#in spite of how long it's been sitting in my drafts

[haunted-radishes]

I don’t understand how anyone can be anti-Jiang Cheng and pro-Nie Mingjue. Seriously every criticism I’ve seen leveled at Jiang Cheng, Nie Mingjue deserves it more.

Jiang Cheng threatens Jin Ling? Nie Mingjue has made multiple attempts on Jin Guangyao’s life, burned Huaisang’s possessions, and both of them are terrified of him. At least Jin Ling knows that Jiang Cheng has his back and wouldn’t actually seriously hurt him (i may be blending canons a bit here with the best possible interpretation of jc and the worst possible interpretation of nmj)

Jiang Cheng did nothing to protect the Wen remnants? My dude, have you forgotten that he was the only one to put in a good word for them at the conference? Which Nie Mingjue brushed aside? Or that Nie Mingjue had a hand in deciding the remnants’ fates and Jiang Cheng didn’t? (CQL canon. I don't remember if this is a thing in the novel)

Jiang Cheng alienated and antagonized his quasi-brother figure? See above point about Jin Guangyao.

Jiang Cheng is angry and violent?..... Do I really need to say anything?

Jiang Cheng’s fans are too defensive of him and act like he did nothing wrong? Have you ever seen anyone who isn’t a hardcore Jiggy apologist criticize Nie Mingjue?

[gyuswhore]

Sit Down

anniversary event [closed]

kim mingyu x reader

prompt(s): getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), fluff, potter!mingyu, they're married, reader discovers jealousy, oral (m.rec), penetration (unprotected!!!), kissing, breast play, clit stimulation, they're nasty as hell idk what to tell you

synopsis: It isn't your fault that you feel this way, especially as you watch her hands trace over your husband's own.

It isn't your fault that you can barely go on with your day with that cursed image replaying in your mind like a broken record.

And it certainly isn't your fault that you find yourself completely naked on your husband's lap while his clay-clad hands cannot touch you.

[a/n]: @highvern at the scene of the crime as always, we all have to thank her for her service as she betas for me and encourages my tomfoolery. enjoy this and let me know your thoughts in the rbs, comments or send me an ask!!!!!

masterlist

The grip you have on the file is proving to be detrimental to the cheap plastic covering. Not that you could blame yourself as you watch your husband through the window of his pottery studio, leaning over to help a student with her discombobulated salad bowl. 

It was a beautiful morning, the beach across from the boardwalk sparingly occupied with delighted tanners and swimmers, the low buzz of waves reaching the shore sending a calming draft across the area. Envious as you were of Mingyu and his impeccable real estate choices, especially right now as your heel clad feet ache to take a dip in the waters, you couldn’t help but feel all the more irked that this was the background the image inside the studio was sitting against. 

Through the large glass windows, Mingyu is pressing his foot over top of his very pretty student’s on the pedal to force the pottery wheel to spin, hands over her own as he guides her fingers to put pressure on the wet clay. A spiteful part of you pushes a thought in your mind, that your husband was attempting to fix a lost cause, especially when his student seemed quite insistent in her soft smiles and keeping her gaze on the fingers that cover her own, rather than actually fixing the abomination on the pottery wheel. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there by the time he’s done, straightening his back to turn his attention to the other students that make their attempts at their half done projects. Mingyu catches your figure through the window and immediately breaks into a big smile, clay covered hand coming to wave at you. 

Taking it as your cue to walk into the studio, you return neither his gorgeous smile or his occupied wave as you strut through the glass doors. Your husband meets you on the other side of the open space, hands now washed clean as he leans over to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“Hey, you,” he says in greeting, hands drying on a towel. 

All you can think about is if that salad bowl girl can see you, and you thank goodness you wore your nice top today. 

“Here.” You merely push the slightly crumpled file of documents to his chest, jaw set and lips tight. 

“Oh, thanks,” he comments as he grabs the papers pushed towards him, smile dropping a little at your abrupt attitude. “Is everything alright?” 

“Hm? ‘Course,” you answer, adjust the strap of your bag. “I have to get back to work. Be careful about your paperwork next time, I can’t keep making trips across town for this.”

You bite your tongue as soon as you say it, the words tumbling out before you can help it. Can’t keep making trips across town for this? Last time you checked, you were looking for passive excuses to make the trip to your husband’s studio just to see him during the day. 

“Oh.” His brows are furrowed, the frown apparent on his face. “I–I didn’t think you’d be too busy today, you said you’d be done early so—I—nevermind. I’m sorry I pulled you out of work for this, I’ll be careful next time.”

There’s a pang in your heart as you hear him apologise, immediately mad at yourself for going on and ruining his mood. What were you annoyed at? That he was doing his job? 

Your gaze lands behind him where most of his students are occupied with their projects, but just one whose eyes dart between you and Mingyu. 

Taking a step back, you’re about to walk out before you feel him grab your wrist. “D’you wanna have dinner at the new restaurant down the pier after work? We can watch the sunset too, haven’t done that in a while.”

You want to scream yes. Of course you want to watch a beach sunset with your husband. Of course you want to eat at the restaurant you’ve been waiting eagerly for with your husband. And you aren’t entirely sure if this reaction is simply because you’ve been stressed lately, but the sticky feeling is pushing you to make your claim in some way, somehow. 

Biting back another strangely snarky reply, you make an attempt to fix your stoic face and walk back to Mingyu. Leaning up, you kiss the corner of his mouth in what you hope is slightly reassuring. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kicking off your heels is the first thing you do once you make it back to your desk, taking no time to punch the power on button on your computer. You pull a file from the stack next to you, one that sits at the bottom, with a harder than necessary yank. Bad idea, because as you scramble to stop the pile from tipping over entirely, you can only think of other ways your day could get worse. 

Before the worst of it can hit the floor, you find a second set of hands catching the strewing papers. 

“Thanks, Han,” you say as you attempt to reorganise the documents, taking the extra ones off his hands. 

“Have the laws of physics forsaken you? Or do you just like reorganising paperwork?” Hansol asks, sipping on something from the stupid horse mug Mingyu had made for him in light of his promotion. 

Huffing, you only haphazardly stuff the files to the corner to be done with it, opening the file you need as your computer finally boots up. “Don’t you have manager stuff to do?” 

“Being a manager means I can put off doing manager stuff,” he states. “Besides, I’m taking care of my peers, can you imagine the catastrophe that could’ve been if I didn’t swoop in to save you?”

“Papers on the floor? How catastrophic indeed,” you monotone as you click away at trying to find a particular excel sheet. 

“How was Mingyu?”

Stiffening, you want to curse Hansol at reminding you of the very thing you did not want to think of right now. 

“He was fine.”

“You were back earlier than usual, thought you would’ve had lunch with him.”

That was your plan, but clearly the universe had other ways for you to go about your day. Like thinking about an overly flirty student and her all too oblivious teacher. 

“He…he had a workshop today,” you simply comment. 

“Okay, Elsa, who shoved an ice cube up your ass?” You can hear the sneer in his voice, the judgmental stare. 

Groaning loudly, you can only slam your forehead onto your desk in an all too dramatic fashion. “Can you drop it? Please?”

“Ah,” he drags. “Trouble in paradise. Understood. I will be at my desk if you want to complain about your husband like Margaret from Finance.”

Margaret from Finance. The woman who’s entire catalogue of marital issues would be solved if she and her husband simply spoke to each other once in a while. Perhaps even held hands on occasion. 

You wince as you envision yourself becoming as stuck up and miserable as that, Hansol’s harmless comparison sending you into yet another spiral. It wasn’t that serious, this was all because your brain was stressed, horny and in love. The fact that your husband looked like how he did wasn’t really helping either. 

With a little more aggression than you usually would’ve done with, you attempt to skim through the files as quickly as humanly possible, flicking through the useless filler pages to get to the ones that actually required your attention. 

You send a passive aggressive email to Hansol entailing his job to keep things precise. 

Shoving forkfuls of salad into your mouth, your mouse clicks louder than anyone else in the area, having gone back to change your cursor speed about thrice since you turned your computer on. 

Your phone dings. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before turning to look at the illuminated screen beside you. 

[Gyu <3]: did u have lunch?

[Gyu <3]: i wanted us to get sum together but u zoomed off : (((

[Gyu <3]: im done with my classes for the day. The students were asking ab you earlier when u came in heh

[Gyu <3]: cant wait to see u tonight i looooooveee u <333

God, he makes it hard to stay mad at him. 

Snapping your head back to your monitor, you close your eyes once again as you question the war in your head and chest. Why were you mad at him? There was nothing to be mad about. Did you expect him to go about his day covered in plastic wrap and a neon ‘OFF LIMITS’ sign all day? The ring on his finger was supposed to do the job just fine. 

You sigh as you force yourself to text him back something that wasn’t entirely passive aggressive. Typing and erasing, and typing again and erasing again. A smiley face to seal it into something you were not feeling, and send. 

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you’re done, the sun less blaring as it pours through the office windows. You flick the last file shut, power off your computer and spring up to your feet, immediately gathering your things. Phone, ID, keys, and the last plastic file in your hands, you stalk towards Hansol’s desk and slam the papers next to his computer. 

He nearly chokes on his pocky stick as you spit out your final notes in rapid fire, not caring if you were indecipherable in the slightest. Hansol’s eyebrows remain in the air by the time you’re done, spinning on your heels and walking straight towards the elevators. 

“See you, Monday!” you finally hear him call out and you don’t turn to return his goodbye. Something that might have given you a strike but you could threaten him to take it off all the same. 

Besides, you had somewhere to be, and the idea churning in your brain didn’t seem like it wanted to wait. 

The sun is setting by the time you get to the beach boardwalk, climbing the steps to the line of establishments that overlook the significantly more occupied shore. Everything is perfect. Warm just the right amount, the sunlight forcing everything in its path into an incandescent glow. 

What you would’ve given for a nice lie on one of the beach chairs to release an entire day’s worth of tense muscles. But alas, you trudge straight down the boardwalk and walk the way to Mingyu’s studio. When you’re nearly there, you see the glass door of the studio open from a distance, immediately recognising the part timer leaving for the day. 

You cross paths as he walks towards you in the opposite direction, lighting up as he recognises you through your work attire. 

“Oh, hi!” Chan chirps, arm raised in a half wave. 

“Hi! Clocking out?” you ask as you stop to greet him. 

“Uh—yeah, Mingyu let me go early.” He’s grinning. 

“Good to hear. You enjoy the rest of your night, alright?” 

“Yeah–uh, you too!” he stutters once again as he continues to smile wide. You think nothing of it and continue your short walk to where the studio doors were. 

Coming round, you find the large glass door and walls have been blocked out with the blinds, the blaring CLOSED sign right at the entrance. 

You stand there in front of the door like a fool, taking a deep breath, eyes closed as you gain your bearings. Grabbing the shiny handle, you push the unlocked glass open. 

The bell at the top jingles, signalling a customer, and you watch your husband sitting at one of the turntables, clearly occupied. The studio is completely empty except for him, the whirr of the spinning table coming to a halt as he turns to tell whoever came in that they were closed for the day. 

It’s revolting. He’s wearing his usual black tee, stained with months of splattered clay, his hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it before he started his project. The sun seeps in through the neglected edges of the top of the glass walls, past the blinds that cover most of them, casting him in an unbelievable light. It’s revolting, he’s done nothing and it’s making your head reel; revolting. 

“We’re—oh, you’re early!” There it is, that stupid smile he can’t help but flash at every last person he sees, directed straight at you laced with nothing but love. 

Reaching behind you, you push the metal lock on the door to click it shut, locking the both of you inside, and the rest of the beach and boardwalk out. Right after, you begin to kick off your heels. 

“I already made the reservations for an hour from now, let me change and wash up so we can go to the beach till—”

“Sit down.”

He was halfway out of his seat as he was talking, ready to leave his half done work on the turntable to leave with you. Your words come out firm, a strange tone like you were giving him a command. 

It works, and the shock has him immediately falling back into his chair. The force pushes the chair away from the turn tables, now half facing you.  

Dropping your bag, you shuck your long coat off and leave it on the floor. Eyeing his hands, they’re covered in wet clay, suspended away from his body so as to not ruin his clothes more than they already are, speckled with dried clay and paint. 

He recovers quickly, confused as he watches you fiddle with the buttons on your bottoms, rising out of his chair once again. 

“What are you—” 

“I said,'' you grunt as you finally push your bottoms down so they hit the floor. “Sit down.” 

The shift in his face makes it obvious it has clicked in his head, staring at you as you walk towards him in just your blouse as the situation escalates faster than he can keep up with. 

“Right now? Can you at least let me—”

Through his blabbering you’ve reached him and swung a leg over his lap, seating yourself on his clothed thighs as he moves his hands away, making sure not to get clay all over your blouse. 

His hands may be occupied in a different sense, but you choose to busy yours in other ways. Taking his face in your hands, you lock your mouths in an open mouthed kiss, rendering him speechless. 

Taking no time to think, nor to let him think, you push your hips down to meet his own in a deep grind, panty clad pussy making contact with the rough of his jeans right over his bulge. The feeling is so sudden, spiking throughout your system as you hear him take a sharp inhale still pressed into your mouth.

That was you. That was you getting that reaction out of him, no matter how small it was. The thought has you gripping the back of his head, fingers making home in the short strands of his hair as you let go from the kiss. 

Wasting no time, you push his head back and stick your tongue out, licking a stripe from the base of his throat right up to his jaw. He shivers beneath you, and it only muddles your mind even more. 

You can feel his bulge beneath you growing larger and larger by the second, pressing into your inner thigh as his breathing grows exponentially heavier in your ear. Locking eyes with him, you trail your other hand down to graze over the front of his shirt, pressing into the bumps and ridges that lie beneath.

Reaching his buckle, you hook your finger underneath the gap and pull at the metal. As you let go, it snaps back into place with a resounding cling! Keeping the eye contact, you drift even lower, your fingers find the growing tent in his jeans as you cup the bulge. Moving your hands in the way you know he likes it, you curb your speed to drag out the feeling for him. 

“Fuck,” you hear him curse lowly. 

It’s becoming impossible for him to keep his composure, especially to keep his hands away from your body that sits on him. He gets close, fingers brushing the white of your blouse in a moment of confusion, instant brown on the surface as his wet, clay hands ruin your shirt. 

“If you really can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you say, halting your movements on his crotch. “I guess this’ll have to go too.”

Not bothering to undo all the buttons, you tug the first couple ones unfastened and pull your blouse over your head, throwing it somewhere behind his head. Quickly, you reach behind and unclasp your bra, flinging it away in the same general area. You’re now almost entirely naked while he remains clothed head to toe. 

Your nipples harden as they meet the air in the studio, Mingyu’s eyes set on your mounds as he takes them in. 

Before he has the opportunity to do anything, you slip off of your seat in his lap, knees slamming the floors in your haste as you kneel before him. Hands flying, you tug at the buckle of his belt, undoing it despite your hurried motions. 

“You’ve been off today, are you sure everything’s alright?” Mingyu asks from, still wide eyed as he watches helplessly as you yank his jeans enough to reveal the final layer of his underwear. It doesn’t take you long to take his entire length out of there too, needing him in front of you.

“Do not ask me about my feelings when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What on earth–shit!”

You’ve taken his now fully hard length into your hand, licking a strip from the base of his cock up to the bulbous head. The tip of your tongue teases the head ever so lightly, and Mingyu watches as his head and your tongue match in their reds. He watches the way your tongue dips into the pooling white of his precum, pushing into his slit as the tip of your tongue wiggles slightly. 

The fact that he cannot touch only heightens the effects of your teasing, clayed hands balling into fists just to feel something on his fingertips. 

Soon, your lips have wrapped around the head of cock as you let it rub against the beginnings of the inside of your soft mouth. Letting go, you take him in again, this time running your tongue over his slit, feeling his hips twitch beneath you as you continue to take him in and out, only to take him back in again. 

In one motion, you sink your mouth lower onto his dick, feeling the head of his cock run against the roof of your mouth. Mingyu hisses audibly amidst his very loud and heavy breathing. 

When you feel him hit the beginnings of your throat, you pull back, bringing your hand to curve around the base to cover what you couldn’t fit, pumping him up and down as you continue to pull his member in and out of your mouth. 

He’s moaning loud, the echoes resonating off the walls as you hear your name slip from his mouth over, and over, and over again. It only encourages you as you move down deeper, his cock touching the back of your throat in more familiarity than before. 

Everything is wet; the spit and precum turning into a shiny gleam on his cock and on the lower half of your face, the heat between your legs that makes you feel oh so empty. Clenching around nothing, you resist the urge to bring a hand down to relieve yourself. 

“Are you ovulating or something, why are you suddenly…suddenly, fucking hell I don’t know.” 

Releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop, you rear your head to look up at him, the lower half of your face covered in a wet glisten. Your hand continues to pump him as you watch his face remain contorted in pleasure.

In a daze, you don’t realise what you’re saying as you blab. “Could she do it like this?”

“What?”

“Could she do it like this?” you repeat like a mantra, needing to hear his answer. “Could she make you feel like this?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s taking Mingyu every bit of his soul to form coherent words. 

In one swift motion, you’ve hoisted yourself back on your feet, nails digging into his thighs through his pants. 

Hovering over his lap, you take his shaft once again, but this time you push your panties aside with your hand and bring it close to your heat, brushing the head of his cock over your wet folds, using him to feel the pleasure that builds. 

“God, you’re so wet,” he blabs as he throws his head back at the feeling. “I wanna touch you, fuck I need to get this clay off, I need to touch you.”

He’s brought his mouth to latch onto your nipple, evoking a loud gasp from you as feel him circle your nub with his tongue before sucking. Letting go, he sticks his tongue out as his only weapon, flicking it repeatedly as you continue to rub his wet cock over your equally wet cunt. 

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink onto his head as you let out a loud moan, feeling the tip stretch you out in the familiar way you’ve been craving all day. It’s like your brain is buffering as you recover from the bout of pleasure, barely registering that he’s continued to assault your other nipple now. 

Your free hand comes to toy with your relieved tit, twisting your spit covered nipple between your fingers as his dick pushes further and further inside you. 

Fully sheathed, you pull your husband’s face away from your breast as you bring his lips to your own, kissing him deep as you clench around his hard cock.

“Don’t. Do that,” he hisses against your lips, hands suddenly closing in your waist, so close before he realises he can’t. “‘M gonna fucking come, I’m so serious.”

The news is enlightening, especially as it encourages you to lift your hips ever so slightly, and curl back back down in an initial thrust. Again, and again, and again till you’re moving your hips at a swift pace, striking down on his length as you both moan into each other's mouths.

The feeling is electrifying, and the borderline pornographic noises your husband is making is only making it all the more easier to gush around his member, to move your hips faster as you feel the knot in your abdomen tighten and loosen. 

“You feel amazing, so fucking good,” he grunts as he mouths the column of your throat. “My baby, my darling, my wife.”

And when the burn in your thighs becomes more than just a mental battle, your hips slowing despite the mind boggling feeling and the choked sobs that come out of you, you feel Mingyu’s hips lift from the chair he’d been trapped in, pushing into you instead. 

His still dirty hands have taken hold of the top of the back legs of the chair, helping himself push off his seat to thrust into you rapidly. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says. “Rub your clit for me.”

Who are you to deny him, one hand on one of his broad shoulders while the other flies down to the mess that’s becoming of your cunt. Rubbing two fingers over your clit, you throw your head back in a loud moan as you feel yourself beginning to close in.

Mingyu is watching the apex of your thighs; the way your fingers work against your swollen clit, the way his dick disappears inside you, a ring of sinful white foaming at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, a clear indication that he was also close. 

Your breasts are a sight to behold, and the scene before him is enough to make him bust entirely. Bouncing tits that he cannot touch, perfectly red, puffed pussy he cannot touch, the beautiful curves and dips of your waist and thigh, barely illuminated by the setting sun, that he cannot touch. He curses the wretched idea to make a last minute thing on the turntable before you arrived, curses the fact that he should be able to feel all of you. 

He might lose his mind, and he does when your walls clamp down on him like a trap, your moans so loud he’s sure he’ll be hearing them in his ears for weeks. 

“G–Gyu, I’m cumming,” you whimper through the pure brain fog. 

Mingyu fucks you through your orgasm, finally letting himself release his own load into you when he simply can’t take it anymore, dick spasming as he shoots white hot cum into your hole. The added slick makes it easier to slip in and out faster as his orgasm holds out far longer than it usually does, both of your hips twitching like you’d been zapped as you come down from your highs. 

It’s become near impossible to hold up your own weight, slumping against his large frame as you unclench every pinched muscle and joint. Forehead on his shoulder, you take pleasure in the afterglow, breathing in his scent with your nose pressed into the sliver of skin that reveals past his shirt. Sweat, the earthy odour of clay, and the calm familiarity of him.

“I don’t know what I did to have you acting like this,” he breathes into your ear. “But whatever it is, I need to do it more often.”

Sluggishly, you lift your head to look at him. His head is leaned back on the chair, face glowing as you stare into the eyes you fell in love with so long ago. 

“You haven’t done anything,” you sigh. “It was…stupid.”

“That’s the worst thing you could say to me right now.”

You whine, rolling your neck. “What do you want me to tell you?”

He stares. “Who do I need to thank for creating this monster?”

It was a joke, clearly, but you couldn’t help but feel the little pool of pride swell within you anyway. 

“Salad bowl girl.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means? Do you want a salad bowl? I can make you one.”

“No. The girl in your class this morning with that god awful salad bowl,” you huff. “It looked offensive, she was too busy burning holes into you.”

“Oh no,” he whispers, eyes wide, mouth turning it the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “My pretty little wife is jealous.”

“If you’re gonna rub it in, I'm getting off.” You try to remove yourself from his lap, slipping his now soft member out of you. 

You’re stopped when you feel the two points of his elbows locking you at the waist, pushing you down. He’s grinning like a fool. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry—”

“Your hello was my dick in your mouth.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I’d fire myself in the kiln before I ever say that.” He locks his elbows harder, pulling you closer. “Besides, I think this means I’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“Like you’ve never noticed Chan looking at you like…like he’s got some puppy dog crush on you. I’ve won the battle of composure.” 

You guffaw, “What are you—stop it, he does not!”

He merely leans forward and kisses you, “I don’t blame him. My wife is the most gorgeous thing anyone could ever see.” 

Grabbing him by the elbows, you break free of his hold and get off of his lap, attempting to gather the clothes you’ve scattered across the studio. 

“Can you at least help me put my dick back inside my pants, these are my cleaner jeans!”

Snapping the elastic of your bra back on, pantied adjusted, you walk back to him. He’s looking at you with those stupid stars in his eyes and it makes it hard to focus on readjusting his jeans for him. 

Leaning down, you take in your hands his still wet cock, smothered in your spit and arousal, complete with his own release. You can’t help it when you dip further to take his head into your mouth, the groan coming from above you near automatic. 

“Oh, you’re evil.”

You grin as you wrap your mouth in a harsher suck, feeling him harden slowly, still quicker than you’d thought. Giving him a few more generous sucks, you run your tongue over his slit before moving back. 

He’s breathing heavily, leaning close as you pull his waistband up. “You know, they say you should lay down afterwards if you want to be successful. I think we might have to go again later on a real bed to do the trick.”

“You can stay horny, I’m getting dressed for some real food.” 

“I think we kinda need to be horny to do what we’re trying to do,” he lowtones, moving his face back and forth to meet your drifting eyes. 

You sigh once again, “Why can’t just getting off birth control be enough?”

“Are you not having fun?”

“I’m literally buttoning your pants for you, it was fun until now.”

Mingyu raises his hands in both surrender and pointed regard, the clay now dried and cracking over his hands and forearms. “I digress.”

 It annoys you that he’s right, so you lean in to give him a kiss as a distraction. It works. 

“It’s alright,” he smiles into your kiss. “This is the one thing I won’t mind breaking my back for.”

The giggle escapes you before you can help it, and you feel him kiss at your cheeks, placing one last one on the tip of your nose.

“Now, if my lovely wife will let me wash my hands…?”

“Go,” you chuckle.

“We should name our baby Salad Bowl in this honour.” He’s way at the handwash station by now, water running as he scrubs off all the dried up clay.

“So sad our baby will have to grow up without a father.”

 “I love you,” he yells. 

“I’ll be sure to tell our child.” 

“You’re insufferable,” he says, suddenly behind you as you pull on your blouse. Wet hands grasp your waist and you squeal at the feeling. 

“Mingyu!” 

“I love you,” he drags, spinning you around to face him. 

“I thought I was insufferable.”

Your husband groans, simply pulling you into him with his own two hands to kiss you. 

“I think we’re late for our reservation.”

“You’d better hurry then.” You eye his clay speckled shirt.

“Don’t miss me.” He turns around to find his cleaner shirt, all while you drift over to see the incomplete project still on his table.

A mug still clay-brown and half done, but one that looks suspiciously similar to your favourite one you broke last week. 

[basicmyherowhore]

Reader didn’t know how she got in this situation , to go to her ex boyfriend wedding maybe it was the embarrassment being single or feeling spiteful that she decided to ask her ex boyfriend bully , to be her date and who knows maybe love will bloom in the weird situation that their in (Katsuki x reader angst with a fluffy ending maybe :)

I love this idea🥹🥹 Edit: This has been in my drafts for basically a year, I’m so sorry😭

When the invitation arrived in the mail you thought it must’ve been a mistake. Why would your ex invite you to his wedding? Was it to spite you? To rub it in how happy he was with his soon to be wife? To tell you one last time that he could do better than you?

No. Izuku was never the spiteful type, he’d never go out of his way to hurt anyone. And it’s not like the two of you ended on awful terms. Actually, it was you who ended the relationship. It wasn’t because he cheated on you, or treated you poorly. It was because you could tell it wasn’t the time for him to be in a relationship. He was too caught up in his work to be in love, no matter how much he said he loved you. His job as a hero would always come first. Of course, you understood that and that’s why you decided to let him go. The world needed him more than you did.

Both of you hurt for a long time after that. But it wasn’t a full year later before the tabloids began releasing headlines about Pro Hero Deku and Pro Hero Uravity being the next hero power couple. That really hurt. Somewhere in your heart you hoped that Izuku would come back to you. He would realize how much you mattered to him and would beg you to come back, promising to put you first for once.

Obviously that didn’t happen. You watched like every other member of society as their love for each other grew in the public eye. You knew why things were different for them. She was a hero too, she understood exactly what he was going through and wouldn’t blame him for being distant. She understood him in a way that you never could. And that’s what really hurt you.

So even though you knew of the relationship for the last two years, it still came as a major shock when you found the wedding invitation in your mail box. Because why would he invite you of all people to his special day?

The sight of it caused forgotten pain to surge inside of you. Your eyes stung as you tried to hold in the tears. Your heart ached and it felt like the air had been stolen from your lungs. Such an old wound reopened so quickly.

You allowed yourself a moment to grieve. To mourn the loss of a relationship that you’d officially never have again. This was your last goodbye to the love that once existed between Izuku and you. When that moment ended you slipped the invite back into the envelope it arrived in before tossing it into the junk drawer. You’d never embarrass yourself by attending such an event. Never.

Except, now all your friends are pressuring you to go. It’s very unfortunate that Izuku and you happen to share some of the same friends. You’d think they’d be more understanding about the whole thing, but apparently they think that this is the closure you need. Not that you’re hung up on the relationship still, that’s just what your friends think What do they know?

Mina is the person who wants you to go more than anyone. She thinks that you seeing Izuku happy will allow you to “finally let go”, even though you aren’t holding on to anything. When you tried to use the excuse that you didn’t have anyone to bring with you and you didn’t want to go alone, she told you to leave the date situation up to her. Two days later she set up a “double date” between you, her, her boyfriend Kirishima, and your mystery date.

When you arrived at the restaurant five minutes after the agreed upon time, you quickly find your friend and her boyfriend sitting in a secluded booth. They were facing you, the mystery dates back was towards you. Once you finally approach, pulling a polite smile on your face to greet the supposed stranger, you’re met with a vaguely familiar face.

Bakugo Katsuki. Izuku’s long time rival.

You’d only met him once or twice before. Neither time had you talked to him, he was always too busy arguing with Izuku to pay you any mind. But now his attention was focused on you and his crimson eyes seemed to burn holed through you. You shakily introduce yourself before asking Mina to come to the bathroom with you. She excuses herself before following behind you.

“Mina! That’s Bakugo, the guy who’s basically Izuku’s arch nemesis! Why would you think this is a good idea?” You whisper shout at her, mindful of any other people that might be in the bathroom.

“That’s exactly why this is a good idea! Who else to show that you’ve moved on than the person he dislikes most?” She smirks at you, proud of her own pettiness. “Also, you probably don’t know this but Bakugo used to date Uraraka before her and Midoriya got together. He needs this as much as you do.”

Her statement silenced you for a moment. Did Bakugo feel the same way that you did when his invitation arrived? He might be the only person in the world who knows exactly what you’re going through right now. Could this be a sign?

“Just give it a chance. If you can’t tolerate his big personality then we’ll try someone else.” She guides you out of the restroom and back towards the booth. “I have plenty of attractive friends that would make great arm candy.”

She basically shoved you into your seat next to Bakugo before sitting down next to her boyfriend. Mina sends you a sky wink before striking a conversation with Kirishima. You take a breath to calm yourself before slowly turning to Bakugo, only to find him watching you once more. You smile shyly at him, introducing yourself again.

“I know who you are. You’re that shitty loser’s ex.” He says plainly, eyeing you up and down. His heavy stare makes you feel kind of uncomfortable, you feel unsure of what to say. You send Mina a pleading glance over the table.

“Bakugo also needs a date to the wedding.” Mina says bluntly, transitioning the conversation in an unexpected way.

“I don’t need shit. I don’t even want to go to the stupid wedding. You two are the ones that want me to go.” The rise in his volume makes you flinch, shooting to the very edge of the booth to give him space.

“Okay, even if you don’t need it so much, it would be nice to support Uraraka as a fellow hero. It’s shows your maturity, you know?” Hearing Kirishima speak up surprises you, when you’re around he’s usually a man of little words.

“Whatever.” Bakugo’s rage shifts into a quiet one as he crosses his arms and slumps into his seat. He seems different from the last time you’d seen him. His fiery personality seems to be burned out, like a flame that has been doused with water. You can see the walls he’s built up over the years. It reminds you of yourself.

He doesn’t say much else for the duration of dinner and neither do you. The two of you sit next to each other in uncomfortable silence. You can see the disappointment in Mina’s eyes across the table. Kirishima pats her thigh comfortingly out of your sight. Secretly, he wanted Bakugo and you to hit it off just as much as she did.

When the time finally comes to leave, Mina pulls one last trick from her sleeve.

“Hey, Eij and I have to scoot. Bakugo, do you mind waiting with Y/N until her cab arrives? It’s late and you know bad things happen in the dark.” Bakugo rolls his eyes in response but agrees with a grunt. Mina swallows the squeal of hope she wants to let out. She hugs you goodbye, winking at you as she turns and begins walking away. You glare at her even though she can’t see it. Leave it to her to put you in an awkward situation.

“It’s shouldn’t be long. Maybe another 5 or so minutes.” You glance over at him, to find that he’s already looking at you. You look away quickly, feeling too intimidated to maintain eye contact. He only hums in response.

Once again the two of you stand in silence. Each minute that passes feels like an eternity. You regret not having your own car now more than ever. Damn you for wanting to avoid producing more carbon emissions.

Finally your cab pulls up and you’ve never felt more relieved. As you turn to politely say goodbye to Bakugo, you notice his outstretched hand. You stare at him confused, unsure if he wants a high five or a tip for waiting with you.

“Your phone, stupid. Give me your phone.” He provides you an answer, albeit a harsh one. Still confused, you reach to hand him your phone. “Unlock it.” He huffs with an annoyed tone. You do.

He takes your unlocked phone from you and taps a few buttons before typing something in. He hands it back to you after taking a moment to examine your phone case. It’s Allmight themed.

“I put in my number. I can tell you want to go to that wedding about as much as I do. But if they’re gonna force me to go, I’d rather go with someone who will be just as pissed off as I’ll be.” Bakugo finally explains as he helps you into the cab. He holds the door open, watching as your buckle the belt. “If you decide you want to go after all, text me. It’ll be nice to have the company.” He shuts the door, tapping on the roof of the car twice. The driver takes that as a signal to pull off, leaving you to stare at Bakugo as you get farther and farther apart. He watches the car too.

That was the last way you thought that day would end.

Now you sit at your dinning room table. To your left sits the invitation that you’ve just finally had the courage to dig out of the junk drawer. To your right sits your phone with Bakugo’s contact information pulled up. Your gaze bounces from one side to the other as your mind tries to think of what to make of all of this.

You didn’t even want to go to the wedding. You’d rather sit at home, watching movies to take your mind off of it. You’d order some takeout and bask on the couch for hours to drown out everything you’d be feeling. It would be peaceful. It would save you so much embarrassment and suffering.

But that would make you a coward. A scaredy-cat, too afraid to face the truth, the reality of your life. Everyone else is moving on. And you’re still exactly the same.

As you pick up the phone, you action are fueled by pure vindictiveness. You need to show people that you’re not a loser that’s still hung up on their ex. That you can and are doing bigger and better things.

You begin typing in the text box. You start typing- then stop. Start again then stop again, struggling to find the right words. Ultimately, you decide on:

Let’s do this.

\(•_•)/

Regret is pooling in your stomach as you stand outside waiting for Bakugo to pick you up. You have no idea what you were thinking when you sent that text, but you’d do anything to take it back now. It feels like one of those nightmares that you desperately want to wake up from, but can’t get yourself awake.

You’re in the process of opening up your phone to text Bakugo that you’ve suddenly fallen ill when a car pulls up in front of you. The window rolls down to reveal the very blonde you were about to text. Damn, there goes that plan.

He reaches across the passenger seat to open the door you, when it swings open you can see him better than before. A black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and black slacks with a belt adorn his body. You can’t help but stare in shock, you never noticed how attractive he was before. When he’s not glaring or screaming, Bakugo actually is very handsome.

“Are you gonna stand there all day or get in the car?” He yells, causing you jump as you snap back to reality. You spoke too soon. With a small huff you slide into the seat, making sure your dress was fully in the car before you shut the door. As you moved to buckle your seatbelt, you could feel eyes following your movements. Once your belt is clicked into place you look up and meet Bakugo’s gaze, a blank expression on his face. “Your dress looks nice on you.”

Was that a compliment? From Bakugo Katsuki?

“Thank you…” You respond after a moment, turning your head away from him to hide your stunned and slightly flustered face. He simply grunts in response, putting the car in drive and pulling off. The car ride was mostly silent, the only sounds being the low hum of the engine and quiet the chatter of the radio. Your gaze remains on the window at your side. Every once it a while it almost feels like his eyes momentarily drift to you, but you assume those feelings are wrong.

When the navigation system says the venue is only a couple meters away to the left, you can feel the ball of stress and anxiety tightening in your belly. As Bakugo parks the car you can almost feel your lunch coming back up. You swallow deeply in a last ditch attempt to keep it down. Though you desperately try to keep your nerves hidden, the man beside you could see right through you. He eyes you silently before unbuckling and opening his door.

Wordlessly, Bakugo exits the car, shuts his door, and makes his way to your side of the car. He then slowly reaches towards your door, as if not to startle you. He opens the door and extends an open hand towards you, his expression entirely neutral. There’s no anger, no scowl, just a blank face. And yet it feels more welcoming than you would’ve expected.

Again you gulp, unlatching your belt before placing your hand in his, allowing him to assist you out of his car. He shuts the door behind you before looping your arm through his own. You can’t help but be taken aback by his initiation and willingness towards contact.

“Let’s look the part, yeah?” Bakugo mutters to you lowly, eyes scanning around the parking lot where many others have already taken notice of you two. “I hate this kind of shit, but I ain’t gonna let any of these shit rags call me classless.”

You can’t contain the snort that slips out, your feelings momentarily forgotten when Bakugo makes you laugh. You try to cover your mouth to contain the ugly sound but it’s no use. The sound of your laughter makes a small smile cross his face, secretly happy to relieve some of your stress even if it’s just for a moment. He gives you time to let out your laughter while slowly guiding you towards the doors. By the time the two of you reach them you’ve gone silent, any laughter caught in your throat.

With a heart beating so loudly you can barely hear yourself think, you allow Bakugo to lead you into the building. You follow behind the others before you to look at a seating chart that displays where everyone was to sit. Bakugo has been placed at a table with Kirishima, Mina, Sero, and Denki. There was three open seats left for Sero, Kaminari, and Bakugo to bring their plus ones. You technically don’t have a seat since you didn’t have the courage to RSVP, so you walk arm and arm with Bakugo to the table where his friends are seated.

Mina is the first to see the two of you. Her eyes light up when she notices your arm wrapped around his. She excitedly taps on Kirishima, directing his attention towards the two of you. A large toothy grin spreads across his face before he stands to greet you both.

“BakuBro! Y/N! I’m glad you guys decided to come after all.” He calls cheerfully, clapping his longtime friend on his back and smiling kindly at you. You return the smile bashfully, waving at everyone else at the table as you slide into the open seat next to Mina.

“Shut up! I’d rather be anywhere else than here.” Bakugo barks at Kirishima, dropping into the seat next to you with little grace.

“Don’t lie, Bakugo. We know you’d never miss Midoriya’s special day.” Sero goads from across the table, poking the bear in a way you’d never attempt.

“Yeah, Bakugo. You can call him your rival all you want, but we know when he calls you come running.” Kaminari adds more fuel to the flames.

“Shut the fuck up! I’ll kill you both!” Your date growls, sparks popping from his hands. You cover your face with your hand, seriously doubting the choices you’ve made to get you to this point. Bakugo takes note of your distress and feels a small wave of guilt wash over him. He takes a deep breath in and out, then settles for glaring at the men across from him silently.

“Y/N, you look gorgeous in that dress.” Mina tries to strike up a new conversation, causing you to smile at her effort.

“Yeah you look great!” Kirishima chimes in to agree with his partner. He looks back at Bakugo before quirking a brow in thought before a big smile blooms on his face. “You guys are matching!”

Blood rushes to both of your faces when you look at each other and realize you unintentionally matched in all black. You guys really did look the part.

“Wow, I didn’t even notice that. Did you guys pick all black because both of your exes are getting married, so it’s like you’re mourning the official death of those relationships?” As the words leave Kaminari’s mouth, you feel an ugly feeling swirl in your stomach.

Is that what this looked like to others? Immense embarrassment washes over you. You begin to heavily consider excusing yourself from the table. You wanted to be somewhere else right now. All eyes turn to Kaminari, who’s looking at the rest of you cluelessly.

“Denki!” Mina hisses, wishing now more than ever she knew what was wrong with her friend. Even Sero shakes his head in disbelief of the sheer amount of social awareness his friend lacked.

“What? I’m just asking a question. They look like they’re attending a funeral rather than a wedding.” Kaminari attempts to defend himself, but only continues to dig himself into a deeper hole.

Bakugo agains starts sparking his quirk, seemingly ready to pounce at any moment. “You wanna talk about a funeral so bad, how about I get you ready for yours?” He growls, but before he can strike the other man, you raise your hand to stop him. Surprisingly, this effectively halts Bakugo.

Even though you’d much rather get up and find somewhere to hide until everyone forgot about you, you’re tired of hiding. It’s time to stand on business and face this head on. You take a breath before plastering a smile on your face, hoping that no one can see right through you.

“It’s actually a coincidence that Bakugo and I are wearing the same color. I guess we both just wanted to be as respectful as possible by avoiding the forbidden color. Black is the exact opposite of white so it makes sense right?” You can feel your heart beating in your throat, but you try to ignore the feeling. “I also just really happen to like the color black. It goes with everything.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Kaminari hums after a moment. “It’s still funny to see you guys matching. It makes y’all look like a real couple. If you’re finally over Midoriya, Y/N, how about you and me give it a try?” He asks suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows and winking at you.

Your face heats once again and all you can do is look away, wishing that you had a quirk that would make him be quiet. Bakugo on the other hand, reaches his long arm across the table to grab Kaminari by the collar of his shirt.

“You say one more goddamn thing to Y/N and I’ll blow you sky fucking high. Shut your stupid mouth, I don’t want to hear anymore dumb shit spill out.” Kaminari, who’s also a pro hero, gulps loudly before shaking his head and pulling as far away from Bakugo as he can. When your date lets him go, he trembles in his seat silently.

While everyone at the table is no stranger to Bakugo’s aggressive behavior and violent tendencies, everyone is a bit taken aback by how quick he was to defend you. You two were never particularly close in the past, so what’s changed in the small amount of time you’ve spent together.

“Y/N, I’m gonna grab a drink from the bar for Ei and I. Come with me.” Mina says as she stands, grabbing your hand to pull you from the table. You let her pull you from your seat, but you stop before she can lead you away.

“Do you want anything?” You turn to ask Bakugo.

“Just some water. I want to keep my shit together unlike these other losers.” He says, looking up at you from his seat. You nod and turn wordlessly back to Mina. You only make it a few feet away from the table before she grabs you and pulls you close.

“Girl! What the hell was that? I’ve never seen him defend a date like that before!” She whisper yells incredulously, her eyes wide with surprise.

“I don’t know. I guess he feels bad for me or something.” You shrug your shoulders, rubbing the spot on your arm where she grabbed you a bit too hard.

“No way, Bakugo doesn’t do pity. He rarely feels bad for someone else, I don’t think he has enough empathy for that. If he’s standing up for you like that, I think he must like you at least a little.”

Bakugo like you? The thought feels too foreign to even consider. There’s no way.

“I sincerely doubt it, but okay.” You decide to close off that conversation rather than continue to go back and forth with her. The two of you grab the drinks from the bar, then proceed back to the table. From the way people were scrambling to sit down, you had a feeling things would be starting soon.

You hand Bakugo his water wordlessly. He nods his head as a thank you before taking a sip. You wonder if his mouth feels as dry with nerves as yours does. You look down at the mixed drink Mina had chosen for you when you asked what you should get. Maybe you should’ve gotten a water like you date.

The room quiets down and the pending entrance of the groom is announced. Without a second thought you down the drink in one go, not even thinking about the others seeing. Suddenly, you didn’t care anymore.

Soft instrumental music fills the air and the double doors at then front of the room open. Out steps the man you once loved, dressed head to toe in white. Of course he’d do white. He was always a bit theatrical in that way.

You feel a pang in your chest as Izuku stands at the head of the room, looking happier than you've seen him in years. Uraraka is radiant as she steps down the aisle, her beautiful white dress flowing behind her. Their eyes only on each other, their smiles lighting up the room. Once she makes her way down the aisle you force yourself to smile along with the crowd, masking the ache in your heart.

Throughout the ceremony, you steal glances at Bakugo, who surprisingly seems to share your discomfort. He shifts in his seat, occasionally muttering something under his breath that you can't quite catch. His presence, though initially abrasive, has become oddly reassuring.

As the vows are exchanged and rings placed, you recall the moment Izuku told you there would come a day both of you would find your happy ending, just with other people. Those words, though painful then, now feel like a closure you didn't fully grasp until this moment. He had found his happy ending.

After the ceremony, during the reception, you find yourself standing alone near the bar. The married couple were glowing, filling the room with joy and cheer. Mina and Kirishima along with many others filled the dance floor, celebrating the newly formed union. You watch silently, taking sips of your drink every so often. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice when someone slipped off the dance floor and began to approach you.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come tonight.” You jump slightly when you hear the voice you were least expecting. Your eyes meet the green ones that you’d spent countless hours looking into in the past. The man of the hour, Izuku, is standing in front of you with a small smile on his face.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure either. But here I am.” You try to smile back, but it doesn’t turn out the way you hoped it would.

“I’m glad you did.”

“I don’t understand why though. I’ve been out of your life for years now, Izuku. You didn’t seem to care about me then.” You wish you could stop, but the pained words wouldn’t stop falling.

“Of course I care about you. I wanted all the important people from my life here tonight. Even if we weren’t meant to be, that doesn’t erase the impact we had on each others’ lives. You helped make me into the man I am today. And I can’t thank you enough for that.” You ache inside at this. He genuinely wanted you here because even if it’s just a little, you still mattered to him.

Words escape you. For a moment, all you can do is bite the inside of your cheek while you ponder what he said some more. Across the room Uraraka is laughing joyfully, dancing with friends and family. You watch as she enjoys her night.

“She’s beautiful in her dress. You’re a lucky guy.” It’s all you can think to say.

“I am. She’s everything to me.” You glanced over to see his eyes trained on her, a loving gaze following her every move. While similar to how he once looked at you, you realize his stare his different. Somehow, it’s so much more than when he was yours. He’s truly in love. You’re surprised when you feel his hand grasp yours gently. “Y/N, it wasn’t me for you. But I know someday you’ll have the right person. And you’ll be their everything.”

“Thank you for coming tonight.” He gives your hand a soft squeeze before letting go. It’s time for him and his bride to cut their cake. He smiles at you one more time before walking away. He doesn’t look back.

Once again you’re standing alone, a confused and murky mix of thoughts and feelings swirling inside of you. You weren’t expecting to talk to Izuku or for him to say what he said.

Moments later Bakugo appears beside you, holding a glass. It still looks to be water.

"You alright?" His voice startles you, but you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. He sighs, looking out at the crowd that surrounds the bride and groom. The room watched as Izuku feeds his new wife a bite of cake, smudges of white frosting decorated their noses and lips. "I get it, you know. Seeing them like this—it's rough."

You meet his gaze, surprised by his empathy. "Yeah," is all you manage to say.

Bakugo shifts uncomfortably. "Listen, I know I'm not good at this kind of shit, but... if you need to get out of here, just say the word. I can take you home."

You hesitate, touched by his offer. "Thanks, Bakugo. I appreciate it."

He nods gruffly before stepping away, leaving you to your thoughts. You can’t help but think that maybe there's more to Bakugo than meets the eye—a depth you hadn't expected. A real person behind the persona.

Later, when the music slows and people begin to fade away from dance floor, Bakugo finds you again, this time extending his hand.

"Want to dance?" he asks, his tone surprisingly gentle.

You look at him, searching for any hint of malice or mockery, but find none. Just a genuine offer, from a man who rarely offers anything. There’s a sincerity in his eyes that you never thought you’d see.

You take his hand, and together you step onto the dance floor. As you and Bakugo dance, the music wraps around you like a comforting embrace. The atmosphere is charged with unspoken words, and finally, Bakugo breaks the silence.

"You know, I never expected tonight to go like this," he admits gruffly, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance.

You tilt your head, curious. "What do you mean?"

He pauses, as if choosing his words carefully. "I didn't think I'd be the one comforting you at this damn wedding. If anything, I thought it'd be the other way around."

A small, sad smile tugs at your lips. "Life's funny that way, huh?"

"Yeah," he mutters, a rare vulnerability in his voice. "Guess it is."

There's a lull in the music, and you find yourself caught in his intense gaze. "Thanks, Bakugo. For being here with me tonight."

He shrugs, a gesture that speaks volumes. "Wasn't gonna let you face this shit alone."

Your heart warms at his unexpected sincerity. "I'm glad you're here."

He snorts softly, his hand tightening slightly around yours. "Yeah, well... I'm not great with this sentimental shit."

You chuckle softly, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I know. But I appreciate it anyway."

Bakugo's lips twitch into a half-smile, a rare sight that makes your heart skip a beat. "Alright, enough of that mushy shit. Don’t start thinking I’m gonna start being some nice softy wimp now."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Wouldn't dream of it."

As the song comes to an end, you realize that though tonight started rocky you’re glad that you came to the wedding. You actually feel some comfort and a little glimmer of hope. Hope that despite the past and the pain, there's a future where you and Bakugo might explore whatever this connection between you two is.

"Ready to get out of here?" he asks, his voice softer now.

You nod, feeling more at ease than you have all night. "Yeah. Let's go."

Hand in hand, you leave behind the echoes of Izuku's wedding, stepping into a new chapter—one where you're not alone, and where unexpected companionship just might lead to something more.

[sitp-recs]

the sun between us by @eleadore (E, 7.4k)

Draco Malfoy, an omega. It was laughable until he was right in front of you, smelling like he was one shaky step from tripping into a heat.

How could it be? Not him, with the cold eyes and mean mouth, and all his sharp edges—every edge, no respite—nothing soft to him, nothing to draw you in. (…) He's not pretty, with his pale, pointy face, all washed of colour and full of spite. Haughty and unfeeling. Cold, Harry thinks, even in the grip of a heat, he'd be cold. Who would want to fuck him? Who would want—who would—

I finally got the chance to read this fic and I knew I was gonna write a rec for it the moment I read the quote above (I’ve actually combined my two fave quotes up there). Then I stared at my tumblr draft for about 10 minutes before I remembered how to actually write a rec lol it’s been over an year since the last one and god knows how long it will be until the next, so thank you kindly @eleadore for fueling my Drarry feels once again!

What a delicious read. So viscerally raw and thick with tension (not only sexual, which makes it even more compelling), this put me at the edge of my seat, brimming with anticipation from beginning to end. I don’t usually read a/b/o and it takes me a bit to get into it but my god, they’re so mean and so horny that I felt the UST punching my bones and was salivating from the moment Harry first sniffed Draco ��

This is not only an impressive masterclass in tension building within 7k (insanity!), but also a refreshing take at omegaverse and a fascinating dive into Harry and Draco, who are SO intense even when they say nothing at all: rough around the edges, unable to differentiate fighting from fucking, desperate to appear smooth when in fact they’re about to burst with want. I love how they are so attuned to each other, the desire to hurt/touch/help/hurt too strong, the wistful memory of that one day in 6th year colouring the “enemies to lovers” dynamics. It was so much fun to see this stone-cold, mocking, demanding Draco through Harry’s increasingly wanton eyes, the unrelenting banter taking the “fucking your enemy through their heat” trope to a whole new level.

Speaking of - and being a good smut champion as always - I just want to highlight how incredibly hot the whole sequence was: that unhinged frenzy of a/b/o sex, all biting and no softness, the post-nut clarity replaced by the hazy confusion of losing control and accidentally knotting your omega boyfriend enemy. Peak Drarry moment 🤣 reading this felt like a fever dream that made me eat it up in one sitting, so if anyone hasn’t had the chance to check this series yet (oh yes, there’s a sequel!!!) run don’t walk! Happy Wednesday :D

[pitviperofdoom]

Jongerry prompt: reunion after one thought the other was dead?

Tim wasn’t sure what to make of the guy. 

They met in an awkward almost-collision at the institute’s front door, Tim rearing back in surprise, the other flinching away from the sudden movement. He was lanky, and probably would’ve been tall without the permanent slouch to his spine. His hair was a dull shade of mousy brown, and looked like it had been hacked short with kitchen scissors. His clothes hung loose and ill-fitting on his body. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

Tim took a wild guess. “Here to make a statement?” he asked.

The man grimaced. “Maybe later.”

“I’d make it quick if I were you,” Tim chuckled, holding the door open for him. “Jon was in a good mood before lunch, and those don’t tend to last long.”

Halfway through the door, the man froze. “Who?”

“Jon Sims, the head archivist,” Tim said carefully. “He’s the one who takes statements, so…”

“Oh.” The man’s face was blank. “He’s… that’s… down in the archives, yeah?”

“I can show you how to get there?” Tim offered. Whatever statement this guy had, it must have been rough.

"Sure, thanks," the guy said distractedly.

In spite of the accepted offer, the guy quickly pulled ahead, and Tim found himself trailing behind as the scruffy stranger led the way to the basement stairs. Before long, he was jogging to keep up.

That was why, when the man suddenly stopped at the top of the steps, Tim crashed straight into his back.

"Hey, what did you—"

A hand closed tight around his arm, stopping him from shouldering past. The man had gone still, staring intently down the steps. There was nothing to see except the bottom of the stairs, and the mouth of the hallway that led to the archives.

"Smell that?"

Confused, Tim sniffed. At first all he could smell was dust and old paper, but then, beneath it, as if carried on a draft, came a familiar musty, wet stench.

"Damn worms," He muttered. "We've had a bit of an infestation—dunno if you saw them on your way in—"

"I'm gonna need you to shut up and go back outside," the man interrupted. "Maybe pull the fire alarm on your way out, get everyone out of the building."

"Excuse me?" Tim demanded. The man was already releasing him and moving on, so Tim grabbed him before he could make it two more steps. "Hey, what the hell are you—"

"Listen." The man turned, deftly winching his arm out of Tim’s grip. "I have had a very long day. I was hoping it would end with a long shower, a change of clothes, and a minimum twenty-minute hug from someone who means the world to me. Instead, there's something very nasty down there that I need to deal with. Kindly piss off."

Tim's blood ran cold. "You—you mean Prentiss is—" He stopped. He had a million questions, but maybe just this once they could wait. "My friends are down there."

The man spared a moment to look, if possible, even more exhausted than before. "Great. Fine. Stay close and don't fuck me."

***

Tim's head swam with the gas. His body felt strangely detached as he heaved the fire extinguisher against the wall, again and again until he felt the plasterboard give way. His strange companion drew back as if preparing to do a run-up, and Tim hurled himself into the space and finally broke through.

His first view into the dimly lit storage room was of three familiar faces with varying levels of shock, alarm, and growing relief.

"Hey, guys!" Tim gasped out.

Sasha was already struggling to her feet; Tim was about to go in for a hug when he was roughly shoved out of the way. A gas canister landed on the floor with a heavy thunk as the stranger lurched his way past Tim.

A strangled cry broke the shocked silence, and it took Tim a moment to realize it had come from Jon. His friend was sitting on the floor, propped up against a stack of boxes, one leg wrapped in bloodstained bandages. He stared at the man in blank, silent shock.

The stranger moved as if to lunge, but stopped when Jon held up a shaking hand.

"Wait." Jon's voice broke. He was fumbling something out of his pocket, wincing when the movement jarred his leg. "Wait, just—" 

"Mmhm," the man said in a strangled voice, fidgeting but staying where he was.

Jon finally wrestled his wallet out of his pocket, ripped it open, and pulled out a photo—a Polaroid? His eyes flickered between it and the man standing over him.

The wallet fell to the floor. With a sudden burst of energy, Jon heaved himself upright, and managed to stand for all of a second before his leg gave out and sent him pitching forward. The man caught him before he could fall and yanked him into a hug.

"What the fuck, Gerry," Jon choked out.

Sasha was eyeballing Tim frantically, but all Tim could do was shrug back.

"I'm sorry," the man—Gerry—mumbled, face buried in the side of Jon's neck.

"I thought—she told me that you—" Jon stared blankly over Gerry's shoulder, looking at the others without seeing them. "Where have you been?"

"Couple of hunters picked up our trail in the woods in Pennsylvania," Gerry answered. "We split up. They caught me. Didn't kill me, just… didn't let me leave either. Sorry I didn't contact you right when I escaped, I just—I was afraid I'd get your hopes up and get killed on the way home."

In the silence that followed, Martin let out a strangled "Um."

Jon jumped, and his teary eyes focused back on them. "Oh. Right. Er." He tried to pull back, without much success since Gerry was the only thing keeping him upright. "E-everyone, this is Gerry."

"You just finished telling us he was dead," said Sasha.

"Yes, well." Jon managed a watery smile. "I've been wrong before."

"We had a moment about it."

"Right." Without warning, Gerry reached down and swung Jon up into his arms in a bridal carry, ignoring Jon's squawk of protest. "Let's go. We can talk later—and we will be talking later—"

"Gerry!"

"Seriously, I turn around and you're fighting the Corruption with fire extinguishers, and you're the bloody Archivist."

"Put me down, you absolute—"

"No, you've got holes in your leg." Gerry shouldered past Tim and stepped back into the tunnel, carrying a disgruntled Jon with little apparent effort. "You three coming, or what?"

[mamaestapa]

exposing my drafts!

some of these fics are just ideas right now and other have been started. some of these are also “outdated” like they been in my drafts for so long the plot isn’t even relevant anymore…BUT i’ll still finish them ;)

NFL

Joe Burrow:

Leather and Lace (Smut)

You surprise Joe with some special lingerie after the Bengals win their first Super Bowl

Call It What You Want (Angst & fluff)

Fans love to speculate about your relationship with Joe, but only the two of you know what you truly are. The fans can continue to call it what they want

NHL

Jack Hughes:

False God (Smut)

Based off of False God by Taylor Swift

Trevor Zegras:

Electric Touch (Smut)

Remote controlled vibrator, team dinner party, sex in a bathroom

Want You All Over Me (Smut)

Lazy, sweet, morning sex with Trevor after you sneak into his bedroom (Set in Devils Advocate universe)

Is It Over Now? (Angst)

Based on Is It Over Now? by Taylor Swift

Trevor Zegras & Jack Hughes:

Surround Sound (Smut)

During a party at the lake house in Michigan Jack and Trevor discover that you never had a prom night experience like theirs, and they make it their mission to make sure you finally get to experience what they did…

Jamie Drysdale:

Ducklings First Holliday (Fluff)

Celebrating your first holliday with your newborn baby girl (set BEFORE Jamie got traded)

You Were There (Angst & Fluff)

Takes place during Jamie’s trade to Philly, based on the bridge in evermore by Taylor Swift

Adam Fantilli:

Mile High Club (Smut)

On a flight to Cabo for your birthday, your boyfriend suggests you become members of a certain club…

When in Rome (Smut & a little Fluff)

Italy trip with the Fantilli’s, Adam goes crazy over you in your bikini, rough sex in the hotel shower & bed

UMICH

Ethan Edwards:

A little Death (Smut/Angst/Fluff)

Based off of the song A Little Death by The Neighbourhood

Good Kisser (Smut)

You give Ethan the best blowjob (and more) of his life after the team goes to the Frozen Four

Rutger McGroarty:

Oh Mama Don’t You Cry (Smut & Fluff)

Celebrating Team USA winning gold at World Juniors with Rutger

Hey Jealousy (Angst/Smut/Fluff)

Puck bunny hits on Rutger and you get jealous. Rutger shows you that you’re the only one for him…

Butterfly Kisses (Fluff)

Some cute date night fluff with Rutger

Ethan Edwards & Rutger McGroarty (Digital Animal):

Freaky Folks (Smut)

Ethan still has a thing or two to teach Rutger about how to make his girlfriend feel good (Sequel to Digital Animal)

Cruel Summer (Smut)

Rutger fingers you in the back of an Uber while you’re sitting on Ethan’s lap (Literally the scene from Icebreaker just with Ethan and Rutger)

Look After You (Angst & Fluff)

After an argument with Ethan and Rutger, you go to a party out of spite. When things go south, the boys are there to rescue you despite your fight from earlier

The Hills (Smut)

Loosely based off of The Hills by The Weeknd, lots of sneaking around with Rutger behind teammates backs

Luca Fantilli:

Lucky Charm (Fluff)

Celebrating Luca’s first goal with him since you started dating

Mark Estapa:

Cherry Flavoured (Smut)

Based on Cherry Flavoured by The Neighbourhood

if you have questions or thoughts about any of these, feel free to send some asks!🤍

[likedovesinthewindd]

2:54 AM

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: you want to know why peter's been distant lately.

warning: injuries, mentions of typical spiderman violence yk, my inability to write a crime accurately (don't look into it too much), reader's a little oblivious to the obvious.

wc: ± 3000

a/n: i hate this endingg!!!! but i need this out of my drafts. let's also pretend that this trope is so original and not overused at all lmao. requests open:)

The incessant ticking of the clock above your head was beginning to piss you off.

The small restaurant was fairly busy, no one would've even be able to hear it, but you'd chosen the table next to the window–the one with the clock hanging on the wall adjacent to the big glass pane. You'd chosen this table because it was Peter's favorite. He loved watching the bustling city outside as the two of you enjoyed your meals.

You'd think that after living in the city as long as he has, that the scenery would have bore him by now, but he absolutely loved people watching. He could spend hours sitting outside on the rooftop or by the big window in your bedroom, just staring down at the people and cars going about their day or night. He could find entertainment in some of the most mundane activities, and that was one of the many things you adored about your boyfriend.

Right now, however, it was hard to think of how you much you adored him, but rather how mad you were at him. Tonight was your and Peter's six month anniversary, and although you weren't one to celebrate every little milestone, Peter had insisted that you go out for the night. Ironic, since he's not even here right now you thought.

You looked down at your wristwatch, almost in a way to spite the big one that hung right above you, and checked the time. It was a forty-eight minutes past eight. You'd been sitting here for almost 50 minutes waiting for Peter to show up.

You checked your phone, praying he had left a message saying that he was on his way, that he was just running late, but the empty lockscreen staring back at you only made a knot form deep in your belly.

Wait till nine, your mind tried convincing you. He's probably just really caught up at work. So you waited impatiently, your heeled foot nearly tapping a hole into the restaurant floor. After a few more minutes, your waitress approached your table. This was her second time at your table; she had come around first at around twenty minutes past eight, and you had kindly asked her to give you some more time, because you were waiting for someone.

You could see the pity on her face, her probably thinking you got stood up. But you weren't getting stood up, because Peter was just a bit late, and in a few minutes he'd walk through the door and the two of you'd enjoy a wonderful dinner. At least, that's what you were trying to convince yourself.

"Are you ready to order ma'am?" the waitress asked politely. You shook your head, putting on your most convincing smile. "No not yet, I'm waiting for my boyfriend, he'll be here any minute," you said. The pity on her face only seemed to increase. She gave you a weak smile and a nod, and went on her way to help another table.

You glanced up at the small TV that was displayed against the wall on the other side of the small restaurant. It was replaying an old football game from the previous week, before being interrupted by a local news channel's lives broadcast. The TV was muted, but you could see the headline at the bottom of the screen in big bold letters as the reporter stood gesturing at the scene behind her:

SPIDER-MAN TO THE RESCUE ONCE AGAIN

The fact that the city quite literally had it's own superhero always amazed you. Here this random guy was, jumping around in a blue and red suit, fighting bad guys and catching criminals, basically doing the cops' jobs and for free.

You've never had any personal encounters with the elusive hero, but you've heard enough stories from people about him, about how charming and slightly cocky he was and how they so desperately wanted to know who hid beneath the mask. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a bit curious to know too.

On the screen you could see Spider-Man lowering people from the second floor of some building by his webs. After lowering everyone to safety, he dissappeared back inside the building. It seemed to be some kind of hostage situation, people scurrying around confusedly and police cars surrounding the building.

You were so enthralled by the scene playing out on the screen that you hadn't noticed how much time had passed. When you looked at the little clock being displayed in the corner of the TV, your heart sank once again.

21:05

It was five minutes past nine, and no Peter in sight. You could feel your cheeks burning up from anger. A whole hour. Peter made you wait a whole hour, and it didn't look like he was gonna come any time soon. The anger was quickly replaced by sadness, the tears of frustration already fighting to fall from your eyes. You made your way over to the counter of the restaurant, apologizing for wasting their time and tipping your waitress for her effort, before making your way to the door.

It felt like everyone's eyes were on you. They could all probably tell you've been stood up too. There was no other reason for a girl to be walking out of a restaurant after ordering nothing for an hour with her head down and tail between her legs like a kicked dog.

The air outside was refreshing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heart and somehow will the tears away. It was no use; after months of forced stoicism and pretending like Peter's recent negligence didn't hurt, the dam finally broke. You decided to take the walk to your apartment rather than hailing a cab, reasoning that the cool city air would do you good.

On your walk, the sobs continued to leave your mouth quietly. You missed your boyfriend, you missed being able to spend time with him and just be around him. The two of you worked at different times and lived on different sides of the city, so it was already hard to find a time when both of you were free.

The two of you hadn't been together for too long, but it truly felt like Peter was the one for you. When you first made things official you couldn't stay away from each other for too long. You always went on little dates and would meet up whenever the both of you were free, but recently your boyfriend's been very distant and you've been seeing less and less of him. Tonight had been the third date where he'd stood you up, and you couldn't help but think the worst.

What if he was seeing someone else? What if he didn't enjoy being with me anymore and this was his way of asking to break up?

The thoughts left your mind as soon as they were conjured up in your brain. Peter would never do anything like that to you. Not your Peter. He was the sweetest guy you had ever been with and there wasn't a day he wasn't telling you how lucky he was to be with you, or how pretty he thought you were and how much he loved you.

Even on the days the two of you weren't together (which were almost always lately), he'd still send you messages telling you how much he missed you, or would send flowers to your apartment when he knew you were feeling down and he couldn't be there.

Peter was a sweetheart, but you still couldn't help but wonder why he'd been so distant lately. You pulled your phone from your purse, quickly checking to see if he had left a message yet, but still nothing. You shoved your phone back into your purse angrily and started walking faster. All you needed right now was a hot shower and your bed.

As you entered your apartment you hastily toed off your shoes at the door and threw your purse on the nearest table. After a long, piping hot shower and a bowl of leftovers (you still being hungry due to your failed dinner plans), you decided to head to bed, where you cried some more before falling asleep.

A loud banging woke you up in the middle of the night. You checked the alarm clock on your nightstand, and when it read 2:54 AM, you turned yourself back around and ignored whoever chose to bother you at this ungodly hour.

Not even a minute passed before the knocking returned, this time followed by a shout of your name, not loud enough to wake up the whole floor but loud enough for you to hear. When you recognized Peter's voice, you groaned, kicking the covers from yourself begrudgingly before dragging yourself to the door.

You pulled it open aggressively, and when you were met with Peter's silhouette slouching against the doorframe, his head hanging low, all the angry words you had for him sat stuck in your throat. He looked up at you and his big brown eyes found yours in the dark of the hallway. He gave you a weak smile and you had to fight everything inside you to not smile back, reminding yourself why you were mad at him.

"Hi, sweetheart," he whispered. All the anger suddenly returned, and you found yourself slamming the door in his face, but before it could fully close, he blocked it with his foot and invited himself in. When he got out of the dark hallways and inside your apartment, you noticed the bouquet of flowers he held tightly in his hand. They looked like they had been through a lot, and the dress shirt he was wearing (most likely for your date) was untucked and heavily wrinkled.

"I don't want to talk to you," you said, turning your entire body away from him and crossing your arms like an arrogant child, trying to get him to leave, but he was stubborn, putting the flowers on the nearest table, gripping your arms and turning you to face him again. You refused to make eye contact, rather looking down at his pair of dirty sneakers. "I know, but let me explain myself please—"

"And say what?!" you snapped. You hadn't realized how loud you were until you saw Peter flinch slightly, his grip on you still not loosening. "What are you gonna say Peter? You got caught up at work? You had an 'emergency'? You—" when you finally looked him in the face, you got a good look at him in the warm light of your living room/kitchen.

He had a lot of bruising around his face, a rapidly darkening black eye and a busted lip. You looked down at the arms still holding onto you, and you could see similar marks lining his arms. Most of them looked very fresh.

This was another part of Peter that added to up sleepless nights, worrying yourself sick over your boyfriend. He always seemed to have some sort of bruise whenever you'd meet up. Sometimes it was something small like a cut across his eyebrow or a nasty gash on his cheek, and other times it was way more major, like the one time he showed up to a coffee date with a broken arm after being just fine three days prior.

The best part was how fast he'd heal too, no less than a weak and he'd look perfectly fine. It didn't make you feel any better though, and you'd still worry about where he was getting beat up like this.

You tried asking him about it, multiple times, but every time he would just cover it up with a lame joke or just completely try to change the subject. You stopped asking after a while, but that didn't mean you weren't concerned about his safety and curious about what was causing all of these injuries.

"Peter what happened to you? Your face? Are you—" you wanted to reach out and touch his face, but he stopped you with a hand that quickly caught your wrist. "I'm okay," he said, smiling sweetly and giving your wrist a quick kiss, before letting go of your hand. "No you're not. C'mon lemme clean you up," you said grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bathroom, almost completely forgetting about the argument.

The patter of your socked feet filled the quiet of the apartment as you led Peter to the bathroom. You sat him down on the toilet seat and quietly moved around the almost-too-small bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet above the sink to retrieve the first aid kit. You started to clean the small cuts and gashes on his face.

His hands hesitated before making their way to your waist, holding onto your hips. Every time one of the cuts would sting, his grip would tighten slightly. The silence stretched on while you continued to patch him up, and after a while you decided to speak up.

"Look, Peter, I understand if you don't wanna, y'know be with me anymore, but even if we were to break up I'd still be concerned about you. I don't like seeing you get hurt and i can't help if—"

"Woah, hey what?" Peter interrupted your rambling, "I don't want to break up." "Then why do you keep canceling our plans, how come I never see you anymore?" you asked, pausing the work on his face. He winced slighty when he noticed your anger had returned.

"I've just...I've been busy, sweetheart," he said softly. "I've been busy too Peter, but I make time, because I wanna see you, and because I miss you like crazy. Do you even miss like you say you do? Because it surely doesn't show."

"Of course I do!" Peter said, the grip he had on you unconsciously tightening again. "Then why don't you make time?!" you said, the tears of frustration quickly returning to your eyes, "and what about all these bruises, huh? Every time I see you you're hurt somehow and I don't like that, 'cause I don't like seeing you hurt, Peter." By now a few tears had already unwillingly fallen, and you tried to swiftly wipe them away with the sleeve of your sweater.

It both warmed and broke Peter's heart to know that you were so worried about him. He really did miss spending time with you; you were his best friend and he loved being around you. He didn't want you knowing about him being Spider-Man, because he didn't want to put you in any danger. He wanted to keep you as far away from that part of his life as possible, you meant too much to him and he wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you.

He wanted to tell you on many occasions, he'd come close too many times to count, but he'd stop himself each time.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not knowing what else to say. "Don't apologize, just talk to me, please," you said brushing your fingers through his soft brown hair. The action calmed both you and him down, and he closed his eyes for a moment, appreciating your touch. It was then when he realized how much he missed your touch, how much he missed you, and being close to you. He felt like he hadn't talked to you, or really even seen you in forever.

Peter didn't know what to say, he wanted to be honest with you, wanted to tell you so bad, but he wanted to protect you above all else. The silence between the two of you stretched on until you sighed, removing your hands from him completely and sighing.

He started panicking, he knew what this meant. You were going to break up with him, tell him to get out and never talk to him again, and even the thought alone made his heart sink down to his feet. He braced himself for the inevitable, retracting his hands from your waist and getting ready to get up and leave.

"It's really late, would you like to stay the night?"

He was definitely not expecting you to say that, and the look on his face certainly told you that. "Are you sure?" he asked, not knowing what else to say. "I don't want to taking the train at this time. You can take a shower while I reheat some leftovers for you," you replied dryly, making your way out the bathroom and to the kitchen.

Peter took your advice, still not sure why you weren't screaming at him to get out of your apartment. After a brief shower, he found some of the clothes you had borrowed from him folded neatly on the toilet seat. He put them on and made his way over to the kitchen. After a much appreciated meal the two of you made your way over to your bedroom.

He found himself immediately moving towards the small plush chair that stood by the big window, lowering himself into it and staring down at the city. You stood next to him quietly, placing your hand on his head and running your fingers through the strands once again.

"I promise I'll tell you one day," Peter whispered, turning his head to look up at you. "I know," you replied, "until then, I'll just patch you up when needed."

You wanted so badly to understand what was going on with Peter, but you knew that there was no getting through to him now, because he was stubborn as hell. So you'd take what you could get for now. And in return he'd try and be there more for you, because he missed you, and the selfish part of him loved you too much to let you go, even if that were the right thing to do.

"How about you move in with me?"

[selfindulgentpixies]

So I wrote a very self indulgent Satoru Gojo x reader fic to cope with a couple of bad sensory overload days I had a week or two ago and it's just been sitting in my drafts half finished until tonight. Got a boost of spiteful inspiration since I spent most of today in bed with a migraine.

Contains: gn!reader, mentions of sensory overload, brief mentions of getting ill, Gojo being sweet and taking care of you, reader has a cat, reader wears glasses

Take me home tonight

Gojo could tell something was wrong as soon as you’d walked into the meeting late, not just late but later than him, looking frazzled. Even if you shared his disdain for the higher ups you played your role well enough, always on time, students cared for, work taken care of with what could sometimes be considered malicious compliance if you were pushed the wrong way. But that wasn’t the you he saw try to quietly slip into the meeting.  You looked washed out, nauseous even. It wasn’t helped when the higher ups tried to lay into you for being so late. You looked panicked which is when he swept in. Taking their attention off you. He’s not even sure you take in anything that’s being said but you at least send him a small and grateful smile. 

The meeting is barely over before you’re getting up to leave, ignoring any protest at your abrupt exit. He quickly finds you when he leaves, between his long strides and six eyes it’s easy to find you and catch up to you. You’ve stopped to sit, heels of your hands pressed against your eyes and your glasses dangling loosely from your fingers. He plops down on the bench next to you and speaks. “Mind telling me what that was all about?” He doesn’t miss how you flinch at his voice.  He’s known you long enough to catch on and his voice is quieter the next time he speaks. “One of those days then?”

You give a jerky lil nod, still covering your eyes. Even though your lenses on your glasses were transitions they weren’t activated by the lights inside the building, the barely there default tint of them not enough at the moment which was probably why you were just holding them and sitting with your eyes covered. “Y-yeah. Had a mission in the city, dealt with a curse that could manipulate light, and everytime it attacked it let out a high pitched buzzing noise, it was like the world’s worst rave and then I came straight here for the meeting.” He frowns a bit at that. Really you should have just gone home. 

“You don’t even like normal raves.” His tone isn’t something you’re able to parse at the moment, but there’s a playful enough note to it that it gets you to smile just a little.. 

“You’re right, I don’t.” 

Still speaking softly, so much so that only you can hear him even as other staff pass by. “You went into the crowded city,” you nod, “went to hell’s light show,” you nod again at his words, “And still decided to go back through the city to sit in a brightly lit meeting room and deal with the higher ups?” 

“That sums it up, yeah.” You part your fingers ever so slightly to glance at him but quickly close them. 

He sighs. “Here, keep your eyes closed but move your hands.” 

“Gojo?” You question as you hear the shifting of fabric. 

“It’s fine just move your hands,” he gently coaxes you and you feel his cool dry hands gently pull your own from your face. Then he’s gently tugging something over your head and you realize he’s putting his blindfold on you, the thick soft cloth finally blocking out all light. Instead of tucking it behind your ears he pulls it slightly lower so it covers them and at least partially softens the sounds around you. You’re both quiet for several moments until he takes your glasses and tucks them into his pocket. You don’t see that of course but you trust him to not break the things you need to see since you’ll want to see again eventually.  “You still with me?” 

“Y-yeah, thank you. Don’t you need this though?”

You don’t see him shrug but he does it anyway. “I’ll be fine without it for a bit. I’ve got my sunglasses if it gets bad. I think you need it a lot more than me right now. Do you want me to take you home? You can’t make it there blind so i’ll-” 

“Gojo, if you teleport me right now I’ll probably throw up on you.” 

“Gross.”

“I’m just being honest.”

He hums in thought. “How about I just carry you to my office then? It’s nice and cool in there and I can draw the blinds.” 

You’re quiet for a moment and he almost asks again until you nod. “Y-yeah alright.” 

When he picks you up he does so with care, making sure he doesn’t do anything unexpected. Normally the idea of being touched by Gojo would be much more pleasant but each point of contact makes your clothes rub more uncomfortably against your skin. You don’t complain though and just let him carry you. You tuck your head into his neck. You’ll probably feel mortified later but right now all you care about is being somewhere dark and quiet.  You think you hear some of the students start to speak to him and maybe begin freaking out when they see that he’s carrying you but his energy shifts slightly and you hear him shush them. Surprisingly they immediately comply. You imagine it has everything to do with the shift in his energy and not respecting the fact that they’d  been hushed. 

There’s the soft sound of a door opening and then being closed again before you find yourself being set on a comfortable chair. “Just get some rest alright? I’ll be back.” 

“Thank you, Gojo.” You curl up in the chair and he smiles a little at you. 

–

You’re a little surprised later when you open your eyes and are faced with complete darkness. Your brain is hazy and takes a moment to catch back up to you. You vaguely remember the conversation with Gojo and him slipping his blindfold on you- oh. Right. You reach toward your face and push up the dark fabric. You blink in the low light of the room. Gojo is at his desk, looking terribly bored of doing his paperwork in the dim lamplight. At least you think he looks bored with how he’s resting his cheek on his fist and holding a document in his other hand. You can’t really see anything else without your glasses.

He perks up when he notices you looking at him. “Hey there, feeling any better?” His voice is still quiet just in case your ears were still sensitive. He gets up and grabs something from his desk before walking over to you. You can now see that he’s holding your glasses. 

“Yeah, still a lil fuzzy but definitely better.” You give him a sleepy but grateful smile. He almost wishes you hadn’t taken your glasses back because he knows that as your vision comes back into focus you’re now able to see how pink his cheeks are. You look so cute half asleep and it’s not really a vulnerable moment he’d ever thought he’d get to see you in. Especially not curled up in his office with his blindfold sitting part way on your head leaving your hair mussed up. You sit up and stretch, arching your back in a way that gets his eyes to track over your body before you pull the blindfold the rest of the way off your head and press it into his hand. “Really thank you. I hate to say it but I was on verge of tears before you helped me out.” 

He pulls the blindfold over his head but lets it rest around his neck instead of pulling it over his eyes. “It’s no problem really. You weren’t acting like yourself. Next time just go home if you feel that way. I’ll cover for you if you need me to.” 

You scratch at the back of your neck. “You already do so much, I don’t feel like I should be asking you to do that.” 

He shakes his head. “I mean it. Gives me an excuse to give those old bastards a hard time.”

You snort. “As if you need me to give you an excuse.” 

He smiles but otherwise doesn’t respond to that particular comment. “I do mean it. I think you might be surprised by how well I understand what you were going through. It’s not exactly the same but there’s a reason I always have my eyes covered.” 

“Yeah alright then… I’ll let you know next time.” 

His smile widens into a grin, bringing out his dimples.”Good. Now how about I bring you home now? I doubt you want to deal with the trains.”

“Gojo, if I throw up-”

“Then that’s literally on me.”

“Gross,” you echo his comment from earlier. 

—-

You don’t get sick from being teleported but it’s a near thing as you lean heavily against Gojo in your entryway. He raises an eyebrow at you. “You gonna be alright?” 

“Y-yeah I’m good.” You let out a slow breath before taking your weight off him and toeing off your shoes in the entryway. “Did you want to come in for a bit? I won’t be up for long but I should fix something to eat. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. 

Gojo studies you for a moment, and without his blindfold in place you feel exposed. “How about I order us takeout then?”

“I don’t know if I should eat anything greasy right now.”

“I can order you some soup. I know a place.”

You consider his offer for a moment before nodding. “Yeah okay. Sounds good.” You begin to walk toward the main part of your apartment. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up while you order food. Make yourself at home okay?” 

He hums in the affirmative before you vanish into your room. 

—

When you emerge a bit later you’re wearing a clean pair of sweatpants and one of your sleep shirts, which was really just an oversized band-t. You’ve made a half hearted attempt to dry your hair with a towel. The apartment is filled with the smell of food making your stomach growl and drawing you more quickly to the main part of your apartment.  Gojo has made himself comfortable just like you’d told him to. There’s containers of food spread out in front of him on your coffee table and he’s relaxed into the love seat with your cat on the back by his head. The little shit sniffing and chewing at his hair, which you suppose meant Gojo passed your feline companion’s test for being allowed to exist in your space. But what really gets your attention is how Gojo has discarded his work jacket and is just sitting there in a tight black t-shirt that clings to him like a second skin. It takes your breath away a little because while you knew he was probably muscular in theory it just never really sank in because he always wore such baggy clothes. 

“You just going to keep standing there staring holes into me or are you gonna join me for dinner?” His voice is full of amusement.  

You squeak. Of course he noticed you. “S-sorry. I was just surprised. My cat doesn’t normally like when there are men in the apartment he doesn’t know.” It’s only a half lie.

Gojo snorts and glances back at you. “You have a lot of strange men over?” He says in a teasing tone.

“No. Just.. he hates whenever maintenance is here and he attacked poor Nanami’s leg once when he stopped by.” 

Oh now that makes Gojo laugh, loudly in fact, though he quietens himself down to chuckles when he notices you flinch at the noise. “Maybe your cat is a bad judge of character, liking me more than Nanami,” he surprises you by saying at his own expense. 

“No, I think he just picked up on how at ease you seem to be here,” you say this reflexively though a second thought occurs to you moment after when you remember how Gojo had carried you and you’d buried your face in his neck. Your scent must be clinging to him and especially to his blindfold that he's still wearing around his neck. The thought makes you blush and he tilts his head at you for a moment before gesturing for you to come sit down, patting the cushion beside him.

You suddenly wish your apartment wasn’t so sparsely furnished but since it was normally just you here the only place to sit in the living room really is directly next to Gojo. You consider saying you should move to the kitchen table but did you actually want to miss an opportunity to be so close to Gojo when he was offering it? The answer was apparently ‘no’ as you make your way over. He crosses his legs to make room for you and you take your seat next to him. At your arrival your cat mrrps and headbutts the back of your head before leaving. 

“Now-” Gojo leans forward picking up a container and a spoon for you, “go ahead and eat.” Once he’s sure you have a good grip and aren’t going to drop hot soup on the two of you he grabs his own food and sits back, his arm brushing against you. The two of you eat in silence your arms occasionally knocking into each other as you fill your empty stomachs. 

Before long you’re drowsily sagging to the side and Gojo is gently taking the mostly empty container from your hands. This causes you to jerk and blink up at him groggily. “Ah sorry-”

He chuckles. “You don’t need to apologize, you’re exhausted. Why don’t you head to bed? I’ll clean up and head out after alright?” 

You feel a little guilty. “You don’t need to clean up, Gojo.” 

He holds up a hand. “It’s not a big deal really. You just get some rest.” 

He stands and stretches, and he reminds you a bit of a very oversized cat. his fingers brushing your low ceiling. Then he’s holding a hand out to you and pulling you up from the loveseat.  The two of you say your goodnights and goodbyes before you shuffle your way to your room. He stands there in your living room with an impossibly fond smile on his face.  He catches your cat giving him what could be a judgmental stare from the corner of his eye. “Bet you think I should have asked them out, huh?” The cat just flicks his tail unimpressed. You, unaware of the small exchange between Gojo and your feline companion, fall asleep to the sounds of Gojo cleaning up.

The next morning you wake up to the chime of your phone. You bink blearily and fumble for your phone. When you unlock the screen you see you have a message from Gojo. 

Gojo: hey I hope you’re feeling better this morning. if you’re up to it do you want to come meet me for breakfast? i’d like to ask you something.

You sit up and rub at your face before responding. 

You: can’t you ask me over text? 

Gojo: it’s something i’d rather ask you in person. so will you? 

You: sounds a bit ominous but ok

Gojo: it’s nothing bad I swear! 

You grin sleepily to yourself. 

You: yeah yeah you’re just trying to lure me into a false sense of security

Gojo: you wound me!! i would never. sooo meet me in 30 minutes? 

You: not giving me much time to wake up huh? 

His next message is the location of a cafe not far from your apartment. He apparently took your question as a yes. 

So you get up and scramble to get ready, you’re still a bit disheveled but you're comfortable enough around Gojo to not really care. As you shoo your cat away from the door so you can slip out you have no idea that when you return home it’ll be with your soon to be boyfriend.

____

And that's it! I just needed a comfort fic so i wrote it myself. I'm still working on chapter 7 of my Satoru x reader x Suguru fic. It's just taking time to pull together

@nanamikentoseyebags @strawberrystepmom @gojoest

[silkjade-archived]

our lives are made in these small hours

Featuring—tighnari, alhaitham, kaveh ⤀ summary: in the most peaceful form of love, life is brightened by even the most mundane of moments ⤀ warnings: gn!reader, fluff ! a/n: this was sitting in my drafts for a long time

— 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈

Soft streams of sunlight weave their way between the thickets of avidhya forest until they make their way through the windows of your bedroom. It’s comfortably warm as it hits your face, much like the sleeping figure beside you. Blinking away the sleep from your eyes, you turn to face the forest ranger you’re lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

It’s rare enough that tighnari has a day off, and even rarer still for him to sleep in, so you obviously don’t want to wake him yet. You prop yourself up as gently as possible, careful not to create too much movement on your shared bed, and take in the sight before you.

He’s always handsome, but a sleeping tighnari is a different sight to behold— one you don’t get to see very often, as he tends to rise far earlier than you, so you don’t fault yourself for falling victim at the mesmerizing way the early morning sun dapples across his skin, or how the short pieces of his fringe fall loosely over his full lashes. Your gaze makes its way upward, toward his long ears and how compellingly soft they look, ebbing and flowing in line with his breathing.

Just the tip, you think as your wavering arm hovers above, reminding yourself to keep your touch light so as not to wake him. You bite your lip in a poor attempt to hide the giddy smile that appears at the way his ear twitches and twirls on reflex as your finger ghosts the tip of his ear. A quick glance down to the fox hybrid’s face assures that, to your relief, he seems to remain asleep.

Unbeknownst to you, however, tighnari smiles inwardly; he’s much more successful at hiding it than you were. If he could, he’d roll his eyes at the way you take such adorable delight in the mundane. Out of habit, he’s been awake for hours, waiting, thinking you’d appreciate the rare opportunity to wake up together, laze around in bed, and cuddle into the late morning. At least two of those options are still viable.

From your peripherals, you catch the swishing movements of something dark and furry, but before you can even process it all, an arm wraps around your waist, essentially pulling you back down under the sea of pillows and blankets, and right into the confines of your lover’s arms.  Your gaze meets tighnari’s and only then do you realize that those verdant green eyes shine much too brightly, and glint far too playfully, for someone who should’ve supposedly just woken up.

— 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌

Sumeru’s acting grand sage takes his lunch exactly at noon everyday, never missing a minute, regardless of whatever conversation he must cut short, or of what meetings he must put on hold. The two of you have made it routine to meet for lunch, squeezing in as much time together as possible in spite of the unfortunate new schedule that came with his equally unfortunate new title.

For sumeru, an era change, especially in the case of overthrowing a corrupt administration, is good. For alhaitham, personally, it is a blatant disruption to his peaceful life. At least with you, he can find solace, your presence anchoring him in place while the tumultuous waves of the akademiya post-coupe, shakes through all other aspects of his life.

Amidst all the buzz of the city, your company is a familiar comfort that manifests regardless of whether the two of you exchange words in conversation, or just silently bask in the other’s presence. A heavy weight lands on you as alhaitham rests his head on your shoulder, energy clearly depleted from half a day’s work of dealing with annoying tasks and people.

Anyone who stumbles upon the scene would be struck with disbelief, but with you, alhaitham lets down his guard, trusting you to catch him should he fall; it’s a privilege he keeps reserved for you, and you alone. Alhaitham closes his eyes as he listens to you talk, letting out an occasional hum in response, only lifting his head when you abruptly pause mid-sentence.

Overhead, the sun and shadows shift, indicating the end of your little lunch date. Alhaitham’s current allotted breaks are much shorter than they were compared to when he was the scribe, so you find it odd that, for someone normally so punctual, he hasn’t moved an inch from his position.

“Don’t you have to start heading back now?” Technically, yes. He should. And he should also pick up his pace as well if he wanted to make it back on time.

But… he finds your first hand witness of ex-grand sage azar falling into yazadaha pool much, much more enticing than whatever awaits him at the akademiya, so alhaitham only briefly pretends to contemplate his options before a small smile settles upon his lips.

“Actually, the acting grand sage just approved my request for extended lunch hours, so please,” he gestures, “continue.” Afterall, who’s going to reprimand him? The grand sage?

— 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

Both of you slink out of your respective bedrooms for a little break from the projects you’ve each been working on. The quest for a caffeine top-up, or a quick midnight snack, turns into impromptu 3am dates with kaveh under the warm light of the kitchen.

He gets to work, quickly whipping up a dish, while you start brewing a fresh pot of coffee. While kaveh may be in no place to reprimand you for working well into the witching hours (it would be glaringly hypocritical of him), he can at least ensure that any midnight meals you might have will be nutritious.

You watch the architect from your seat on the kitchen counter; it’s endearing, the way his brows are furrowed in concentration, stacking biscuit upon biscuit, as if he’s working to make architectural history for the second time in his life, albeit in a delicious fatteh form.

Tonight, however, the little bread building kaveh so painstakingly creates doesn’t quite resemble the famed palace that it so often does. Instead, this structure is less towering, less grand, more intimate.

For a man as burdened as kaveh, the future is but a mere afterthought. Haunted by the ghosts of his past, he already bends under the weight of his unsettled debts and looming deadlines. And armed with only inspiration as fleeting as the fickle whims of his clients… the present is already a path rife with uncertainty. But with you by his side, kaveh allows himself to dream again. Such is this random burst of inspiration that hits him late at night, urging him to construct a physical manifestation of the home he’s found in you.

“… and a padisarah garden where we can drink wine and watch the sun go down,” he mumbles, recalling your exact words while sprinkling on the finishing touches of his latest masterpiece. No need to dig through the depths of his mind for ideas when his new dream home comes as effortlessly as dreaming itself.

Of course you end up sharing the fatteh, though it’s always a shame to break apart such culinary artistry, especially when it's a rough model of a home he’s envisioned for your future together. When he’s with you, the path ahead is clear as day, so it’s alright— he’ll draft up a real blueprint later.

The last hours of the night are spent idly chatting away, and it’s not until you hear the first songs of the early morning dusk birds, that the spell breaks like a veil lifted, and in this moment, you realize the two of you have spent far too long at the dining table together. You scurry back to your room while kaveh prepares to do the same.

As for the dishes, he waves it off, dumping them all in the sink. The two of you have far too much work to catch up on… and it’s alhaitham’s turn to do the dishes anyway.

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[chestcongestion]

Crimson Wave: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Warnings/ Content Tags: Mess, Menstruation, mentions of stomach pain but absolutely no emeto, Val/ent/ino being kind of a jackass, mild injury (no blood...associated with the injury, that is)

Word Count: 4,400

This was so fun to write, here's a fic of Ve/lve/tte coming down with a very throat and chest-heavy cold and having to go about her day while being completely unaware that she's on day one of her period. A lot of misery, a lot of shenanigans, but it pays off in the end...poor lady, I adore her and I apologize in advance for doing this to her. Hope you guys enjoy!

Beep- Beep- Beep! 

Beep- Beep- Beep! 

Beep- Beep-! 

Velvette dragged herself out of bed and hurriedly shut off the obnoxious alarm on her phone, blearily rubbing her eyes with both fists and yawning as she greeted the day bright and early at around 5:00. 

Swinging her tiny legs out from underneath the covers, Velvette felt a harsh chill when the morning air and crisp air conditioning hit her bare legs and stomach, every last hair on her body standing on end as she fought back a small shiver. 

“Mmm… here we go,” Velvette mumbled to herself- her voice still hoarse from sleep- before tugging off her silk bonnet and freeing her massive cloud of tight tri-color curls. 

Velvette paused after planting both of her bare feet on the floor completely, attempting to recount the events of the night before because it felt like her body was attempting to warn her about something, everything felt… touchy… not quite right. 

Looking down at her feet, Velvette scoffed upon seeing that her stomach was blocking her view, remembering the likely reason behind her waking up bloated. Last night, Valentino had been in one of his moods and invited Velvette out for a drink, leaving Vel to slurp her way through six cocktails while her pornographer “friend” sucked and fucked his sorrows away. 

“Fuckin’ prick,” Velvette complained to herself after giving her body an unimpressed once-over, suddenly noticing the feathery tickle lingering in the back of her throat. 

Velvette let out a small cough, attempting to scratch the itch in her pharynx so she could get on with her day. 

The tickle remained, fluttering around almost teasingly in Velvette’s throat. 

“Heght-hrmmm! Heght-hemm!” Velvette cleared her throat while drowsily reaching for the water bottle on her nightstand, taking a lengthy few swigs to try and drown the irritating sensation. 

Velvette felt a pit opening in her stomach when the sips of water not only did fuck all to suffocate the tickle in her throat, but instead triggered a throbbing tenderness on top of it, a soreness that made Velvette nearly choke on her water as she mourned any idea of having a good day. 

Taking a quick shower and taming her hair into a fluffy ponytail, Velvette tugged on a pair of white capri pants with black hearts on the pockets, groaning at the fact that she had to yank the fabric up over her thighs and feeling self conscious about how the waist of the pants clashed with her stomach. 

“I-ihh’pshhuu! Ih’Psshhew!” Velvette sneezed, wiping her face with a watery sniffle as her ‘nose’ began to run, threatening to make a complete mess of her makeup, “Fuck’s sake- Hrrght-hrmm!- I am not in the mood to deal with a cold.” 

 Velvette pulled on a navy blue long-sleeved T-shirt that she matched with a desaturated pink baby tee over top. The outfit was a bit safe, but the layers guaranteed that no one would notice Velvette’s midriff troubles, and they’d keep any stray drafts of air from exacerbating her cold. 

“Sitting under the AC with my belly out is probably how I got ill in the first place… Ih’pSsshIEW!... Damnit!” Velvette grumbled, letting out a hoarse, scratchy cough into her sleeve. In spite of her best efforts, Velvette’s voice was stuck in a sort of limbo, still sounding rough but not rough enough to make her cough.

Sitting in a draft was not the reason for Velvette’s illness, blame for that would belong to the impromptu makeout session she had with the busty succubus who’d been bartending that night, a makeout session that left Velvette with the succubus’s cough drop in her mouth. The cold air on her exposed chest and stomach still didn’t do her any favors, though. 

After picking her accessories and grabbing her fully-charged phone, Velvette left her large bedroom in the penthouse and wandered into the kitchen to truly start her day, silently wincing at a nagging pain developing in her lower back. 

“Good Morning, Velvette,” Vox greeted, taking a sip of his coffee as he thumbed through the newspaper with his other hand. 

“Hiiii pequeñita, thank you for hanging out with me last niight,” Valentino greeted, very visibly still drunk, swirling a Carajillo in one of his hands. 

“Oh piss off,” Velvette said, cringing at the croakiness of her voice and turning away from her colleagues to press a hand against her tender throat, “Hrrght-HRMM!” 

“Awww, did you lose your voice?” Val said teasingly, dangerously close to falling off of his barstool as he swayed, “I’m ssurprised I didn’t lose mine… last night was wild.” 

“I’m not- heght-hemm- fuck’s sake! I’m not talking to you right now,” Velvette hissed, struggling to open her large metal tumbler cup so she could make herself some tea, “I-Ihh’psShiEW!” 

“Bless you,” Vox said, swiping his finger against the air and smirking as Velvette’s cup was magically filled with steaming hot Yorkshire Gold, plus two good squeezes of lemon juice and a few tablespoons of honey. 

Velvette eagerly took a sip of her drink, melting against the counter as the warm liquid cascaded down her raw throat and briefly dampened the irritating tickle, “Thank you, Darling,” she said, licking her lips. 

“Don’t mention it, anything for you, Doll,” Vox replied, shooting Valentino a brief glare before returning his attention to Velvette, “I take it someone wasn’t on his best behavior last night.” 

“He was fine… same levels of annoying he usually is when he’s drunk- Ih…Ih’ptshh!- ‘scuse me… SnFF!,” Velvette said, “I’m just pissed cause now I have to go to this stupid meeting with a cold- Ihh…I-ihh… Ih’ptssShew!” 

“Bless you,” Vox sighed, handing Velvette a travel package of tissues from his pocket. 

“Thank you,” Velvette replied, her voice growing hoarse again as the incessant tickle started up again, “Heght-hrmm!...Eght-Hrmm!” 

Vox’s gaze lingered on Velvette, sympathy in his eyes as she desperately fought back a cough, “I can go to the overlord meeting today if you aren’t feeling well, Velvette,” he offered. 

“No!” Velvette scoffed, biting her lip as the throbbing pain in her lower back grew more intense, “I’m fine-” she let out a hoarse, violent cough when her voice faded at the end of her sentence, “Damnit! I need Angel in 45 minutes to take pictures for the lingerie line release, keep your filthy mitts off of him until then!” 

“I make no promises, chiquita,” Valentino teased, smirking at Velvette until he was hit in the face by her hairbrush, “Ow!” 

“Fuck you!” Velvette shouted, “You’re gonna make one today, arsehole!” 

Velvette stomped out of the penthouse, still desperately clearing her hoarse throat, and leaving her two colleagues to finish their liquid breakfast in stunned silence. 

“What a bitch,” Valentino scoffed, rubbing the brush-shaped red mark on his face. 

“You’re the bitch, Val,” Vox replied, polishing off his coffee and folding up his newspaper before heading downstairs. 

“You’re not wrong, Ha! I wear it loud and proud,” Valentino said with a tipsy giggle, struggling to get to his feet, only to slip on his own wings and slam back-first against the kitchen floor, “Fuck, I’m still wasted.” 

An hour later, Velvette was leaning against a stool in her studio, struggling to conceal her reaction to the pain in her back that had somehow managed to wrap around to her stomach, when a familiar voice entered through the pink double doors. 

“Hi Vel~ God, it’s nice to  have some work to do where I get to keep my panties on for a change, eh?” Angel said, greeting Velvette with an eager wave, his jovial expression dropping when he saw the poorly-concealed misery on Velvette’s face, “You alright, Toots?” 

“You’re late,” Velvette croaked, taking a swig of her tea. 

Angel opened his mouth to speak- 

“Not a word about my voice. I have a cold. Go get dressed, I have other shit to do today,” Velvette said, her voice a raspy hiss as she gestured towards the rack of lingerie up against the wall, coughing harshly into her fist when Angel was out of her sight, “Fuck me, I dunno if I’m gonna have any voice left for the meeting.”

Angel pulled on a pair of black leather lingerie with hot pink accents, draping himself across the bed that was brought into the studio as a prop. 

“Hrrght-humm…” Velvette cleared her throat, taking a swig of her tea before looking at the scene with intense focus, turning to her assistant, “Turn off two of the lights and add warm color slides to the other ones.” 

“Yes, Miss Velvette,” the assistant muttered, hurrying to go speak with the lighting director. 

Velvette turned to face Angel, “Lean back against the pillow and make an ‘L’ shape with your legs, one knee should be up and the other one should be pointing to the right,” she instructed, watching Angel Dust carefully readjust his position, “Perfect! Gorgeous- someone tighten the back of the corset for him, please, the bigger and fuller his fluff looks in real life, the less editing I have to do.” 

Feeling the tickle building to a crescendo at the top of her throat, as though someone was stroking her larynx with a feather, Velvette turned away to cough, and cough, and cough until she was red in the face and breathless, struggling to stand up straight after panting with her hands on her knees. 

Wordlessly, Velvette’s assistant raced across the room and returned to her boss’s side with a glass of cold water, which Velvette eagerly chugged, handing the empty glass back and standing up straight. 

“Not a fucking word from any of you knobheads, get back to work!” Velvette barked, “I-Ih’PSsCHEW! Ih’pSssHEW!” 

Velvette blew her ‘nose’, gently dabbing at her nostrils with a tissue to wipe up the watery mess that kept threatening to trickle down her face, “This is a fucking disaster,” she muttered to herself, hearing the camera flash a few times and turning to direct Angel, “Alright, now lie on your back, pin one arm behind your head, two across your chest, and one across your pelvis so your fingers are draped over your crotch….yup, just like that, well done.” 

 An hour later, and the photo shoot is finished. Velvette watches Angel sashay out of her studio, and looks at the photos, hand-selecting which ones will be released to print and posted online. 

“Good job everyone, thank you for being halfway competent for once,” Velvette announced, turning to muffle another annoyingly ticklish cough with her sleeve, frowning at her empty tumbler and turning to stare at one of the security cameras in the corner of the room, “Voooxxx- Heght-hrmm!- I know you’re watching, top me off, please?” 

Velvette smirked when her cup felt warm in her hand again, Vox refilling it with a spontaneous swipe of his finger from his seat in his surveillance den, “Thank you, Darling,” she said, blowing a kiss to the camera and checking her phone, sighing and making her way to the overlord meeting in the Weapons District. 

On her way downstairs to her car, Velvette stopped to lean against a wall, gently grabbing her bloated stomach as the dull pain that had been bothering her grew more intense. The throbbing pain in Velvette’s lower back was also still raging on. 

“I swear to fuck if this ends up being the flu, I am going to choke Valentino with his own stupid wings,” Velvette grumbled through clenched teeth, gathering herself, giving her sore stomach a brief pat, and continuing to walk down the stairs. 

One twelve minute car ride, three swigs of tea, and two irritated, itchy-sounding sneezes later, Velvette arrived at the Carmine Weaponry Distribution Center, taking the rear-entrance elevator to the top floor where the meeting room was located. 

Walking through the double doors and taking her seat at the opposite end of the table, Velvette struggled not to shiver under the bitter chill of the air conditioning. 

“What a pleasant surprise, Velvette, a member of your little cohort is on time for once,” Carmilla teased, smiling at Velvette with clasped hands, “I take it that you will be filling in for your colleagues again, today?” 

Velvette, not wanting to waste what was left of her voice, and knowing that talking would only trigger the feathery tickle in her throat, simply took a sip of her tea and responded to Carmilla with a firm nod. 

Carmilla gasped, “Are we keeping out brash childish opinions to ourselves today? My goodness, I couldn’t be more proud of you! Good girl,” she said, mockery flickering in her cold eyes. 

“Up yours you wrinkly old cow,” Velvette hissed, turning away to cough, wincing at the crackle of congestion she could hear in her chest and throat as she coughed. 

“Hmm, I spoke too soon,” Carmilla said with a sigh, “You’re free to catch up at the next meeting if you aren’t feeling well, Velvette.” 

“Piss off, I’m fine,” Velvette replied, her voice noticeably croaky as she took a desperate sip of her tea. 

“Very well then, we can get started,” Carmilla scoffed, tapping the stack of papers she had in front of her against her desk to straighten them out before beginning her usual pre-meeting diatribe. 

The rest of the meeting seemed to coast  by Velvette in a blur as she struggled to keep her sinuses from dripping by holding a tissue up to her nostrils, trying her hardest not to sniffle and make any noise. Her stomach hurt so much, and her back was so sore, and her throat was so itchy, Velvette was completely miserable and struggling to hide it. 

Velvette was so preoccupied by her own misery that she didn’t even glance at her phone, nor did she notice the visible discomfort of the radio demon from two seats away every time she wiped at her nostrils or took a slightly-phlegmy inhale through her clenched teeth. 

Eventually, about fifty minutes into the two-hour meeting, Velvette felt the nagging sensation of the tickle in her throat bubbling up to the surface. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Velvette was determined to drown the sensation with a swig of her tea, only to remember that she had polished it off thirty minutes ago. 

Velvette swallowed, bottling up a wince at the dull pain in the back of her pharynx, as the low rumble of phlegm in her chest threatened to turn into a coughing fit if she exhaled wrong. 

‘Come on… don’t cough, don’t cough, don’t cough,’ 

“So, we would need to discuss territory agreements with some of the lesser overlords, but I think-” 

Velvette coughed, a sharp, ticklish cough with a crackle of congestion in the background, something that Carmilla initially ignored, continuing her speech without missing a beat. 

“-that we could definitely cede a bit of excess territory to lower ranking overlords for a price, that price would have to be negotiated of course but-” 

Velvette coughed again, this one felt wetter and came from deeper in her chest and throat, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she struggled to force the urge to cough back down. 

“- I feel as though such an agreement could foster a better understanding between our two factions, seeing as we are a source of resentment for them, and they are a source of annoyance for us-” 

Velvette devolved into a coughing fit, letting out cough after cough even as she grew breathless, desperately patting her chest with a splayed hand to knock the stubborn congestion loose. 

Velvette’s eyes shimmered with shame-induced tears and her cheeks burned bright from the embarrassment of drawing so much attention to herself while she was so vulnerable, she coughed and coughed, hard enough that she could taste the phlegm that was inching up her windpipe. She was so preoccupied with her intense coughing fit, that Velvette didn’t feel a strange rushing sensation between her legs that seemed to occur after every second cough. 

Eventually, after four minutes of non-stop hacking, Velvette spat a mass of phlegm into one of her last tissues, taking a deep inhale and struggling to clear the excess mucus from her throat, which hurt more than it had all day. 

“Hrght-hrghtt-heght-hrmm!,” Velvette struggled, rubbing her throat with a manicured hand, “I’m sorry…” she said, her voice a hoarse, tattered whisper, “Didn’t mean to interrupt, I promise… I-iih’pshuu! Ih’pshhew!” 

“I think maybe you should head home if things are too much for you, Velvette,” Carmilla said with a smirk, “I’ll have someone on my staff send the minutes from this meeting to Vox… even if he already has footage from my VoxTech security cameras.” 

“Fine!” Velvette said, her voice still struggling as she clambered to her feet, placing a hand on her sore stomach and turning to storm out of the meeting room, only to be stopped by Rosie gently holding her wrist, “What is it?” 

“Oh… I don’t wanna embarrass you, sweetie, but I think you’ve had a little accident,” Rosie whispered, “Your pants…” 

Carmilla doubled over with laughter, falling to the floor with a thud as a few of the other sovereign overlords chuckled at the sight playing out before them- a bit of a juvenile reaction, but not unprompted. 

Velvette turned to see what everyone found so funny, only to notice a massive bright red stain on the seat of her pants, with trails of red running down her white pant legs, and even bits of dried blood around her ankles. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’ve started my period,” Velvette hissed, clenching her fists and feeling her eyes start to water, the shame and embarrassment from bleeding through her white pants after having a coughing fit loud enough to distract everyone during the meeting, it was starting to be too much, and Velvette was sick of it, “Thank you for not laughing at m-me.” 

“Oh don’t mention it, Honey, it happens to the best of us,” Rosie said, “They’ll forget this ever even happened, I promise, run on home… I hope you feel better.” 

“Th-SnFF!- thank you,” Velvette whispered, her voice threatening to devolve into a hiccuping sob as she turned on her heels and ran out of the meeting room, one of her boots’ heels snapping off right as she approached the elevators, causing her to roll her ankle and collapse to the floor with a loud Crack! 

“Oww! Fuck!” Velvette sobbed, her larynx straining as she struggled and failed to blink back her tears, ruining her eyeliner and mascara as they cascaded down her face in dark trails, gathering beneath her chin and rolling down her neck. Slowly returning to her feet, Velvette let out a hoarse cough and limped into the elevator, her sobs audible even behind the thick metal doors. 

Back at the Vees’ penthouse on top of the VoxTech Enterprises skyscraper, Valentino- finally sober after a long nap- was combing out the fur on his neck while Vox looked through the month’s sales statistics on his tablet, when suddenly the double doors of the apartment’s entrance swung open. 

“Oh, you’re back, did the meeting end early?” Vox asked, briefly glancing at the clock on his table to check the time. 

“No- SnFF!- Carmilla sent me home, because I kept-” Velvette paused, her breath catching on a particularly sharp exhale and devolving into a heavy, wet, productive cough, “-that… I kept doing that.” 

Vox set down his tablet and gestured for Velvette to come closer, placing a firm hand on Velvette’s back and feeling the rumble of congestion under his fingertips, “This cold sounds like it’s settling in your chest,” he sighed, giving Velvette’s back a firm pat, “I’ll get you some decongestant and cough syrup, don’t worry.” 

Velvette pushed away from Vox after she felt a gushing sensation between her legs, her stomach churning as she felt disgusting and dirty, desperate to clean up before the dripping managed to reach below her ankles, “Fuck off, I don’t need your help,” she sniffled, her voice still a raspy mess as she tried to hide her tears. 

Vox looked at Velvette’s shaky form and drew his focus on the fashion designer’s heavily bruised and wobbly left ankle, “Oh my god, Velvette, did you hurt yourself? What happened to your leg?” he asked, reaching down to scoop Velvette into his arms, only for her to back away, kicking him with her injured leg to keep him at a distance. 

“No! Don’t fucking touch me!” Velvette snapped, wincing intensely when she tried to put weight on her left leg again, “Oww! Bollocks!” 

Unable to cope with the pain in her leg, throat, stomach, and back all hitting her at once, Velvette collapsed onto the floor, desperately rubbing her injured ankle and breathing shakily through clenched teeth, nothing could make this moment any worse. 

“Shit, what’s gotten into you, Vel? You on your period or something?” Valentino joked, snickering as he shot Velvette a playful glance in between strokes, still combing out his fluffy white mane. 

Velvette ripped off her other boot, throwing it at Valentino with murderous rage, “Yes!” she shouted, her voice cracking and threatening to fade, “Heght-eght-hemm!” 

Vox noticed the mess of blood on Velvette’s pants, and bit his tongue, his heart throbbing as he thought about what to do next. 

“I’m bloated, mby stomach hurts, mby back hurts-” Velvette paused, swallowing her saliva and wincing at the throbbing pain in her throat, “- mby throat is so sore I can barely swallow because of this stupid cold and this stupid cough, and this stupid day!” 

Vox bit down tighter on his tongue as Velvette silently burst into tears, her mascara running hopelessly down her face and staining her possibly fever-flushed cheeks as she struggled to contain herself. 

“I’mb so tired… and I bled through mby trousers- mby white fucking trousers- at the stupid meeting and everyone saw and they all laughed at me,” Velvette whispered, unable to raise her voice any more as she swiped hopelessly at her mascara-stained tears, “I feel disgusting and achy and I’m fucking starving but my throat is too sore to eat anything, and you stupid fuckers think it’s hilarious! I hate you!” 

Vox quietly sat down next to Velvette on the floor, leaning over to give his colleague and dearest friend a tight hug, gently rubbing her upper back, “It’s okay… I’m so sorry, Velvette,” he whispered, swiping horizontally against the air with his index finger and smiling as he stood up- gently pulling Velvette back onto her feet with him. 

“I just want to go to bed,” Velvette whispered, rubbing her throat with one hand and massaging her throbbing stomach with the other. 

“Not yet,” Vox said, “If you head into your bathroom there’s a nice hot bubble bath waiting for you, I’ll have your pants laundered immediately to get the stains out, and I think the steam from the bath will loosen up some of that congestion in your chest.” 

Velvette let loose a crackling wet cough into her sleeve, wiping away her tears, “Th-thank you,” she whispered, “Ih…ih’psshew…’Pshhew!... I’m losing my voice…” 

“I know, I know, I’ll make sure there’s a big pot of hot tea with honey and lemon for you when you get out of the bath, aaand some death by chocolate brownies,” Vox said with sincere, kind eyes.

“Mkay… I’b gonna go wash off now… Ih’psshew!” Velvette said in her croaky whisper of a voice, biting her lip to work through the pain and half-hopping, half-limping her way to her bathroom. 

Once Velvette had left the room, Vox rolled up his newspaper from earlier and smacked Valentino in the back of the head. 

“Ow! What the hell did I do?!” Valentino whined. 

“ ‘Euhh, what are you on your period or something?!’ Really?! Are you fifteen years old?!” Vox snapped, smacking Valentino a second time, “You’re the reason she’s sick to begin with, don’t be a sexist pig! I can’t believe I’m the one saying this to you of all people!” 

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Valentino whined, cowering behind his arms to avoid being hit a third time. 

“You’d better be!” Vox said, dropping his newspaper and rolling his eyes, “The trouble you manage to get into, I swear…” 

An hour and a half later, Velvette was relaxed on the penthouse sofa in front of the TV, curled up in a pair of fleece pajama pants with hearts on them and a navy blue sweatshirt.

“Feeling better?” Vox asked, leaning over the back of the sofa and moving a few strands of Velvette’s freshly-washed hair out of her face. 

“Mmhm,” Velvette mumbled, her voice still practically gone, “Thank you again, this is nice… I-ihh…Ih’pshhew!” 

“Bless you,” Vox said, “You worked so hard today, you deserve some rest.” 

“I couldn’t imagine a better way to relax… doped up on Sloth Ring painkillers, warm blanket, tea, and an HD DVD box set of the seasons of Sherlock that aired after I died,” Velvette whispered, taking a slow sip of her tea before setting it back down on the coffee table, “This is amazing.” 

“Anything for you, Velvette, anything for you,” Vox replied, “I’ve told your employees that they can use this hiatus to catch up on any work they’ve been slacking on- on reduced pay, of course- that way you don’t have to worry about keeping up with your schedule until you get your voice back.” 

“Yaaay,” Velvette cheered, her voice hushed as she shifted her position slightly, readjusting her swollen ankle so that it sat better on the pillow and ottoman that were propping it up, “Vox… when you’re finished supervising the TV station, will you come back up to watch with me?” 

“Of course, I’ll bring back dinner, too, just text me what you want, okay?” Vox asked, gently pressing his screen against Velvette’s left cheek- similar to the way cats push their heads against the legs or torsos of humans they’re fond of. 

“Okay,” Velvette replied, stretching out with a raspy yawn before getting even more comfortable under her blanket, struggling to keep her eyes open, “I think I’m gonna take a nap… see you later tonight, Vox.” 

“See you then, Velvette,” Vox replied, leaving the room and listening to the echoey rumble of Velvette’s congested snoring from behind the closed doors, breathing a sigh of relief, “God, I’ve never been happier to have a penis… that looks like torture.” 

A bit crass… but he’s certainly not wrong. 

[bonefall]

I’d there any info on one eye EATING Tom??? That’s so wild but I hope one eye didn’t get heartburn from eating that dead beat

I'm still working out some key details of Thunderstar's Justice, especially since I'm at One Eye's part in my reread and things are really starting to come together.

But here's the current draft of One Eye and Skystar's tale so far, isolated from the "Grander Story" of Thunderstar's Justice;

To set some exposition a bit; Thunderstar's Justice is the SE following BB!DOTC. It begins after the First Battle. In BB, the main arc happens entirely before that point.

It opens on the burial. The sun rises on a hot summer day, the living cats commanded to bury the bodies to receive their lives.

But the day is hot and the clearing reeks. The bodies of their friends are decaying and there's too many to put to rest in one day.

(Sunlit Frost is a survivor of this fight, but he was badly bitten on the paw and yet he refuses to sit this out, digging and burying with a fresh wound. He develops an infection that permanently disables his hand. But that's off in the reeds)

The point here being that the summer stench of hot decay summons One Eye. A god of war, among other things.

And of course he takes a shine to Skystar right away. The Clans are weakened from losing so many cats, and ambitious Skystar is eager to recover his strength quickly.

So of course he is now getting more... "openminded" about accepting people into his Clan. There is a language barrier he's now considering bridging; where all his cats were previously Tribemew speakers, he decides that perhaps mean-looking Townmew and Parkmew speakers "deserve a chance"

Tom is one of them, but if there end up being any traitors, murderers, or other exiled cats from the other Clans, they are going to end up here.

NEW addition compared to previous drafts.... One Eye was quite loyal, at first. Useful, observant, helping Skystar in his plans to grow. But Skystar started noticing that One Eye was... too good at running things.

In fact he was quite charming. Always seemed to know what to do. Like he'd been a leader before.

This is still Thunderstar's story, with occasional cuts to Skystar. He isn't aware that SkyClan isn't currently planning conquest, but absolutely doesn't trust Skystar.

He's EXPANDING. He's accepted the person who got Turtle Heart killed into his Clan, plus other rogues, and Thunderstar stopped him before he was able to kill mama Bright Storm during the First Battle. No, he doesn't believe for a second that Skystar isn't planning something with those 8 extra lives he's got now.

He only hopes his own 8 will be enough as a deterrant.

It doesn't take long though. SkyClan is back on its shit and unstoppable

There's a few battles that are curbstomps, displaying how much power One Eye is lending to SkyClan. So Thunderstar has a taste of what he could have if One Eye was on his side.

At some point, Thunder remarks that the spirits were trying to give Sky a chance to change his ways, and yet he's only ever gotten worse and worse. One day it'll catch up to him!

Skystar shrugs this off. Of course. "I'm Just Trying to make my clan strong"

BUT, at one point... Tom breaks the code and kills someone. There are two rules and he just broke half of them.

And Skystar takes him aside to punish him... but One Eye comes along. In spite of Skystar trying to tell him off, because HE is supposed to be leader.

"I'll decide how to punish my own cats"

"But will you do so properly? Allow me, I've been waiting a long time for this."

"I said get out! This is MY cat and I decide what happens!"

But when Tom tries to join in on Skystar's scolding, "Yeah winky! Know your place!" One Eye bites his paw clean off.

Sky is too shocked to do anything. Tom is screaming

Is One Eye bigger, suddenly??

He has prepared the obituary ahead of time, licking his lips; "The pain you cause seeps into your meat like a flavor. You have sins deeper than your bones, soaked into your very marrow, and I will savor each bite."

Heavy_TF2_Nom.mp3

Clear Sky realizes something in this moment...

He needs One Eye, but One Eye does not need him. He is a leader. He is a monster. He is a God.

He is everything Skystar is, but stronger. Unstoppable.

And what will happen when One Eye ceases to want him around? And what did he mean-- 'waiting for this?' Sins? Flavor seeping into the meat-- like a marinade??

A lightbulb goes off in Skystar's head; "Tom was lunch and I'm going to be dinner. Good god I'm being seasoned!"

So, Tom's death is an important turning point. It's where Skystar's ambition is ground to a halt because of self-preservation. He fears death, and he fears a death as gruesome as what happened to Tom.

He realizes that what he's unleashed on the forest isn't mortal, and he has no control over the situation. He's fucked up BIG time... so badly that he needs the other Clans if any of them are going to hope to survive.

SO that is the context around Eat Tom. I'm still working on specifics here though, while this is technically a reworking of everything post-First Battle up to Thunderstar's Echo, this is practically a new story lmao.

I also left out the main story from this summary which is mostly Thunderstar as he considers what leadership means, how his anger influences his decisions but how far he's come from the main series, encouraging Bright Storm to retire and become the first elder, while connecting with Frost who feels like he's losing meaning in his life; now that both an arm and his dominant hand prevent him from building.

[majesticwren]

this is part II of this previous smutty one-shot. That one is still a stand-alone but, after this point, it is officially a multichaper. part III to come soon. edit: part III is done. be advised, this entire project is done solely for my pleasure, I am indulging myself so much with this. the angst that it carries (because yes there will be more coming - I am very good very evil) it's the energy I crave please don't come for me and trust the process I'll feed you smut. it is edited but not proofread. enjoy. a/n: hi :) me again back at it. I didn't like the first draft of this so I finally went back in and made it a little extra poly/gay with some more chemistry between kyle and will because I needed it. thank you bye 💕

trigger warning/s: angst angst angst, poly relationship dynamics, reference to sex, reference to threesome, smut, oral f receiving, shit loads of misunderstandings and miscommunication, swearing, OFC is unhinged and is her own trigger warning.

<- part I | part III -> prequel part I -> | part II -> | part III -> | part IV -> Masterlist

Erika sat still and collected. She had already been told off a few times because she was too fidgety so, now, it became a game of control on her own subconscious and nervous system. She was releasing her frustration on biting the inside of her cheek and lips instead. It was just as bad as bouncing her knee or just generally being unable to sit still and empty handed for longer than thirty seconds, but it was better manageable when her nail technician required her absolute stillness to work.

Not that she was winning. Not at all. Her mind was too busy. But, at least, it was fun to pretend she had everything under control. Everything was fine. Erika kept repeating it to herself like a prayer. She truly believed if she did it for long enough it would have become true. Because the alternative was heaving a breakdown, and she couldn’t afford one of those. Not when it risked to jeopardize the precarious balance her life had.

She was happy. She had been happy for a very long time. She had no right to suddenly feel like her very lucky, very privileged life could be somehow tight. And yet, she couldn’t shake her the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in a small box. Which was exactly why she spent every waking second feeling guilty and every sleeping moment being tormented by her subconscious painfully reminding her about everything she didn’t have.

It wasn’t fair. And not because she thought the universe was torturing her, but because she was aware she was the problem. 

She was a wild card; which was all fun and games until she got to moments of her life like that one when she decided she needed a revolution. 

When she was younger, she tended to act out. Sometimes she thought her family was too nice, so she went and created problems. Sometimes she hated being pretty and how easy life seemed to be, so she would become nasty. Sometimes people would assume she was nothing more than a pretty face, and she would think about the smartest, cruellest way to get revenge. Sometimes all Erika craved was attention and would indulge in sex, alcohol or drugs abuse to get what she wanted. It started when she was very young, some may say too young to understand the consequences of her actions. Her brother helped her out of most of the shit she found herself drowning into even before she was eighteen.

And then she met Kyle.

He had been different from any other guy or girl she had ever interacted with. She knew since the very beginning he was special to her; she was attracted to him like a moth to light. It was impossible for her to stay away. But he too became a rebellious act she did in spite of Mark when her brother noticed her interest, assumed wrong of her intentions and suggested her to stay away from Kyle because he had no intention of seeing her breaking his heart. So, she took him literally and proceeded to do exactly what Mark had asked her not to. She broke Kyle’s heart. And it took her time to understand her mistake and fix it. 

Thing was, she wasn’t a teenager anymore. She hadn’t allowed herself to act on a whim in a very long time and she wasn’t about to justify herself to risk to ruin her perfect fairytale life. 

She got to do the job of her dreams, having a career many would kill for, not only that but she was also making good money for her skill. And she got to travel the world side by side with her amazing, beautiful and talented boyfriend, making many friends along the way. It felt nothing but privilege to her. Some may had been deserved, but privilege all the same. 

The idea that she was going to possibly ruin it all was terrifying.

But, everything was fine, she reminded herself.

“So,” Regina, the girl working on her nails, sent her a curious look from the other side of the table. “You look very pretty today. I see you had your lashes done?”

“Just this morning,” Erika nodded, “and my hair too.”

“I see,” the girl’s look became suddenly cheeky. She was a proper chatter-box who lived for the scandalous gossip her clients brought to the salon. They all were. There and at the hair salon just across the way. Which was mostly pleasant and harmless, but Erika had a feeling of what was coming and didn’t have the patience to hold a conversation. “Any special occasion?”

She shrugged. “Just a little party between friends.”

“Oh?”

“My brother is coming back from Australia after a month,” Erika decided to give in a little, “we organised a small gathering for him.” 

“You are an awful lot beautiful for just a casual event.”

“Can’t change perfection, sorry darling,” Erika giggled, finding some soothe in the distraction that conversation brought.

Regina chuckled too. “And what about your dashing boyfriend? Is he gonna be there?”

Erika grinned proudly, knowing very well how pretty Kyle was and how much attention he always got. Thankfully she wasn’t the jealous type. “Of course. You might be in for a treat actually,” Erika raised her chin, basking into her own bragging. “He is around and will pick me up when I’m done.”

“Oh,” Regina shook her shoulders, all excited, “You just made my day. Girls!” she called referring to the rest of the salon, “Erika’s boyfriend is popping by!” A small burst of celebrations occurred between the girls present, someone clapped, someone tapped the work surface and a few howled, just for everyone to then cheer joyfully. Erika too, giggled to herself allowing herself to let go of some of her concerns.

Thinking about Kyle made it better. Mostly.

“You will understand what we mean as soon as you see him,” Regina hinted to the girl sitting next to Erika, who was giving everyone very suspicious looks. “I tell you these Australians are something else.”

Erika shook her head, rolling her eyes. “What can I say, eh? We are the best country in the world, after all.”

“Well, tell me about this party, girlie,” Regina continued, focusing back on the final details her nails. “Are all your famous friends going to be there?”

“No,” any trace of joy left Erika. She huffed as enthusiasm washed off her. She was just exhausted. “Just a couple,”

“Well? Cheer up, love, what’s that sudden long face for? You can’t be all done up like this and be sad. Not on my nails.”

“I’m sorry Regina,” Erika sighed, “I am just tired, it’s been a long day and I haven’t slept at all well.”

“I bet. With a guy like your boy, I’d struggle to sleep every night too.”

Erika chuckled. She knew exactly how to respond to keep that little chitchat going, just to occupy time, but she didn’t say it. She was done talking. Not because she didn’t enjoy it, only because she was done holding up a mask. Her social battery was running out so quickly and she still had to deal with the last bits to get ready for the party and the event itself.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t looking forward seeing her brother after so long. She was so happy he was coming back to the UK; she missed him so much. But the idea of a party with all their close friends was enough to make her feel exhausted already. To be precise, it was the idea of a party with Will present that made her feel completely overwhelmed. 

Will was her problem.

Her chest still ached thinking about how cold and awkward it had been between them ever since the night they spent together. He didn’t seem to have any problem with Kyle, they kept spending as much time together as they could. Which wasn’t a surprise. But with her he was a completely different guy.

They hadn’t talked since the morning after. And ever since, Will had been plainly avoiding her. If they were so unlucky to cross paths, the words they exchanged were brief and distant. No eye contact.

Saying she was heartbroken wasn’t enough. 

Erika was aware they only had sex once and no one had talked about feelings. Yet, she wasn’t prepared to be treated so awkwardly. Especially after what they had. It meant something to her. It meant something Will stayed that night and they all slept snuggled on each other. It meant something that she now knew the scent of his skin or how he snored when he was on his right side. 

Being aware of what they shared and that Will now took part of her away, even if he wasn’t willing to accept it, was the only thing she had been able to think about. And it was her burden to carry. Every time she had to remind herself how things were going to be carved a deeper hole into her chest. And at the same time there was a need, a hunger, gnawing at her bones, leaving her feeling cold. And alone.

The most shameful part of it was that she didn’t have the heart to open up with Kyle about it. For the first time, she found herself keeping secrets from him. 

She felt dirty every second and she knew Kyle was trying his best to understand her and leaving her space, although she also knew he was hurting knowing something was happening. It was a price she was willing to pay, though. She had no intention of being the reason to slip any doubt in between him and Will. 

Erika had tried to soothe whatever was going on between them in the second-best way she knew how to be close to Kyle, since she had decided not to talk with him, and that was through sex. They had a way of always finding each other when they were intimate. It created a connection that was able to reassure her and take away some of her pain. Although the thought of Will was never gone for long.

She had thought about it long and hard. For some time, she had even started to get extremely concerned, wandering whether or not she had made the biggest mistake of her life and had cheated on Kyle right in front of him. But then she pretty quickly realised that wasn’t the case. The worth Kyle had to her was unchanged, Kyle still owned her heart. Only now it also ached for someone else too. 

“Oh,” Regina cooed, “heads up,” the moment she hinted to the entrance door, the bell ringed, announcing someone’s arrival. 

Erika followed Regina’s gaze and immediately melted into a warm smile as she recognised Kyle. Her body relaxed, her skin warmed up and her spirit shone a little brighter for him. 

“Hey,” she chirped.

The salon seemed to fall into an awe. Erika was hoping it was only her impression, although she didn’t miss the awkward, timid look Kyle sent all around. The more eyes set on him he found, the more his cheeks blushed. 

He held his half empty gym bag in one hand and was still wearing his gym gear, which was composed of baggy shorts and an unmatching old hoodie he had ripped the sleeves off only so he could show his arms. It was incredible how effortless his prettiness was. He could still look so attractive even in the lowest maintenance circumstances. It was mind blowing.

“Hey baby,” his voice broke her train of thought, “you ok?”

“Your girlie here seems to be very tired,” Regina looked directly at him, sending him a challenging look, “she said you keep her up all night.”

“Pardon?” Kyle blushed violently. His pale eyes glimmered of interest as he looked back at Erika, puzzled but amused as a timid smile peeked on his lips. 

“Nothing. Ignore her, please,” Erika sent a warning glare to Regina, hoping she could behave herself.

Kyle cleared his voice and nodded, “Right. Are you almost done?” He wondered leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the lips.

Erika looked back at Regina who nodded, looking at her own work on her nails. “Almost. Ten, fifteen minutes?”

Kyle’s attention didn’t move from Erika. “Do you want me to come back?”

“No,” Regina replied instead, offering a kiss-ass grin, “stay, have a seat on out booth, we got lovely colourful magazines and fresh cucumber water! Just ask.”

To his sudden confusion, Erika chuckled, leaning her head back as she looked up at him. “You are very popular in this establishment baby, you might want to consider switching career.”

“Oh, yeah?” he wondered leaning in for another kiss, causing some of the women around them to ooh them. “And what would you have me do, ladies?”

“Just stand there and be pretty. That’s more than enough.” Erika explained. 

Kyle offered a large smile to everyone present. “I see. Well, I’ll be sitting over there where everyone can easily look at me while you finish up.”

“Thank you,” Erika cooed and looked at him as he crossed the small salon and dropped himself on the small booth by the door. 

“Will says hi, by the way,” he casually began, opening up a random magazine. 

Erika choked. 

She turned towards Regina, as if hiding away could somehow shoo off the feelings that hit her like a landslide of heavy boulders rolling above her chest. So many questions crowded her mind, but, above anything, she was outraged.

What did it mean that Will said hi? Just like that? Casually? Like nothing happened? Was that the next step? From the awkwardness of knowing they saw each other naked and had sex to the complete denial it even ever happened? Was she that forgettable? And why would Kyle just say it like that? Like it was the most normal thing in the world? Did he think nothing happened too? That night meant nothing to him? Was he truly so blind not to notice how she was hurting and how Will hadn’t talked to her in a week? 

Or did they simply just decided to continue hang out with each other without her?

The room around her felt suddenly too small to breathe. The low murmur surrounding her and the ambiance music became too loud to bear. She felt like she was falling into a black void and sit there, unable to move, was unthinkable.

“Are you ok?”

Erika ignored Regina, shaking her words with a shrug. “Yes. Can you hurry up?”

“I mean I have the last layer of polish to do,” Regina frowned, “are you not feeling well?”

“No, I am ok, thank you. Just finish up, I just remembered I have something urgent I need to do.”

Erika barely managed to sit after that. She felt uncomfortable in her clothes, under her own skin. When her nails were finally done, she had never bolted out of that place as quickly as she did. Generally, she’d indulge in some small chit-chat and a drink or their flavoured water, just as courtesy. Not that time. She didn’t even stop to give Kyle the time to get up.

“Hey,” he shouted at her as she went through the door, “Hey, Erika, hold on,” he continued and when she didn’t stop for him, he grabbed her arm, bringing her to a hold. “Baby, what’s wrong?

She hissed, shaking her head. “Nothing is wrong. Let’s just go. Mark will land in a few hours,” 

“Yes. I know. I am the one who needs to go pick him up.” Erika tried to escape his hold, but Kyle held on, his grab was gentle but solid. “Will you stop one second? What happened? What did I do?”

Her heart was squeezed between guilt and regret. Erika raised a hand to him, cupping his cheek. “Nothing.” God, she wished she could pick him up and press him into her chest, “You had done nothing wrong; I just want to go home.”

How much she wished that could be enough. She wanted to drown into his eyes and disappear.

Kyle hesitated. His eyes cruised on her face, trying to read the answers he wanted from her features. And still, he kept his tongue tied.

He knew. She was aware Kyle knew something was up. He had known since the very beginning and she knew he was smart enough to connect the dots, only he never dared to overstep. Even though she desperately needed him to shake some sense into her.

He let her go, releasing a soft huff. “Ok.” He raised his hands peacefully, “Let’s take you home.”

“I’m gonna be late,” Kyle pushed his face in the crook of her neck, brushing his lips on her collarbones. 

She released a soft giggle, bending underneath him. “Passport control always takes ages,” Erika argued, wrapping her legs around his waist and keeping him exactly where he was standing in response. “Mark can wait,” she purred, her hands were all over Kyle as she sat back on her vanity table surface, pulling him closer.

He caught her lips in a heated kiss, unable to deny her. His big hands moved on her sides and down to her thighs. As soon as his palms touched her skin, Erika purred, melting under him. He easily lifted up the soft material of the silk shift she was wearing, exposing her.

“You are so bad,” Kyle pressed his smile on her chin, “you’d let your own brother wait all alone in the airport after the longest flight ever just to have some more sex.”

“Yes,” she pouted, ready to beg if necessary, “you should take it as a compliment.”

They had been going at it ever since they came home. Everything that was supposed to be said, everything that they were supposed to talk about, that Kyle wanted to ask and Erika needed to say, was forgotten once more just so they could find their connection skin on skin. 

It was blissful. Selfish, maybe, from both parts. And yet tremendously sweet. When she was between Kyle’s arms her mind was quiet and she felt safe. There was nothing threatening to hurt them. Nothing wrong.

And she simply couldn’t let go.

They had sex already twice in the midst of getting ready but it didn’t seem like they were done. It was easy for her to forget she was supposed to concentrate on doing her makeup and let him finish to dress up to go and pick up Mark. 

Kyle followed her neck, down to her chest, kissing, licking and nibbling on her soft, sensitive skin. When he continued down her sternum, unbothered by the thin material dividing him from her direct skin, Erika understood his intention and encouraged him with a soft whimper. 

He kneeled in front of her throwing her legs over his shoulders. His hands traced to her waist, surrounding her like a belt and holding her steady. His attention was only for her as he looked up, pale blue eyes glimmering with hot lust. 

“I do not have time,” he reminded her, bending his head and pressing his lips against the inside of her thigh, “but I can’t leave you knowing you are so needy.”

“No, you can’t,” her breath was hot and heavy as she looked at him move. “God,” she dared to chuckle, pushing a hand into his hair and keeping balance with the other. “You are so pretty in between my thighs it fucking hurts.”

“Yeah?” He wondered, only pretending not to be aware of the effect he had on her. The smirk he pulled gave her a shiver. He kissed higher up on her thigh. His lips were close to her core she felt his hot breath on her exposed flesh, and yet not giving her the satisfaction yet. 

She whimpered, nodding and stretching, feeling her need to find pleasure becoming an inconvenient ache pressing on her abdomen. “Please, Kyle,”

He didn’t let her waste anymore breath. Holding her steady, he pushed his face into her, and ate her up like she was made of honey. Erika almost lost every faculty as soon as his tongue caressed her folds, and she was completely gone by the time he started sucking her flesh. A moan vibrated through his chest, sending her to another planet.

The air soon filled by the obscene noises of Kyle’s mouth wrapped around her sex, accompanied by her moans. She wasn’t even trying to keep quiet by then. 

Pleasure started to build up inside of her stomach, sending electric shivers all across her limbs. Erika barely managed to balance herself up with an arm, but she didn’t care, she craved to push her fingers deeper between his hair just to hold him. In response, he looked straight up at her. His blue eyes were astonishingly beautiful. Making eye contact in such a moment was ravaging, so powerful her skin crawled with goosebumps, as pleasure only built. 

Erika didn’t take long to reach her edge and didn’t do anything to try and hold herself. She let herself go as her pleasure took over, growing through her, tensing her muscles as shivers crawled on her skin. Kyle skilfully guided her through her pleasure, following the movement of her hips and the quickness of her breath to know when she got close reaching her orgasm and then, he gave her exactly what she wanted, exactly what she needed, accompanying her through her release. She unravelled against him, her body shaking uncontrollably between his arms, as she called his name, lost in yet again another wave of pure bliss.

She then watched him rising to his feet. They were both out of breath. Erika felt pure electricity flowing in between them and under her skin and when he cleaned his chin and mouth up with his hand, she quivered, biting down on her lower lip not to beg him for more.

She needed another shower. A freezing cold one.

Erika slid her hands across his bare chest, looking at the scratch marks she left on his skin with extreme pride. “I wish we could just be like this all the time.”

“What? Having sex instead of being responsible and do adult things?”

“Precisely.” She looked away hiding from him, herself and everything else. The moment he’d leave her she would have only gone back to go insane again.

Kyle smiled softly. It was like he caught a glimpse of her sadness and, cupping her face, he made her look back at him. “I wish you talked to me,” his sweet request hit her right in the middle of the chest and ripped her apart. “You know I am here for you and I will always give you what you want. But I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

She froze. Erika wished she could quit being that way. She wished it was just easier; she wished she let herself accept it could be easier. Instead, she pushed him away. “Yes,” she murmured sadly, “I know.” Erika attentively got back on her feet, still feeling her legs weak underneath her.

Kyle nodded. Her closing up to him once more was clearly something that hurt him. She saw it, she knew him well enough, and just wished she could be different.

She tried. For a moment they looked at each other and she truly tried to make her thoughts and emotions into words, but the knot in her throat silenced her. Her hesitation costed her their moment because Kyle was the one who broke eye contact and let her go.

He moved across the room and in the bathroom, quickly making himself presentable before slipping into the clean t-shirt he had already put on twice before and that had been promptly removed and thrown on the floor twice over. Then, he quietly picked a pair of white sketchers and sat on the edge of the bed to put them on.

Erika wanted so bad to pretend everything was ok. They just spent a couple of hours having fun, ignoring responsibilities to just fool around with each other, yet the air between them was suddenly frosty. She still faked it. She was so good at it. She pulled her stool back in front of the table and sat back down, looking at herself in the mirror. 

She was a mess. Her makeup needed to be re-done. She needed a thick mask to cover up all the hurt showing in her eyes.

“Is it Will?” Kyle finally broke the silence. “Actually, don’t answer to that. I know whatever is going on with you is connected to Will. I am not stupid.”

Erika closed her eyes and looked away, hiding from her own reflection and Kyle’s gaze in the mirror. “We don’t have time for this.”

“We do. Passport control takes ages,” Kyle reminded her. “Erika, please, it’s me. Tell me. I need to know if I did something wrong, somehow?”

“You didn’t. You never would,” Erika turned over to him, “But please, I am begging you, I can’t deal to talk about Will.”

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was suddenly so severe it scared her.

“What!?” She shook her head, “No! Of course, not.” Despite the fact that he hadn’t acknowledged her for days now and that distance between them was hurting more than she could ever say.

“Then what? What happened the other night that made you have such a change of heart? I thought you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” Erika needed to reassure him. Now more than ever she noticed the frustration he felt in his inability to reach her. There was something tormenting him in and now he wasn’t hiding how desperately he wanted to fix whatever was hurting her.

Erika got up and quickly moved to him. Her hands moved around his face without her even thinking about it, she needed to touch him to make contact. “I did enjoy myself. I wanted it.” Erika had to fight not to let memories flood into her mind.

“Then what is it? I left you your space and I don’t mean to overstep, but I thought you’d take a moment and then you’d look for me. But you haven’t. You are shutting me out.”

“I am not,” she knew he was right and still proceeded to deny it, “I did look for you.”

“When? You are over there and I am over here, I feel you slip away through my fingers.”

Erika took his hand and pressed it against her own chest, letting him feel her taking a deep breath. “I just did. I do it all the time.”

Kyle shook his head. “Sex isn’t enough anymore, Erika. I need to know what’s going on in your head. In your heart. I can’t take it anymore, please tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how to fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” she shook her head, “It will pass. It doesn’t matter.”

“It clearly matters. It matters to you. It matters to me. And it matters to Will.”

Erika chuckled sarcastically, shaking her head. “Well about that I doubt.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means nothing. Kyle, please,” she huffed, trying to regulate her emotions in a way that wasn’t falling into an argument with the only person who didn’t deserve any of what she was throwing at him. “Go and pick up Mark. Let’s get through the party and then,”

“Then what? Will you talk to me then?”

“If I say yes?”

“I want to believe you.” Kyle looked up at her, defeated, “I need to believe you. But I don’t.”

“Ok, I can deal with that. What I can’t deal with is talking about Will now.”

“You will have to deal with him sooner or later, he is going to come over.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“I just don’t understand what happened. You just shut both of us out.”

“Kyle,” Erika shook her head, “please, I am begging you.”

He looked so hurt. And so precious. Erika felt the need to scream and break something. It wasn’t fair, he didn’t deserve being treated that way. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to do anything different. In her chest guilt and shame vibrated, twisting her stomach painfully.

“Right,” Kyle dropped it, “fine.” He got up and leaned in, softly kissing her forehead. 

“I am so sorry,” she whispered, looking away, trying to fight her tears and her own pain. She hated to put more weight on Kyle’s shoulders, especially since she had the impression he felt somehow responsible.

“When you are ready, I’ll be there,” he left her. “Get ready. I’ll be back soon.”

“Ok,” she whispered and watched him leave the bedroom feeling suddenly so lonely and lost.

She hated herself sometimes. She knew why she acted the way she did. She understood her ways and yet she wished she could snap her fingers and just stop being a prick. Especially with Kyle.

He left without saying goodbye and when she was left completely alone, Erika stood in the middle of her bedroom for an ungodly amount of time, just looking at nothing, spacing out into her own doubts and despair.

When she realised she was so cold she was shivering painfully, she decided it was time to get a grip. To not let her brain take over and ruin her completely, she put some music on letting the living room speakers play loud, as she hopped in the shower, hoping to wash her problems off her skin.

An hour later she had all the arrogance to lie even to herself and think she was stronger than ever. Able to tackle anything. Everything was fine. It was still her favourite prayer. 

She had decided to melt her nerves helped by a shot of tequila to get her going. Her make up was done. Her hair fixed. She looked pretty, expensive and unbothered, just like she wanted. A perfectly executed mask. She only pretended she was wearing a cute outfit she casually picked, when she had the specific plan to be looked at.

Will was going to be there and she had every intention of getting his attention, one way or the other. It became a matter of pride. If he was doing everything in his power to ignore her and pretend nothing happened, she was set to make it as difficult as humanly possible for him. She needed to win. It was easier to think it that way than sulk. She was done being passive to her own pain. She wanted answers and she would have got them by the end of the evening. 

She even had the time to get the ambiance around the apartment just right to host a small gathering and just double checked with the catering that they’d be on time to set up before their friends arrived. 

When the doorbell went off, she gasped with surprise, fooling herself she could act completely cool. Everything was fine.

She hopped across her apartment on her tippytoes, still not wearing shoes. She was hoping it could be Kyle and Mark already even though she knew it was way too early. After picking Mark up from the airport, which was a potential forty-five minutes’ drive in traffic, Kyle was supposed to drop Mark back at his own place before driving him back there. It couldn’t be them. Plus, Kyle had the keys to get in the house. But she still answered the door with the same enthusiasm and expectations. 

“Hello,” she chirped, “come on up. Fifth floor,” she explained, realising it was probably the much less exciting catering guys coming in to set up.

Erika was still fiddling with her golden hoop earrings when she opened the door, ready to welcome their hired employees with a big smile. In the background played Rich Girl, by Daryll Hall and John Oates. “Hi, welcome,” as soon as her eyes set on the person standing by the entrance, she choked. Her smile hanged on her lips, and slowly froze when she realised, she wasn’t going to welcome Kyle or her brother and neither it was the catering. 

“Will,” she frowned, her throat sealed shut. It was the first time she saw him in days. She hid behind the door, trying to hold herself up. She had been doing such a good job, she couldn’t crumble the first second they interacted. “What are you doing here?”

He had his hands dug deep into his trousers and was looking straight at the floor, doing everything in his power to avoid eye contact. “Mark’s party. I was invited, remember?” 

The monotone in his deep voice drove her insane, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slam the door in his face or choke him out more.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I know. I mean this early.”

He shrugged. “I can come back if you prefer,”

Erika widened the door, sliding to the side and signing him to come in. “Don’t be stupid. Kyle and Mark aren’t here yet though.” 

She did everything in her power to maintain her decorum. If she wanted to survive that evening, she needed to rise above. And yet, she already couldn’t think clearly. 

As Will entered her home, awkwardly looking around, she inhaled deeply his scent. She was taken by a primal need for her to know what perfume he was wearing. But it went deeper than that as she realised what she was looking for was the smell of his skin, bare, sweaty and marked by sex.

It was beyond her. Memories hit her stronger than ever. She felt his callous hands on her skin, his ghostly fingers traced her body, making her doubt what was reality and what was dream. She could still taste his mouth on her tongue just as clearly as she could feel his curly hair in between her fingers. Just like she was still in his arms, she could feel the pressure of his hold, or the weight of his body on hers.

It was excruciating. Unbearable. Made her want to rip her hair out and run away, never to come back. But mostly, it made her feel so small and insignificant. She wouldn’t have made it. 

She wanted him so bad it hurt in places she wasn’t aware could hurt for a person.

Will still didn’t look at her. “Do you have any booze?”

“Fridge for beer or wine, and mixers, don’t touch the bubbly. Freezer for vodka. Wine rack for more wine and tequila. Knock yourself out.” She turned around, pretending she didn’t care. Maybe she could have hidden in the bedroom until someone else arrived? 

No.

She had promised herself she’d stop being a coward and a prick and would handle the situation. And that was actually the perfect occasion to get what she wanted.

“I’m gonna finish getting ready. Mind letting the catering people in when they arrive?”

“Sure.” She heard him pop a beer open.

She wondered if he was looking at her then. She hoped he was. She was ready for a fight. She was ready to get it over with because she couldn’t take to have that awful, awkward situation hanging above her life, shaving off happiness from her current relationship. But, deep down, she was still naively hoping to get what she wanted. Which was Will.

She turned around, deciding to get to her best weapons immediately. First artillery fire. She leaned against the bedroom doorframe, looking directly at Will, ignoring how intensely he was studying every title in Kyle’s collection of pop-punk vinyl CDs. She didn’t know him to have ever been that interested in that music genre before.

“Do you like my dress, Will?” She wondered casually and watched his reaction with a dangerous, magnetic smile printed on her lips.

She watched avidly how he stiffened, raising his head and widening his shoulders, which only made her ego grow. Will didn’t move for the longest couple of seconds as his eyes traced up on the wall in front of him. He didn’t dare to look back but his eyes did move on the dozen frames patching up the wall retracting professional pictures of wrestling matches. Only the best of her work, exposed like in a gallery. Will had more than one spot on her wall. Now she was starting to understand why she liked to portray him so much.

“Don’t ignore me.”

He hissed, clearly bothered by her voice. “I am not.”

“So?”

“I dunno. Doesn’t matter what I think, does it?”

“It does if I am asking.”

He huffed and then hid behind his beer, taking two good gulps of it before just shaking his head. “Sure. You look very nice. But you know that. So, why bothering asking me?”

“How would you know? You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Will tutted and let his head fall back, releasing some of his frustration in a huff. He was still not facing her. “I am not playing your game, Erika.”

“Look at me, Will.” She ordered, summoning all her strength not to let any of her desperation show. She wanted to sound authoritative and not like a little scared girl who just wanted to be held. Somehow it made sense in her mind that that could be her best plan.

It seemed like he was willing to fight her. For a split second he held his position, without daring to move. He was holding his breath. But then, something gave in and he did turn. Not completely, as if he was still trying not to expose himself to her. But he did. And when he did, his eyes sliced through her like daggers, severe and detached. She didn’t recognise the cold in his gaze and kept stumbling in the fear that she was continuing to make mistakes.

That moment was the first that Erika realised it wasn’t only about the sex anymore. She wasn’t only looking at a man that couldn’t recognise being the same who held her so tenderly. But she also couldn’t recognise the Will she had liked and respected for so long from before. Before everything, they had been friends for a long time. Years. They shared trips, work, holidays, accommodations, moments of their lives that will always connect them. And yet, she was now cut out of it.

She was hurting so bad.

But, for the life of her, Erika didn’t dare to show an inch of it. He didn’t deserve it.

If that’s how it had to be, then she was determined to make him regret his choices.

Will shrugged. “So? What am I supposed to look at?” She was the one who was hit. But Will wasn’t done. “Let’s do this like civil adults, shall we? I am here for Kyle and Mark, let’s get through this. In a couple of days, I’ll be on the road again in Japan.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Knowing he was going to be gone fairly soon disheartened her. It didn’t seem like she was going to prove any point, let alone win at anything. And he was going away soon, maybe that was it, that was her answer. Let it go, for everyone’s sake. 

“You know what I mean.”

“No.” Erika crossed her arms, willing to appear as defensive as possible, “I do not know what you mean, William.”

The smile he whipped out was pure scorn. He took her words like a cheap shot, shaking his head. “My, my, you must be very upset. I rattle you pretty bad, don’t I? Don’t worry. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours and everyone lives happily ever after.”

“You are such a cunt.” Erika scoffed, raising her chin high, “I wish I never met you.”

“Oh, don’t you worry darling, the wish is mutual.” 

He went right to the jugular. His words slipped her throat. She felt something severing inside of her. Her chest was empty and squeezed, she was unable to breathe.

She closed herself in her bedroom, leaving Will alone. 

What was she supposed to do now? 

That was answer enough. Will gave her exactly what she thought she wanted, and in the meanest way he could possibly think to clear any doubt she may have had. Only, it was nothing like what she had hoped for.

She wanted a drink so bad. Somehow, she thought alcohol could fuzz her rational thoughts and soothe her. The only problem was that Will stood between her and her booze and she had no intention to look at him ever again.

Damn it. Damn him.

Erika cried in silence, huddled on the floor like a desperate little girl who couldn’t even take rejection on the chin like a champ.

She had ignored hearing Will moving around her apartment, turning on the tv and even talk loudly on the phone. It didn’t matter what he was talking about, to her it mattered the way he laughed and chattered like nothing bothered him. Then, when the catering showed up, she still ignored him when he tried to ask for direction – again acting like nothing happened between them. He even knocked on her door a couple of times, and she still didn’t respond.

By that point, Erika's only concern was to pick herself back up, fix what Will had just broken and keep pretending. For Mark. For Kyle. For herself.

By the time she had fixed her makeup for the nth time that evening, the first guests started to arrive and that was her queue to waltz out of the bedroom and be the perfect, prettiest host. She could only hope Kyle and her brother would arrive soon.

[volturilovers]

Shadows of one’s past pt.2

English isn’t my first language so the grammar might not be the best.

Part 1

Caius POV:

I sat in my office reading some paperwork, I feel my love, my mate being anxious through the bond. She has been avoiding me for a couple of days. I don't really understand why. Did I do something wrong?, wasnt't she comfortable with me being there?. I am not the person who usually question themselves, nor do I usually question my actions, thats something that Aro and Marcus does. Most of the time.

Today, however I, against my usual judgement, decided give her some peace and let her come to me when she feels ready, despite my irritation of her avoiding me and not knowing w---

*There is a knock on the outside of the door*

I was once again brought out of my thoughts, just like last time in the throne room.

The difference?.

Nobody knocks on my door in the middle of the day, especially in my private office. It made me, quite frankly, more than a little annoyed. I made sure to speak loudly to the vampire standing outside my door.

State your name and the reason for knocking on my door. Everyone who value their life should know that in the castle they aren't allowed to disturb me or my brothers in their private offices unless it's something really important. State your reason for disturbing your KING and I might not rip your head from your miserable shoulders and burn your body and simultaneously putting the head in front of the fire, forcing you to watch your own burning corpse dissolve into ashes. I stated very calmly but the last part of the threat in a very spiteful and threatening manner, which to many is even more scarier than me being “angry”. I wasn't in the mood to humour anyone today.

Y/N POV:

I was sitting in my bed deep in my thoughts. I miss Caius. I didn't know how to face him, he has questions, without a doubt I don't know what will happen, how will he react when I tell him. He has made me more happy than I have ever been in a very, very, very long time. Just thinking he might decide to not believe me sends pain through my chest. I know the right thing is to tell him. I must tell him about it eventually, otherwise he will find out from other sources and I need to do it soon or I will never have the courage to do it.

*I sighed and opened the door to the chambers to see Demetri and Magnus guarding it*

"Lady y/n do you need me to get you anything?"

I took a deep breath before speaking. Can you tell Caius to meet me in our shared quarters this afternoon?

"Of course my lady" Demetri said before walking away to rely my message to Caius.

I shut the door and leaned against it. Now it's done, how do i tell him?Where do I start?

————————————————————————

Posted this that was sitting in my drafts while I Work on the Demetri imagine.

Part 3?

Requested by: @inner-sparkle-inner-writings

Bye lovelies ❤️

[my-own-walker]

Hi, I'm sorry to bother you but I wanted to ask you if you could write a fic or a long one-shot about Colin Zabel (I don't know if you saw Mare of Eastown).

The story line would be this: Colin asks YN out because Mare rejected him (basically the scene happened where he thought they were on a date and she just wanted to talk about the case).

YN agrees to go on the date. They start going out several times. At one point she finds out that Colin asked her out on a date out of spite (bc of the Mare thing). So she confronts him and tells him that she liked him, she gets angry because she feels he played with her feelings. And then Colin tries to fix the situation because, during the several dates, he realizes that he started to like YN.

And, if enough, make like an epilogue where they are a happy family (Colin and YN).

Too long. Sorry.

On The Other Line - Part 1

sure can! (it’s never too long, anon. much love)

warnings: spoiler alerts possible ahead for mare of easttown, mentions of violence against women, mentions of death, light sm*t/some steamy moments, some misogyny (it's really true to the area so i include it lightly)

author's note: i just so happen to know the delco area VERY well so expect me to nerd out on this one. accents, slang, food, everything will be very accurate. mare of easttown was pretty true to delco, but i can make it better. evan fucking nailed the accent, as he always does, btw.

+++

Being from Easttown meant that seeing someone new in town was a headline-worthy event.

So when Detective Colin Zabel showed up to help out with the Erin McMenamin case, everyone and their mom-moms were talking about it. Gossiping about the case and just how bad it was, considering the fact that they called in backup.

I'll admit it, I engaged in the gossip. My Uncle Nick owned the bar in town and would tell me all about what he heard about the case. He's worse than a chick, I'll tell you that.

Now I had no personal connection to the case. I knew of Erin but not enough to really be torn up about the whole thing. It was scary, yeah, being a woman in town after one was missing and another was dead, but I couldn't be bothered with tears. I didn't want to face the fact that things were getting scary.

I worked as a librarian. Something about reading called to me. It was great to escape from the disgusting world I found myself living in. One where women were being brutalized just minutes from my home. I have always been a sucker for escapism.

My Uncle Nick's bar became a landing place for me most nights. I was afraid to go back to my apartment alone. I didn't have a car so I'd have to walk. The bar was only half a mile from the library, and my apartment was 2 miles away. The bar was the better choice considering everything going on.

I'd help out serving sometimes. Other times I'd just sit behind the bar and talk to the patrons. Then my uncle would drive me home in his truck. I didn't mind helping out if it meant that I was safe.

+

It was a Thursday night. Around 10 pm. I was doing my usual routine of sitting behind the bar after work, talking to the familiar faces that always came by. At this bar, there were only regulars.

That was until I saw Colin Zabel walk through the front door.

It was like seeing a celebrity. I silently wondered if he was here to question somebody about the case. I picked up my book and began to read it, trying to send an innocent bystander vibe.

He walked over to the bar and slumped himself down on the seat nearest to me.

'Fuck.' I thought.

My Uncle Nick walked over to Colin and set down a coaster in front of him.

'Just a PBR, please?' Colin said as he looked up.

'Draft or can?' my uncle replied.

'Can, please,' Colin answered, rubbing his temple with his hand.

'PBR?' I scoffed from my seat. 'Colin Zabel. Could you fulfill the Delco trash stereotype more, please?'

'Wh-what?' he stuttered while smiling, looking up in awe at my directness.

'You couldn't pick a trashier beer,' I continued putting down my book on the bar next to him. 'Plus, if you're gonna get it, get the draft dude. It at least looks classier.' I leaned forward on the stool I was sitting on, resting my elbows on the bar in front of me and placing my chin in my hands.

'Yo, I've had a rough night, cut me some slack,' he laughed.

'Rough night or not, I'd never go into a bar for the first time and order a PBR. Complete jerkoff move, Zabel.'

'Okay, youse around here know my name and it's gettin' weird. And how do you know this is my first time in here,' he chuckled.

'Oh sorry I'm bein' rude. I'm Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. You are kinda famous around here, detective. And my uncle owns this place. I'd know if you'd been in here before,' I smirked.

As if on cue, Uncle Nick returned, reaching around me to place the can in front of Colin.

'Makin' friends, hun?' my uncle asked, patting my right shoulder.

'Only always,' I replied, smiling up at him. He walked away, shaking his head at me.

'Well, Y/N, you're very forward, huh?' he suggested as he sipped his drink.

I guess I was. The bar was sort of my domain. I talked to every patron like that. After all, everyone that was in there was either my teacher, classmate, doctor, or employer at one time. I knew everyone so I acted like it. And I knew of Colin so I felt like I could talk to him like that. Totally forgot he was a complete stranger.

'But you liked it, though,' I quipped back. He simply laughed and shook his head, casting his eyes down.

'What brings you here, anyways?' I asked.

'Closest bar to the restaurant I was just at,' he shrugged.

'Didn't get enough to drink there?' I challenged. He looked up and met my eyes. His were a deep brown. He looked sad.

'Oh, it was a trainwreck,' he sipped his drink again.

'Don't care to elaborate, hm?' I asked. He just shook his head.

'Y'know, Y/N? I'm feeling really bold right now,' Colin started, making eye contact with me again. 'Would you wanna go out sometime? Y'know what? Maybe tomorrow. Lunchtime?'

I was taken aback. 'You're pretty forward yourself, Zabel.'

'You're pretty and I feel like it would just be fun,' he continued.

'Oh, I'm just pretty?' I replied, feigning shock.

'Oh shut up,' he laughed as he pushed my forearm lightly.

+

After exchanging numbers and chatting some more he left. Over text, we agreed to meet in the park at lunchtime to talk. He'd provide the coffee, he promised.

The next day I walked to work with more pep in my step than usual. I was even singing a little when putting books back on shelves. It had been a while since I'd been on a date. He was really cute so I couldn't help but be excited.

I got to the park earlier than we'd agreed upon, but that motherfucker still beat me there. He was holding two cups of coffee and was dressed smartly in a long tweed grey coat.

'You're eager, Zabel!' I called across the park as I walked upon him.

'You're early, too, miss,' he replied, raising an eyebrow and pulling me in for a hug. When we separated he handed me one of the cups. 'Oat milk for you, my dear.'

I smiled. He remembered a passing comment I made the night before.

We started to walk, talking about everything under the sun. I tried not to ask too much about his work, with the case being so sensitive, and all. We came up on a playground. There was a blonde woman sitting on a bench nearby, obviously watching a young child.

Colin suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. The gesture gave me butterflies in my stomach. Walking closer to the bench, the blonde woman looked up and waved. Colin waved back and flashed his best closed-lip smile.

"Colin, hey,' the woman said. "About la-'

'Mare, this is Y/N,' Colin drew nearer to me and kissed my cheek. I blushed heavily.

'H-hi," I started.

'Y/N, this is Mare. She used to be on the Erin McMenamin case with me,' he snipped, gesturing his hand toward her. She rolled her eyes and went back to watching the child on the playground.

'I don't have time for this today, Colin,' Mare said, dismissing us.

We walked away just a far enough distance out of her earshot before I said, 'she's a fuckin' ray of sunshine.'

'Quite a woman,' Colin replied, looking back at her, still not letting go of my hand.

+

The rest of the date went super well. So well, in fact, that I didn't stop bothering him. I texted him every day, every second I could get the chance.

He returned the energy…somewhat. He was a busy man, being on the police force after all. I didn't think too much of it.

We planned to go back out again on that Sunday for lunch.

+

'Hey, pretty,' he breathed as he took his jacket off. I beat him to the restaurant. I won, this time. He sat down in the seat across from me.

He called me pretty. My face felt hot. He seemed to really be into me. And I felt the same.

The meal was great. We continued to get to know each other and I really started catching feelings for him. I invited him back to my apartment after and he said yes.

The inside of my apartment was, I'll say it, pretty strangely decorated. I'm a lover of all things fun and odd, and my interior design choices reflected it. For example, my couch was royal purple, and I had billiard balls in a decorative bowl on my cowboy-themed coffee table. I refused to use overhead lighting so everything was lit a warm yellow and striking blue, thanks to the lights I bought off Amazon.

The best part, and my shining accomplishment, my bed was heart-shaped. So me and so weird. I think it came from a strip club. I found the frame and mattress discarded on the side of the road. Score.

I could tell Colin was shocked by the way he was looking around. He shrugged his coat off and placed it on one of the clown hooks by the door.

'I know it's weird bu-' I started.

'No, Y/N, this place is really...stellar. It has personality, for sure,' he assured me. He continued to wander around, looking at my things.

I started to feel kind of shy in my own home. Like this man was fully in my apartment and I had the fattest crush on him. If there was one thing about me, though, I wasn’t shy. I decided that the best and only way to power through it was to kiss him, so I did.

He tensed at first, not expecting the contact, but soon relaxed into it, placing his hands on my waist and pulling me into him.

I pulled away. ‘Sorry, I just- like-‘

‘No it’s okay, I liked it,’ he grinned. ‘You’re fucking cool, Y/L/N.’

‘I mean I don’t fight crime for a living but-‘ I started but was promptly cut off by Colin’s lips on mine again. Sweet kisses turned more passionate as I started to lead him to my bedroom.

I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He pulled my cardigan down off my shoulders. When we reached the bedroom I tugged his shirt off and threw it behind him, demonstratively. He grabbed the bottom hem of my camisole and pulled it over my head, exposing my black lace bra.

It was then that he noticed my bed.

‘No, you’re fuckin’ joking,’ he laughed, walking towards it and hopping up on it. ‘Are we about to fuck like 70s porn stars right now? A heart-shaped bed?’ His smirk was so cute.

I didn’t reply. Instead I attacked him with kisses, crawling into his lap. I felt his hard-on in his pants below me. I straddled his thighs and pushed him down gently into a laying position.

‘Y/N….fuck,’ he moaned as I peppered kisses down his chest and stomach, stopping at the waistband of his pants. I slowly unbuttoned them, making him wait for it. He helped me tug them off of his legs. I placed my hand on his cock through his underwear and waited as if to ask permission. ‘Please,’ he mustered.

I reached in and pulled it out, immediately taking him in my mouth. He muttered every curse word under the sun as I continued to blow him.

+

We spent the rest of the day in my bed. Our time was used talking, then having sex, then talking again. Repeating the cycle until I was thoroughly convinced that I was in love with him.

He left me around 10 that night and for some reason, I felt empty. Cold. It was an odd feeling considering the ecstasy I has experienced all day. I put it down to being tired.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

+++

Okayyyyy yay!!! That was part 1 of two in this lil series. Thanks anon again for the request. Sorry if it felt rushed in some points. I was trying not to make this thing like 400 parts. I get wordy at times. Part 2 hopefully will be here tomorrow!!

[squarebracketsmileyface]

obsessed by olivia rodrigo feels like. jay talking abt amy

Oh definitely, tho there was a point where I was thinking of making it so that the feelings between Jay and Amy were like, where AMY was the one kinda jealous of Jay. That fell through pretty quick tho because it just wouldn't work. It didn't feel right lol (shocker)

This, and misery business by Paramour actually, work pretty well for Jay talking about Amy in Sorry, It's Locked. That was the song that made me think "hey what if Amy was kinda jealous over Alex", specifically the line "I watched his wildest dreams come true and not one of them involving you" cos like, yeah that kinda happened. Alex got a healthy, happy relationship with Amy for at least a couple years before the Operator caught up with him, and that life didn't involve Jay at all, y'know? But the idea of Amy being kinda spiteful and jealous just didn't sit right with me from the miniscule bit we see of her in actual MH.

She seems to kind and reasonable and, y'know, not a creepy dick like Jay is 💀

JAY BEING JEALOUS OVER ALEX BEING WITH AMY THO????? HOOOOOOOOOO BOY

Definitely

Definitely definitely definitely

I think it'd be one of those things that didn't stick around for super long, but like, for about a year or so after Alex "broke up with him" in uni and moved away to live with Amy Jay was VERY much "obsessed with Amy because she "stole" Alex from him. And sure yeah yeah Alex and Amy weren't Exes at that point (I'd argue they still aren't because Amy's dead, they didn't break up she died. She's not his ex girlfriend she's his late girlfriend, y'know?) but still, the general vibe of Obsessed by Olivia Rodrigo still stands.

For a year or so Jay was obsessed with Amy almost as much as he was obsessed with Alex, it was just that it was like a hate obsession rather than a love one? He probably just wouldn't shut up about it to their friends. (Fixing this by saying Tim simply forgot because operator shit between uni and S,IL lmao, so it's fiiiiine, he just doesn't remember that jay told him and their other friends so much about his and Alex's FWB relationship in uni. Hooray for memory loss! A writer's best friend when you're writing shit not in chronological order and aren't gonna go fix it all in a second and third draft lol)

I think Jay would still feign ignorance over why Alex moved away, partly because he can't bring himself to believe it is his fault, which it kinda is (because I do plan on making Alex moving away kinda a direct result of Jay's actions across their relationship, because I love using that pathetic wet cat of a man as my personal human punching bag) and he'd act like Amy just stole Alex away from him for no reason, rather than the reason being that Amy talked to alex and was like "hey, the way Jays treating you isnt okay" because she only hears alexs side of the story.

She's still right of course. The way Jay's treating him ISNT okay. It's shit. But they were both shit to each other in uni y'know?

Anyway yeah for a while jay talked about Amy fucking constantly to his friends because he felt 'wronged' by her because she stole Alex from her. (Probably making that a thing where she was like "hey how about you come stay with me for a little bit while your hands are healing up" —yeah hes gonna fuck up his hands, its gonna be a whole thing, you'll see it in chapter 6 of if it aint broken— and Alex agrees and then just, never goes back, he gets all his stuff moved to Amy's and enrolls at her uni instead and all that)

ALSO that line in Obsessed about watching every movie she's been in is PERFECT. I feel like Amy definitely was in at least a couple scenes of Alex's marble hornets, maybe as a background character or in some scrapped scenes, and Jay has watched them all a million times trying to pick her apart and find out why she was better than him, what about her made Alex pick her. He refuses to believe Alex is just straight, and he IS right but like... That would be a reasonable reason for him to stop "experimenting" and get a girlfriend lol

Jay also definitely remembers every detail Alex ever told him about Amy, or that he found out himself. I do think he'd at least TRY to do a little stalking of her and Alex once he moves away. Not a huge amount, he catches himself pretty quickly and tries to convince himself he just doesn't care enough to want to find out more about how Alex is doing now he's with Amy. But like, idk he definitely at least, like, Facebook stalked them or something lmfao. Even if it didn't get up to in person stalking like he got to in MH, he was definitely at least a little weird about them.

[all-pacas]

HEY HIMYM ANON, i found a draft for you! i actually quite like this, maybe i'll work out an ending. it was mostly written out of spite, iirc - maybe my least favorite part of the finale is the idea that "this whole time you were talking about robin!" because. way to miss the point, ted's kids.

--

It is not a story about Robin.

After Tracy had passed, he’d spent weeks, months, ready to follow. To give up. To surrender to it, the grief and luxury of sleeping for days at a stretch, missing her, the smell of her, the smell of her hospital room, sickly sweet and sharp and deadly. They’d done everything right. Everything they could. Taken the kids traveling, taken Tracy to New Zealand, to Paris, blowing their savings on oncologists and presents.

It had been bad, when the cancer caught up and the money ran out and Tracy talked for her doctors alone for an hour and told him firmly, gently, that she was done with chemo. They had still smiled and laughed and photographed and filmed, filling album after album, their fridge full of second hand casseroles. Smiled until it hurt and dug and tore, ripping through his skin, yanking him apart.

It had been bad.

Others would take the kids for days at a time, Barney blowing in from Manhattan to take them to zoos and museums and Lazer Tag, Lily teaching Penny how to apply mascara, eyeliner, buy her first bra. Marshall cutting Ted checks, depositing them without asking first, each generosity another blow.

It is not a story about Robin.

She moves back to New York in ‘26, he hears, from Marshall, who hears it from Lily; runs into her in person some time later. She is beautiful, pristine, untouched. Smiles and glad-to-see-yous. Polite hugs. Polite, continental kisses. He’s glad to see her, glad to see her well. It’s shocking how much they remember, how easy it is to resume five year old conversations. She doesn’t mention Tracy, and he takes it for politeness and avoidance until one afternoon it hits him: she has no memories of Tracy to share.

--

Barney has joint custody of his daughter, who, at seven, loves animals, outer space, and her older cousins in that order. They go to the Bronx Zoo, the five of them: Ellie following Penny around, Luke on his Switch the whole time, Ted and Barney hanging twenty paces back and keeping an eye on the kids.

Ted’s laughing, actually laughing, at some insane work story of Barney’s when he thinks: I can’t believe we’re still friends, and in the lull he says: “We’ve been friends twenty five years.”

“Of course we have,” Barney says, mouth twisted in incredulity. He’s wearing a suit and his hair is slowly graying and twenty five years ago he started talking to Ted at the urinal, when Ted was twenty five.

Penny is getting a little snappy with Ellie, who wants to follow her into a public bathroom. Penny stomps over to Ted in a huff, and Barney takes the younger kids to get ice creams while Penny complains.

Ted hums. “Did I ever tell you how I met your Uncle Barney?” he asks.

--

They all get together for Lily’s fiftieth. The Eriksens hire caterers, waiters, rent a Long Island event hall. White tie: Barney shows up in Westchester with tuxes for Ted and Luke, claiming he doesn’t trust them to pick out their own. Penny is twelve: Lily helps her curl her hair, buys her low-heeled pumps, and she looks so much like Tracy that Ted has to go into the washroom and sit, lost, for several minutes, until he can emerge smiling and tell her how beautiful and grown-up she is without crying.

He and Marshall split a joint in the parking lot, and it helps. Perfectly legal nowadays, but the furtive feeling brings him back, makes him feel younger and reckless. Lily is fully manic, and Barney sneaks Marvin half a glass of wine.

They take pictures: the four of them, the Eriksens alone, the four of them plus kids.

Robin arrives half an hour late. Polite hugs. Kisses. Lily pleased to see her, everyone else hugging and exchanging small talk. Robin isn’t invited into the first set of pictures, but it might have been an oversight. Ted spots her, lips thin, as he’s smiling huge and fake on Lily’s order.

He and Marshall catch Barney smoking in the parking lot after their joint. “I thought you quit,” Marshall calls, joking, heading back in.

Ted lingers. “Doesn’t count,” Barney says shortly, before he can say anything.

“Robin?” Ted guesses, and Barney shrugs.

“I get it,” Ted says.

Barney stubs out his cigarette butt under his heel.

“We never really talked about any of it,” Ted says, looking off to the banquet hall.

“What’s there to talk about?” Barney asks.