, you’re weak, so you’re of no use.

unfortunately, you hear him. every thought on his mind that tumbles out of his stupid mouth, his tone spewing wrath. you know that megumi is a moody person, but you’d never think him to be mean.

you pretend you’re just passing by, but from the faces nobara and yuuji are making, megumi already senses your presence. the color drains from his face, cobalt eyes wide.

“i’m — i’m sorry, i didn’t mean —“

“it’s okay, fushiguro,” you say softly. even after that shitshow, you’re still fucking smiling. it puts a sinking feeling in megumi’s stomach.

“ah, i got an extra pack of mochi and thought you guys would like it.”

you hand over a small bag and megumi takes it wordlessly.

“that’s so sweet,” yuuji beams, attempting to deflect. “hey, i was just looking for you. do you happen to have those jujutsu history notes? kugisaki spilled a soda on mine.”

“you knocked it over!” nobara protests.

“you put it on top of my stuff!”

you take your notebook out of your bag and hand it to yuuji graciously, avoiding megumi’s gaze and making up an excuse to see all of them later.

apparently, “later” means a week after. megumi sees you in class, and while he attempts to walk you to the dining hall or invite you to hang out, you bolt out the door before catching anyone’s attention. he has to find out how you are from fucking yuuji, who somehow gets to see you around the dorms every other day.

“i think she just likes to keep to herself, s’all,” yuuji says. he can sense megumi’s anxiety just from being in the same room as him.

“but you see her all the time.”

“she’s been tutoring me a little. and we just like the same movies and stuff.”

yuuji shrugs casually. his nonchalance makes megumi’s blood boil, because of course he’s the one who gets to occupy all of your time. of course you’re probably most comfortable with him. he knows he shouldn’t be seething at the thought of you two together — it isn’t his right. but his jealousy is starting to get the best of him lately.

“are you guys together?” he blurts out.

“no?” yuuji furrows his brows. “if anything, i feel like nobara might be trying to make a move since she’s way nicer to her than she is to us. except i’m pretty sure she and maki have been going out lately.”

“maki?”

“dude, keep up!”

and when yuuji accuses of megumi having a crush again, the same way nobara did all those weeks ago before he made a fucking fool of himself, megumi shuts it down with a grimace and a blush. he’s merely concerned about your wellbeing is what it is. that’s what he’s able to muster up to yuuji, of course, who absolutely isn’t buying it based on his shit-eating grin.

it’s annoying, especially because yuuji can make you feel more comfortable, comfortable enough to hang with the whole trio, and the pink-haired bastard has to meddle like a little troll. bumping the two of you into each other like you’re in middle school. somehow, it worsens everything. not your dynamic, but megumi’s self-consciousness.

he was already so extremely aware of you, but now he’s convinced that some angel above has tied the red string between you both extra tight. megumi looks for you in every crowd, awaits your arrival every day in the classroom and at lunch, and it’s starting to feel pathetic — the lightness in his chest whenever you’re even so much as ten feet away. his heart even beats faster at the anticipation of your text in the group chat, for fuck’s sake.

and then there’s gojo’s birthday party, a surprise orchestrated by the four of you, despite megumi’s reluctance. you’re particularly more radiant than usual. maybe it’s the lighting. maybe it’s the dress you have on.

despite the amount of shots he’s been forced to take in the past hour (three), megumi is still sober enough to feel anxious around you. though, he thinks he might be drunk enough to be lost in your image, fixating on your collarbone and the way your hair falls in your face as you laugh at one of gojo’s stupid jokes. it’s when the two of you lock eyes that megumi feels out of it, because you smile at him. you fucking smile.

if the warmth of the liquor wasn’t currently raising heated blood to his head, he’d deny the sparks that came from the mere sight of your smile, but he was hopeless. you’re mesmerizing. dizzying. he doesn’t know what to do with his face, not when his cheeks are flushing red and his motor skills are slowing down. fuck, maybe he was a lightweight like gojo after all.

he’s clearly out of touch with reality, because the moment fades as soon as it comes. perhaps it wasn’t a moment at all. he watches you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your mouth moving slowly as you mingle with other classmates. he’s fucking fixated on your mouth — your lipstick tonight is a blush red with a shiny gloss reflecting light. megumi has only dreamed of what your lips would taste like once or twice. no more than that. he swears on it.

there’s brief eye contact between the two of you again for half a second. there’s a coy smile on your face as always before you slip out the back door of the house.

there are so many bottles around the place that no one will notice megumi taking an entire bottle of champagne for himself. he scowls at the taste, of sickeningly sweet pears — courtesy of gojo, probably. his head swims and thinks of you.

his momentary peace is rudely interrupted by the sound of nobara’s voice in his ear, asking for you.

“ijichi’s setting up karaoke!”

“there is no way in hell that i’m—”

“i don’t care what you do, emo, but i need her to do a duet!”

megumi heaves a sigh, making his way to the backyard where he finds you sitting on a tree stump. even with the dim fairy lights, he probably would’ve missed you if not for the cherried end of your cigarette.

“fushiguro-kun,” you nod at him.

“megumi,” he rasps. “just… megumi is fine.”

“oh, i get special privileges now? how come?”

there’s no mirth in your tone. you’re teasing him. he doesn’t answer your question.

(the mere act of you teasing him becomes an intimacy in itself — he had never thought that you would be comfortable enough to talk to him in jest. you’d maintained your distance from him fairly well.)

“didn’t know you smoked.”

“only when i drink,” you shrug. “ieiri-san doesn’t make much of an effort to hide her cigarettes, either. don’t tell on me, though.”

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

he doesn’t know where to look. luckily, you’re not looking at him, so he can settle his gaze on your mouth nursing the cigarette. plump. glossy under the moonlight.

megumi is not used to wanting. he had never asked gojo for anything during his adolescence, and refused any gesture of kindness from anyone. he was convinced since childhood that there was no point in desire because disappointment would be on the other end of it either way.

he’d like to be a monk about it. he could control himself and focus on his studies. never spare you a glance again that isn’t platonic. and then a cool december wind blows past the two of you, and he smells your amber perfume.

and when he turns his head, you’re looking at him, eyes bright.

“so… not enjoying the party?”

“i’m not really one for parties.”

“me neither,” you shrug. “that’s why i like to do my little ritual of escaping.”

“we have that in common.”

you hum, a noncommittal noise. you take another drag of your cigarette, which disintegrates slowly.

“what a pair, the two of us.”

megumi can’t pick up any sarcasm from your voice, though he assumes it. it makes his stomach drop even though the statement is harmless. the two of you. together. it makes endless futures bloom in his mind. maybe it’s the prosecco, but it almost makes him want to vomit. to think that he was even good enough to be beside you in your future.

you curse quietly when you pull your phone out of your jacket pocket to check the time, realizing it’s dead. megumi gives you a once-over. the jacket you’re wearing is all too familiar. like him, you’re not one to wear very many colors. but this jacket is bright red, varsity style, and oversized on you.

“is that itadori’s jacket?” megumi stammers.

“oh, yeah. i didn’t realize how cold it would be tonight.”

“oh.”

“why?” you give him a curious smile.

“nothing,” he coughs. “are… you two…”

you laugh and it’s like a song to him.

“i think he might be my best friend, s’all. why? you jealous?”

he looks at you again, head-on, your eyes still bright. brighter than fluorescents. there’s something in your irises that is meant to provoke him, but he’s dispensed of his usual cautious nature after he takes another gulp from the bottle.

“more than you can imagine,” he huffs.

“sorry?”

“’m not repeating that.”

“what, you’re not saying you’re like, into me, are you?” you exasperate.

megumi remains silent, cheeks flushed. he thinks that if his head could heat up any more, he’d end up with a migraine.

you breathe the tiniest gasp. if it wasn’t for how close megumi was to you, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“i kind of thought you hated me, you know,” you admit.

“i could never hate you. i don’t think anyone could.”

“you don’t have to pretend,” you sigh. he didn’t notice until now that your cigarette was finished, discarded onto the dirt with your boot to crush it into ash. “i— beyond the politeness, i get it. that i’m not your type or whatever. you don’t even have to be friends with me, fushiguro-kun.”

“megumi,” he emphasizes.

“megumi.”

“i’m not pretending. i… i really fucking like you,” he slurs. “it kind of scares me how much.”

“you’re drunk.”

“i am. i know you heard me say all that shit to kugisaki and itadori, but it’s because they put me on the spot and i was nervous. i don’t know how to… deal with feelings. honestly, if i wasn’t even a little drunk right now, i’d probably have left the party with my tail in between my legs and avoided you for the next fucking week, and you don’t deserve that. you deserve… everything.”

“even you?”

when did you get so close to him? if he sauntered just a few inches in your direction, he could touch your noses together. he can smell your perfume so deeply.

“it’s the other way around,” megumi breathes. “i don’t deserve you. not anything close to you.”

“what if i want you regardless?” your voice is just above a whisper. a prayer, a hymn. a wish to be blown out.

megumi swallows the lump in his throat. he blinks at you, dark indigo luminescent. the world slows down. he may owe it to the liquor and the wine, but he assumes it’s just your presence. your scent, the softness of your hair in between his fingers, your soft breaths.

“what do you want, megumi-kun?”

he remembers something gojo said. that to be a jujutsu sorcerer, he has to be selfish. he’s not sure if that philosophy applies to the situation at hand, but he’d be damned if he let you crawl into bed tonight without knowing how he truly felt about you. so, uncharacteristically, he takes a leap forward.

he unwinds the tension in his body and presses his lips to yours. it’s soft, chaste, innocent. something like a pause. he’s afraid to touch you, but you’ve already reeled him in with arms thrown around his shoulders, fingertips touching the softness of his black hair.

you bump your nose with his, shyly, and he kisses you open-mouthed. tongue in your mouth, meshing the taste of tobacco and prickly pear. the vanilla chapstick that he’d put on before he followed you out to the backyard.

he has one hand caressing your jaw and the other on your shoulder, thumb brushing over your collarbone in a way that makes your entire body shiver. you’re embarrassed at the pool of desire in between your legs.

megumi has never let himself be full of wanting, but at the moment, his veins are surging with it. it’s like a drug to him — your warmth, your scent, the saccharine taste of your mouth. your flesh is so soft, so pliable, from the way you dip towards the cavern of his lanky body, pressed against him chest to chest. letting his hand dig into the fat of your hip. fingertips grazing the skin underneath your shirt.

maybe it’s the liquor, but he’s feeling experimental — he tucks your bottom lip in between his teeth. pulls your hair ever so slightly. you mewl into his mouth quietly and he thinks that he’s never felt anything better than this. you’re wrapped up in all of him. you can quite literally feel the heat on his cheeks and both of you realize how aroused he is, his bulge prodding your thigh.

“fuck,” he whispers into your mouth, and he pulls away. only a few inches are separating you as he takes a moment to breathe. his eyes are blown out wide, black stretching across dark blue. both of you are stunned, panting, and the tension is more palpable than ever.

a rustling of grass makes both of you jump. when he turns, he sees yuuji and nobara staring with wide eyes.

“you owe me 7,000 yen,” yuuji deadpans to nobara.

“seriously, fushiguro? i didn’t think you had it in you!”

“i always had faith in you, fushiguro!” yuuji chimes.

while you giggle, megumi growls under his breath at the new intrusions of dumb and dumber.

“i personally thought you were way out of his league,” nobara tells you.

“eat shit.” megumi seethes with arms crossed, and despite his wrath, he resembles more of an angry kitten to you than any potential threat.

“sheesh, don’t summon a shikigami on them, megumi,” you tease with a pleased grin.

“i—” he stumbles over his words in frustration, grimacing. “what do the two of you want, anyway?”

“gojo-sensei got ijichi to sing doja cat.”

“oh, i’ve gotta see this,” you snort, grabbing megumi by the hand as you begin to usher the crew back inside. his heart leaps at the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his.

despite his inhibitions, megumi’s decided that he could get used to this.

[cloakedsparrow]

Tim: ...so that's how I ended up in Bludhaven with a fake uncle.

Jason: ...

Tim: What?

Jason: Let me make sure I'm understanding this correctly before I respond. Your dad was murdered. Your stepmom, who never adopted you, was in a mental hospital. Dick was awol. Cass was still basically a baby as well and was finding herself. B was avoiding you because he felt guilty about getting your dad murdered.

Tim: He didn't-

Jason *speaking over him forcefully*: Then you dropped out of school, so no one could possibly miss you while you lived with a man who was a complete stranger to you and who knew you had money and no adults worth a damn in your life.

Jason *takes deep breath*: Why the fuck would you do that?!

Tim: Well, at first I wasn't sure what was going to happen to me and Batman needs Robin, but we also both needed some space to grieve. I had to make sure I was still available to Bruce while also leaving us some breathing room. Plus, Dick was out of town, so Bludhaven needed a vigilante anyway.

Jason: Okay, ignoring the twenty other things wrong with that statement, did it never occur to you that Bruce could just adopt you?

Tim: Well, Yeah. But he'd just adopted Dick, which was a really big deal for him, emotionally, you know? I was worried he'd feel bad if Bruce turned around and adopted me.

Jason: You were worried Dick would feel bad if Bruce adopted you when you had literally no one else?

Tim: Yeah. I was used to being alone anyway and you know how he can get when it comes to Bruce.

Jason: So you decided to move in with a strange man who was down on his luck and might, oh, I don't know, murder the weird, wealthy child whose bank account he had access to?!

Tim: I paid him. I never gave him direct access to my bank account.

Jason: Oh, well that makes everything fine then. He'd just have to force you to hand over more cash. Or hold you hostage against Bruce. Or blackmail you to keep you as his baby sugar daddy.

Tim: I set up everything about his fake identity so he couldn't try to blackmail me without looking really sketchy himself and he never knew about Robin, so what would he blackmail me with anyway?

Jason: How about telling Bruce what you did, since the charade was obviously mostly for him?

Tim: Then he'd risk losing everything while I moved in with Bruce. Nothing he could do against me would gain him anything, so what was the worst that could happen?

Jason: He could have murdered you in your sleep! He could've jumped you while you were vulnerable! He could've threaten to report you to a truancy officer if you didn't do something he wanted! He could've drugged you and sold you to traffickers! Fuck, I don't want to keep thinking about all the horrible things that could've happened to your idiotic baby past self. So let me just reiterate the important question: What the fuck were you thinking?!

Tim: Why does every funny story I tell you end up with you freaking out and yelling at me?

Jason: Because every story you think is a funny childhood anecdote is actually a fucking terrifying misadventure that you just somehow survived!

[ledesaid]

Billy body-swaps #4

╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║

Excellent news.

He survived the Doomsday attack.

Even better news! Flash is officially engaged!

But, today is the day to talk to Batman.

Wrapped in the blankets how a maki in the abandoned subway car, the little boy from Fawcett waits impatiently.

Today is the day. He repeats.

When the clock strikes midnight, he will jump again.

Tick. Tock...

Not much longer...

Tick. Tock...

The dripping from some pipe makes time run slower.

Not much longer...

Batman promised that he could... train... with him...

├───────────┴┴────────────┐

Does anyone know how to drive a car? Because Billy doesn't.

How is he supposed to stop the car when it's going so fast?!

Billy: Stooop!

A loud sound of the brakes throws him practically over the steering wheel. He's still alive, he can swear he might have a bruised rib.

But he's still alive and the car stopped!

Billy: Um... open?

This time the car didn't obey. His grimace of disgust faded as he looked at the cars’s dashboard, filled with buttons of all sizes. He guessed one of them would open the hatch.

Before pressing a large button, he quickly patted his face.

Who was it this time?

"Holy molly! I'm Batman!"

...: Sir? Are you alright? The car sent an alert.

Billy: Yes, yes, everything's fine... thank God the car stopped, it would have been a problem if we crashed out there.

Agent A: By any chance, might you be young Master Marvel?

Billy: Hello Agent A, it looks like I came back to Gotham City.

Agent A: I see, Master Marvel. I shall set the Batmobile to autopilot and escort you back to the Batcave.

Billy: That would be great, I wouldn't want someone to steal its tires for parking it where it shouldn't be.

Agent A: You would be surprised if I told you how that story concluded, sir. Absolutely riveting, it was!

Billy waited patiently while the car resumed the route, but didn't hesitate to play with his communicator. Maybe a little greeting to the League....

Billy: Hello, I'm Batman. Gotham City needs reinforcements. I'm taking the night off.

Billy thought: "Wow, I'm so responsible... Batman would be proud of me."

He can swear someone gasped on the other side of the call.

Superman: Looks like it was Batman's turn today. Do you need help with anything else, Marvel?

Billy: No, I'm just going to check what's inside each compartment of my utility belt, or maybe figure out how to open it first!

Superman: We'll send reinforcements, Marvel, and happy birthday!

Billy: Great, thanks a lot, Mr. Superman! That was two weeks ago, but I appreciate it!

Billy cut the call before another comment slipped through, and indeed, Alfred was in the cave as expected… with a tray of cookies!

Billy: Thank you very much, Agent A! Can you believe that Superman wished me a happy birthday?! Can I have a recording?

Alfred: No problem young master Marvel.

Billy: I can swear I won't be able to eat other cookies without comparing them to yours! Each chip is bigger than a marble!

Alfred: It's a long-standing family recipe that my mother passed down to me. I make sure they always come out perfect.

Billy lost count of how many cookies he ate.

Robin: No way... you're really not him?

Billy: Oh! Hi Robin! Sorry about last time. I didn't want to get caught so quickly.

Robin: Don't worry, it's no problem, I'm in one piece and Batman didn't punish me! everything went well Marvel!

Alfred: Would you like to keep our guest company while I fetch something from the kitchen?

Robin: Sure, is there anything you want to do tonight?

Billy: Can you teach me how to open the compartments of the belt?

Robin: How about we prepare your own belt instead?

Billy: Really?! Can I have my own utility belt?!

Robin: Sure, we have twelve hours, right?

Billy: Can I have a grappling gun too?!

Robin: Sure, the armory has full.

Billy: And can we go out on patrol? I've always wanted to stop a criminal with the terrifying voice! I saw the Bat-Signal in the sky as I was coming. Can we? Can we go?, please, Robin?

Billy clasped his hands and got down on his knees.

Robin: Just let me take a picture and I'll see what I can do about it.

-------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | U are here | Part 5 | Part 6

[munv]

𝗠𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗡𝗘.

𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝗦𝗲𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗔𝗴𝗲, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀

P2

How long has it been? You can't tell, or more like you couldn't. Time didn't exist, and the few rare moments where you felt like it did? You tried anything and everything within your power to escape from this deep sleep, whatever it was. Maybe this was some really messed up fever dream? Or did the aliens beat the government and now you're in their little experimentation room? 

Then you started to feel it, that small pull, that would set you free. And so It did. It felt like a chain reaction of burning, and then feeling completely refreshed all over your body. It was painful, but as soon as you started to move your hands out of the cracked stone, you felt way better. It was only a few mere seconds, but life didn't feel so dull anymore. 

You squinted as you sat up from your crouched position, the vibrant trees surrounded you, and a breeze rushed towards your body. You struggled for a bit before standing upright, using a tree branch as leverage. The art club room where you had once taken shelter was gone, and instead you were embraced by Mother Nature at her finest. 

It's been a while since you've last seen so many trees. Normally they were all cut down for some kind of usage, like the desks you had at school. It finally struck you that you were in fact, alone. Not in the way that you had hoped when you were in school and you needed some alone time every once in a while.

No, now there wasn't enough noise to indulge in, no gossip to listen to during lunch, and no one to come and check up on you every once in a while. You were officially alone. Nothing but stone statues to grace your eyesight and greenery. The society that you once knew was gone, and you had to at least come to terms with the new environment, so with lanky arms and empty head, you began to get accustomed with your surroundings. 

  Step one: cover up

You fumbled a bit with the leaves that you were able to find and some vine, before successfully covering your most vulnerable parts

Step two: identifying sources of food and water

After rustling though many bushes, you finally came across what seemed to be a fresh source of water from a nearby stream, did it taste good? hell yeah? were you able to find food? fuck no

step three: explore surroundings 

Now this one was a bit challenging, because not only are in the wild with no where to call home, but there could also be wild animals. Without a doubt humans are no longer at the top of the food chain, since zoo's existed, you don't doubt that some pretty hungry beasts are roaming around right this second, even ones who aren't even native to Japan too. 

So that's how you began the hike of worry

So, scrap the whole "oh im alone and there's no one else on the planet now!" now you were face to face with what seemed to be a village. Your only problem? The two guards in front of you, who didn’t seem so keen on your arrival 

“Stop. Who are you and what do you have to do with this village?” His voice was like a sharp blade, a contrast to his counterpart who looked much more relaxed, but curious 

Almost as if it was instinct, you raised your hands "I don't have anything on me, I just need resources to survive is all". The brown haired man narrowed his eyes with something akin to malice. "We don't allow just anyone into our village. Begone"

'begone? what kind of-'

"Kinro, I don't think she looks like a threat! I mean, it's just some harmless girl!" 

'should I be offended or happy he's backing me up?..' you sweat dropped, by the looks at it he was basically feigning at the idea of a girl being let into the village. Pretty scary honestly but you'll take what you can get. "yeah! I'm just some...harmless girl!" you cringed at the words that just left your mouth.

"Rules are Rules Ginro, this is about trust, not about what you can do" he stood tall, spear in hand. He almost looked as if he was belittling you right now. Clearly he wasn't convinced. 

'so he's one of those types, this is gonna be a breeze'

"say, how about I strike you a deal?" you lowered your raised hands and outstretched one. Kinro let out a unimpressed grumble, before finally hearing you out. "I can prove to you guys the im not a threat, and for the hell of it? I'll even make you a promise."

"oh yeah! Kinro loves those so-" "Ginro." the blonde one gave a nervous expression before apologizing. "what if I beat you in a sparring match? Im assuming those spears you carry around aren't for show right?" 

Kinro studied you for what felt like a minute with an unreadable expression. "what are your conditions?" 

'perfect'

"If you win, I'll leave and you will never see me again..If I win however? I'll have the right to stay in your village. Although I have to talk to your chief for that, you cannot deny me access in regards to leaving and entering. Satisfied?" You kept your hand outstretched, waiting for him to take it. It wasn't too long before he gave a brisk nod and stepped forward to take your hand in his much larger one. "I accept your terms, make sure you honor them"

"I expect no less, mr Kinrou" you gave him a smile "..just Kinro, please." pink dusted his cheeks 

Kinro lunged first once it began, spear in hand, and it made you swear he probably had half a mind to kill you and be done with it. You sidestepped the blade, with it narrowly missing your shoulder. He gave you no time to catch breath before spinning his weapon around again in an arc, feeling the air slice as it passed overhead. Using the stone knife that was given to you by Ginro, you aimed for his side. He brought down the spear to block the strike. You stumbled a bit but recovered quickly, so in a desperate attempt, you twisted your body and slid down onto the ground and aimed for his legs. 

In one swell swoop, he lost his balance and began to fall. You used to the small amount of time you had while he struggled to position yourself onto of him, knife aimed to cut through his throat while your legs held him down; one hand holding down his arm.

Ginro watched with surprise as you easily subdued his brother, "Oh no Kinro!" he trembled at the hostility that filled the air.

"I give in." he said with labored breathing. "You have proven yourself more than enough" his once tight grip on his weapon loosened as his body slumped. You shared a strained smile "you fight well"

"same to you..ah, what's your name?"

"[name]. Just [name]"

[cherie-doll]

i hope the day is good for you 🫶🏻 (english is not my first language) can you please write a story with cod men, about what would they do when the reader doesnt make it home from the mission - like they are waiting at home for her but she's dead.

thx for submitting love <33

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Waited For You

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He didn't believe it at first, there was just no way... he immediately got to verifying all his sources, even went down to talk to the other soldiers who had been a part of your team

You were supposed to come home, he expected you to come back to him, safe and sound like always but instead of falling asleep and exhausted in his arms like you should've been by tonight, your corpse was out there somewhere missing his embrace

He thought of how he could've prevented this from happening, yes he still blamed himself for anything bad that happened to you despite it not being in his hands, maybe if he could've kept you from going, why did you even feel the need to continue doing this?

There was no one else he cared for as much as he did for you, which truly said a lot of your relationship, but since he met you he felt an overwhelming urge to show love like he'd never done before, nothing else on earth deserved this dedication like you did

He deteriorated rather quickly, the mornings became grim and he couldn't bear to see the sun setting without thinking of how much you loved letting the rays caress your arms and let your eyes take in that golden light, you looked so beautiful in those moments

Ghost

Since he met you, there was finally a stage in his life he could think of purely, sure the relationship wasn't perfect, but this was something he could be reminded of and he didn't have to fight to keep it hidden in the back of his mind, he let the memories emerge to the surface and ponder about them

It had been something pleasant but it had been ripped out of his hands far sooner than he would've wanted, his fantasy that had become a corrupted reality, it makes him want to die, badly, but he always found a way to survive the deadliest situations, somehow he always did; as if he was cursed with immortality

But this? He felt no desperation urging him to dig out of the hole he was sinking into, the walls closing in on him from all sides and he made no effort to push it away, it felt sort of relieving being cramped and paralyzed since he couldn't see the path ahead of him, with you it had become so obvious and clear what he wanted but now there was nothing worth moving towards

Did life always want something from him? Just when he thought he lost everything he could lose, there was always something else being pried out of him, it was painful because it was forcefully taken away just when he was getting attached, when there was no foreseeable evil trying to destroy him there was some good, and you had been the best unexpected thing in his life

Soap

You were like an illusion he had always dreamed of and finally were achieved, a life so dreamy and ideal he thought would never be in his reach, but he had been permitted to have it for a short while with you

Within your time together a love so beautiful had bloomed, it was sweet how sublime it had felt, you had been youthful, still beaming with so much life within you but tragically cut short, those years had gone and went unused

He couldn't find the sense within him to comprehend why it had to be you, your death had been like a cold slap to the face, he had once again become aware of the disheartening reality he lived in, that nothing was secure nor did everything stay the same forever

Well, he knew about the forever part, but did it have to come so soon? He had to gather the strength within him to continue forward and he wasn't even sure of that, there was still so much left unsaid, so much still to be done, and how frustrated he was that it would all be forgotten and left unfulfilled

A sadness like no other would coat his existence, swallow him up and change him beyond recognition, his mind would be invaded by memories of you that will replay until they burned and ceased to exist... the day he ceased to exist

Gaz

All those days that he had spent with you had been the most fulfilling days he had ever experienced, he could remember the warmth of your hand, the weight of your body asleep next to him on the mattress, the security knowing you valued his affection and returned it

He truly felt the happiest with you and he wished to be encased in that happiness forever, but how naive it was of him to think it was possible for even a second, life was always moving and throwing hurdles at us that seem impossible to avoid, it's only a matter of time misfortunes come to us all

By simply contemplating and reminiscing, he felt grief beyond help and any consolation couldn't do much for him, wistful memories came to him and he could not sleep at night, all they did was leave a dark imprint on his mind

His caring nature did not change, he thought with time he could heal and learn to move on, but some things never change, and a sore spot still brings pain when pressed too hard, he would mull over this no matter how painful it was to do so

How he misses to hold you in this moment and kiss you

Roach

The news of your death came like a hard blow to his face, and he was left clutching his chest, eyes watering with tears as he desperately tried to cling onto some comforting memory in his mind

Restlessness follows immediately, even at night sleep does not come to him no matter what he does, the memories you shared seemed to tear him apart rather than anything help him, but he didn't want to forget you either

He knew he couldn't get you back and he had lost you forever in this life, panting and gasping he would awaken from his nightmares, the little sleep he got would do nothing to comfort him, and you weren't there to comfort him, to silently hold nor ease with your voice in his ear

His mind wanted to deceive his heart, make him believe you were somewhere far away but still thinking of him, that he could close his eyes and imaging resting his head on your shoulders, basking in serenity as he lost himself in the waves that lulled him

Alejandro

He was overtaken by bitterness and anger, his better judgement was clouded far beyond reason at the most valuable treasure in his life forever gone, the feeling of longing would become a hole he'd spend his days trying to fill with wrongful acts

All he wanted and needed was your touch to remind him reality was there and not as cruel as he thought, you had still met and loved in your time and nothing could take away what had already been done, he could live blissfully in life knowing you had known each other

But could he be satisfied with that? He could strongly feel the ties that bound you together still tug at his heart, and every year he remembered you, would set an altar for you and fill it with what were your favorite foods and things

He would stare at your imagine, remembering how he once had kissed those lips, stared into your sparkling eyes that watched him endearingly, your face he had held within his hands...

He could never have that back

Rudy

He missed delicately tracing your face, his fingertip raising softly over every curve and line, your silhouette against the wall when you rose that morning, early so you could still say your goodbyes to him and tell him to expect you back very soon, this one wouldn't be too long you said

You had left him a content man, he'd sit around the house and wait, he would take it easy these days because you'd be back soon, but he wasn't ready to withstand the tumult he'd find himself in

His heart had become haggard in the days following your death, he had absorbed every bit of warmth and clung to the last signs that you had left behind, he wished he had been there, to ease your last painful moments before death, how much did that train of thought torment him, day and night it ran through his mind

In sleep, he dreamt of terrible ways you had encountered death, surely, you didn't have a peaceful one, you were healthy and fit to make it, something terrible must have happened but no matter how much he wished to know the cause of your death it wasn't given, most likely for the best to remain unknown

Phillip Graves

He often boasted of having you in his life, it was such a fortunate occurrence when you met that he didn't think it was entirely a coincidence, he loved doting on you and hold you in his arms knowing you were there for him

You had already confirmed the date of your return, but that day came and passed and there was no sign of you, worse yet no message or word had been heard on your part, it was he who had to dig and find out that you had been KIA

It felt like a strong blow to his chest to have you ripped away from him, he knew the harsh reality and danger he was constantly under, he just never imagined it would get to you one day

You shouldn't have paid for his sins or errors, he wished you had stayed out of the battle, but you had your own life to carve out and ultimately it had been your decision

Much time would have to pass before he'd be able to say your name, for the longest time he'd whisper it, as if afraid it'd shatter his reality even more, staying in the air reminding him of what he lost

Makarov

You were forever gone from his grasp, how was he to cope with that? The fire that had warmed his insides, making every act of his be out of love for you suddenly halted, reduced to nothing but ashes and now he was left to sweep the heaps of it

The emptiness growing and knowing there wasn't a piece to fit or make him whole again like you, you were a unique piece, the edges weren't cut with delicacy that an experienced hand could replicate, there wasn't a mold to follow to shape something else into you

You sprung out of chaos and spontaneity with ease, there was a lightheartedness you brought out in him that brought out the best in him, all of it offered to you who didn't greedily take but lovingly returned

He didn't want to believe someone like you could just be taken away from him and have nothing done about it, just when he thought he could be tender he'd return to his old ways, the resentment stronger than ever and tied to his heart, obscuring and consuming him

Keegan

How despairing did this turn out for him, never had he imagined he'd lose you, all that time he had spent training with you, preparing for when the worst could happen and each time you had managed to slip away, always

Except this time you weren't fast enough, he knew those shoulders held up a levelheaded person, who confidently calculated their every move, it was unfair you had been taken

His brows are now furrowed, thinking this just has to be some sort of protocol you're following, faking a death isn't all that uncommon, maybe you were still alive out there, hiding away somewhere for your safety, each day he held the pitiful hope that you'd come back to him, then he'd nurse your injuries and help you stand back up

But moons waxed and waned and you didn't appear, and he couldn't hold the fragments of you close to his heart if you wouldn't be around to reignite them and make them come true again

His palm that had curled, clutching the remnants loosed and he had to give up that foolish dream and accept reality as it was being presented

König

Was it cruel if he wished it was you who had received the news instead of him? He thought it would have been that way, he often joked about the benefits you'd get when he passed, it wasn't supposed to be you to leave earlier than him

Relaxed he was sitting in the armchair until he received the terrible news, his breaths became desperate as he tried to get air into his lungs, he wanted to march down there to the field himself to collect you, to not believe it just yet

Maybe you'd be down there, hiding away in some corner like the sly fox you were and say you had managed to dodge the bullet this time

But he was disappointed with the outcome of things, he hated it when things didn't follow the path he set for them but no one could have controlled the outcome of this course, it had left a profound wound in his heart he wasn't sure he'd be able to heal from

You had parted without saying your goodbyes and now he wouldn't be able to live with that, to live longer still with you in the back of his mind

Horangi

He hated anything that brought the slightest trace of despair, and he dealt horribly with it, he ran on pure serendipity but now he couldn't count on that, was it by being at the wrong place and time you had been one of the lives lost, the most important one to him

He felt the urge to go back to his old ways of numbing out the pain, but he pushed that temptation away, it would only drain his money and everything he had worked for go to waste, he knew you wouldn't have wanted that for him and right now he just wished to keep the traces of you very much alive and present

He wanted to go about his days as if you were still there, the flower you planted, he tried to keep it alive and water it, the way you left your stuff around the house, that way it was easier to transport himself to a time when you were there with him, still at home

The people of the past are hard to forget but he didn't mind, he faced the situation with more determination than he himself expected, he was surprised at the resolve he had come up with

He had loved without regret, and with every passing day he'd be closer to reuniting with you again

Nikto

The only sound occupying the complete silence is the static in his mind, he's just numb, doesn't know what to do, what he should do with whatever emotions he's trying to detect, he must feel something

He was just delivered the worst news of his life, he should be breaking down and crying but he can barely even process the fact that you really are gone, he looses his train of thought every five seconds and can only stare forward as if in a trance he's unable to escape out of

He feels the long seconds drag by but he can't get up from his fixed spot on the chair, it's like a knife has been plunged into his side and pulled out, leaving the gaping wound pulsating softly, but he can barely hear his flesh scream out in pain, he can only feel the blood oozing out, staining his clothes and falling to the floor in droplets as he actively ignores it

He is hurt but can only clutch at it, he can't get up, feels far too comfortable sitting on this kitchen chair staring forward to the wall, elbows resting on his knees

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Club Fun

A/n: this is a draft that I’ve had for a while and I just kept putting it off posting because I wasn’t sure I liked it but I wanted to put it out and see what other people think 💕 thanks for reading I appreciate it 💕

(This also isn’t proofread at all soooo I’m sorry for any mistakes)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, adult themes and Nat being a pain in the ass

"Come on Y/n how bad could a gentleman's club be?" Nat pushed you through the doors even with you groaning and pushing back against her

"Nat I have a literal alien in my body and I don't know what will set them off" you felt a grumble in your head

"I am not a prepubescent teenager Y/n I am sophisticated"

"Only because you can't survive without me out of my body" you grumbled back and Nat really wished she could understand what you were saying to the alien

You looked up and sighed "okay let's go in"

Nat smiled wide and guided you through the small hallway to the second bouncer "hey we're Nat and Y/n, we have a table booked under Tony Stark?"

The man looked you both over the at the list seeing your names and allowing you past "please keep your hands to yourselves and don't try and get any dancer's numbers because they'll just laugh at you" he laughed and you rolled your eyes turning to Nat

"does he think we're kids? Pretty sure I can control myself around some scantily clad women"

Nat scoffed "talk about yourself Y/n, I see a hot woman staring at me I'll give her money my number, my soul anything the sexy lady wants"

You giggled "you'll get us kicked out the moment we sit down at the booth"

Nat ignored you as she eyed up a waitress walking past who gave her a wink in response "yeah yeah whatever I'm gonna go and get some free drinks" she patted you on the back leaving you alone, well with the alien obviously

"We are being stared at"

You glanced around not noticing anything "what are you talking about?"

They turned your body around suddenly nearly falling over before you managed to steady yourself "dude what the fuck, you can't just turn me around like that!" You whisper shouted at them but they ignored you

"There is a redhead lady who is looking at us and biting her lip, I think she is older than us" you were pointed towards said woman and she gave you a wink

"Oh you're right, do you think she wants us to go over?" Before you could say anything else the woman in question walked over to you "hi pretty girl, do you need some help? You look a little lost"

The sweetness in her voice made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your mouth go dry "oh-er no-no thanks my friend is just getting drinks" you glanced at Nat who was very much not getting your drinks but instead was making out with the waitress she followed after

"It seems you're friend is a little busy right now, I'll take you to your booth" she pulled you towards a booth, her hand gripping your own sweaty mess of a hand.

You were near enough thrown into the booth and the woman followed close near enough sat in your lap "how about I get us some shots? They should loosen your cute tongue"

"...okay" you whispered and the women smiled kissing you on the cheek turning around and singling for a waiter to come over with their tray of shots

"How many miss Scarlet?" The man asked and she told him to put the tray down "thanks Brucie"

He left without another word and she took a glass from the tray pointing it towards you "here you go pretty girl" she tipped the drink towards your mouth and you opened your mouth taking the drink "good?"

You nodded licking the left over liquid from your lips "yeah it's good"

The woman's piercing green eyes were locked onto yours sitting in silence for a few moments before she spoke again "can I interest you in a dance?" She asked sweetly and you shook your head maybe a little too much making her pout

"Awe are you sure? I can relive all of that clear tension coming off of your shoulders, you're too pretty to be stressed"

She stood up bringing you with her and walking off towards Nat who managed to pull her face away from the waitress long enough to talk to you

"Y/n! This place is amazing! This is Maria, she's great" her ragged breath made you laugh "I'm sure she is amazing Nat"

Maria looked behind you to the woman and winked "so Scarlet, is this your new little conquest?"

So her name was Scarlet, or maybe just her stage name, you were certain no one gave their real names out, but this Maria did? She's not a dancer though you guessed?

Scarlet's arms wrapped around your waist getting your attention and she chuckled when you jumped "don't think too hard there pretty girl" she looked to Maria "I offered a dance but she turned me down Mia"

You couldn't see her face but you knew she was pouting about you refusing a dance "Y/n you can't refuse a dance! That's the whole point of the club!"

"I know but-

"No buts Y/n! Go on Scarlet take her to a room and help her relax" Nat demanded ignoring your embarrassed face

"Whatever the costumer wants they get Natalia" Scarlet smirked grabbing your hand leading you through the club away from the safety of people and noise for a quiet private room

"You need to relax honey, I promise you're okay I'll take such good care of you" she purred sitting you down on the couch and you finally looked at her properly seeing the dark red blazer wrapped around her body

"Y/n your body is heating up is everything okay?"

You couldn't answer them instead watching Scarlet unbutton her blazer dropping it to the floor

"Holy shit" you whispered letting your eyes wonder over her lingerie barley covering her body, it was useless being there in all honesty, her breasts were practically spilling out and that's where you met her finger pointing to her face "my eyes are up here princess" she chuckled and your eyes snapped up

"S-sorry!"

She giggled coming towards you and straddling your lap placing a leg on either side "don't say sorry for admiring beauty honey, let's start with your name again"

"Y-y/n" you whispered feeling your hands unintentionally land on her thighs and she gasped "getting bold Y/n? I like it"

"You were moving too slow so I needed to help you Y/n"

You knew they where right, you had a woman, a hot woman you may add on your lap wearing the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and yeah sure it’s part of her job but you could have fun right?

“Get out of your pretty head Y/n” she brought you out of your thoughts and jumped at how you could feel her breath on your face as she whispered in your ear “so Y/n are you going to tell me what you I can do for you?

“This is all new to me so I don’t know what to ask for”

Scarlet looked over you and your slightly trembling body “how about a kiss?" She didn't really wait for answer before kissing you on the lips softly, you remained frozen until you were mentally slapped by your symbiote

"Y/n I do not get aroused or feel sexual tension but even I am suffering through this air of arousal, kiss her back"

You relaxed into the kiss sighing as you kissed her back, feeling Venom slip into your body and elongate your tongue and force her mouth open slipping the long tongue inside and wrapping around her own, Scarlet either didn't realise or didn't care because she moaned into the kiss trying to gain some kind of control

When you both had to pull away for some air Scarlet was shocked seeing the tongue lull out of your mouth "what the hell is that? Looks like your tongue had an erection" when she laughed and didn't run away from you or slap you your heart grew ten sizes, it was nice you guessed if still little strange.

"Can you even talk with that thing?" she giggled and wen to kiss you again but you pulled away letting your tongue return to its normal size

"Everthing okay?" She placed a kiss on your cheek as a reassurance and you smiled

"Have you ever heard of symbiotes?"

She sat back on your lap thinking about it "like that alien that tried to destroy the world? Are you that alien?"

You shook your head "no! No at all, I was just infect-sorry chosen to be a host for one...do you want to meet them?"

Scarlet had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing "well this is nothing like my normal encounters here but sure, let's see the little alien"

Venom didn't need to be told twice and their tendrils appeared forming a their head smiling at Scarlet

"You are a very pretty lady miss Scarlet, I cannot feel aroused or these silly human feelings but you have a hot body and Y/n agrees"

"Venom! Just stop talking" you groaned trying to get away but you were still trapped under Scarlet's thighs

"God this is so weird, it's a good thing you're hot" she lent forward placing a kiss on your neck and then biting you there, you looked at Venom whispering "go back"

They looked at you funny so you said it again "it's a private moment now Venom"

They understood and retreated back into your body quickly and you focused back on the feeling of her soft lips on your neck.

******************************************************************

“My lips are chapped Nat” Maria pulled away from Nat who still tried chasing after her “oh come on, they’re not that bad”

The waitress gently pushed her away “you’re insatiable, I like it, give me a few minutes and I’ll take you somewhere nice”

‘Where?” She questioned

“To the best room we have, it’s got a mini fridge” Maria kissed Nat again softly refusing to let her take over the kiss again “plus we can watch the cameras for your friend”

Nat’s eyes widened “there’s cameras in the room?”

Maria laughed “obviously, how else are we supposed to protect our girls?”

She lead Nat through the club into a closed off area and through a door to a room with a couch, a mini fridge and the cameras she mentioned

“This looks like a pervs hangout” Nat commented but Maria just rolled her eyes pushing the redhead to the couch “just sit there and be quiet, if that’s something you can do”

"I prefer being loud" Nat winked

"I can’t wait to prove that later" Maria took some wine out of the fridge and sat next to the woman giving her a kiss on the cheek “okay let’s get this started" she turned on the Tv changing the channel through the rooms before finding you and Scarlet

"Ugh boring they're just talking" nat looked through the screen, she hoped she could read lips so she knew what you were saying, when she got a closer look she noticed Venom's head at the side of you "what the fuck?!"

Maria put down the wine quickly looking at these screen "what's that?! Is that a puppet? Does your friend have a puppet kink? A little odd but I'm sure Scarlet can work with that" Maria was laughing but Nat only let out a small chuckle too focused on why the hell Venom decided to make themselves known, suddenly Scarlet lent forward kissing and started kissing your neck

"The puppet worked" Maria laughed and Nat managed a small laugh "hah yeah sure" she turned the TV off instead not wanting to focus on you and your weird alien friend, she had no idea why Scarlet didn't mind it though

"Well they're boring now"

******************************************************************

Scarlet's lips moved up to your ear "you're not the only one with a secret princess"

Your smile dropped and you pulled away suddenly but Scarlet just laughed "it's okay honey nothing horrible, do you know what a coven is?"

You flexed your hands on her thighs and swallowed nervously "like witches?"

She smiled "yes"

"Are you a witch?"

She simply nodded and flashed her red eyes making you gasp "shit that's so cool!" You were memorised, maybe a little scared since witches were seen as strange or evil but a dancer at a gentleman's club couldn't be evil...right?

"I'm not evil honey, just someone who gets bored easily and needs something to do"

Did she read your mind?? You looked at her surprised and she giggled "yes princess I can read minds and yours has been a delight to listen too"

That's so weird but cool as well, so what so we do now?"

"Well, my real name is Wanda to start with, I use Scarlet because the guys like it, and for security of course"

You were really trying to listen honestly you were but your eyes kept flickering down to her chest

"You're not listening to a thing I'm saying are you?" Wanda laughed using her finger to lift up your chin "it's okay, I know what you really want" she lent forward to kiss you but a bell went off stopping her in her tracks "oooh sorry princess times up"

She tried pulling away but your fingers dug into her thighs keeping her there "but you were going to kiss me again?”

She raised her eyebrow and smiled at you "I know, I love leaving my clients on edge, it guarantees they come back"

This time Venom growled and appeared again "that seems a little unfair Wanda, we showed you me, I think we deserve a treat"

She just shrugged managing to pull away from you standing up and covering herself with her robe "are you saying you don't want to see me again?"

Both you and Venom were confused

"Because if I slept with you that's what would happen, and I'm quite enjoying your company"

"She is teasing us Y/n"

You agreed "she is"

Wanda watched you as you were thinking, and you knew she was reading your mind "you have some hot thoughts in there Y/n, a stark difference from when we first started, now come on, your friend will be waiting for you"

You sighed reluctantly getting up and going past Wanda when she gave you a small smack on your ass "hey!"

She laughed "I couldn't help myself honey"

****************************************************************

"Nice to finally see you two out of the room, did you give her the full dance Scarlet?" Maria laughed glancing between the two of you and the redhead smiled wrapping her fingers around your waist "she had a wonderful time Maria, she'll be coming back tomorrow night"

Nat gasped and you looked at her "you're coming back?! Wow Y/n, she must've given you the full treatment eh?"

When your face blushed Wanda kissed your cheek "you're so cute malen'kiy you can have my number, so call me when you're here tomorrow and I'll come and get you"

You nodded and went to kiss Wanda but you weren't too sure until Wanda pulled you in close kissing you hard

"Oooooohhhh!" Nat exclaimed excitedly "Maria did you see that?! My little virgin is getting somewhere!"

You instantly pulled back going bright red "Nat! I'm not a virgin! I've slept with loads of women"

Both women laughed and Wanda tried hiding her own smirk "it's okay princess, I'm an excellent teacher"

You groaned pulling away from the woman "come on Nat before I sink into the ground from embarrassment"

Nat giggled and kissed Maria one more time "so it look's like I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll have the usual room ready" she winked in response kissing the redhead again

"Do I get a good-bye kiss?" Wanda pouted and you rolled your eyes walking back to her "I never expected this coming into a strip club" holding the woman's face in your hands you kissed Wanda softly before pulling away then kissing her nose

"Hmm you're my favourite client malen'kiy"

"I have no idea what that Russian word means but I hope it's good"

Wanda giggled kissing the side of your head "Ty takaya ocharovatel'naya printsessa, dumayu, ya ostavlyu tebya ty moya"

You heard Nat soft gasp from the side of you and you whipped your head around to her "did she say something shocking?"

Wanda looked to Nat shaking her head and Nat nodded "just some sickly sweet thing about you, typical for you to come into a gentleman's cub for a dance from a stripper to come out with a potential partner"

You shrugged "hey I can't help it if I have incredible game"

The group burst out laughing even Wanda joined in making you pout

"Y/n I love you I really do but you're really terrible with women, I'm surprised Wanda actually made out with you"

You blushed hard leaner closer into Wanda "yeah well fuck you Nat" okay it wasn't the best comeback but its the only one you could think of

"It's okay Y/n I thought that was a very good comeback" Wanda kissed your cheek "okay honey, I've got to go back to work"

You started to talk back but a finger shushed your lips "I still need money my love but I want you back here tomorrow okay?"

You nodded "I'm definitely coming back all the time Wanda, I'll sit in the corner with a snack"

Wanda held in a giggle rubbing your shoulder "oh honey I don't think my clients would enjoy that"

"Then they'd to keep their hands off of you" you retorted and Wanda laughed "my little possessive girl don't worry, you'll get the special private dances"

It was your turn to blush hard again and you had to keep yourself steady "o-oh okay cool yeah! Great"

Nat laughed “you’re a mess, come on idiot let’s go”

[tbzhub]

Money Shot

Pairing: photographer!Lee Hyunjae x afab!reader

Summary: a night in with your boyfriend turns into a photoshoot

Warnings: MDNI, smut, marking, fingering, unprotected sex, lots of photos are taken, pet names like twice

Rating / Genre: M, established relationship au, some fluff, smut

WC: 3.6K

Artist Note: this is a little part 2 to this fic: just go fuck him ♥︎ thank you for the love on that story, i'm sorry the title is so misleading alvjbhvxzgfn. i figured i'd revisit these two!

Tagged: @deoboyznet @everykebbie @blizzardfluffykpop

psst i finished it @the-boy-meets-evil

m.list tag list

It’s a wonder how much a person can change in a year or two. 

These days your chest doesn't feel as tight. Your thoughts aren’t as intrusive and insecurity visits you infrequently. The smiles that grace your lips are genuine– often prompted by the joy that's found its way into the tight confines of your heart. 

With each passing day, came a further understanding of what it meant to live. To experience the world with an abundance of love intertwined with your being. 

Hyunjae wouldn’t agree, but he made all the difference. You are far more vibrant now; confident, social, witty. Being deeply in love brought out a version of yourself that was content and yet utterly fearless. 

There’s peace, both in knowing someone has seen the harshest parts of you and that they still love you just the same. 

Hyunjae gave you the space to be yourself– to show up however you were able to on any given day. With you, he was gentle and understanding in a way that’s reserved for people who care. 

Dating him meant never having doubt– not when he made every day feel like a gift. It was easy to smile with him around. He was funny without trying and hilarious in times when laughter was needed most. His spontaneity took some getting used to, but only because you were a homebody. Now, you look forward to the days you spend with him, enamored by Hyunjae’s innate ability to make every moment memorable. He saw the world in a way that left you inspired. Through his photography, he taught you that beauty was found in the most unlikely places.  Like at a run-down flea market during sunset, or while walking past a vacant flower stand on a late night– the florist long gone after an honest day’s work. Overexposed shots of your hair dancing in the wind as you slump in front of a fan, trying to survive in the summer heat. 

He was always taking pictures of you. Initially– you hated it. You’d go shy or tense up when you saw him bring out a camera, on high alert when he brought out his phone. But over time, you appreciated it. Being his muse– being able to see yourself the way he saw you– helped you in areas that you hadn't realized needed assistance. Through your days in front of the lens, you've learned that you have a brilliant smile. That your hair harbored a different tone in the wake of a setting sun. Sometimes you’d catch yourself anticipating the camera on days when you knew you looked your best, growing confident as more time passed with him by your side.

Now, more than anything else– you both are beyond comfortable and obsessed with one another. Your ears perk up when you hear the bedroom door creak open and the way you immediately step out of the bathroom to greet Hyunjae with a face covered in skin care products proves the aforementioned sentiment.

Coming over to kiss him sweetly, you briefly melt into his firm arms and as you lean back you swipe your thumb over the gray dot of mud mask that sticks to his nose with a chuckle.

“Aww…” Hyunjae coos, taking in your spa headband and the little strip across your nose. 

“No…” you groan, shielding your face away from him and his predictable nature.

“But you look so cute, right now.” He whines, peeking from behind the camera while his fingers hover over the button.

“No, I don’t. I look like the moon emoji” you mumble back.

“What do you mean? Hyunjae asks, looking at you with a clueless squint.

“You know, the one that’s like…”  you give a side glance to look more like the little gray icon.

There’s a small flash of light as the shutter clicks and Hyunjae chuckles as he looks at the tiny screen while you stand stunned that he tricked you so easily. You playfully push him in response, causing him to laugh harder and you can’t help but join him, finding his antics funny. 

You kiss him on the cheek before heading towards the bathroom. 

“I’ll be right back.” You announce with your back turned. “Don’t miss me too much,” Hyujnae calls out absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the camera in his hands and you smile at the remark as you walk onto the cool tile floor.

You come back to him with a washed face and a silly smile embossed into your pretty features. Bounding onto the bed, you allow Hyunjae to tug you into his arms. He peppers you with kisses, lips smacking against yours a couple of times until he’s pulled a wide smile and a few giggles out of you. 

“Wait– stay right there,” he says and you groan but your smile only grows wider.

“Don’t you get tired of taking pictures of me?” You ask, looking him over in amusement as you honor his instructions, holding your current angle. “Nope,” he replies, twisting in his spot to grab his polaroid camera. “Maybe when you have a hot girlfriend, you’ll understand.” He jokes, sending you a flirtatious look over the top of the camera while his finger turns the camera on with muscle memory.

Your laugh is accompanied by the roll of your eyes. Hyunjae presses the shutter and you ready yourself for the flash, relaxing thereafter as the camera goes to work.

The whirring of the film getting developed halts your joking, Hyunjae carefully plucks the film out and shakes it in his hand gently once it pops out of the top of the camera.

Falling further into the comfort of his pillows, you smile up at Hyunjae, observing the way he looks at the picture. His eyes were soft as he swept over the image, the arches of his cheeks raising slowly as a smile blossomed on his lips. For whatever reason the sight struck a chord within you.

“You really think I’m beautiful, don't you?” You voice the thought without realizing it, not until Hyunjae’s gaze shifts to you and you're taking in the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks. 

“Of course.”

He doesn’t say anything else and you didn't need him to. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists in the world. The only thing worth gazing upon. His hand trails its way into your hair and you look into the lens again, relaxing under Hyunjae’s touch as the shutter clicks again. You shift slightly on the bed as Hyunjae inspects the second polaroid the same way as he did the first. He puts the two pictures on the nightstand for safekeeping before leaning down to kiss you on the lips. 

With your arms looped around Hyunjae’s neck, you steal more kisses off his lips until he drops the camera onto the bed and climbs on top of you. The kiss deepens as one of his hands roams down to grab at your waist and pulls your body closer to his while he props himself up to keep from crushing you with the other. He lingers on your lips, pressure changing from soft and teasing to hard and wanting once you wrap your leg around his hip.

You stay like that long enough for your heart to mimic the rapid thud of Hyunjae’s heart rate.

When Hyunjae pulls away from the kiss you’re left wanting more, grabbing at his shirt in an attempt to bring him back but you stop when you notice what he’s doing.

He hovers above you with a polaroid camera in hand. “Just one more. Your lips look perfect,’ he murmurs as he lines up the shot and you lick your kiss bruised lips before giving bedroom eyes to Hyunjae through the lens. You hear the sound of the camera going off and the flash follows before the whirring begins. You watch patiently as he studies the picture with a smirk on his lips. His hand moves smoothly up and down your bare thigh as his gaze flits across the film. 

It was hot seeing him like this, so obviously turned by what he’s doing– by you.

His hand comes up to caress your neck before falling lower, squeezing your chest over the thin fabric of your tank top and you pick up on how he bites his lip before finally tearing his eyes away and placing the picture to the side with the others.

“Wanna take more?” You ask, gingerly tiptoeing into uncharted territory. “I mean… I’d be down?” You suggest lightly while looking up at Hyunjae’s face. His expressions bounce between confusion and surprise before settling on mirth and something else indescribable.

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation, his voice suddenly low and velvety.

As you nod your head yes, you wrap your fingers around Hyunjae’s wrist and guide his hand down to rest at the hem of your top. 

His hand scrunches up the fabric, exposing most of your stomach as he dips down low to meld his mouth with yours hotly. He kisses you slowly, taking his time with you in a way that you’ve never experienced with him before. His hand slides up further, delicately cupping your chest as he sighs against your lips. The sharp sting of Hyunjae’s fingers digging into your skin sends a shock to your center and your lips part in a soft moan in response. His tongue brushes against the tip of yours tenderly as your skin pebbles under his touch. 

The kiss remains slow as he savors every last second of having you like this, nibbling on your lower lip before sucking the tender spot and kissing you hungrily. You lay slack underneath him, body and mind being led by the pleasure he pours into you with his sinful lips. 

Your back arches as he lifts your tank top up further, pulling the garment over your shoulders. Hyunjae’s hands fall onto either side of your cheeks, holding your face in place as he presses his lips onto yours firmly and warmth floods your chest. His hands travel down your neck and sweep across your shoulders as he drags his lips along your jawline. He continues his descent until he reaches a particular spot on your neck that makes you bite back a loud whimper. He sucks the sensitive area while you squirm underneath him with your eyes half closed. You shake out a soft moan, bliss surging up your spine as he moves to another spot on your neck.

He sucks mark after mark into your skin until you're nearly trembling and soaking wet with need. Your shoulders and neck are covered in splotches of deep reddish and purple hues that you can’t fully see but the look on Hyunjae’s face as he leans back tells you that look to die for. He drinks you in with a lust-clouded gaze, looking you up and down a few times before reaching out for his camera.

“Fuck– you look perfect like this…” he praises, voice imbued in admiration and want. He lines up the shot, standing on his knees above you and you can see just how much he’s into this.

You reply with a moan and glance up, giving the camera a heated look before the camera flashes. His hand comes into the next shot as he wraps his fingers around your slender neck. You catch his dick twitching in his sweats as he takes a second picture with you posed like this. Hyunjae doesn't wait for the film to come out before casting the camera to the side. He yanks at your shorts and underwear, pulling them off of you quickly with your help. You spread your legs wide for him while he works his way out of his clothes. He’s back on you hot and heavy the minute his cock is free, settling between your legs as he devours you with an intense gaze, tracing your form lustfully. 

“Eyes on me, okay?” He orders softly, smoothing a hand over your bent knee lovingly as the other snakes its way up your thigh, leaving behind a sweltering tingle that lingers on your skin. 

His fingers sink into your wet heat and a sultry moan rings through his bedroom. Hyunjae rocks his palm back and forth, two fingers curled upwards against the soft walls of your pussy. You coat the digits, eliciting the sloppiest noises that you’ve ever heard from your wet cunt but you couldn’t be bothered to be ashamed about that in the wake of what he’d just put your neck and shoulders through. 

He picks up the pace and your legs fall open further as a long sigh leaves your chest. You obediently keep your eyes open, trained on Hyunjae while he works you over. The look you share is a charged one as he fucks you with his fingers, his determined gaze contrasting your unbridled blissed-out state. Your swollen lips part as you pant his name, pleading for him not to stop.

Hyunjae blindly grabs ahold of his camera, never stopping the steady rhythm of his deft fingers urging you dangerously close to an orgasm. Your toes curl and your legs tremble as he readies the camera. He lifts it until he’s got the right angle. His biceps strain and sweat trickles down his arms as he pumps his digits in and out of you while rubbing your bud rhythmically. His arm is getting tired but he waits… and waits, finger resting just above the shutter as he waits for the right moment. The one where your face scrunches up and your pussy tries to choke his fingers. He fingers you with just the right amount of pressure to grow the feeling inside you until it bursts–

The shutter goes off and a flash brightens the room.

You toss and turn as you cum all over Hyunjae’s fingers, moaning loudly as he fucks you through it. Gradually his pace slows just enough to gently bring you down from your peak. His fingers slip out of your sloppy folds and he licks them clean without a second thought before retrieving the polaroid from its slot. 

You shiver through the aftershocks of your high while you come down further. “How’d it turn out?” You ask, still breathless. Hyunjae looks over to you with dark eyes and you swallow under the passion in his gaze.

“Unreal,” he replies through a husky tone before setting that picture down beside the others. He climbs back on top of you, kissing you repeatedly as he lays his warm body flush with yours. Your legs tangle with his while you make out and your dainty hands mess up his hair as you roll on top of him in bed. You straddle his hips in haste, desperate to ride him but he clamps his strong hands around your waist freezing you in place.

“There's a shot that I want to get,” he hesitantly admits. 

You look down at him with an endeared smile. You knew him well enough to know what he wanted. He always say you look so pretty sucking him off. “Okay, baby,” you say, shuffling down the bed until your lips are inches away from his cock. 

Hyunjae groans, tilting his head back into the pillows as you take him past your lips. You don’t tease, dipping your head forward to ease more of his cock into your mouth while your tongue glides down his length. Your lips tighten around him, sucking in on your way up and swallowing around the head before gliding down again.

“Fuck–

You grind your nose into his pelvis when he reaches the back of your throat and you feel him squirm in bed. You let up again, going slow as you cover his entire cock in your spit. Hyunjae fists the bedsheets and hisses at the sight of you–  his cock, dripping with the attention that you’ve lavished it with, tucked between your plush dewy lips. You sink his cock into your mouth again, moaning as you sense him preparing to snap another picture of you. 

Your eyes begin to water as you take him to the back of your throat a few more times, looking up at Hyunjae just in time to hear the shutter go off again. You close your eyes and hum, sending another shiver of vibrations down his cock as he tries to check out the picture.

All you hear is shallow gasps for a while as Hyunjae holds the polaroid up to his face, coaxing you up and down his length with his other hand.

“This one is golden,” he rasps, voice ragged and thick with pleasure as he bobs you up and down his cock for a bit longer, entranced by how sexy your eyes look in the picture. You suck harder, swirling your tongue around before Hyunjae gently pulls you off of him by your hair.

“Let me see?” You ask, sitting up and straddling his lap as he places that picture to join the rest.

He just shakes his head. “We have to round out the set first,” Hyunjae teases, hands going to rest at your hips as he lines you up with his stiff cock. Placing your hands behind you on his toned thighs as you lift your hips, angling them to catch his cock between your wet folds before you lower yourself onto him. You sit on his cock in one fluid motion and sigh. He feels so good– the sweet slide against your walls as you’re filled making your head spin. You rock forward, leaning back against your arms for leverage while you rock back, savoring his thick cock pressed against you. You raise your hips and drop back down, moaning at the feel of his cock teasing your needy cunt. 

You circle your hips while you bounce in his lap, slamming your hips down harder with every motion. Your head tilts back as you ride him, so satisfied yet so greedy for more, hips beginning to roll faster. Hyunjae tightens his hold on you before matching your thrusts, sending his cock as deep as possible causing you to cry out in abandon. You bounce faster, breathing ragged as you start to work up a sweat, a sheen covering your stomach and thighs. Your skin slaps against Hyunjae’s as you move in sync, connected as one as your bodies heat up.

His fingertips press into your skin, as he takes control, lifting you up and down with only the strength in his arms. Hyunjae fucks you nice and slow, dropping you down on his cock and sliding you off so you feel every inch of him leave your insides.

“Fuck Jae,” you moan, core aching for release just when he’s decided to slow things down.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You look so good like this. I don’t wanna rush,” he whispers, licking his bottom lip as he looks up at you– still dragging you up and down his cock like you weighed practically nothing.

He doesn’t forget the camera, reaching for it with one hand while you take over once more. You slide down nice and slow before raising your hips, pausing at the top when he tells you to.

“You look fucking incredible, baby.” He says as he takes the last shot.

The shutter clicks and you carefully push the camera out of Hyunjae’s hands, feverishly crashing your lips into his a second later. He immediately falls in line, kissing you and giving you exactly what you’ve been waiting for. His arms circle your back as he holds you close and pounds into you. 

You gasp and writhe, taking all that Hyunjae gives you as your thighs give out. 

Pleasure and fatigue build, and build within you, threatening to overflow as he continues his onslaught on your pussy. He snaps his hips into you with unprecedented strength, and thrusts rough and careless, eliciting nothing but filthy sounds out of you.

His pace picks up, strokes falling out of rhythm as he chases his climax. 

The steady push and pull of his cock filling you up crowds your senses. Your mind goes hazy as you focus on how good Hyunjae makes you feel every time. Pushing your body to places that you didn’t think it could go. You clench around him as another huge orgasm shuts down your body.

When you finally come to your senses, you notice that you're sore and covered in sweat. You feel kind of gross, but there's nothing that could make you abandon your place on Hyunjae’s chest right now. 

You’re so tired that when you try to speak, your words come out as syllables abstractly strung together. The last thing you’re aware of is Hyunjae’s cool lips pressed against your forehead as you drift off to sleep.

-

In the morning, you wake up sore. The marks that litter your neck and shoulders are a little tender and you feel like you did 200 sit-ups and 300 squats right before bed. 

Hyunjae wasn't around, but you weren’t surprised by that– he never missed catching the sunrise at dawn.

As you sit up in bed, the stack of polaroids from last night catches your eye and you leap out of bed to sift through them all. The first photo is so innocent that you chuckle, knowing where the night led you. You glance through the rest, cheeks heating up at how bold you are in front of the camera. 

You flip to the last picture in the stack and can’t help but swoon. You set the stack down, covering the unfiltered pictures with the one of Hyunjae kissing you on your forehead while you were fast asleep.

[markantonys]

handful of 3x07 thoughts! today was the one day a quarter i had to work in the office instead of from home, so i had to hurry out the door after finishing the episode without getting to jot anything down and thus i've probably forgotten a lot of details, plus i never have all that much to say about battle episodes or perrin storyline besides "nice, i liked it", so a good chunk of this post is spent looking ahead to potential downstream effects of changes.

full book spoilers!

first, quick notes on the episode itself:

i was SO thrilled to see bode and eldrin get an even bigger role this week. they're swiftly becoming two of my favorite minor characters and i really hope we can continue to see them in future seasons! although i'm going to have to keep mentally retconning and changing the age gap between them and mat haha mat's been Vaguely 20s the whole time and meanwhile the sisters' actresses were teeny little kids in s1, then preteens in s3, and will probably be like 16-18 by the time s4 gets filmed (if it does and if they appear in it, fingers crossed!)

following off of this, as a newly-minted bode & eldrin lover and a longtime galad hater, i am so delighted that they got to steal his beat of killing valda to avenge their mom. suck it, galad!

i need my cauthon sibling reunion in s4 so bad!!!!!! alanna is set up to take them somewhere, but not the white tower, so potentially they could peel off from perrin's story group and wind up joining mat's in s4. i pray to the light that it will be so!

i am astonished that maksim survived. all season i was like "i guess i can accept them spending what feels to me like a disproportionate amount of time on solo maksim-alanna scenes that only serve them (unlike their s1&2 scenes which also always served main characters like lan at the same time) since they are probably building up to maksim's death and showing why that pushes alanna over the edge" but no! now i'm left feeling like it was all a waste of time. but hey, maksim could still die in a future season and make the s3 stuff feel retroactively more useful; maybe they're just saving his death to happen right before the Rand Bonding to act as alanna's trigger. i hope for that route, because if alanna non-con bonds rand while maksim is still alive, i'm sure maksim would deeply disapprove of this decision and then we'd have to spend even more time on him and their relationship showing the fallout (when the primary focus of this story beat should be rand and how HE is affected; yes, theoretically it's interesting for alanna to have a surviving warder who reacts to the situation instead of it only being her and rand reacting, but i just don't think that's the best use of time what with how limited we are)

honestly i feel like that's my only criticism of the episode, that maksim has overstayed his welcome for me this season and that's now worsened by him surviving into s4 haha but otherwise i was happy with everything else in the episode!

i loved perrin and faile's scenes!!!! after seeing the trailers, i was surprised (and disappointed/hesitant) that their relationship seemed to be a faster burn than i'd expected, but it turns out that 2 brief kisses and some flirting are the extent of the romance for s3. so we're still in really early territory between them with a lot more room to grow and to deepen the relationship, which i like!

and i really really like that laila and perrin's grief & trauma from her death are being consistently addressed and respected within the budding new relationship, rather than being hastily swept under the rug as many shows would do. their little tiff over perrin being overprotective of faile because of his laila trauma and her pushing back was perfect and was exactly what i expected the long-term effects of the laila change to be. great character work! people talk a lot of shit about "perrin's fridged wife has been a completely useless change" which is kind of insane considering how much attention the show has paid to the long-term effects of this on perrin and how much care they've treated this angle of his emotional arc with. if you don't like the change, fine, but to say it's been pointless and hasn't affected anything is nonsense!

then the whole "stay behind me" "stop trying to protect-" "kill the ones i miss" exchange WOOOOOO one of the most romantic moments in the entire show to date!!!

speaking of romance (lmao) perrin and dain's dynamic continues to compel me. it's so tasty!!! very excited that it will continue next season!

the tuatha'an were used very well in this episode! it was really nice to have such a strong thematic link between this storyline and rand's, but this time with a kinder ending note by aram being warmly welcomed into a new community after being rejected by his old one like lewin was. the possibility for aram to return again is there if they want it since he'll be hanging around the two rivers, but his story was given closure and thus this can easily work as the last time we see him if they choose not to bring him back (i believe the actor has gotten a lot more well-known since the time of s1, and being able to schedule in in-demand actors for small occasional guest roles is very tricky, as we saw this season with the absence of tam)

perrin asking fain why (as ingtar advised him in s2) and ending the battle by choosing to stop fighting (as ila advised him in s1) was just so wonderful. we love full-circle moments! and perrin ending a battle by choosing to stop fighting and then agreeing to be taken captive because he'd given his word that he would, it's a beautiful illustration of who perrin is and what makes him stand out from some other more standard fantasy hero character types. perrin has always been one of the characters i'm least interested in, but the show and particularly this episode has made his character gel for me and made me feel like i Get what he's all about more effectively than the books ever did. as i like to say, in the books he's my least favorite EF5 but in the show he's my fifth favorite EF5. i was really impressed by this episode showing the culmination of some very consistent and cohesive character work across all 3 seasons!

and this is exactly why s1 and s2 are so important. s3 couldn't have soared if the prior seasons hadn't built its wings. big character moments in s3 wouldn't have hit nearly so hard if we hadn't had all the smaller "boring" character moments that built up to them in previous seasons. put some respect on s1 and 2's names!!

and finally, loial. i was distraught!!!!! i'm not much of a crier, but i was sobbing! this was probably the hardest i've ever cried while watching wotshow (though the 2x06 ending sequence and 2x08 hopper's death+hornblowing scene are close seconds) and it was only 9am and i had to immediately wipe my tears and change into work clothes and head out the door djkfjghj i was being so brave about it!

but i 100% understand why they made this choice and i think it's a good one. loial is a fan-favorite whose death will hit viewers (and his fellow characters) very hard, but he also is not plot-essential and so can be removed from the story early without it affecting anything long-term. so that's a lethal combination that makes him the perfect candidate for a show death (and we do have to be a LOT more merciless with deaths in the show because a glut of characters is a much bigger problem for TV than it is for books, as rafe mentioned in the after-episode chat). but he will be dearly, dearly missed!!!!!

(sidenote: the whole fakeout death discourse is driving me insane! "this show loves fakeout deaths, loial's obviously not actually dead" "loial's obviously not actually dead and that pisses me off because once again the show is being cheap with a fakeout death" guys. guys. if you have an ounce of media literacy, it's usually pretty obvious which deaths are real and which are "fake", and loial's death is clearly real because so much fanfare was given to it. the lengthy scene, the slow motion, the emotional music, the other characters grieving him, his book left behind, his voiceover at the end of the episode: yeah, he's gone. they would not be Doing This Much if he wasn't. especially because the show's so-called ~fakeout deaths~ have pretty much always been just "other characters think they're dead but the audience knows they aren't" or "a character went down with no fanfare during an action scene and viewers wrongly assumed they were dead despite this not being shown and then accused the show of pulling cheap tricks when they turned out to not be dead after the show never tried to make us think they were dead" or "a character is gravely injured but then gets healed within minutes because it's well-established this is a world where magic can instantly heal anyone back from the brink of death as long as a magic-user is nearby". an ACTUAL fakeout death would be moiraine going out with grand fanfare and being mourned by the other characters for many books before it's revealed she's actually alive, or mat and aviendha being straight-up unambiguously dead but then coming back to life because rand unraveled time to undo their deaths (and just watch, if/when the show does these things, readers are still going to complain about The Show Doing Too Many Fakeout Deaths lmao as if RJ wasn't the king of fakeout deaths!). all this being said, i do agree that the amount of times alanna got skewered this season only to survive stretches credibility djfkgjh i wouldn't call those fakeout deaths though, just plot armor.)

okay, now moving on to musings on how the future of the story might be affected by some of the changes we saw in 3x07!

fain has escaped. this is not a change haha but book!fain does so little of true value after the two rivers arc that i'd been expecting him to die. so him living is a surprise to me because i'm not sure what they might do with him in the future! i saw people point out that since there's an absolute fuckton of random darkfriends throughout the books, fain could be a good way to sub in for a lot of those story beats where necessary by being Our Main (Non-Channeling) Darkfriend. curious to see if he will remain a Perrin Antagonist or if he will branch out to torment mat (again) and/or rand like he does in the books. i would think that rand receiving the shadar logoth wound first in this version means there's no need for him to ever cross paths with fain, but you never know.

and what about lord luc? is he going to emerge as a major antagonist in s4, or will he turn out to be an s3-only character that was dropped in as an easter egg for readers but whose long-term role will be cut or given to someone else? if the former, they did not set up ANYTHING for him, he probably had about 2 lines the whole time and 95% of viewers will have no memory of him by s4. but maybe they had a little bit more planned for him in s3 and it just didn't fit, so they decided, why not, we'll have him here in the background for the hell of it and dive into him properly next season. i expect that tigraine's backstory might come out next season since it was teased this season but there won't be time to get into it fully, so next season would be a good time to enlarge luc's role if they do indeed plan to do so.

perrin is now dain's captive (sexy). this feels like a similar type of change as combining "perrin killed a whitecloak to avenge hopper" + "dain thinks perrin killed his dad but he didn't really" = "perrin killed dain's dad to avenge hopper". now we have "perrin offered to give himself up to the whitecloaks after the two rivers battle but didn't actually do it" + "perrin gives himself up to the whitecloaks for a trial much later on" = "perrin gives himself up to the whitecloaks for a trial after the two rivers battle". just a very smart choice of beat combination, and it gives perrin something to do during his TFOH absence!

i can think of a couple scenarios here for perrin's story path:

in s4, his captivity is a partial-season storyline, and in the back half of the season he joins up with rand and participates in dumai's wells in 4x08. in s5, he sets out on a mission on rand's behalf and faile gets kidnapped (and/or perrin and mat both go to fight the seanchan campaign with their armies, and faile gets kidnapped by the seanchan while mat winds up having to kidnap tuon for whatever reason).

in s4, perrin's captivity is a full-season storyline. dumai's wells isn't until 5x08 and perrin does something else for the earlier chunk of s5 (perhaps a time to get masema out of the way?). faile's kidnapping is s6.

i've seen a few people speculate that this upcoming storyline will be faile rescuing kidnapped perrin as a full replacement for perrin rescuing kidnapped faile, but i'd say that faile being surprise-kidnapped is different enough from perrin voluntarily giving himself up that they could remain two different storylines (time permitting). after all, i don't think that faile really CAN rescue perrin from the current situation; i would tentatively argue that since he voluntarily put himself in this situation as a way to own up to his responsibility for bornhald's death, the only way he can get out of said situation is something diplomatic like being tried and found innocent, or dain forgiving him and letting him go. faile jailbreaking perrin, while fun to see, wouldn't make thematic sense as the resolution (and perrin might refuse to be rescued anyway Because Honor).

quick note that s4 feels like a good time to bring in the wolf dream; if perrin will be spending some time locked up and unable to get up to much in the real world, that makes it the perfect time to start exploring the wolf dream while he's asleep in his (maybe metaphorical, maybe literal) jail cell.

going back to the trial idea, could we see perrin's captivity storyline move into caemlyn and cross paths with morgase and/or galad? in a scenario where dumai's wells isn't until s5, then i would hazard a guess that the caemlyn battle would be the s4 finale instead, and if perrin was already there for his trial, then he can be involved in that and be connected with rand in time for s5 (though, again, i'd be hard-pressed to think of what perrin could do for the first 3 blocks of s5, since i really feel that dumai's wells has to be block 4 of whatever season it appears in. maybe wolf dream stuff could slot in here if there isn't time for it in s4.)

another possibility is that perrin gets caught up in a surprise seanchan attack sometime in s4, the way morgase did while she was in whitecloak captivity in the books. then he would have a reason to seek out rand in s5 (in time for dumai's wells): delivering the news that the seanchan have returned.

circling back to galad and morgase. valda's death has big implications here! firstly, it makes it more likely than ever that morgase will be killed for real by rahvin (which i and many of us had already long thought the show would do). it also, maybe, takes some of the weight and teeth out of galad's whitecloak storyline, if he can't be positioned as being as big and radical of a reformer since he doesn't have valda to bounce off of as an example of the worst of the organization, particularly since dain seems sooooooomewhat primed to begin rethinking some whitecloak stuff through his interactions with perrin next season. if valda is dead and dain begins taking on the Conflicted Whitecloak role (which is still a big if at this point), what's left for galad to do over there? i don't know and i don't care because i hate galad dfjkghj

and on that wholesome note, i will end the post here!