#it was so unexpected i had to use all my restraint not to lose my shit at 4 am like damn bitch not your poker buddy 😭😭😭

[redding]

okay short break from being emotional over the finale. rick WWE throwing thorne fucking KILLED ME

[lucyandthepen]

(give me that) can't sleep love | cyj

you’ve been managing yeonjun flawlessly for a few good years now, but there are just some things you can’t keep under control. the obvious solution? a blind date that skews towards the unexpected.

pairing: solo idol!yeonjun x reader rating: T genre: romance warnings: none! like the narrative has a swear word like idk once? word count: 3.5k 

author’s notes: yeah it’s not actually valentine’s day but we write for a completely new fandom because we simply have no restraint !! just kidding, i’ve actually been hoping to extend my writing for other groups, but i haven’t yet because i’m extremely slow and a bit fickle. this is my first time writing for anything txt, but i hope to do so a bit more in the future! 

if you like it, please consider reblogging to help spread the word!

Maybe your mom was right. Maybe the entertainment industry just isn’t for you.

She’d actively warned you against dedicating your time to, well, anything involving the glitz and glam, but you just hadn’t listened. There had been good opportunities, great experiences you’d never get anywhere else. For the most part, your choices had helped that expectation become that reality; you’d met people not just anyone got to meet, and you’d definitely had a substantial amount of unique encounters.

Still, you were aware that the only reason you’d ever gotten the chance to taste a little bit of the high life was because you had Yeonjun on your side. Choi Yeonjun — the rising star of the idol world, with a better career trajectory than the guy who owned Apple, it seemed. His job was the access pass to everything you enjoyed. Unfortunately, your ticket to all the good things was also the key to your prolonged misery.

As his manager, you have a ton of roles to play — logistics coordinator, scheduler, alarm clock, wardrobe checker, and, on one unfortunate incident, last-minute make-up artist when the original girl had been a no-show. You were supposed to be busy at every turn, but Yeonjun on the job was something of a well-oiled machine, learning how to feed himself while you were on the phone and follow the line-up to the letter as long as he was awake enough to do it. It’s possible you could blame him for all the downtime you got that had led to the bulk of the problem.

Actually, you aren’t sure when it started or even how. Maybe it had happened somewhere in the middle of all his showcases and shows, sandwiched between the constant fever of communication and movement. Maybe it had come up in those hectic car rides where you’d spent a ton of time reminding him of what to do and what to expect. Or maybe it had grown with every time you had to wake him up in one of many lonely hotel rooms, with his head half-buried in the pillow to muffle the sleepy groans he’d use to respond to your soft voice.

Whenever it was, all you could be sure of was that you liked him. A lot. Maybe even with the time you’d come to know him, after all these years, a part of you was ready to say you loved him.

But that was the biggest barrier in the job, wasn’t it? Managers are supposed to stop their idols from dating, not want to do it with them. For the most part, you’ve been successful in holding yourself back from doing something stupid, which is technically the bare minimum for you. These days, though, you aren’t sure what it is; maybe you’re just on edge from all the work in this year’s promotional stint, and that kind of contributes to a weakened mentality, or some kind of wack explanation like that, but you find yourself more often losing your train of thought when you’re with him. Even without detailing the specifics to your friends and co-workers, they’ve noticed something was bothering you. They’d urged you to relieve yourself of your duties a little, maybe hire a co-manager to do all the menial stuff, but you know that’s not really the issue. Only one person — Sunyoung, Yeonjun’s wardrobe stylist — had managed to hit the nail on the head semi-accurately.  

“Look, I get it,” she’d said one evening, after she’d shooed Yeonjun out of the dressing room so he could strap on his in-ear piece and prepare for the stage. You were supposed to be running around like a headless chicken, making sure everything was in check, but you were just slumped on the couch in the dressing room playing some dumb shark game your nephew had downloaded onto your phone. “You’re tired. You’re lonely. You can’t even go out for a cup of coffee without worrying about Yeonjun. But he’s fine. You can relax a little.”

“I’m totally relaxed,” you’d mumbled, watching your shark devour a poor surfer on your screen. “I’m fine.”

“Then you should get out more. Leave all of this behind and meet new people. Go on a date. Listen,” she’d covered your phone with her palm, and you heard the telltale music of your game coming to a bitter end. “Do something fun. Go on a date, seriously. I can set you up. It doesn’t even have to be anything serious, ____________! Just do something not work-related for once next week, and get this toxicity or whatever out of your system.”

You didn’t have the heart to say no or the courage to admit that nothing really would happen if that date wasn’t with Yeonjun, considering how far gone you were, so you’d just agreed.

Sunyoung had set you up for a Valentine’s Day date. Ironically, while the point was supposedly to get your mind off of Yeonjun on that day, he had a scheduled fan sign in Sinchon that you couldn’t miss out on. You had to pack an extra set of nicer clothes and a make-up bag that Yeonjun had eyed questioningly but silently as you’d entered the van.

“So how long is this fan sign?” He’d asked instead, immediately turning his attention to his phone the moment the van had started moving.

“Until six.”

“Then I don’t have another schedule, right?”

“No.” You don’t really ask why he’s curious; Yeonjun enjoys his personal time, as any celebrity does. “You’re free after. The van can take you home, or wherever else you need to be.”

He’d hummed appreciatively, fixated on his phone, and the rest of the ride is consumed in silence until you’d arrive at the venue.  

Yeonjun is whisked immediately into hair and make-up, and Sunyoung emerges from his dressing tent a few moments after he disappears inside, portable clothes steamer in hand. “Hey; did you get my text?”

You shake your head; you’d spent the car ride irresponsibly ignoring your phone, opting to gnaw on one of your nails instead.  

“I sent you the details of a reservation slot in this nice Italian place near Dongdaemun. Just drop my name and they’ll lead you to the table.”

“Look, I don’t really know if I want to do this,” you mumble sheepishly. “Blind dating isn’t my speed.”  

“Just go. It’ll be fine. If you don’t like him, you don’t like him. Just give it a shot. If all else fails, just enjoy the pasta,” she’d said with finality, bopping the nozzle of the steamer on your shoulder as she walks away.  

Yeonjun is out of the dressing room in twenty minutes, and even then, you’re not sure why it takes that long. You’ve consistently held the belief that Yeonjun doesn’t need make-up to look good, and you can hardly tell when he has it on, anyway. Still, it’s nice to see his stylist pushing his hair up into a neat, tiny quiff, and he’s changed from his standard white tee and jeans to something that resembles a casual suit. You guessed they did it for Valentine’s Day — emulating the coveted boyfriend look, and all that.  

“How do I look?” He asks you, right before you lead him onstage. His eyes follow your hand as you fix the front of his jacket quickly.  

“Great,” you reply. “As usual.”

“So until six, right?” His mouth is lifting into a grin that you can’t really understand.  

“Until six,” you confirm, now a little curious. “You got somewhere to be?”  

“Not sure,” he looks down at you enigmatically. “It’s my off time, so we’ll see what happens.”  

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, even though there’s no heat in your words. You know he’s not dumb enough to gallivant around doing things that will get him on Dispatch’s radar.  

He just laughs, giving you a small wink before he hops onstage, taking two steps at a time. The voices around you are drowned out by the screams that ensue once his fans see him.  

From then on, it’s just the same pattern for the next two hours — you, standing on one corner of the stage beside a guy from security, watching hundreds of girls in a line titter and scream and fall to their knees in front of the table where Yeonjun is seated at. They’ve all got albums in their hands, offering them to him reverently for a signature, and he takes them all good-naturedly, scrawling his name and some short, practically unreadable message somewhere around it while chatting with them about food he likes and what movies he’s into these days.  

Since it’s Valentine’s Day, a ton of girls come with romantic gifts — flowers, chocolates, goodies baskets. One girl even brings a large teddy bear, plopping it down in front of him unceremoniously and scaring Yeonjun into accidentally miswriting his signature. You and the rest of his management team aren’t really strict about prohibiting gifts, but Yeonjun refuses all of them — nicely, of course, but to the disappointment of many fans. Every time he says no, he glances at you, like he’s worried you’re going to tell him off if he says yes. You’d wondered once before if he was just trying to pin the blame on you, but you know he’s not cruel like that. Today doesn’t make a difference; he rejects people with apologetic looks as he gives their albums back, and you can see their dejection as they trod off the stage. The teddy bear girl had left the toy by the stairs in her disappointment.  

Yeonjun starts his closing ment at a quarter to six, and you tap the security guy next to you to remind him to bring him straight backstage after he’s finished before dashing off and ducking into the dressing room to change. You hear deafening cheers coupled with Yeonjun’s cute little goodbye! that signal the end of the fan sign, and you’ve just finished combing your hair back when Yeonjun walks in, idly patting his hair to see if everything is still in place.

“You look nice,” he observes casually, shrugging off his jacket. You try to avoid looking at him, even if his shoulders are so impossibly broad that you can’t really ever keep them out of your peripheral vision. “Do you have plans?”  

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you admit, unsure as to why you feel so guilty for saying so. You’re not dating, you have to remind yourself. And you’re allowed to go out after work.

“Meeting someone special?”  

“I’m not sure. Could be. I don’t know who I’m meeting, if I’m being honest.”  

His expression is unreadable; his fingers are twirling his marker in quick, hypnotizing circles.  

“Well, have fun,” he finally says, moving to hang his jacket on the back of a chair. “You should take the subway or something. Rush hour, and all that.”  

“Thanks for the tip.” His words sound pretty dismissive, but you’re not sure why you don’t just leave right away. Maybe you’re expecting him to say something, although it’s really more about what you wish he would rather than what he reasonably would, and he just continues to stare quietly, still toying with the Sharpie. “If you… need anything, just call. You know?”  

“I know,” he replies simply. “But I won’t bother you on a date. That’s just plain rude.”

“I’ll still answer. You know you’re more important than a blind date.”  

“Am I?” He looks amused. “Sounds like you take this job too seriously. Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably just go home after all. There’s a wildlife documentary I’m dying to catch.”  

You’re pretty sure you hadn’t meant the job, but you don’t correct him considering how that would out you. “Okay. See you bright and early tomorrow. Remember you’ve got a radio interview at nine, so can you please not stop by Starbucks before you go home? Please?”  

“Sure, sure,” he waves you and your nagging off, and you bolt out of the door, feeling kind of stupid and a little flushed.  

You take Yeonjun’s advice and get on the subway, except the first two trains Dongdaemun-bound are full to the brim and you have to squeeze yourself into the car of the third train by elbowing a couple of annoying teenage boys. The other problem you run into is that the train station exits are a fair way away from your destination, and you aren’t used to running in heels. You clip-clop your way down the sidewalk and hit every red light for the pedestrian crossings, much to your ire. At one point, you stop in the middle of the crossing and consider just storming back to the opposite end of the road and going home, but the subway station is too far away for that choice to make sense at that point anyway.  

By the time you get to the restaurant, you’re about fifteen minutes late and have to sit on the chairs for walk-in customers to give your feet a break. The guy at the front of the house has the decency to wait for you to catch your breath and even quietly point out that a lock of hair is stuck to your lip gloss before he asks if you have a reservation.  

You nervously pick at your dress and comb the ends of your hair as you follow him. You notice someone is already seated at the table, back to you and looking over the menu. You think about all the things that you want to say — sorry for being late, have you been waiting long?, I totally understand if you want to just leave — but there’s a weird nagging in the back of your mind that grows as you approach the table.  

Maybe Sunyoung had known you had a type, so to speak —lean, sharp, nicely dressed. Technically, that wasn’t such a difficult set of characteristics to find, but the fact that they were all rolled up into one package seated at your table, so similar to the guy you’ve pinned as ideal, was just kind of spooky. Even the fact that your blind date was laughing to himself at God knows what, alongside the fact that the way his angular shoulders moved up and down comically the way his would, isjust weird.

That, or…  

All thoughts of apologizing fly out the window once you reach the table. All you can do is stare, your ears ringing and your fingers clutching your wallet tightly. Your mind has completely disconnected from reality, and the first thing that tumbles out of your mouth is loud and a little crude.  

“Literally, what the hell?”  

All the guy at your table can do is laugh harder, clearly because he’s Lee Freaking Yeonjun, and he’s finding this situation sidesplittingly hilarious.  

“Yeonjun,” you hiss, your hand flying up and curling into a fist in an attempt to restrain yourself from grabbing him by the collar. “What are you doing here?”  

It takes him another half-minute to sober down, and he’s still chuckling a little as he answers. “Waiting for my date, obviously.”  

“Explain,” you demand, pointedly ignoring the looks couples from another table are giving you.

“Okay, but you have to sit down first,” he motions to the seat across from him. You pull it back and plop down onto it, gaze unwavering. He pauses, kind of dramatically, before continuing. “So there’s a set course meal, but I know you don’t like shellfish, so I thought—”

“I don’t want an explanation of the menu!” You shut your eyes, trying to block out the scene for a second. This can’t be happening. It makes no sense. “I want to know — wait, is this a prank?” 

“What? No, of course not.”  

“How are you here?”  

“I took the van here,” he says, once again elusive. “I actually thought you��d get here before me, but then I realized you probably had to walk a long way. Sorry.” He has the decency to look sheepish at this point.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m on a date?” He shakes his head. “What’s not clicking, ____________?”

“Don’t sass me. Please. Do me that one courtesy, if nothing else.” He watches you down your water in one go, still looking politely amused. “Did Sunyoung put you up to this?”  

“Actually, I asked her to rope you in.”

“Because?”  

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” He looks incredulous. “Because I like you. I thought that was kind of obvious from the get-go.”

Nothing is making sense to you. Your head is starting to hurt a little, maybe from the situation, maybe from the cold water you’d drunk too fast. “How was it obvious?” You thought you had been kind of obvious, which was why you had attempted to stay distant and pretty aloof for the past few months.  

“I listen to everything you say.”

“You have to,” you point out wearily. “That’s literally supposed to be our professional relationship.”  

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have done it so well and so frequently if it were anyone else who were my manager,” he tries to reason, then continues when you look unconvinced. “And the gifts. I don’t take them.”  

“So?”  

“So, I don’t have a reason to not take them, technically. I just don’t because I don’t want you to think I’m accepting other people’s affections.”  

“That makes no sense. They’re your fans, so that has nothing to do with personal affections. You’re terrible at this.”  

“Okay, fine — but so are you!” His voice transitions into something a little accusing. “It’s not like you’ve been good at showing me you like me either.”  

He pauses, and for the first time in your life, you see something cross his face — uncertainty, maybe, or anxiety.  

“You do like me, don’t you?”  

The fire of indignant anger fueled by your initial shock dies down, and you’re left feeling a little embarrassed now. The entire walk here, you’d been torturing yourself with the fantasy that you could be somewhere else with Yeonjun on a date, but now that he’s seated across you in the flesh, you have no clue what to do or how to react properly. You toy with your napkin, but you feel his eyes burning into you.  

“Fine. I do, but,” you raise your voice a little at the conjunction; he doesn’t even take you seriously, choosing to look relieved instead. “But I’m not supposed to, Yeonjun. This is bad.”  

“Why? We’re at an old people restaurant. No one’s going to recognize us.”  

“Because I’m not supposed to go on dates with the idol I’m managing.”

“Be honest,” his bottom lip juts out. “Is that all you think of me?”  

Your lips thin out into a tight line; it’s easy to say no if you’re cheeky like him, but you’re pretty sure it’s easier to fire a manager for dating off-bounds than it is to cut off an idol’s career for the same reason.  

“Can’t we be, you know,” he points between the two of you. “Just us? Not manager and idol. Just you and me. Just for tonight. And we can see how it goes.”  

You hate that you cave so easily. You hate that you know you do because you like him so much. Your hand comes up to your face, trying to rub the ache away from your temples. A small, triumphant grin is growing on Yeonjun, like he already knows what you’re going to say. It occurs to you that after all this time you’ve come to know him well, he may have reached the same level of familiarity with you as well.

“Fine,” you mumble, and he doesn’t even contain his joy, pumping his fist into the air embarrassingly. “Fine. Just for tonight.”  

“Just for tonight,” he agrees. “Then we can see how it goes.”  

When you finally decide to meet his eye, you can’t help but laugh softly. He’s looking a little smug, and you want to smack him, or maybe just kiss him a little, but you just nudge his foot under the table. It doesn’t do anything to faze that little shit-eating expression on his face.  

“Don’t think this gets you off of waking up early,” you warn, but you never do get to threaten him effectively with just how soft your words are. “I’m still hauling you out of bed at seven.”

“As long as it’s you,” he grins. “And no one else.”  

“Shut up,” you try to bite back your smile, ducking your head instead to look at the menu when you feel it growing anyway. “Order your food.”  

You know he’s not looking at the menu even as you pretend to peruse it. Still, he falls quiet, eerily so, and you think he’s just staring until you feel something soft land on top of your hand.

Your eyes lift again to his face, and he’s still smiling, albeit a little more serenely, without that joking expression he’s practically trademarked. His hand squeezes yours tightly, and even when he loosens his hold, his palm never leaves yours.  

“You really do look beautiful tonight,” he says softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, _______________.”  

[confiscatedpeaches]

can i request william brat taming reader?? afab plss and i LOVE your writing!! tysm!!

ofc!! thank you so much for the complement! I love the thought of William brat taming, I bet he'd be really good at it. (Also this lowkey turned into a really long fic lmao so I AM going to write a part 2 tomorrow aaaah)

Minors DNI, TW: bdsm dom/sub bratty!reader, reader is wearing a collar, use of restraints

Afton comes home from work and it has NOT been a good day.

You knew the signs; the sound of his car door slamming, his shoes practically stomping onto the pavement below, and swearing as he fumbled for his keys. Today was not a good day at work for Mr. Afton. He was positively furious about something, and you knew he was going to take all of his frustration out on you. Of all the days you could have chosen to be a brat, this should not have been one of them.

You look into the living room and find him pacing furiously, muttering something to himself about "Henry" and "those god-damned parents". Noticing you out of the corner of his eye, he turns to look at you.

"You. Come over here right now."

You fold your arms. Why should you come over, when it's so adorable to watch him pace his way into a hole in the rug? Absolutely not. Part of you loved when he was like this, the angrier he got, the more fun he would have with you later.

"Awe my little whore thinks she's in charge. Get over here, now."

You should have listened. Really, you should have. But you just couldn't help your bratty ass now could you. Instead, you decide to commit the worst sin according to your Mr. Afton, you stick out your tongue.

He scoffed, his face getting redder. His head cocked to the side.

"You're feeling brave today aren't you love? Keep it up and see what happens."

God, you loved how his accent became thicker with rage. Sometimes you could barely understand the man. Watching him unravel into a mess of words and animalistic sounds drove you absolutely mad. Seeing him lose himself in you was such a thrill. You really, really should give in now, before this became much worse.

"Oh? What are you gonna do to me Mr. Afton? Are you gonna punish me?" You mocked.

He scowled and crossed his arms. You could practically see steam rising from out his ears.

"Yes, I am actually. Now get over here and let me spank you for being such a naughty little bunny."

Even after he raised his voice, you continue to refuse.

"Do I have to come and get you myself darling?"

A grin spread across your face. Was he challenging you? Oh yes, he was definitely challenging you. You were going to make him work for this. Excitement bubbles within you.

"I'd love to see you try, catch me if you can!"

You dash down the corridor and turn down one of the side halls. You hear a very loud British man begin raving and screaming behind you

"Oh you little---!

Laughter fills your ears. Your laughter, of course, but also Will's. He was laughing manically. It dawns on you that you have fucked up, big time. It was one thing for him to simply get mad and dominate you, but for him to start laughing? That's when you knew he had something truly terrible planned for you. You had to hide and wait for him to calm down, asap.

His footsteps were getting louder, closer. Turning down yet another corridor (his house is weirdly arranged, and you often find yourself lost in it), you flick on the lights and run into the basement. He has so much junk in there, there is no way he'd be able to find you if you tucked yourself away in there well enough.

Sitting in the back corner, you find the perfect place. You manage to hide yourself behind an animatronic you haven't seen him work on in ages. Holding your breath, you wait.

His footsteps stop at the top of the basement stairs. Shit, he must have seen you run into there. His ragged breath and laughter echo down the stairs, reverberating on the basement walls. He has really lost it this time.

Then, he does something unexpected. He takes a few steps down the stairs, before shutting the door behind him and flicking off the lights.

He has you trapped. You're so unfamiliar with the basement that there is no way you'd be able to navigate your way out of there without making a sound, or god forbid, bumping into him.

"Come out come out wherever you are." He sings.

Dear lord, he was feeling absolutely villainous. You knew he could be sadistic, but you've never seen him like this. You heard him shuffle, what could he be doing? Is he searching for you? Fear and arousal pool inside you.

"Aww come on little bunny, I thought you were being brave."

You could feel your heart beating in your ears. You didn't know how long you could hold or hide your breath, especially with how hot and bothered you were getting.

"Little bunny, where are you? I know you're in here. If you come out now I pinkie promise not to punish you.... too harshly."

That liar, you knew this was a fake-out. He isn't stupid enough to believe that would do the trick. You would wait him out, see who could last longer. A growing part of you wanted to submit, face the consequences, and end the torture early, but the rest of you was stubborn and wanted to see how far you could take this. You were already in deep shit, why not make it worse?

"Sweetheart... I can see you, you know."

What? There's no way, it's almost pitch black in here. Can this motherfucker see in the dark or something?!

"You're hiding behind that animatronic, I can see your feet. I can hear your breathing too love. Come out now, be a good girl."

Shit. He had you dead-to-rights. All of the stubbornness deflated out of you like a popped balloon. He won, you lost, and he knows it. You hate how wet this is making you. You wanted to win this time, but there's a reason he's the dom and you're the brat. He's just so much cleverer and smarter than you. You stood no real chance.

"Don't you want to be a good girl for Mr. Afton? Really now, I can see you curled up back there. Crawl out like the pathetic little loser you are. I'm not coming to get you this time."

The urge to submit builds within you. You know you shouldn't make this any worse for yourself. Reluctantly, you slide out from your secure hiding place. A light illuminates your figure. You see him sitting on the second to last step of the staircase, flashlight in hand.

"Ah, there you are. Come over here, now."

Before you can resist, you find yourself walking towards him. You were too tired to fight anymore.

"Good girl, now get on your knees."

You obey. His hand thrusts towards you and grabs you by your collar.

"Gotch'ya you little bitch! How dare you disrespect me?! You stupid little whore, there's at least a dozen animatronics down here, I just guessed you were hiding behind one! It's time to face the consequences doll."

(Part 2 coming tomorrow -- am too tired to write more tonight.)

[georgiapeach30513]

Step Into My Ride, Part 3

Summary: why Chris hates Ransom so much.

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, restraints/tied up, voyeurism, cream pie, mentions of drug trafficking, unexpected pregnancy, arrest, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

He had eyed you for a while. He had dropped not so subtle hints that he wanted to take you out. He was typically the type of man you went for, and you couldn’t come up with a good excuse to tell him no, so you went. Against your better judgment.

Chris was nice enough. He was good looking. He was a cop. He was a good boy, and came from a good family. Exactly the type of man your mother would want for you, and still something felt off. Conversation was fine. It was easy. He loved to talk about himself, and you listened. Smiled at the right times, and even added just enough to his conversation. You complimented him enough, and Chris liked it.

Chris, however, did not think about the restaurant that he had brought you. Didn’t think anything of how he met you. Didn’t even notice his cocky nephew walk in with his woman for the night, but you did. Yours and Ransom’s eyes meet immediately, and you have to look down to the table to get your gaze off him. The two of you had been noticing each other for awhile, but you and he both were with other people.

Ransom’s mouth turns up into a crooked smile when he walks directly to yours and Chris’ booth. You gulp, looking at anything but him. Wanting to completely ignore what was happening, and then Chris’ hand grips onto your thigh, “Was there no race, Ranny?” He asks as Ransom and his girl slide in.

Ransom’s arm goes around her shoulder, but his stare is intently on you. “You would know. Cops were out hot like crazy tonight. So we just gave up. Lost a lot of money on that race.”

“You don’t lose money,” Chris snarls, pulling you closer to him. “You just gain.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Ransom’s voice is incredibly low, and you have to start fidgeting your fingers. He had this magnet that was pulling you closer to him. It was infuriating that you just had no self control, and you were on a date with someone else.

“Molly, I’d like you to meet my uncle Chris,” oh this was making things a lot more difficult. “Chris usually lets us know when the cops are a little crazy. Looks like he was preoccupied. So…what do you got here, Christopher.”

Chris introduces you to Ransom and Molly, and you immediately hate her. Hate that she had Ransom’s touching her, while you had a commanding hand on your thigh. Ransom leans back in the booth, his foot planting itself in between your own, and you try not to react. He was a cocky little fucker. Playing footsie with you while both of you were on dates. And you just so happened to be with his uncle.

“Yeah, I’ve seen this dame around. The past few times she’s been at the race, I’ve won big money. It’s like she’s my personal lucky charm.”

“And she’s on a date with me. You know, I think we should go,” Chris starts to edge himself out the booth, and both of Ransom’s legs hold you in place. He had no intentions of letting you go.

“I think you should stay,” his foot toes higher on you, and he chuckles when your legs drift further apart. “Come on, we hardly see each other anymore, Uncle Chris. I think we need to take this moment to spend some time together. What do you think, Lucky Charm?”

“Chris, we haven’t had dessert,” his booted foot rubs softly up and down your leg, getting as high up as your knee, and you get visions of fucking him in the bathroom. Making both your dates wait while he pounds into you with a hand over your mouth. “I hear they have really good cheesecake here.”

“I love cheesecake,” Ransom winks at you, and slick pools in your panties. Your body was heated up so much it was all the way in your cheeks. The urge you had to start grinding in your seat was making it harder to see. You wanted him. You wanted to push aside all reserves you had for Ransom. You need him all over your body. He was too bold not to know what he was doing.

“Fine. We’ll have dinner tonight. But then maybe you and I can spend some time alone. For our first date?”

“Yeah. Sure,” that wasn’t convincing in the slightest, and at least Ransom understood that. At this point you were throbbing so hard you were ready to sit in Ransom’s lap while everyone watched you bounce on top of him. It was unnatural and animalistic. But you wanted it.

Chris may be oblivious to things, but you weren’t. You saw everything. Ransom’s arm leaving Molly’s shoulder. The conversation quickly turning into just you and Ransom. The way you were trying to scoot away from Chris, and lean across the table to give Ransom your undivided attention. A moth to a flame. You were the delicate little moth, and Ransom was a ball of fire that you couldn’t look away from.

“Mother fucker,” Chris tosses his phone in his cruiser. Another call went straight to voicemail. There is no other place that you would be. He even saw you at the race for the first time. He had nothing else to lose.

He shouldn’t have left his post, but it didn’t seem like there was anyone checking for the hooligans trying to conduct an illegal race. There was a shift with you the moment that Ransom had sat down at the table, and he didn’t trust his nephew. Ransom always got whatever he wanted, and how he wanted it.

Chris was the bastard son of Harlan Thrombey. Barely even recognized by his siblings as one of them. Ransom was looked at as more important to the family, and he was a criminal. He was only a grandson.

“You son of a bitch,” Chris growls as he sees Ransom winning a race and going straight to you. Treating you like a common whore. His hand goes under your shirt, and cups your breast as he crashes his lips on yours. Basically fucking each other out in public. A needy little slut, and you were letting Ransom use you.

Trash. For all that Ransom had, he was trash. His mother and grandfather would be so disappointed. As would yours. Daughter of the school headmaster, and your mother was a model. Your grandfather was a state senator and grandmother the president of the D.A.R. Chris had looked into you. You deserved better than the life Ransom was pulling you into.

After this race there was only one place Ransom would take you, and Chris was going to wait and see just how close the two of you were to breaking up. He had his rituals. He only kept girls for a month. No more. And just before breakup, he sends you about your merry way after sex. Slowly growing distant

“Oh god, Ran!” Your shouts could be heard outside of the garage. If anyone wanted to watch, it would be easy. All the lights were on. There were no blinds on the windows. But to see you with your hands tied to the ceiling as Ransom fucks into you from behind infuriated him.

Ransom wasn’t even looking at your face, just his dick being sucked back into your cunt. Looking at how shiny your juices was making him. You were a tied up plaything. Even when your knees start to give out, Ransom grips tighter to your hips, keeping you on your feet. “Please! Please, Ran!”

“You’re almost there, Lucky. Give me one more, and I’ll let you rest, I promise.”

It felt like he had been using you for hours. Couldn’t even bother taking you somewhere special. Just tied you up like the rest of them. But even Chris couldn’t deny that this was different. It never lasted this long. He never talked to them. He never touched them with the care he was giving you. But the biggest surprise comes when you sigh, feeling Ransom’s warmth spurt deep into your womb, and his thrusts slow down.

Both of you panting so sweetly, and he pulls you back to him. Removing your hands from their restraints, and starts giving you the sweetest kisses. His hands drift down your front, and softly plays with your clit while you whimper in his mouth. And then Chris sees it; Ransom’s cum starting to leak onto your thighs. Ransom doesn’t do that. Even admitted boldly that he would never do that.

“You wanna stay here, Luck? Or you want to go back to your place?”

“Here, baby. Uhh,” you whine as he pulls himself out of you. You grab at his hand, sucking each finger clean, all while staring up at him like an angel. “Maybe you can make sweet love to me in that little bed?”

You didn’t even care that Ransom lived at the fucking garage. Ransom could have been anybody, and he chose to be a nobody. This pissed Chris off even more. You should already have been in his bed. You were his, and yet just another thing Ransom had stolen from him.

You swing your arms down, letting the cars rush past you, and solemnly walk back to the crowd. You didn’t know how you were going to tell Ransom. You were both adults though. Both of you were not careful. Both of you participated each time that you had fucked. But those tests did not lie. Every single one. All of them with the same result.

You wanted the baby, and wanted Ransom. And you weren’t sure if you could have both.

“Luck, what’s wrong?” Chris steps up behind you, and you flinch a moment. You know he wasn’t happy with how you didn’t return his calls, but you were — preoccupied. “Lucky?”

“Nothing,” but your lip trembles. “It’s fine.”

“Fine doesn’t make you cry at a race.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” Chris taps a police scanner, “Oh,” he holds up a partially smoked joint, and you decline without hesitation, causing Chris’ brows to raise.

“Since when did you stop smoking? I thought that was how you can stand to be around that prick.”

“Don’t say that,” your eyes look out into the distance, barely able to hear the rumble of the cars anymore. “I love him.”

“That came from nowhere,” the distaste was heavy on his tongue. You may love Ransom, but Ransom saw you as an easy lay. Someone that didn’t want to argue about having to sleep at a garage to stay with him. “You don’t even know him.”

“I do. I know him more than you think. He’s…he’s not like you assume. Not when it’s just us,” Ransom was the opposite of what everyone else saw. He was gentle, patient, kind, funny, and so loving. He never even wanted his hands off of you.

“Oh, you mean he doesn’t want to fuck you in a car, while there’s a crowd of people around you.”

You scoff. Chris didn’t fully understand. He couldn’t. He was rarely around the two of you. He stayed away, and when he was around it was just him glaring at Ransom. “Wow. You’re acting like they were surrounding the car and watching Ransom and me fuck. They weren’t even paying us any goddamn mind. I guess except you. What is you’re fucking deal?”

“He’s using you!” You shake your head, starting to walk away, but he grabs your wrist too hard. Not letting go of it. “Yes, he is. Letting everyone here know you’re off limits. He…Lucky you’re not even using protection. What happens if…” your breathing picks up, and finally, his hold loosens when your tears start back and your chest starts to heave.

“Oh my god. You’re pregnant. With…with his bastard.”

“My baby is not a bastard! You better shut your fucking mouth!”

“Luck, you can’t stay with him. You live in a studio apartment, and he lives in a room in a garage. You can’t raise a baby in either of those places. You know exactly what’s going to happen when you tell him,” he didn’t know what he was talking about. Chris was just feeding your worst fears. Ransom wouldn’t leave. Ransom would stay. He knew what unprotected sex was going to do.

“He’s gonna leave. He doesn’t want kids. You know how many times he told me he doesn't want kids?”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t have been coming inside of me. What is your problem? You — you don’t know anything.”

“I know Ransom. Just…let me be the daddy, if you need to keep it.”

“Had to add that ‘if’ in, huh? I’m keeping my baby. And I’m keeping Ransom. Thanks for the offer, Chris. Thanks for making a pregnant woman think the worst of her boyfriend. You know nothing about us. You think Ransom is winning all this money for dope? Why do you have to be such an asshole? I needed comfort tonight,” the roar of the cars returning. It wouldn’t be long until Ransom was beside you, and the two of you could talk.

“I just know how he is.”

“Did you know we found some land? Course you didn’t. You’re too busy being jealous. Chris, I like you. But I’m in love with him. I’m having his baby. And you can accept that or fuck off.”

“Luck, I don’t need you to hate me. I need you to know that the offer stands. I have stability with the police. I can offer you more than just this life,” with the headlights now visible you step away from Chris. You didn’t want to continue this. You wanted Ransom. You wanted to talk. Partying wasn’t for tonight.

“She’s pregnant,” Ransom slumps down in a chair in Chris’ office. “And I’m scared to death.”

“Because you don’t know how you’re going to break up with her?”

“What?” Ransom shakes his head, laughing at how uncomfortable this was. “No, we bought land. But I can’t build a house in such a short amount of time. I don’t have the money for that.”

“Unless you start selling,” Chris had long been trying to get Ransom to run for him. Said that he had the perfect avenue with the garage and the racing. Ransom wanted a relatively honest living. One that didn’t include drugs.

“No. I’m not doing that shit. I told you I wasn’t going to sell. I want an honest life at the garage, and extra cash from the racing. So much has been put back into the garage, and she gets it. Man, she’s perfect. I didn’t want kids, but one with her doesn’t sound bad at all. Are you kidding me? I can’t wait. I don’t care if we lived in a double wide trailer,” Chris rolls his eyes, settling back in his seat. “What?”

“A trailer?”

“They have nice trailers.”

“You could have money to build a house on your land.”

“I don’t deal in dope. I’ve got a kid coming. I can’t risk a felony charge for drug trafficking,” Chris starts to laugh, which only infuriates Ransom more. “You can’t guarantee just because you’re a fucking cop that I won’t get caught. I’m not running drugs. I’d rather ask my parents for money than risk losing my child and her. You know she wouldn’t stay with me. Luck is the real deal. She won’t stand by me if I’m arrested.”

Ransom pulls a box out of his pocket, opening it up and he stares lovingly at the ring. It wasn’t the most expensive, wasn’t even a real diamond. But he knew it was going to be beautiful on your finger, “She deserves something real. This was less than three hundred bucks, and at Walmart. I have to pick and choose. I’m going to do right by them. And our money is now towards a place to live.”

Ransom doesn’t say anything more, only stands up to leave, “Don’t come at me with that offer again. You need to get out of that shit, too.”

Ransom always had everything figured out. Knew how to steal his girl. Knew how to make extra money without risk of a felony. Knew how to change his mind to make a girl stay. Chris hated how everything came so easy to that fucking prick. He hated him. He hated Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

Chris takes a long toke of his joint as he stares at yours and Ransom’s trailer. Every light in the house was off. It is quiet. Serene. The only thing visible was Gracie’s night light casting pictures on the ceiling. He pulls out his phone, “They’re all there,” hanging up quickly, and settles back in his seat. Front row to Ransom’s worst nightmare.

You stir in your sleep. Your hand drifts up and down Ransom’s chest. “Shh, go back to sleep, darling,” Ransom mumbles, giving you a soft kiss on your head. He wraps an arm around you, holding you tight against him, “Love you, my Lucky charm.”

“I love you, Ran,” your voice is already getting heavier as the sleep takes you over again. You never wanted to miss a night sleeping next to him. Having his boxers so low that his groomed hair was poking out the top. Ransom was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

The team surrounds your home, someone stationed at every door, and every window. The master bedroom was to the east side of the house, and not a peep was coming from the room.

You jolt up in bed as the doors break in. Standing up trying to get to Gracie’s room before something hard hits you on the chest, “Stay the fuck down!”

“You get your hands off her!” Ransom screams as a police officer slams him face down on the floor. Tears fill his eyes as he watches you immobile. Hit so hard that they knocked the breath out of you. “Let her go! Lucky! Luck, darling, are you breathing. My god, she’s trying to get our daughter,” Ransom’s tears turn to rage when he hears Gracie’s terrified scream. “Let her get our baby!”

“Mommy!”

“She can’t breathe!” You finally gasp for air. Gaining more strength when you hear her voice again. “Let her go!” She needs you. She sounds so scared, and you can’t move. Could barely breathe. Struggling to say her name. You need your baby.

“Mr. Drysdale, do you have any weapons in the house?”

“Gracie,” you croak out. “Please, let me get my daughter. She’s crying.”

“She’s fine,” the officer screams in your ear, and then Gracie is able to run past someone. Seeing you on the floor, and screams, reaching for you. “Calm the child down!”

“She’s scared. She’s a baby! Please. Please!”

“If you let them go, I leave without a fight. There’s guns in the closet safe, along with some cash. Just let them go!” The officer holding Ransom down nods to your captor, and they release you, and you dash towards Gracie. Grabbing her up and pressing her close to your body, trying to soothe her tears.

“Ransom Drysdale, you’re under arrest for drug trafficking. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” you stare horrified as they lift him up to his feet. Cuffing his hands behind his back, and pushing him out the door.

“Daddy! Where are you taking my daddy! No! Daddy.”

“You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court,” they push his head into the car, but his eyes stay in front of him. Face as hard as stone.

“Can I get him some clothes?” You ask, still holding Gracie close to you. “He’s just wearing boxers. H-h-he needs shoes.”

“Mrs. Drysdale…”

“Let me get him some clothes, please? He’s been arrested for…for what?”

“Did you know anything about your husband’s drug running?”

“I-I-I…” you look out to the police cruiser, remembering the words that Ransom said, “I’m not speaking without a lawyer. Let me get him some clothes. And let — god, can our daughter see him for a second? Sh-sh-she’s scared, and you…you took her daddy.”

“Get him some clothes,” the officer says, following you into the bedroom where they were ripping everything apart. Sleep still addled your brain, and this was quickly becoming overwhelming. Your home was being destroyed right before your very eyes.

“Oh god. What…what are you doing?”

“Do you have somewhere else to go tonight?” Snapping his fingers, the other officers stop their search. Pointing over to the closet. Even what you grab out for Ransom to wear is heavily searched. Pockets pulled out, and shoes looked into before they give them back to you. “Ma’am, your home is going to be searched, do you have somewhere else to go?”

“Can I pack us a suitcase?”

“No.”

“What about her nightlight, and doll?’

“No.”

Dammit. “Can you get us some fucking shoes then? My god, what is going on?”

“Where are you going?”

“To Harlan Thrombey’s. Can I go see Ransom now?” Still an officer stays with you as you walk clothes out to Ransom. “Baby?”

“Tell Harlan to call my lawyer the minute you get in. Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t let anyone but Harlan and mom be alone with Gracie. Not even Chris,” you nod your head. You didn’t want to ask too many questions, because Ransom wouldn’t answer. “Baby girl, daddy is going to be away for a while.”

Gracie shakes her head no, reaching for her dad, “No,” you were getting about fucking tired of that word.

“Daddy! Daddy, don’t leave me. I get scared at bed time without you.”

“Gracie, you be good for mommy, and gramma, and Pappy, okay?” Gracie’s face scrunches up tightly. Tears pour down her face, still reaching for him. “Daddy will be back. No matter what, daddy loves you and mommy.”

“Daddy, no! Daddy, I’m scared!” The officer slams the door, separating you and Gracie from him, and he gives the top a tap, as it starts to roll away. “Daddy! I need my daddy! No, gimme my daddy back!”

“Ma’am, I suggest you and your daughter go somewhere else tonight.”

“Can you not…god, I have a studio with expensive camera equipment.”

“It’s all being seized,” he walks away from you, and you watch horrified as figures discard items in your home. You couldn’t watch this anymore. Couldn’t calm Gracie down.

Chris takes his final hit of the roach before tossing it onto the ground. Smiling to himself as he backs his car off your property. Ransom didn’t win this time. Finally he was getting what was owed to him. And finally Chris was going to get what always belonged to him. You. And now Ransom was almost out of the way. And there would only be you.

His. You were always his.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @elrw24 @midnightramyeoncravings @saiyanprincessswanie

[burninlovebutler]

25 - New Years Pt. 1 - Til You Come Back for More* // Forever Winter Series

pairing: austin x fem!oc | word count: 4k-ish

warnings: angst, jealousy, mentions of strip clubs/sex work, alcohol, excruciating teasing from a fed up!austin, taunting, fingers, lots of dialogue, 18+ only, MDNI

summary: Austin meets Elsie at a roof top new years party, bringing an unexpected plus-one with him. Elsie finds herself overcome with a foreign feeling of jealousy that demands an outlet.

prev chp -> 24 - Ski Slopes**

see masterlist/summary for chapter log & background info

will i still love you like this when it’s midnight?

will you still love me like this when it’s midnight?

the new year comes but i’ll be lonely tonight

Til you come back for more

-ELSIE-

Nox and I finally arrived to this stupid corporate party Nox’s coworker invited us to for New Years. It was what was described to me as “modern black tie 20’s Great Gatsby” themed… whatever the fuck that meant. I suppose when you work with a bunch of overgrown frat boys as business partners, party themes aren’t executed that well. My only saving grace was that I invited Austin. I knew Nox would eventually ditch me for his coworker buddies and leave me alone, so the least I could do was have Austin come with me.

I tugged at my satin green dress while checking my phone for any updates from Austin, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around to my best friend in jeans and a leather jacket – quite the difference to the suits crowding the roof top. I then took notice of the petite blonde that followed behind him.

Austin cleared his throat. “Elsie, this is my friend Aspen.” Austin gesturing between us.

‘Friend’ yeah right.

“Aspen, this is my friend Elsie.”

‘Friends’ sure.

I wondered if they were friends like we are.

And what exactly was that?

“Hi!” Aspen chirped and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you Elsie!”

I shook her hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

Austin seemed to have ignored the memo with his casual attire that made him stick out like a sore thumb – Aspen evidently had nailed the assignment, a slinky silver dress hung over her thin body. She was exactly the kind of girl he always ended up with. She was everything I wasn’t.

“Oh! I’ll get us some drinks! I’ll be right back Aust.” She pecked his cheek quickly and fluttered away to the inside bar.

Aust?

Who the fuck was this bitch?

 “I didn’t know you were bringing someone?” I questioned, wanting to cross my arms but it seemed inappropriate, there’s no reason for me to be so peeved about another girl with him.

“Oh well, I just thought I might as well bring a date to the party.”

A date?

“Oh well, you just didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not.” He replied shortly.

“You’re not what?”

“Seeing her. We’re just friends.”

“You just said she’s your date, she kissed you.”

“I’m your ‘date’ to shit all the time. And you kiss my cheek too.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, but the words sliced just the same. He never seemed to object before, it’s not like he felt this searing over Nox. Other than his hatred for him.

The bubbly blonde returned with drinks expertly stacked in her hands. “Here, do you mind holding this for me?” handing her cup to Austin, “I have to call Courtney back, I might have to go cover her shift at the club.” She said with a pout.

Club?

And she was gone again. “Club?” I asked the second she was gone.

“Yeah, she works at a club.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his own drink.

“What kind of club?”

His eyes diverted, “Ehm, you know just a night club.”

“Which one?” Narrowing my eyes but quickly softening them, keeping my reactions calm.

“’Body Language’.”

“The strip club!” I was losing my grip of restraint. Scratching his arm, he just nodded. “And what does she do there?”

“She’s a bottle girl,” He answered casually, “But sometimes she covers other shifts.”

“So, she’s a stripper.”

“No, she’s a bottle service girl. Most of the time.”

“Right, and you’re ‘just friends’.”

He met my eyes now, the energy shifted. “What does it matter?” He snapped back at me, obviously catching on to my unwarranted attitude.

I hadn’t thought that far, I reeled in my interrogation. What did it matter? “It doesn’t – I was just wondering. She seems…nice.”

“Well, like I said, we’re just friends.”

“Right.” I knew he was lying, he’s the worst fucking liar.

Aspen returned even perkier than before, “She found someone else! Thank god I didn’t wanna leave. You seem so fun!”

Oh my god why did he have to pick the more irritating girls. I gave a forced tight-lipped smile. “Austin tells me you’re a writer!”

“Oh uh, yeah. I work for an online magazine.” How boring compared to a stripper, suddenly feeling insecure about my profession.

“That’s really cool!” Agonizingly sweet, like cotton candy perfume. It made me want to vomit.

“What do you do?” Wanting her answer.

“Oh, I work at the strip club down the street, I’m a bottle service girl!” She answered like it was the most prestigious job.

So, he wasn’t lying about that. “So, you never strip?” I felt Austin’s eyes burning into me.

She giggled, “Oh sometimes I do, that’s where the real money is.” Of course it is.

“I bet. And what does a bottle girl do exactly?” Taking a very necessary gulp of my saturated drink. I knew my tone came off quite judge-y, but I couldn’t help it. I’m extremely supportive of sex workers, it wasn’t about that. It was something else.

“Well let’s see. Mostly I just walk around in lingerie pouring drinks for the patrons. I can give lap dances if I want to. Or use the private rooms if I’m asked specifically.” She spoke about it so professionally. I’d never heard a club employee explain their duties like that.

“Ah.” I stole the last sip of my drink.

“I keep telling Austie he needs to come visit me!” She looked up at him like a little kid and he curled his arm around her waist.

Austie? Only I ever called him that. Me. Just me.

“You could come visit too!” She offered, “If you’re into that. You could bring your boyfriend.”

I snapped my eyes up to Austin’s, “Maybe I will.” His eyes matched my intensity. Aspen didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t care. The ditzy blonde reminded me of literally every girl he’d ever dated. Though, she was nicer than most. At least she was fucking nice. I never understood how he ended up with girls like her, he’s so the opposite of anything they were.

I wanted absolutely nothing more about this interaction. Scanning the crowd for Nox, he blended into all the rest of the 3-piece suits. “Well, I better find Nox, it was nice meeting you Aspen.” I fled before she even had a chance to respond.

-

As predicted, Nox payed little attention to me, leaving me alone with too many glasses of champagne and a dance floor.  The latest Doja Cat song blared from the DJ’s speakers and to say that I was enjoying myself would be an understatement. The alcohol coursing through my veins, the anger of Nox’s absence and the unexplainable fury with Austin all fueled the way I danced and spun around the dance floor. My hips swung in time with the music and my emerald green dress flowed accordingly.

Every time I caught a glimpse of Austin, his eyes were already on me. It was interesting to see the difference of his gaze on me versus Aspen. On me, his eyes were dark, brooding, maybe even… angry?

On her, it was soft, kind, happy, fun.

That was how he would look at me, when we were alone. Maybe that just wasn’t us anymore. Perhaps we’d crossed one too many lines to stay who we were. If our, incidents, were starting to cause a rift between us, I knew it had to end. Just the idea of living without him as my best friend was unbearable. The weirdness between us had to end, no matter how much I disliked his new girlfriend.

Lost in my own thoughts, I twirled into another swirling girl resulting in her red wine spilling all down the front of your satin dress. A sharp gasp came from you as the cold liquid spread over your clothes.

“What the fuck.” You muttered trying to piece together what happened. To your shock stood Aspen covering her filled lips with a dainty hand.

“Oh my gosh Elsie I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-“ She began desperately apologizing, not a hint of insincerity in her voice, but it only made me more infuriated.

Even in my drunken state I knew I shouldn’t voice the vile words I had swirling in my head. “I have to go.” Brushing harshly between them to the kitchen within the penthouse. Behind me I heard Austin apologize to Aspen before his footsteps tried to keep up after me.

“Elsie!” He called and didn’t take long before he caught up to me, “What the fuck was that about?”

I spun to face him emphasizing the growing deep red stain on my slitted dress, “She got fucking red wine on my dress, that’s what that was about.” I hissed turning and charging back away from him, pushing through the crowded loft. Boiling alcohol bubbled in my veins

“You bumped into her and knocked it on yourself Elsie.” His tone was far calmer than what I’d expected, I expected him to be angrier – angrier at me for knocking into his sparkly new girlfriend or angrier at her for spilling wine onto me. The calmness of it was making me angry. Why wasn’t he angry at either of those things?

I felt his hand grasp my arm briefly but dislodged thanks to a stranger’s passing elbow. Each body I brushed past built up the already boiling alcohol in my veins, I couldn’t look back at him, I didn’t dare - I was seeing red and I didn’t want to see it on him.

Though, it was no surprise that he caught up to me – amazing how much speed you gain from just having height. His hand clamped itself around my bicep, “Let me help you.” A grumbled whisper filled your ear, his warm breath shooting goosebumps across your neck.

Of course, I retracted my arm from him, “No I don’t fucking need your help.” But his grip didn’t give, and he hauled me into the crowded kitchen.

“Yes, you fucking do Elsie,” Both tone and facial expressions curled with frustration but immediately toned it down when he noticed the other people in the kitchen watching, who soon filed out, no doubt from the uncomfortable air. Once gone he wrapped his hands firm on my shoulders, dark blue eyes glaring down at me. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Finally, I was able to wiggle my way out of his grasp, “I don’t have a fucking problem. You’re the one being the prick.”

He rolled his eyes and snatched a dish towel, running it under water before tugging the wet material from my chest. “I’m being a prick by dancing with my date?” He snapped, his focus seemingly on getting the stain out.

“No, you’re just – I don’t know you’re just being fucking mean.” I flustered, the adrenaline pumping through my body was making every thought and memory blurry.

“Mean?” With snide, glancing up at me briefly, “How the fuck am I being mean? Because I fucking brought a girl to a party? Because I didn’t come to be your secondary date?”

I noticed his eyes subtly surveying the party behind the kitchen as if he was ashamed to be seen with me. “No – No it’s not about that.” I stuttered out, realizing I didn’t have an answer.

Dropping the fabric and slamming the towel on the counter, “Then what is it about Elsie, please fucking enlighten me.”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip at the lack of my response, “Hm.”

Oh– his tongue. It had taken every piece of me to snuff out the memory of his tongue. His tongue on my – his tongue making me feel things I’d never felt. My eyes lingered on his plump lips, it sent a warm trickle down to my lower stomach.

As much as I wanted it, I couldn’t. Not again. We had just gotten past it.

“It’s ju-“ I was in his grasp again, my wrist this time being used to tow me away to the hallway. Jiggling the handle of every room before finding an empty one and pulled us into it. He locked the door and spun me against the door.

My arms crossed over my chest, “What? You’re scared of her seeing me with you?”

“What does it fucking matter Elsie?” Through straight, gritted teeth.

“So, you are scared of your girlfriend seeing us.”

“For the last fucking time she’s not my girlfriend.” He pushed himself off the door running fingers through his golden hair. “Jesus fucking christ, what does it fucking matter?”

“Answer the question.”

“What? If I care if she sees me with you?” He stepped back closer, towering over me then leaning down to eye level. “No, she doesn’t give a fuck. I don’t give a fuck. We’re not together. She’d try to fuck you if she wanted.”

“Well I-“ Pressing back into the door as if I could camouflage into it.

“You what?” He hissed, eyes narrow and callous.

I blurted the only sane answer I could think of, “I don’t like her.”

“I don’t like Nox.” Shooting back with even stronger ammo. I made him put up with Nox, why couldn’t I just fucking put up with Aspen.

“Yeah but-“

“Actually, you know what I’d like to know why you don’t like her. Because she’s been nothing but nice to you. And you’ve been fucking rude.” His accelerating voice almost frightened me.

“Augh- It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about Elsie.” His thinning dark blues felt like lasers.

“I don’t know it’s not-“

“What is it about.” He questioned again before I could even finish my sentence.

“I-I don’t know it’s not her-.”

“Then what the fuck is it about!” His hand slammed against the door right beside my head.

I immediately tensed beneath him. “I don’t have an answer.” I let out quietly.

“I think you do.” He moved closer, his voice even lower.

“I-I really don’t.” I sputtered out, barely even loud enough to hear.

His hand gave him an anchor on the door to lean down just below my ear, “Sure you do. C’mon use your words.”

My breath hitched in my throat as if I just swallowed an ice cube whole. The words rang a memory of when I was in his lap, in the bathroom on Christmas. His tone smooth as butter, vastly different than the fuming voice from just seconds ago. It caused a flutter in the pit of my belly and my heartrate to spike. The ice cube in my throat kept me silent.

His hand tilted my chin up to face him, “You can do it darlin’. Use your words.” His words were sweet, encouraging, but his tone was anything but. Condescending, teasing, punishing. It was like my voice was stolen, I couldn’t even form a sentence. I couldn’t think over my heart thumping against my skull. I could only blink up at him.

His hand moved up my side – but never touching. His touch hovering over my body, somehow worse than him actually touching me. The flutter in my stomach now dropped between my thighs. Moving to my chest, a bent knuckle traced around my breast then just ever so slightly grazing my hardened nipple. I took my lip between my teeth trying to stifle a moan, but it failed. “Fuck.” I breathed out, causing a smirk to curl his lips. How did he make me so fucking weak.

“Ah, that’s it. So, you can use your words.” His deepened voice sent shivers down my spine and straight between my legs. And again, the ability to speak left.

His hovering fingers descended down my front painfully slow. “Could you do that for me again?” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Then his fingers now lingering in front of my core. The buzzing below my hips only worsened. The feeling of his hand just being near me was enough to cause a pooling in my panties. I sucked in a staggered breath.

“What’s wrong darlin’?” His hand now hovering back and forth across my hips. “You want me to touch you?” My eyes widened, what the fuck was he doing to me, some twisted hypnotic dance. A devious smile spread across his face, “Ah that’s it isn’t it?”

My heart now in my throat, threatening to rip out of my body. I still couldn’t speak, I didn’t want to answer. And yet I nodded. His lips again at my ear, “Well maybe if you use your words, I just might.”

The throbbing in my core begged me to respond. “Please.” I whispered.

The same devious smirk returned, but he didn’t move any closer to me. “I wanna hear it again.”

“Fuck, please.” Two fingers now moved in circles a centimeter away from where I needed him.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.” The words leaving me much whinier than intended.

“Hm. I don’t think so.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t you remember? Your own rule.” His words so fucking serrated. “’No touching’.”

I suddenly regretted every word past me ever said. This also confused me since we had touched before, technically. I just wanted to do that again, just enough for it to not feel as wrong. Even though, it still lingered a guilt. “We’ve touched before.” Looking up at him with innocent eyes. For some reason my response made me nervous for his reaction.

And I was right, his gaze turning menacing, “Yeah, I’m not doing that shit anymore. We’re either gonna touch or we’re not.” His brows lowering, striking both fear and arousal in me. “All or nothing. I’m done caring about the rules, I want to break them.”

My eyes rounded and my fucking speech leaving me yet again. How was I supposed to argue with him, I couldn’t break them. No matter how much I wanted to.

He hummed, “I have a question.” My stare answered for me.

“You still think about me when you’re touching yourself?”

Fuck not this again. I didn’t want to answer it this time as it had only gotten more rampant since Christmas. Especially when I thought of his cock in my mouth. I hesitated before answering, worried of how I’d respond if he grew any more taunting. “Yes.” Barely a whisper.

“Hm.” Pausing before continuing, “And how is that any different than my fingers on you? I mean, you’re imaging they’re my fingers aren’t you?” My mouth went to gasp but suddenly lost function. He was fucking torturing me. “So,” Another pause, “So your fingers get to touch your pretty pussy but mine don’t?”

God fucking damnit. My panties already fucking drenched and he hadn’t even touched me.

“That’s pretty selfish darlin’, don’t ya think?” He continued this taunting little game, “You get to make yourself cum to the thought of me, but you won’t even let me actually do it.” The fact that he was so focused on my own pleasure made it even fucking worse. He wasn’t here complaining that I wasn’t getting him off, he was complaining that I wouldn’t let him get me off.  I’d never been with anyone who cared so much about my own orgasm like that.

“If you’re so deprived that you need to touch yourself thinkin’ about me,” His teasing fingers resumed their cruel motions just in front of where I wanted him the most. “Then I wonder, if I could make you cum without even touching you at all.”

The rapid pulse in my clit suggested he might. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the door. I could feel the electric distant swirling of his fingers right in front of my sensitivity. “Remember what my tongue felt like? If I could touch you, you’d be in my mouth right now.”

“Fuck.” Was all I could muster.

“I’d swirl over your swollen clit while my fingers fucked you. I’d fucking devour you.” His cruel tone only worsening the problem between my legs.

“Fuck Austin, please don’t stop.” It was like my brain was communicating with my body, creating an imaginary feeling as if it was happening, as if his fingers were actually touching me. But I wanted the real thing. My shifting thighs made a feeble attempt at any added friction.

“Fuck, if I was allowed to touch you, I’d wanna be inside you, I’d want to fuck you. Would you like that?” He’d never said that out loud, we’d never said that out loud, and there it was like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to say.

Silence – Yes I fucking would. I need it right now. Is what I would say if I had any ounce of bravery.

“C’mon baby,” He whispered into my neck, “Wouldn’t you like my cock deep inside of you?” Goosebumps ruptured across every inch of my skin.

Baby

That name never did much for me, but in his voice, god I swore it was different. He’d only used it a time or two before and I’d never had any name make my stomach flip the way his ‘Baby’ did. It was like a warm blanket I never wanted to unravel from.

“Yes.” The buzzing and the wetness in my panties only grew, I didn’t know how much more they could absorb.

“Good girl, you can follow directions.” Teasing, as if he were talking to a hound dog that finally learned a trick.

“What- What would you do next?” My eyes timidly looking up at him, the sight of him only intensifying every blinking nerve in my body.

“Hm. I like when you listen to me. I just might let you cum.”

Pressing my thighs together even rougher only barely aiding the pulsing, driving me toward my finish line. “Fuck.”

“I’d push you to the edge over and over.” His crooked words curled around every blood vessel, pushing my heart into a dangerously fast pulse.

“Multiple times?” I squeaked both in fright and excitement.

He let out a chuckle as if he was proud, probably remembering the couch. “Yeah baby, multiple times. God, I’d hold you there, torturing you with my tongue. Again and again.”

“O-Oh.”

“Then I’d go back to fucking you, burying myself deep inside your wet cunt.” As much as he would probably deny it, I knew he was struggling just as me. I could feel his hard member against my thigh only making my core crave him more.

“I need you to touch me, I take it back. I take it all back. I don’t want this rule anymore.” I wanted him, all of him – no, I needed all of him.

“Nuh uh, that’s not how this works.”

“Please.” I begged.

“Alright, I’ll oblige, just a bit.” His fingers now pressed against my covered clit, over the dress and panties. He began ever so slightly moving them in circular motions. It wasn’t much but it was something. But I wanted more. I grasped his arm and pressed his hand more into me. But he pulled back to his original restrained position. “No.”

I let out a utterly pathetic whine, “I need to cum, please.”

“This is what you get. You can have this or nothing.”

Letting out a groan, “Fine.” He continued his swirling motions barely over my heat. I was so close, every cell blinking with pure unbridled need. I wanted to scream from how much tension was built in my body. I wanted to beg. I’ve never begged for anything in my fucking life. But god did I want to get on my knees and beg right now.

“Please I’m so close.” I whimpered, my desire now dripping down my thigh.

“Yeah?” He asked, “Could you do somethin’ for me darlin?”

“Anything.” I barely got the word out through my accelerated breathing.

“Anything huh?”

I nodded desperately, gripping the sides of my dress, practically vibrating. “Yes- Fuck anything, I’ll do anything. Anything, whatever you want.”

The energy shifted, this time cruel. “Then can you tell me what all that bullshit was about out there? Can you tell me what the fuck this is about?”

My eyes shot open, that was the last thing I expected. I realized that this little game was just a ploy to get my answer. “I-I”

“Nuh uh,” His motions slowed, “I need your words Elsie.” And I was back to just Elsie. It now sounded like the worst possible thing I could ever be called.

My eyes squeezed shut, the borderline painful throbbing in my pussy pleaded me to give in. “If you tell me, I’ll touch you.” He bargained, “That’s all you gotta do, a couple little words and I’ll let you cum. It’s as simple as that.”

My chest dropped, I couldn’t give in. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” His middle finger giving me slightly more pressure as it slid up and down my covered slit. “C’mon darlin’ give in to me, just tell me. I want to hear it. I want to make you cum.”

I let out the most regretful sigh, “I can’t Aus.”

“Hm.” His hand pulled away, “Guess that’s it huh?”

I ached for his touch back, I wanted to give in so fucking bad. I didn’t want him to leave.

He turned to leave but then returned, rested his hand on the door just above my head and leaned down one last time. His index tracing up my throat and tilting my chin up, “I don’t want you to clean up. I want you to spend the rest of the night in your soaked panties, and every time you feel it, I want you to think of me.” He growled beneath my ear, his voice reverberated through my entire body. It only made the aching in my hips worse. “And I want you to feel it while you’re dancing with your boyfriend.”

He cracked the door open but before leaving he left me with one last thing, “Make sure you wait in here for a while. Wouldn’t want your boyfriend to see you come out of a room with me, looking like that.”

Just like that he was gone, leaving me like this, flustered and bright red. I was throbbing and wet and desperate. I felt so fucking pathetic like I had just lost an easy game.

Suddenly I heard a roar in the party, I finally peak out to a unanimous, “Happy New Year!”

In the center of the party was Austin curled around Aspen locked in a New Year’s kiss. It stung. It stung as if a bee the size of Mount Everest just speared its stinger straight through my heart.

Why did it hurt so much. And why couldn’t I fucking say it.

Next Chapter -> 26 - New Years Pt. 2 [coming soon]

forever winter spotify playlist ❄️

Thank you for every like, reblog or comment, it means the world to me truly. I love hearing your thoughts and I'm glad you're liking my little story 💗

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[mainstoryarchive]

Ensemble - 128: Duel

Mao: If fine's song order is the same as in the semi-finals, you'll be my opponent.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Auditorium (LIVE)

Mao: If fine's song order is the same as in the semi-finals, you'll be my opponent.

Wataru: Amazing! Though to be honest, I would've liked Hokuto-kun to be my opponent ☆

But I might have gone easy on him in that case, that would've made me lose credibility.

From here on I'll be serious in contributing to fine's victory!

Mao: (Ugh… It just had to be one of the Three Oddballs, Wataru Hibiki.)

(All of fine's members have a monstrously high level of skill, so whoever the opponent is, there won't be an easy match, however.)

(Wataru Hibiki is too eccentric, so the school has a hard time evaluating him, but just his performance is said to even surpass the president.)

(In reality, both his skill as a singer and dancer is in a league of its own. Other than that, he's studied and perfected countless other arts. Magic tricks, conversation arts, vocal mimicry…)

(He's a superhuman that mastered skills from every field!)

(I'm a jack of all trades but master of none, but he's a master of all…!

Wataru: Ufufufu ♪ I can see what you're thinking, but however I may pity you I won't go easy on you!

Be it the role of a villain or whatever else, as the president of the theater club I will make sure to act it out with splendor…☆

Now that it's the final, I should also start fighting seriously! Let me take off my mask, this is my expression of determination to fight with my all!

When a soldier from the theater club exposes his true face to duel, defeat equals death!

Hokuto: I'm also a member of the theater club, but that's the first time I heard of that… It's been a while since I last saw Buchou without his mask.

Wataru: Ufufu, this feeling of liberation! Here is the long-awaited full power! Amazing ☆

However, I still have two transformations left! Do you understand what this means?

Mao: What are you saying, you changed just because you took your mask off? Why this needless act of showing off…?

Mao: I've been prepared for this from the start! I won't be scared with just that, I already knew you were a strong enemy after all!

If you're transforming two more times, I'll transform a hundred or even ten thousand more times and overtake you!

I'll evolve during this live, I'll give you something to watch…!

Wataru: Amazing! You've got a nice look in your eyes, boy! Let's make this live the best, for there is no greater trade than the one in shows…☆

Hokuto: (Don't get overwhelmed, Isara. Buchou isn't that naive to hold back in a live. However, this isn't the time for me to be worrying about someone else.)

(My opponent is…?)

Yuzuru: Well then, it seems Hidaka-sama will be my opponent ♪

Hokuto: Please don't attach 'sama' to my name… I'll lose focus, or how should I say it… Aren't we the same age?

(Fushimi… He's plain, but I'm sure he isn't a member of fine just for show. I also participated in fine's practice, but he never showed his skills…)

(The president appointed him; he's a reliable honor student. He might have the most skill amongst the second years.)

(He just seems so mild-mannered or rather, his behavior is so civil that I just can't feel a sense of urgency…)

(On top of that, I'm emotional because I've just betrayed fine, so it's hard to fight. As should be expected, I do feel guilty. That might be putting a restraint on my voice and on my ability to use my hands and feet.)

(However, right now I will just have to swallow that. I will win even if I have to eat mud. That's why I came back, to everyone from Trickstar.)

(If I can't be of help, then my existence doesn't have any worth, because that means I only made trouble for them. I will make sure to win, I'll stake my life on it.)

Yuzuru: Fufu. Hidaka-sama, I highly evaluate the choice you made. You get a stamp, let me give you a full hundred points ♪

Hokuto: That's unexpected. I thought you, who are so serious and acting like some kind of butler, would have held me in contempt for my actions.

Yuzuru: It's about who you choose as your master. I'm saying that your master isn't the President-sama or anyone else but your own heart…♪

You serve and pledge loyalty to your master, to yourself. Though our masters may differ, it's the same for me. Which is why I evaluate you highly and approve your actions!

Ah, that's the kind of loyalty-filled heart I respect!

However, I also have something that I can't give up. For the President-sama, for the young master, for fine…

I will serve to the utmost of my abilities and put you down. I will eliminate the factors that hinder the ability for my master to flourish brilliantly…

As it is my responsibility, I will take care of you cleanly ♪

Let's put it to the test with this showdown. Let us see whose loyalty runs deeper.

Hokuto: Yeah, that's right.

I will also serve the master I've ignored for so long, my own heart…

I'll follow it with everything I've got and do my best at the things I want to do.

I won't lose. I'll make you and everyone in the audience enjoy themselves at the same time. That's what I want to do and what I should!

That's the greatest way for me to serve my own heart!

Yuzuru: Yes, as you please ♪

Tori: Hey, slave. Aren't you standing out a little bit too much for a supporting character?

You should just stay put. I'll blow them away so overwhelmingly that the president doesn't even need to come on stage ☆

Tori: You can leisurely take a rest, prez. The prez's enemy is my enemy! What's the prez's is mine!

This is all for the sake of the prez's glory and his seat at the summit, you juveniles! Kyahahaha ☆

[ ☆ ]

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[libidomechanica]

Might bless

A tanka sequence

               1

And you, you all? The Root he gray mocked with desire is set the moon their full flight. The common gender carefull to Destroy!

               2

To lose your hand as those beames but at their faire perhaps sometimes did bind, blown of thee. Come, Madam, comeliness raise; but there.

               3

And sweare, let his sin. My clench of Hell brake, and clos’d her face burned over Violet. The Soyl been film, an orbed drop of little breeze.

               4

That fine before my life, dear! Accents thy early song. If I lose young Cypress the singing bowstring love will ease of lonely sea.

               5

Let not a Step nor shall be. Again that Shimei, thoughts and mend the name in his rapier hilt a- twinkle, over here; the dread?

               6

Behind then set and prayers for that ye carest. But gentle that once the pride, jealousy, down twenty little Good. Fresh and shake?

               7

Which ouercome may be. Not too sadly sighs, bespake. Eternal whispers his bower, because the With stay rather Government.

               8

And chidden herald thou not wise men and we shall not words had spent? To taste whole joys. Lost, unheard, thorough hellisht with cold to score.

               9

If those gossamer embryos into thee to be invite me of slain lovers as their heard. That ye wha that she no less air.

               10

Let his shame to speak. There; the pleasure leans he neither heart of peoples Judgment’s gentle into nothing will fight. When last desert.

               11

Mark of gold for want thou now, thus from their grave, better blasts of earth, rosy red. To West to thy sour leaves unsway’d, when Flattery!

               12

But view his Jest, and hoary. Chaste were his bold hand bare fingers. Your Filial Name, wherein a melancholy. They had, alas!

               13

If thou hast her, the suddenly in the yeare. Enticing recollect his own. How many? Religions are seized my mounted word.

               14

Of mossy stones, O Sea! Injured their Trade forgave men, were hollow spleen. That have dances of spangled with sun and loud, sure stashed is.

               15

Found as he knew we would not, but with time of your times restraint! Tread we a measure lent, and whispers, gloomy shadow. Past thou, Love.

               16

Individual beauty your coonskin hat. Steed was Restor’d; saw with the grass, does shepheards glad: the coroner found then she belt.

               17

Be here, his tears to- night, bathing sweet named. Summon all remain’d, while echo! With Spirits are mystery. But my fathers, in sweet.

               18

This form, and a Moses’s face. Say, Shame by unequal with Disdaine; but when I wander the map already … I’m begins to live.

               19

That which took an air thence, so semest thou, dear! The warm Peoples shred on the stept—then the grew faint away, and there’s truth atone!

               20

A glimpse through a reed; so ready should more than ire. I hate you must ask charitable echoing night still with Willyes Embleme.

               21

Let me be dark inn- yard. The sighing of the face, one chews the bee, that crazed his footsteps stirr’d by nature’s magnet. Dare not for lo!

               22

Her he may be. Of newest thou thus, acquiring under him haste to praise the Foundation and country maid’s of royal right.

               23

And sad, alas, nor e’er hear., Cupid’s statue of the ran, hear us, great’s the Stab of He is not go gentle heaven’s own praise.

               24

And follow sounds shadow loses force of you, althoughts of innocence. ’Mong myrtles your deep, with its close again. And out with ache?

               25

But she would ne’er beguiles: she is wae, and she what woman. Before than a hangnail in blind be quick invisibly female.

               26

And Noble seed; david, from Empire boring cold. From Nature say, hey ho hold Thee to be in Battle as pearskin’s deferred.

               27

The grained by touch I love. A kind of Tityrus interim like a fly, was hung with Fear, yet the shooting show, or water dewe.

               28

Imperfect enough a light thee now, Sir Foole for a lassie do with near possession pouting, thinking into memory.

               29

Who will die with tears, . Because I love is a hostess detests unexpected all the couth: but his ditty to Imperiall sway.

               30

I do forgive: to mee: no, no, my Deare, let bee. On the been fruitage; yellow guineas for Justice and, curling, fills my sorrow?

               31

Whose Modern sense flows in flesh uprightly came to his Paws; till inuade this island. If that naïve light like we can make ye blue.

               32

A sidewalk, or a trains. I fear it to a bell, teaching else but stay, that sin by such a Cause, doe not be excuse ye: thought, throat.

               33

In their ears of that shall be Young I’d have her Kind. Men’s breast part of precious moon. And be quiet maid, hauing hidden mystery.

               34

And but Pomp, did offenders questiond can they will. Backward with a wise men of necessary Gold, shalt beautiful through its case.

               35

A blink o’ your name, the World. More darkened ways. Free from out his dead-still Superious stole a breeze knock at her work, doth post. The blood.

               36

The wild! I’ll smiles; but her beauty purely down-sunken hours crawled by men- slugs and health, and lives off this bed the Oake, for me, my day.

               37

All best when I might, nor no God who could broomes: the strange overgrowth. And Venus and feeling yield both he thou so pale, and dry.

               38

Thou truly fair blossoms get? ’ To me? Thus to Ruine of the blood; in the muzzle beneath the few who should speak of other could tye.

               39

— I have not its song. Down apace, make in deep questiond can the lingered wept with the darken the wind out-brave all their for she, sweet.

               40

Remarked, how frail deeds. Now say it not mix’d withered; next look on Grace. Thou, sweet Water from the way I want that she, of a son … You!

               41

Some Circumstance draws; constrained of the city. Now Pontius Pilate speake in love, witness fell on Absalom’s that not refuse?

               42

The lies and liuing frankincense paired with the Golden shut? You are a chief he rul’d the landlord’s daughter, why should sighes mixt; with pole.

               43

That doth but for me. Roses, but will their glowering eyes and long to raise desert. Set to my lad, disdaining fires of the guy.

               44

Pipe, or in thy Line! Next them up, in blind amazed, two Leg’d thing to tell me whole, or this Numerous Mind; tis the great, could not much.

               45

And David’s milky way among the bring againe. When last eve, and thrust in flights, in Sanhedrin shame had been contemn; but were fair.

               46

So thrown from you had bene therefore, my lad. On the Clouds melting for a lass will all the dewy buds, and see, the task to me.

               47

Rolls of dolphins bob their Witness of Beauty of his deferred. All on my loue, cease, and play. And rites we are dead To teach tree tops?

               48

And some idly train of wrong food, than Life, his Toyls. And bound, and on, he said then long blade of sighing signs he neither life shall stay.

               49

Then you more than death shame and tree.—So that’s what was his divinity of tender your addressed your many dayes: or someone else.

               50

What if I go mad, I shall be wise. Which thy disencumbred Soul move still, and fill’d my very Jewes, who might be remember.

               51

One touch ethereal; and every limb, what I do context for this, all pass my days. Ay muster where not been set to the Throne?

               52

Thus far I was their sheep. But I am prettily, as did yields. Letting only me for the Shah who saw in secret was death.

               53

Hands had strung, anything low! Their Peoples Brave, those luminous eyes,—the velvet tighten mazer ywrought the fresh myrtles should be.

               54

Is but hard to Curse, bless: swift, under-clap Thus day by slow honeymoon. But the sky the innocence, the while the Recording Muse.

               55

It is all? Heaps of that is light, till the Best. When the sheet. To make me to surprising brands would shiver and my final aspect.

               56

It leanes amisse. And as tho’ there my arms. Both the violet breathe bubble up to the small his aged Tree on the calendar.

               57

To hear and unlace the loveth none. Unto thy soul when Kingship, and weep; is it stands through my bale with essence; till grief and call.

               58

The fresh young Lochinvar. All things that Kingly and not do herself unknown— but none self-destroy. The night, I feel that what the bed.

               59

By succession, and fear; down themselves best. The cold, and with the best, the air of these ladies, when I wrote love doth all on us?

               60

Search narrowly the harvest, our heats. For Bess could not strive to thee to misimploy an hours had power, because young Lochinvar.

               61

Awhile, the finger tarry dare the hills of state reveal’d. On the sought to love, and errors have consented, that shall iudge, my own.

               62

Watching with its case. Thoughts of time you through that I may know, I think that Muse and every sport of the dead and make the name of Greeuance.

               63

And in her country maid. Of the back-blow of a vanquished smil’d, chatted with that when most would give that great god of milk. Their jewel out?

               64

Reaching arms which when proud hearts of new life throng, attend. Stands our Business amain: seas have made, ylke can I not gain’d, whilst I this song.

               65

Had I a cave; and the sun, the maid thus. Was fount of those Two—they live but soft cheek and for Gain: nor out-value, nor eloquence.

               66

This most placer of his lips, pass into two made apt for that draws two steps. Foes, my Forgiving thy wife is now comin’ to me.

               67

When lass, whilst the should not for themselves foment of his blood. Homeward in such familiar sight oft meet his Princes do think, proceede.

               68

Part of my waking, still boast him vp with tall as Lais how you have ye e’er he canopy, with sound then he wanton-wise. Almost.

               69

In midst of light love may come attonce. Not fail beneath the Moon their Reason knowledge, which it surpasseth. It is not Rosalend?

               70

Be she smiling for Kings and fro, riddle, thought, and, if the two names I make accountable Soul, which, there athirst in flight. To me?

               71

Sigh the West, o why that the Fury found his Disease, in him; cold withstand! Break, breakes; stella, Starre out of that I do not lie.

               72

Let not us Women glory, come, whose way to her lulling sad sickens our found so witty, bright. Now, if they seemed to Dian?

               73

And this vanish’d scrips. Such savory Deities must give the sun gutted mine what lo’es me and as simply did I kiss the light!

[sulky-valkyrie]

Hi hello you said you would finish/continue the fenders "I didn't know where else to go when I was feeling like a monster" thing if I asked you here so pretty pretty please! I need the moment of Fenris very grudgingly explaining why he hasn't turned Anders (and Merrill) over to the templars or straight killed them yet, and the emotional disaster that is these two trying to have a serious conversation!! Also, the idea of the (beloved) fucked up glowing boi who's in recovery giving advice to the (also beloved) fucked up glowing boi who's on his downward spiral?? Amazing effervescent inconceivably gorgeous. Chef's kiss.

Thank you for gracing us with your beautiful writing!!

💜💜 thank you for your kind words and I hope this is sufficient 💜💜 a direct continuation of this for @dadrunkwriting ~~~

"Am I a monster?" 

The elf frowned.  What sort of question was that?  And why, of all people, come to him to ask it?  Something must have happened in the tunnels under the Gallows.  Something Fenris probably didn’t want to know about.  He pressed the bottle of wine he’d been holding into the mage’s chest.  "Tell your demon to take the night off."

The other man clasped a hand around it on instinct and with a faint “oof” at the impact.  Fenris headed back toward the properly habitable parts of his stolen mansion, but realized partway across the enormous hall that he wasn’t actually being followed by his unexpected guest.  He turned back to look.  The human was staring at the bottle almost like he was having an argument with it.

He probably was.  "Mage,"  he called.  "Upstairs."

The other man made a faint choked sound, like couldn’t decide if he needed to laugh or cry, but he did start moving.  Fenris righted one of the chairs he’d kicked into the wall earlier that week as they headed into his cozy little nest of a room.  He wondered what he’d been so furious about when he’d done that.  The mage hovered in the doorway, looking uncertain.

Fenris perched on top of the dining room table, then pointed at the armchair.  “Well?  Sit.”

"I . . .maybe I should go.  I'm - this was a bad idea."

"Yes."  The word came out of his mouth faster than he could stop them.  It was probably true, but not the point.  Anders was Hawke’s friend, and he owed them both many times over.

The abomination’s eyes flared blue for a moment, and he stood up straighter.  "Well, thanks for the wine then, asshole."  He turned to leave.  “Don’t know why I came here,” he muttered.  "By all rights, you should want me dead.  And Merrill."

He wasn’t wrong.  On paper, and without Hawke’s influence, he’d never have tolerated either of them.  But it was no longer simply toleration, was it?  "And yet you both still live."

The mage snorted.  "There are far, far, far more comforting ways to put that."

"I think," the elf said slowly, "if it was ‘comfort’ you wanted, you’d be with Hawke.  Failing that, the Rose."  He held out the wine.  "A toast to monsters."

The human blinked at him in confusion, then shook his head. "You're drunk."

"And you're not."  Fenris pointed at the bottle.  "Fix it."

"Why, you going to have your way with me once all my inhibitions are gone?"  The mage took a gulp of wine.  "I'll have you know that I never had any inhibitions to lose, that I say yes to everything but restraints and blood, and Justice gets the hangovers, not me."

A demon with a hangover?  He frowned.  "How is that possible?"

Anders shrugged.  "Fuck if I know.  It’s why he doesn’t let me drink, but apparently almost killing a girl is a special occasion,” he said bitterly, then drained the bottle.  “Also Warden stamina applies to alcohol consumption, so even though I haven't had a drink in years -"

“Perhaps it’s the ‘almost’ he wants to celebrate, and not the killing?”  Fenris interrupted.  Talking about that thing inside the other man always made him uncomfortable.  He slipped off the table and walked over, touching the mage’s wrist gently.  He jumped anyway, and Fenris had to resist the impulse to smooth down the feathers of his ridiculous jacket.  Instead, he exchanged his own wine bottle with the now-empty one, then pushed him lightly toward the armchair.  "Sit, mage.  Danarius kept the mansion well-stocked."  With that, he went to raid the cellar.

So the abomination had nearly killed someone today.  Someone he shouldn’t have?  Someone he didn’t want to?  Was that why he was worried?  Afraid he’d lose himself to his literal demon?  

When he returned, the mage had moved the chair by the fireplace and was sitting in it staring at the bottle.  Silence didn’t normally bother him, but something about the way the mage was quiet was unsettling.  He was always moving, always talking, always fiddling with something.  But tonight . . . it was like the man was trapped inside himself.  With nothing but a demon for company.

“How does it taste?”  he asked suddenly.  

He jumped, almost dropping the wine in surprise.  His eyes darted around the room before lighting on Fenris, then he looked down at the bottle, like he was shocked it existed.  He took a sip and grimaced. “Tastes like red wine.”

Fenris perched on the table again.  “Is that a compliment or a condemnation?”  

“It’s . . . fitting.”  He didn’t elaborate.  “So . . .” the mage trailed off and just glared at the fire.

"You are a monster."  There was no soft way to say it, but perhaps there was a way to make it less like a judgment.  "So am I."  

Anders hung his head.  "Made by mages, no doubt."

"Made by one mage," the elf corrected.  "He convinced me I was nothing but a weapon, barely more than a pet, his Little Wolf," he spat.  "And I believed him.  I killed for him.  Not for a cause, not for defense, not even in anger.  I did it simply because it was his will and I had none of my own."

Anders took another sip of wine.  "Justice and I ripped a man's throat out with our teeth."

"And I have ripped a man's heart out with my hand," the other man countered.  “Many times, in fact.”

"It's not the same."

This was why mages drove him mad, and why this one in particular was so frustrating.  He rubbed his eyebrows.  "Why are you so determined to have your pain and your sins be unique?"

The mage spun around in the chair.  "How many abominations do you know?"

Fenris took a long sip of wine to gather his thoughts.  "Just one, but I hardly know everyone."

"You know enough," the human snarled, then lapsed into broody silence again.  Broody and Blondie, as Varric would say.  Well.  Broody and Broodier. 

“And I have no reason to kill you.”  That didn’t seem sufficient.  “Or turn you over to the Gallows.”

“What?”  Anders' mouth started moving without his input.  “I mean, I can’t say I’m ungrateful for such a ringing endorsement, but what?  Why?  You hate mages.  You hate me.”

Kaffas, of course he’d want an explanation.  One Fenris wasn’t entirely sure he had.  “Many mages succumb to their . . . hubris,” he started.

“I’ve read the fucking Chant of Light, you know,” Anders snapped.  “I know all about why I’m a danger, why we’re all walking bombs, why we’re the sign of the Maker’s disdain, why we’re lesser creatures, why we’re -”

“Let me finish!” Fenris growled.  The mage flinched at his tone, which made the elf’s chest tighten in . . . confusing ways.  He shook his head and tried to focus on the argument in front of him.  “You haven’t.  You’ve made mistakes, many mistakes -”

“Thanks a lot.”

He rolled his eyes.  “A great, great many mistakes.  But never out of arrogance.  Or pride.”  He licked his lips.  “You make those mistakes because you believe they are the right thing to do.  And more often than not, they are foolish -”

“Are you done insulting me?” Anders demanded.

Fenris snorted.  “Unlikely.”

The mage took another sip of wine.  “Fine, as long as I know what I’m in for.”

“You are foolish,” he started, pausing for Anders to interrupt again.  When he just made a ‘get on with it gesture’ and leaned on his hand, Fenris continued.  “You are foolish, and optimistic, and you do far more good for this rancid cesspool of a city than harm down in the sewers than you ever could if you were locked in the Gallows.  I have met more mages and magisters than I can count, and until I met -” you “- Hawke, I did not believe it was possible for one to care for anything but power.  Yet here you are.  Burning from the inside out with hope for a better world, making mistakes constantly, but never out of malice.”

“But . . . you said I was a monster,” the other man said softly.

“Yes.” He met Anders’ eyes.  “Your spirit knows if I'm lying, doesn't he? So pick your truth and live it.”

[yesimwriting]

Solace.

SUMMARY: you find yourself going to visit General Kirigan in the night. 

PAIRING: The Darkling/General Kirigan x heart render! reader

Warnings: the beginning of a toxic relationship 

--

The urge to flinch away from and melt into the feeling of his fingertips, too temptingly warm, as he grazes them across my knuckles and up to my wrist is almost overwhelming. When the unexpected contact is something I manage not to shy away from, Kirigan’s touch becomes more confident, turning my wrist in order to expose my palm. He lets out a low breath, if he was anyone else I’d think that a sound of tiredness. He drags his index finger down the back of my wrist and over the lines etched into my palm. There’s a new tension to his touch as if he’s searching for invisible answers in the natural creases of my skin. 

“You could stay,” Kirigan’s voice is as supple and alluring as sin, “Just for tonight.” 

Waiting him in any capacity twists at my heart in a way I can’t comprehend or justify. There is so much of him I do not know, so much of him that’s darker than the inky shadows he bends to his will. “People will speak.” 

It’s the kind of shy cop-out he doesn’t like. The kind of shyness that leaves everyone losing. I can make out the way he pulls his eyebrows together despite the only light in the room coming from a small lantern on his bedside table. I’m not sure if I’ve displeased him. Perhaps I’ve reminded him of why he felt the need to take me from everything I’ve known. Maybe he’s seeing how far I am from what he wants me to be, or maybe he’s seeing the opposite. I’m not sure which possibility scares me more. I’m not sure if I want him to turn me away or persist that I stay. 

“If you’re defined by what people say,” he taps the back of my hand as if to mark his point, straightening and letting the contact between us disappear, “You’ll never be what you want to be.” The tone he uses is one you’d use to scold a child, “Did anyone see you?” 

I don’t think he’s trying to fluster me with potential scandal, but the lack of warmth from the returned absence of his proximity is making this situation a lot less appealing. And without his easing touch, I’m too clear headed to ignore the dangers of this. 

“No,” I try to sound factual, nonchalant and at peace with this entire situation. 

The tilt of his head tells me that none of the casualness I’m desperately trying to manufacture on a surface level at least came off as believable. He takes a partial step forward, extending his hand and casually squeezing my hand, pressing my fingers into my palm. 

“You came to me, little wolf.” I swallow back my embarrassment. It had been a lapse in judgement driven by what...a deep loneliness that comes with being taken away from everyone you’ve ever known? “Why?” 

I wish I had an answer to that for myself. Because he’s the only one that speaks to me as if I am not less than? Because each short brush of our hands has made me yearn to know what purposeful touches from him would feel like? Because it’s dark and I hate being alone in the dark? Because I can’t sleep without seeing every mistake I’ve made? 

Yes. I could attribute my lapse in judgement to all of this. I could attribute my mistake to some other factor that my mind cannot process. Exhaling slowly, I reach for his pulse with my mind, hoping to see if he truly is as calm and steady as he seems. 

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” The words are enough to stall me before I can feel more than two heartbeats. They seemed even, but I didn’t hear enough off of them to be sure. 

I swallow back the embarrassment of being caught. “How?” 

If I didn’t know any better I’d consider the easy quirk of his mouth as an almost smile. “An answer for an answer?”

More generous than he usually is. I keep my jaw as set as I can manage. “I don’t--I’m not sure why.” 

He keeps his face unreadable. “You swore you’d never look for anything from me, that you would never…” Kirigan shifts closer. “That I’d always be a villain to you.” 

There’s a surprising amount of restraint in his words. Had I hurt him? The ridiculousness of my thoughts causes me to wrinkle my. He is a villain, he has to be, and yet here I am. “My insults do get particularly creative when I’m upset.” My attempt at humor falls oddly flat. Kirigan’s clearly not in the mood for a lighter atmosphere. “I wish I knew why I came here.” 

Shifting even closer, he raises a hand. I don’t understand what his intentions are until I feel a brush of knuckles against my cheek. The touch is too soft, too much of a reminder of all the absence...all the places where we’re not touching and the fact that I resent that. 

“When you tap into your abilities your brow furrows,” he pulls his hand away from my cheek and gently taps the space above my left eyebrow, “Right there.” Oh. Such a small thing to pick up on. “Even when you’re not doing anything particularly strenuous--it’s more an act of habit.” I don’t know if there’s a way to respond to that. “And when something upsets you that you want to play off, your eyebrows furrow here,” he touches the space between my two eyebrows. “As opposed to when you’re particularly focused on something and your,” he pauses, thumb brushing my bottom lip, “Lips press together.” 

My stomach flutters and knots all at once. His thumb stays on my bottom lip for longer than it needs to, neither  of us in a hurry to leave this moment. I wonder if he’s as afraid of what comes after this moment as I am-- thoughts of both the potential more and the potential nothing make my heart ache. His thumb brushes down the corner of my mouth and chin. 

“There’s a danger in desire,” his voice is so low I almost miss it, “But I think you know that by now, little wolf.” 

Feeling like a chided child, I dare to raise my chin a fraction of an inch but all that does is press my face into his touch more. “I’m not a victim of desire.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way.” 

So now he finds humor in the situation. Fantastic. “People should know you more for your wit.” 

I don’t hide my sarcasm, but his expression retains all of its easiness. “I guess the ones that matter already do.” The touch of lightheartedness evaporates as quickly as it appeared. “Will you stay?” 

This is different from the first time he mentioned me staying. The first time it was an option he presented, but this time, with his voice the closest to vulnerable I’ve ever seen it, he’s requesting my presence. For the first time I let myself picture it. Staying here. Falling asleep here. With him.

Cautiously, I meet his gaze. “Just for tonight, right?” 

“Stay with me.” He repeats, a bit more certain, a bit more...needing. “For tonight.” 

My body nods once without my permission. I wonder if this is how people feel after I use my abilities on them. That one tiny, unrestrained signal is all he needs. Kirigan angles my head slightly before brushing his lips against my cheek, the warmth of his breath against my skin is enough to leave me melting. 

“I--I wish I knew why I came here.” The words are more honest than I intended them to be. 

Kirigan pauses, warm breath still fanning across the side of my face. “Maybe it will become clearer when I turn you into my solace and my solace alone so that I may be the only thing you can find comfort in.” 

His words are gilded tar, dark and suffocating blackness disguised beneath a thin sheath of gold. “I don’t understa--” 

“You will.” The urgency of his tone strips him of all lazy softness. Something in me tenses, the shift too sudden and cold and similar to the way he was in the beginning. The tension does not go unnoticed, Kirigan fights against it easily, brushing his lips against my skin again. “Lets get some rest my little wolf.” He squeezes my arm easily, the touch leaves my skin tingling in warmth. “Tomorrow things will be different for you.” 

“Different?” 

“Training,” he replies easily, “Together we’ll see what you can do.” His fingers brush up my arm and across my shoulder easily, my breath stalls. “We’ll bring out that facet of your abilities that came out the day we met, and with that we’ll change the world.” I do not think myself a world changer, but the softness of his touch and the praising quality of his tone leave me with no protest. “And we’ll find solace in only each other.”

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 05

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.6k [5/6]

notes: second to last installment of a fic that didn’t need to be as long as it is!!! really this entire thing can be summed up with last chapter’s warning, which was “reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty.” i stand by it, okay!!! 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: dumb banter, a couple brief smutty bits, oral (f receiving), listen to slow dancing in the dark by joji during the soft smut scene in the middle if u want 

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

“No. No. God, no. Has your music taste always been this bad, or is this a recent development?”

“You will excuse yourself,” you retort sharply, wagging a finger at your brother. “Mr. Brightside is a classic and I will not hear this slander. Please feel free to permanently vacate the premises if you disagree.”

Jimin rolls his eyes from where he’s slouched on the couch beside you, one hand submerged in a bag of chips and his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Really? You wanna go there, Chim?” You raise your hand and begin ticking off on your fingers. “I’m not the one who threw a fit over a piece of cilantro in my taco. I’m not the one who refused to bathe when Mom couldn’t find the right bubble bath.”

“Oh my god, I was eight,” Jimin snorts. “Both times. And cilantro tastes like soap.”

You raise a third finger. “What about the time you hid all the Monopoly money because you kept losing? Or when yo—”

A knock on the door cuts you off mid-sentence, and you nudge Jimin’s shin with your big toe. “Go get the door,” you order, and you aren’t sure if he’s just tired of hearing your voice, but he stands up without complaint and wanders into the entryway to receive your unexpected guest.

“Hey,” you hear him say. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” a very familiar voice replies. “I need some help.”

It’s Jungkook. Of course it’s Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since he dropped you off and kissed you senseless in your driveway, but you’d have to be delusional to think that you could avoid him for the next week and a half before you leave to return to Seoul. And yet, you allowed yourself to indulge in your delusions for two full days, before he tears them apart with ten simple, innocent words.

“So, I think I might have done the laundry wrong.”

Jimin laughs out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s all you, Noona,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you, and you don’t even have wherewithal to lecture him about the sexism of his remark because Jungkook is smirking like he’s just won the lottery and you’re his grand prize.

“Noona?” he begins, his voice syrupy sweet and thick with intent. “Can you come help me?”

You glance down at your pajamas—gray sweatpants and a pink Pusheen t-shirt that’s a couple sizes too big. It’s beyond obvious that you have no plans for the day, and therefore no excuse not to help. Heaving a resigned sigh, you clamber to your feet and roll your eyes when Jimin immediately flops down across the newly abandoned couch and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Have fun,” he calls lazily as you walk out, and you do your best to ignore the wicked grin that flashes across Jungkook’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he says as he lets you pass by him to exit the house. “See you later, Jimin.”

As soon as the front door slams shut, you round on him with a glare. “Are you serious, Jungkook?” you hiss. “He’s totally going to catch on to… to whatever it is we’re doing.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Jungkook chides, clicking his tongue. He hops over the low bushes that divide your property, and waits patiently as you skirt around them. You follow him into his house—down the hallway and into a little side room that houses the washing machine and dryer—and as soon as the door swings shut, he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you close.

“This—this isn’t how you do laundry,” you stammer weakly, winded by his sudden proximity and the dark promise in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I may have lied a little bit. Would you have come if I hadn’t?”

You don’t answer, because you know he’s right. If you had your way, you would have avoided him until it was time for you to leave again. But Jungkook just doesn’t seem to be willing to let that happen, as he tightens his grip on your hips and tugs until you’re flush against him.

“See, the truth of the matter is, I’m actually good at laundry.” He smirks and tilts his head, dark bangs flopping across his forehead. “I’m good at other things, too. Why don’t you let me show you?”

Attraction blooms in your belly, hot as molten lava, and it takes the last ounce of your wavering restraint to say what you say next. “We can’t take too long,” you whisper, letting him hoist you up onto the dryer and jab the start button. The machine rumbles to life beneath you, and you nearly lose your train of thought when the vibrations go straight to your clit. “Jimin!” you gasp. “Jimin—he’ll kill you if he finds out. He’ll fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Why are you talking about your brother? Is this your idea of dirty talk, princess? Because I gotta tell you—it’s not doing it for me.”

“Jungkook!” you chide, and he grins and moves to tug off your shirt.

“That’s much better.”

///

In the days that follow your laundry room tryst with Jungkook, sneaking around becomes routine. Both of your parents work—as do his—so avoiding them is easy. Jimin, however, is a different story. The dance classes he teaches are irregular, and the schedule shifts often enough that you’ve come dangerously close to getting caught on more than one occasion.

And it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook has taken to texting you at all hours of the day, even when you’re eating a sandwich on the couch with Jimin half-sprawled across your lap in his effort to invade your personal space as much as possible.

[12:35pm] Jungkook: hey i just thought of something

[12:35pm] Jungkook: you know how i call you princess?

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Cautiously, you glance at your brother, who is glued to the television and doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

[12:36pm] You: yeah…

His response is instantaneous.

[12:36pm] Jungkook: well i’ve got a throne for you to sit on

You almost sigh out loud. Please don’t, you write back, and you practically hear Jungkook’s cackle in your head as the ellipses that indicate he’s typing pop up at the bottom of your screen.

[12:37pm] Jungkook: it’s my dick ;)

[12:37pm] Jungkook: get it?

I fucking hate you, you tell him, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

[12:38pm] Jungkook: and i love fucking you

[12:38pm] Jungkook: princess ;)

///

After nearly a week cooped up at your parents’ house, you’re getting restless. Without a car, you’re confined to the suburban neighborhood you grew up in, and the revelation that you’re bored somehow spills out to Jungkook during one of the many heated makeout sessions you’ve started having in the backseat of his sedan.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he’d asked, tilting his head curiously, mussed hair falling across his eyes. “I can drive you, if you want.”

And that’s how you find yourself wandering around downtown Busan on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. Jungkook drops you off at the curb after cumming down your throat, and now that he’s dashed off to work the lunch shift at the restaurant, you’re free to explore all of your old haunts. The shopping center that you and your friends used to frequent is right around the corner, so that’s where you decide to start. After all, you’re still in need of some professional attire, and as much as you love your mom, you’d rather avoid the unflattering dresses and itchy pantyhose she would be sure to seek out.

As soon as you step through the glass revolving doors, you find yourself in a familiar air-conditioned paradise of shops and restaurants. Stopping at your favorite coffee spot, you treat yourself to an iced mocha before heading to the first store.

Two hours and three full bags later, you decide to head to the food court for a quick snack. You’d promised Jungkook that you’d meet him at the restaurant once you were finished, but a glance at your phone tells you that you have more than enough time to stop by Kim’s Kitchen. Mrs. Kim makes the best cookies in the entire city, as far as you’re concerned, and you decide to order a dozen to take home and share with your family.

You’re lowering yourself into a seat at one of the many tables scattered around the tree-lined atrium when you spot a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair. The owner spots you a split second later, and you return her smile as she immediately swerves and heads your way. “{Name}, hey!”

“Hey, Chaeyoung,” you greet, gesturing for her to take the chair on the other side of the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, from the looks of it.” She grins and hefts her shopping bag. “I swear I’ve been to every shoe store and still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but somehow I’ve bought this much crap anyway. What about you? What are you on the hunt for?”

“Professional attire,” you say with a grimace. “Why are pants so hard to find? I swear, they’re all either too long or too short, and never fit properly in the waist and thighs.”

Chaeyoung pulls a face. “Ew, I know. Pantsuits are a nightmare unless you have a tailor. And who has money for that?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “So what are you up to now? Mrs. Kim has cookies fresh out of the oven, if you’re interested. Cinnamon rolls too, I think.”

“Ooh, that’s tough,” she says thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Would it be bad if I got both?”

“Not even a little bit,” you assure, reaching into your box and pulling out a cookie. “But here, I’ll make it easier for you. Hope you like chocolate chip.”

Chaeyoung gratefully accepts the cookie you hand over. “Who doesn’t love chocolate chip?” she asks, taking a bite.

“Criminals and heathens,” you reply, snagging a cookie for yourself. “Among others.”

She tilts her head. “Doesn’t Jimin hate chocolate chip?”

“My point exactly.”

Chaeyoung giggles, hiding it behind a manicured hand, and you laugh right along with her. Together, you decide to grab some smoothies, and when you sit back down, the conversation turns to your trip up to the lake house. “Next time, we’ll have to do a girl’s trip,” Chaeyoung says, propping her chin in her palm. “Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done one. You must’ve been exhausted with all those boys around.”

Unwillingly, your thoughts turn to Jungkook. “It wasn’t that bad,” you say slowly. “It was actually nice, being able to spend some time with them.”

“Who ended up going, anyway? Your brother, obviously. Taehyung? Yugyeom?”

You nod, raising a hand and ticking them off on your fingers. “Jimin, yeah. Taehyung, Yugyeom, Taemin, Minho. And Jungkook.”

If Chaeyoung notices the way you pause before saying the last name, she doesn’t comment on it. Her expression grows pensive, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she considers her next sentence. “You must be seeing a lot of him,” she says at last. “Jungkook, I mean.”

You take a massive sip of your smoothie and wonder if you’re imagining the lingering taste of him on your tongue. “Yeah, a bit,” you manage, your voice surprisingly steady. “He games with Jimin a lot.” After a pause, you decide to tell her the truth. “He dropped me off today, actually. Jimin’s working this summer, and I’ve been stuck at home, so he offered to take me downtown on his way to work.”

Chaeyoung hums thoughtfully. “He’s working at a restaurant or something, right?”

“Just a few streets away, yeah.”

Slowly, she nods. “We went out, you know.” Her voice is distant. “Just for a few weeks. He ended it after… well, after we slept together.”

There’s a pause, as Chaeyoung lets you digest this information, and a part of you wants to spill everything to her right then and there. Jisoo told me, you want to say, as acidic guilt begins to bubble up in your belly, every memory of the moments you’ve since shared with Jungkook rising unpleasantly in your throat. I’m sorry. I’m so,so sorry. You say it over and over again in your head, but the apology gets stuck in your throat when you try to voice it aloud.

Chaeyoung takes a sip of her smoothie and leans back in her chair with a sigh, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she says, gnawing on the end of the straw. “Everything changed our senior year, you know? It was like a switch had flipped—he started dating around, relationships that never lasted more than a week… I really should have known better when he asked me out. But I guess I thought I was different. We were already friends, after all. But whenever we were together, just the two of us, he was always… distant. Like he was somewhere else, mentally.”

Her words trail off, leaving only silence that you don’t know how to break. Chaeyoung sips at her smoothie again, before huffing out a laugh and waving a manicured hand in your direction. “God, sorry! I can’t believe I just started monologuing, ew. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—god. I’m not even mad at him anymore, you know? I just want him to figure his shit out.” Her eyes flit up to you briefly, before skittering back down to where a cookie crumb has landed on the tabletop. “It’s funny, though. Seeing him at Taehyung’s graduation party was probably the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He almost seemed like himself again.”

You can’t help it—the singular word bubbles up before you can stop it. “Really?”

Chaeyoung nods, her gaze flickering up to meet yours again. “Really. And honestly? I think it was because of you.”

Your heart does a series of backflips in your chest, thudding against the slats of your ribs. You try to respond, try to find the words, but they stick in your dry throat and your smoothie is practically gone at this point. Chaeyoung shrugs, unfazed by your silence, and you watch as she swirls her straw around in the remainder of her own drink. “I don’t know—maybe I’m imagining things. But it always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Didn’t he used to follow you around the playground?”

The memory draws a startled laugh from your lips. “Sure, yeah. But that was in elementary school.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, smiling around her straw. “Still. We never really forget our first crush, do we?”

///

You head over to the restaurant after bidding Chaeyoung goodbye, her words weighing heavy on your mind and your heart. Through the tall glass windows, you can just barely make out Jungkook—looking sharp in a black collared shirt and matching slacks as he greets a table of diners. His smile is warm and his stance is confident, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s grown from that gangly kid you knew back in grade school when you catch the edge of flirtation lingering in his gaze.

The boy who used to follow you around the playground is gone. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. And so, you take a deep breath and walk into the restaurant, doing your best to smile at the host who greets you and asks whether you’d like to sit at a table or the bar.

“Hey, you made it!”

Jungkook strides over with a grin, taking the menu off the host’s hands and leading you over to an empty seat at the bar. “It’s full service, so you can order food here, too,” he explains. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

You glance down at the menu he places on the counter, scanning the lines of text. “Not really, but it smells really good so I might get something to go. And this carbonara sounds really good, actually.”

“It is,” Jungkook confirms. “I’ll go put the order in. You want some water or anything to drink?”

“Water’s good,” you tell him, and he nods before trotting off to do his job. You watch him disappear to the back of the restaurant before reappearing with a tray of glasses, and follow his meandering path through the tables as he disperses drinks and checks on the guests. Somehow, his shoulders manage to look even broader in his black shirt, and you can’t ignore the way they taper into a narrow waist that’s only emphasized by the belt threaded through the loops of his dark slacks.

He’s stopping at the table you first saw him at now, leaning in close when one of the women seated there asks him a question about something on the menu. His smile oozes easy charm, and you can’t help the feeling that flares in your chest when she reaches for the menu and purposely lets her fingertips graze his hand. Frowning, you tear your gaze away and focus on the wood grain of the bar counter. Your eyes zero in on a smattering of water droplets near your left arm, and you’re just about to run a fingertip through them when a voice sounds to your right.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Surprised, you look up and find yourself face-to-face with a man who appears to be in his early thirties. Dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, a stray lock falling into his eyes, and you find yourself momentarily at a loss for words when your brain registers just how handsome he is.

“I—uh. I think Jungkook is going to grab me some water,” you finally manage, wanting nothing more than to melt into the ground when you hear the stammer in your voice.

“Ah, you know Jungkook?” The man laughs—a sound that is distinctly reminiscent of a squeaky windshield wiper. “He’s been pretty busy today, so why don’t I grab you that water instead?”

You nod, watching as he fills up a glass from the nozzle below the bar, accepting it when he hands it over. “Thanks.”

“Name’s Seokjin,” the man replies with an easy grin. “What’s yours?”

You return his smile and tell him your name. “Seokjin—Jungkook’s mentioned you a few times, I think. This is your place then, isn’t it?”

Seokjin beams. “Yep! Opened just a few months ago, after we finally sorted out the rat infestation and the asbestos problem in the rafters, and—” He pauses at the dumbfounded look on your face, and several beats pass before another peal of squeaky laughter escapes him. “I’m kidding. One-hundred percent. I promise the whole place is up to snuff.”

“So, I see you’ve met Seokjin.” Jungkook materializes at your side with a glass of water, which he takes a sip out of upon realizing that you already have a drink. “Is he making jokes about the health code again?”

“I would never,” Seokjin sniffs, and you laugh, finding yourself completely at ease for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

Jungkook rolls his eyes good-naturedly and turns his attention back to you. “Your carbonara should be out in a few,” he says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “I’m full of chocolate chip cookies, anyway. Here, you want one? They’re still a little warm.”

Jungkook eyes the box you pull out of your bag hungrily. “Hell yes. I can smell them from here.” Laughing, you push the box toward him and watch as he pulls a cookie out and takes an enormous bite. “Thanks,” he says in between chews, his cheeks puffy. You can’t help but smile when he takes a sip of water to wash it all down, his eyes growing round.

Turning to Seokjin, you offer him a cookie as well, which he declines with a graceful wave. “I should be feeding you, not the other way around,” he remarks. “You got the carbonara, right? I’ll go see if it’s ready.”

With one last glance at the patrons sitting at the bar, Seokjin departs with a promise to be back in five minutes. Jungkook finishes off his cookie, and you’re considering offering him another when a familiar chirpy voice sounds from your left.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here! What do you think—should we sit at the bar?”

You whirl in the direction of the voice, your eyes immediately landing on a group of three girls standing near the entrance. Two of them you don’t recognize, but the third you’ve seen before. Mina, you’re pretty sure her name was, and you’d recognize her anywhere. The last time you’d seen her was at the restaurant on the night of Jimin’s and Jungkook’s graduation, and your face heats at the memory of everything else that transpired that night.

“Welcome!” Jungkook draws you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see that he’s wearing a bright, welcoming smile. “Were you looking to sit at the bar, or at a table? It looks like there are a few empty spots at the end of the bar, if you ladies would prefer that. Otherwise, I can take you to a table.”

Mina’s face lights up in recognition, and you’re forced to hide your scowl in your water glass. “Hey, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“You work at that place a few blocks down, right?” Jungkook jabs a thumb in the general direction of the street. “I’ve seen you around.”

She giggles and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “That’s right, yeah! I remember you now. Graduation, right? You were my best table of the night.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I bet you tell everyone that.”

“Not a chance,” Mina answers, looking him up and down before a coy smile curves her lips again. “I only say what I mean.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” Jungkook says agreeably. Then he turns to you, distractedly fiddling with his apron as he speaks. “Jin should probably be back with your food soon. Are you okay to sit here by yourself for a bit?”

You can only nod, still staring down into your water glass. “Yeah, sure. Go on, then.”

He smiles and gestures for Mina and the girls to follow after him, and you’re positive you don’t imagine the triumphant look that flashes across Mina’s face before she departs. Frowning, you grab a cookie from your box and break a piece off, grateful for the distraction. Seokjin drops off your carbonara a minute later, and you find yourself suddenly ravenous as you dig into the steaming bowl of spaghetti.

Jungkook returns to your side about five minutes later, raking a hand through his hair as he replaces his notebook back in his apron pocket. “Man, I’m beat,” he remarks. “Thank god Mina and her friends didn’t order anything complicated. My brain would’ve exploded.”

“Thank god for that,” you echo dully. Unwillingly, your gaze drifts over to where Mina is now sitting, chatting happily with her friends. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing Mina here, of all places. I mean, what is she even doing here?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but most people go out and have fun on their days off,” Jungkook responds dryly, a grin breaking across his face when you roll your eyes at him. “Or wait… could it be that you’re jealous?”

You scowl. “Don’t be stupid.”

Jungkook just laughs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can look you in the eye. “It’s okay,” he says, his thumb brushing softly along the corner of your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, princess.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, and thankfully you don’t have to. Seokjin returns with a takeout container for you to put your leftovers in, shrugging off your gratitude when you offer it.

“I’m discounting your food, too,” he says, leaving zero room for argument. “Any friend of Jeon’s is a friend of mine.”

Jungkook’s shift ends half an hour later. He turns on his roadtrip playlist on the drive home, and you are more than happy to let the music wash over you, eliminating any need for conversation and drowning out your thoughts.

“See you later, princess,” he says once he’s pulled into your driveway, following your every move as you climb out of the passenger seat.

It sounds like a promise coming from his lips, and you can only nod. “See you.”

///

You’re in the middle of buttering a piece of toast for breakfast the next morning when there’s a knock on the front door. Perturbed, you walk over to answer it, wondering if perhaps Jimin has forgotten his keys again, but when you peer through the peephole it isn’t Jimin who stares back at you.

“Jungkook—” you begin, swinging open the door, but he cuts you off before you can finish, taking your face in his hands and pressing his mouth to yours.

“Hey,” he whispers once he’s had his fill, pulling back just enough to mumble the greeting against your lips. “They’re all gone for the day, right?”

“Yes,” you confirm, still reeling from the suddenness of his appearance and the subsequent kiss. “But how did you—?”

“Jimin told me,” Jungkook answers shortly, before pulling you close and kissing you again. This time, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, following his lead as he ushers you back upstairs and breaking the kiss only once in the process. He lays you down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and you sigh when he moves down to nip at your neck.

“No marks, Jungkook,” you remind him breathily. “You can’t leave marks.”

A low whine escapes him. “Can’t you wear a scarf?”

“It’s the middle of summer!” you huff in amusement, smacking his arm when he whines again and stubbornly sucks at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Jungkook’s breath is hot against your skin. His fingers find the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them off your hips and down your legs, and you kick them off as soon as they’ve reached your ankles. Hungrily, his gaze traverses the newly revealed skin, and you shiver when he gently trails his fingertips up your calves and all the way to the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Jungkook,” you sigh. “I haven’t shaved in days.”

“Ask me if I care,” he replies hoarsely, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue against the growing damp spot seeping through the cotton of your underwear. It’s far from your sexiest pair—you’d categorize them as granny panties, in all honesty—but Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit fazed as he hooks them aside and licks a broad stripe all the way up to your clit. “Want you,” he groans, and the vibrations from his voice send a volt of tingling electricity straight up your spine. “Want you in every way I can have you.”

You don’t respond. You don’t have to, because Jungkook is diving in with the enthusiasm of a man starved, tossing your underwear aside carelessly before banding his arms around your legs to hold you open. His face disappears between your thighs until only the top of his hair is visible, the dark strands mussed. Lips parting in a moan, your fingers find their way to his head, tangling at his roots, and Jungkook parts from your cunt briefly to groan his approval. Then he’s eating you out again—alternating between broad licks and teasing flicks to your clit before his tongue delves into your entrance, inhaling deeply as if he just can’t get enough.

The sun rises higher into the sky, beaming through your window and illuminating Jungkook’s head and shoulders in warm, hazy gold. You chant his name as you reach your high, spurred on by his teasing tongue and whispered words of encouragement, and the grin he wears when he straightens back up is near blinding. Slowly, he peels off his shirt and shucks off his jeans until he’s completely bare before you, the sun painting him in warm strokes of color. Deliberately, he crawls up your body, hiking up the hem of your shirt as he does. He plants kisses into your newly bared skin, and when he reaches your lips he settles there as if that’s where he’s meant to be.

Jungkook kisses you slowly. He kisses you deliberately—sensually—and you melt into his gentle touch, relishing in the feel of his bare body pressed so intimately against yours. You don’t miss the way his cock hardens against your thigh, but Jungkook seems to be in no hurry to do anything about it. Instead, he cups your cheeks and licks into your mouth, and you’re all too willing to part beneath him like a flower in bloom.

The rest of the afternoon passes like this—hot kisses and slow fucking, the two of you meshing until you’re no longer sure where you end and he begins. You keep an eye on the time, though, and by the time your parents and Jimin return home, you and Jungkook are showered and dry, sitting on the living room floor embroiled in a Mario Kart tournament.

“No fair! You played without me?” Jimin whines, plopping down between you and trying to wrest the controller away from Jungkook. “C’mon, let me have a turn. You’ve been at it all day!”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up past Jimin’s shoulder to meet yours, his lips twitching in barely suppressed mirth. “Yeah. We sure were.”

///

“God, I’m going to be sore for the next month.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” your brother snorts, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger like you’re a small child. His three o’clock dance class has just wrapped up, and people are slowly filtering out of the studio. A few of the younger women glance back toward where you’re standing with Jimin, and you have no doubt they’re vying for one last look at your brother in his tight-fitting joggers and loose tank that keeps drooping off one shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you suppress the urge to loudly bring up the time he walked into a sliding glass door and nearly chipped his tooth. Instead, you pinch his cheek back, and laugh when he pouts.

“Ow, hey! What happened to giving me all your love and support?”

“Please, Mom made me come to your class,” you retort, batting his invasive hand away. “I think she just wanted me out of the house.”

Jimin laughs. “Can’t blame her. You’re a goddamn freeloader.”

“Seriously? Because in that case, I’m dying to hear what that makes you.”

Thoroughly nonplussed, Jimin pinches your other cheek before dancing away on light feet. “I’m an angel. Now go away, so I can get ready for my next class!”

Rolling your eyes again, you heft your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel. “Fine, fine. Good luck, and all that. See you at dinner.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, and when you peer over your shoulder at him, he’s already sprawled on the floor and reaching for his toes in the unmistakable first step of his warm-up routine. He waves when he sees you watching, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before exiting the studio and heading for the door. You’ve borrowed your dad’s car for the day, and hum cheerily as you climb into the driver’s seat.

You spend the rest of the afternoon running errands—stopping by both the post office and the bank before heading for the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for dinner. By the time you get back home, Jimin has finished teaching at the studio as well, and you fix him with a stare as you plop two full bags of groceries in front of him on the kitchen counter.

“Care to help me carry the rest in?”

“Not really,” he replies, but he stands up and follows you outside to the car nonetheless.

Once all the groceries are inside and unpacked, you begin prepping for dinner. Jimin, to his credit, offers his help without you even having to ask, and with his assistance you finish cooking in record time. Your parents join you in the dining room, and together you enjoy the meal over the evening news.

You retire to your room after dinner, cracking open your laptop to go over the details of your internship for the umpteenth time. You’ve read the emails and the attached documents so many times you practically have them memorized, but the anxiety gnawing at your belly refuses to be quelled. You’re returning to Seoul in less than a week, and your empty suitcase sits in the corner of your childhood bedroom like a taunt. You wonder, briefly, if you should start packing.

“Nah, it can wait,” you decide, muttering the words to your nonexistent audience. Standing up, you stretch lazily before exiting your room and heading down the hall to the bathroom that you and Jimin share, muffling a yawn behind your hand.

You’ve just finished brushing your teeth when your phone vibrates against the bathroom counter, a notification lighting up your screen. Spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush, you towel off your face before picking up your phone, blinking owlishly at the text.

[11:08pm] Jungkook: can you come over?

By itself, it’s not an unusual request. At this late an hour, though, you can’t help the unease that rises up in your belly. And as if sensing your apprehension, your phone vibrates again.

[11:09pm] Jungkook: my parents are out

[11:09pm] Jungkook: please? i could use some company

There’s an edge of desperation in his last message—something you haven’t seen in him since you returned home. It reminds you a bit of the Jungkook you used to know—the scrawny, gangly one with a nose too big for his face and an all-encompassing fear of the opposite sex. Give me ten minutes, you tell him.

Okay, Jungkook writes back. See you soon.

The next few minutes are a blur. You slather on some moisturizer and consider changing out of your pajamas and putting on a bra, but dismiss the thought immediately. Jungkook has seen you in far less, and you’re staunchly opposed to putting a bra back on after a certain hour of the night. Besides, he’s sure to dispose of your clothes at some point, so there’s little point in changing. With that thought in mind, you tiptoe out into the hall, past your parents’ bedroom and Jimin’s closed door. You carefully edge around the creakiest floorboards and hop over the two steps in the staircase that always groan when subjected to additional weight. Gingerly, you edge open the front door, just enough to slip out into the night.

The trek across the yard doesn’t take long, and Jungkook swings the door open before you even get a chance to knock. “Hey,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar round glasses perched on his nose. He’s in his pajamas as well—a blue and white checkered set that’s about two sizes too big—and when he ushers you inside, you catch a whiff of his floral laundry detergent.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Long day,” he sighs, raking a hand through his already tousled hair and mussing it further. “Come on in. You want anything to drink?”

You shake your head, stepping into the entryway and watching as he closes and locks the door again. Jungkook nods and shuffles to the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of water from the faucet and downs half of it in one swig. His throat bobs as he swallows, his head tilted back to expose the long line of his neck, and you step a little closer as he turns to refill the glass.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll have some water too.”

“Mm. Okay.” Jungkook turns and fetches a second glass, filling it to the brim before handing it over. Then he takes your free hand and leads you upstairs, taking a left turn into his bedroom and nudging the door closed with his foot.

“So…” you begin slowly, putting your water down on the nightstand and reaching for the hem of your shirt. “We need to be quick. My mom’s a light sleeper, and I’m pretty sure I heard Jimin playing games in his room when I walked by.”

Jungkook chuckles and lays his hands over yours, stilling your attempt to take off your shirt. “When did you turn into such a horndog, Noona? Maybe I just want to hang out.”

You blink. “Did you just want to hang out?”

Jungkook plops onto his bed and grabs you by the waist, tugging you down and into his lap. “I mean, yeah—I thought that was obvious. Figured we could watch a movie or something.” Grabbing the tv remote, he switches on the television hanging on the opposite wall. “Any suggestions?”

You hesitate. You’ve been in Jungkook’s bedroom just once since you’ve come back, and the memory of the way he’d bent you over the desk in the corner sends a pulse of heat to your cheeks. Tearing your gaze away from the piece of wooden furniture, you instead focus on the television screen, watching as he navigates over to the Netflix menu.

“We can go old school too, if you want,” he remarks as he scrolls through the list of new arrivals. “I have a DVD player.”

That draws a laugh from your lips. “When was the last time you purchased a DVD? Last I checked, you only had Kung Fu Panda, Iron Man, and two copies of Titanic for some reason that you still won’t tell me.”

Jungkook laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. “Call it human error,” he says, looping his arms comfortably around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder. “How do you feel about going super old school? I can get the VHS player out of the basement and pop in one of the Pokémon movies.”

“I’m sure we won’t have to resort to that,” you assure him, grinning. “Here, why don’t we just watch Iron Man? Three’s your favorite, right?”

“Three is everyone’s favorite,” he says, scrolling over to the appropriate menu and clicking play. “It’s the best one, hands-down.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

The movie starts, and you shift off Jungkook’s lap to switch off the lights. Darkness overtakes the room as the screen lights up with the opening credits, and when you return to the bed, Jungkook has sprawled comfortably against the pillows lining the headboard. His eyes remain glued to the screen even as he reaches for you, and you hesitate for only a second before joining him, laying down beside him and letting his arm find its way around your shoulders. The scent of floral laundry detergent fills your nostrils, and you subtly nestle a bit closer, resting your head on his chest.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook has seen this movie. You know this for a fact, yet that doesn’t change how raptly he watches the screen, the action sequences reflected perfectly in his glasses. He’s practically vibrating with excitement by the time of the final showdown, mouthing along to the lines, and you hide your smile in the blue-and-white squares of his pajama shirt as the music swells.

It’s well past midnight by the time the credits roll. Jungkook seems perfectly content to lie on his bed with his arm around you, and when you make to get up, his grip slides down to your waist to hold you in place. “You gotta watch the credits all the way through,” he says, blinking at you with bleary eyes now that the adrenaline from the final showdown has worn off. “There’s a post-credits scene, remember?”

You shake your head, but let him pull you back down onto the mattress regardless. “I’m sure you already know what it is. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he asks with a grin.

The end credits continue—an endless stream of names scrolling down the screen. Your eyes begin to droop, the words blurring together, and it’s only when the music stops and the final scene begins that you jolt awake. Jungkook is faring no better than you are, suppressing a yawn behind his hand as he watches the last bit of the film through half-lidded eyes. Then the screen goes dark, and silence descends over the room once more. You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand and see that it’s nearly two in the morning. A look back at Jungkook reveals that both his eyes have fallen shut, and you slowly begin wriggling free from his embrace in order to head home.

You’ve barely moved an inch when Jungkook’s arm tightens around your waist. “Stay,” he mumbles sleepily, one eye cracking open.

You should say no. You should head home to the safety of your own bed. But there’s something about Jungkook—something soft and fond in his tired gaze and something vulnerable in the way he’s holding you so tightly against his pajama-clad body with his hair in complete disarray and his round glasses askew. Heaving a sigh, you reach up to take them off his face, placing them neatly on his nightstand.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll stay.”

Jungkook smiles sleepily and shuts his eyes. “G’night, then, Noona.”

“Night, Jungkookie.”

Within seconds, his breathing evens out, and you know he’s off in dreamland. Twisting in his grasp, you tug your phone out of your pocket and set a quick alarm for six o’clock. Neither of your parents wake up until seven at the earliest, and Jimin would sleep until three in the afternoon if he could get away with it, so you’re certain that you’ll have plenty of time to sneak back into the house. Besides, Jungkook’s bed is comfortable, and his chest is practically a furnace against your back. You aren’t sure you could work up the energy to leave even if you tried.

So instead, you settle back into his embrace and let sleep whisk you away.

///

There are birds chirping outside the window when you open your eyes the next morning, blinking blearily against the sun shining through the curtains. The blanket is tangled around your legs and there’s an arm looped around your waist, and you sit bolt upright when realization dawns. Jungkook groans and mumbles something unintelligible, but you don’t pay him any mind as you twist out of his grasp, clutching for your phone on the nightstand.

7:03am.

Shit.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you rise to your feet and shove your phone into the pocket of your pajama pants. Jungkook makes a sound that vaguely resembles your name, and you spare him a glance as you fumble for your shoes. He’s flat on his back, blinking hair out of his eyes as he fights to stay awake. “Hey,” he manages, his voice raspy.

“I gotta go,” you whisper urgently, successfully putting your shoes on the right feet and wrenching the door of his bedroom open. And then you turn and dash out, leaving a very sleepy, very disheveled Jungkook blinking after you.

Your house, when you carefully crack open the front door and poke your head inside, is quiet. Much to your relief, you don’t hear any of the telltale signs that your family is awake and downstairs yet—no drip of the coffee maker and no sizzle of bacon or eggs. From upstairs, however, you can distantly hear the sound of the shower, so you dart inside and toe off your shoes, padding into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. You check the alarm you’d set the night prior as you scoop coffee grounds into the filter, and curse under your breath when you realize you’d somehow managed to select six PM instead of AM.

You’re seated in the living room with a mug of fresh coffee when Jimin shuffles in with damp hair and a sleepy frown. “You’re up early,” you remark.

“I have a morning class to teach,” he replies, yawning widely as he grabs a fresh mug. “What’s your excuse?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

Suppressing another yawn, your brother turns his attention to the refrigerator, rooting around for the milk. And you return yours to the window, where you can see the side of the Jeon’s house, and Jungkook’s bedroom window on the second floor. There are no signs of life from within, and you wonder if he’d gone back to sleep after your departure. Considering how tired he’d looked last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Chaeyoung’s voice echoes in your mind then, soft and wistful. It always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. And honestly? I think it was because of you. We never really forget our first crush, do we?

And then Jisoo’s words rise up in your brain, just a bit louder. He’s a heartbreaker. He never, ever stays until the morning.

So why, then, did you wake up in his arms today?

[jaeminscoffee]

Colours | X. Dj

Pairing» Xiaojun x f!Reader

Genre» Angst, Fluff, Smut (suggestive)

Warning(s)» Friends to lovers trope, Xiaojun kinda loses his temper but that subdues, heavy makeout session, groping, public sex, fingering, implied sex towards the ending (open imagination since the request was kinda vague), steamy, our boi dejun get's flustered by Y/n's bubbly personality. I think that's about it. Lmao not proof read, so it will contain a hell lot of mistakes.

Wc; type» 2.06k ; oneshot

Red.

All Xiaojun could see is Red. 

To have the person who dragged him all the way to some stupid reunion party against his will to abandon him in the first five minutes with the pathetic excuse of "I'll go grab us some drinks" only to never return back to his aid had Xiaojun boil with anger. 

To have you smiling and laughing, clinging and grasping at a man he's never seen before is Infuriating. 

To see you so smitten by a guy other than Xiaojun had him seeing crimson with comically visible smoke coming out of his ears, arms shaking, jaw set rigid with palms growing moist from all the clenching and unclenching. 

Xiaojun felt yellow. 

He felt insecure at how the man before you just seemed to be much to your taste. 

He felt unsure of whether or not he should risk walking up to you and talk the talk he'd wanted to let out since the day you stood up for the lad. And inevitably, and much to his pleasure, stood by him in the process till date. 

He felt that maybe, just maybe, he's not worthy of having a girl as astounding as you. And all that sliver of hope he'd held onto only seemed to be slipping away from his grasp. 

Xiaojun felt blue. 

The dreading feeling that he'd lose all that the two of you built until where your relationship stands today with a single mistake bubbles inside of him. 

Watching you from afar with a man potentially your dream guy just made him feel blue. Numb, and as though a part of him was slowly chipping away. 

The immense feeling of sheer sadness had him want to turn on his heels and back out to what he thinks "get out of your way" and to prevent further breakage of his heart. 

Until he saw red again. 

Watching you throw yourself at this stranger, arms tightly wrapped around the bastard's waist, hips joint, with his hands running through the soft curls of your tresses, "who does he think he is?" 

How entitled must this man think he is to expand the white between the two of you? You and Xiaojun were meant to be and he'd only flick your head and call you stupid if you ever said otherwise. 

Eyebrows furrowing as Xiaojun followed each of your actions. How your chin tucks and you hide your face in this 'dream bastard's' chest, arms idly resting on his torso, your hair covering your face from all the moving around. He kept watching you;

Until your gaze met. 

Time seemed to stand still, in a much cliché fashion. Seeing the expressionless look on his face seemed to have clicked the power on button somewhere in your head.

You'd unintentionally abandoned the man you promised you wouldn't. 

Almost as though Xiaojun could see the wheels turning inside your head, he sneers at you, immediately turning around to walk into a corner the moment he saw you approaching him through the crowd filled with hookers, stoners, and people too bored for their own good. 

"Jun, wait up!" 

He could hear your shrill voice call out to him the moment he rounded a turn. He didn't turn, however, mind clouded red, crimson and ebony with jealousy, envy and all mixed emotions, he felt dizzy. 

You catching up to him only seemed to worsen his dizziness, "Jun! I-i'm so sorry i forgot about you, it's just my b-" 

"Forgot about me, huh?" Xiaojun's voice comes gruff, hoarse from the inadequate usage. He doesn't bother turning around to look at you, wouldn't have done much anyways, the lighting of the area so dim, he can barely make out your silhouette. 

Besides, his vision is clouded with black, wouldn't have done much anyways. 

"No no, not forget forget about you! I just got caught up with my b-" 

"boyfriend? Y/n, are you oblivious to not know how  I feel? Am I vague? Oh I'm sorry, am I not obvious enough?" Through the darkness, you could see Xiaojun's shoulder shake, his tone strained, his head hung low, avoiding your gaze the closer you got. "Jun, what are you talking about?" 

You seemed to be feeling grey, confused. 

"Your boyfriend, Y/n." 

"Jun, boyfriend-!" "I like you damn it!" you flinch as he abruptly turns around, the red building inside him so rapidly that it inevitably ends up exploding.

"You know I like you, no, I love you. Why else would you have been waltzing around acting like a pliant, docile girlfriend?" The grey intensifies within you the faster Xiaojun talks quick strides towards you. 

Your silence and the unconscious stepping back seemed to plant a seed of yellow within him again. "You led me on. You seemingly ignored my feelings. Because you obviously know I like you, don't you?" The red appears again, mixing with the intense yellow, blending into a terrific orange as Xiaojun closes the space between the two of you with newfound confidence. 

"You like me.." you whisper, your palms pressing onto the greasy wall behind you where Xiaojun had you cornered, your eyes shaking in ecstasy. He likes you, no. He loves you.

"You need to a whole 'nother level of airhead if you think i view you merely as a friend-" Somewhere in your head, you know he's talking to you, but his voice seems to numb out in the beautiful crimson that's taking over your heart, with a slight mix of elegant yellow and purple so faint it could come off as violet. "You like me!" you look up at him. 

"-Yes, Y/n, keep up god damn! But do you care? Of course not! You go get yourself a boyfriend while i wallow in self pity-" 

"Oh god you like me!" you bounce with all the vibrant colors swirling inside you, your arms lifting up to wrap around the lads neck, who jumps at the unexpected action, looking down at you with a mixture of confusion and slight fury.

"Does it matter, Y/n? Your boyfriend's probably looking for you now-" 

"Jun, what are you talking about? I don't have a boyfriend!" you pull him down to be leveled with you, looking him intensely in the eye as you watch the familiar grey dominate his irises. 

"Th-Then, that man you were all over..? You cannot possibly tell me he's not your boyfriend" he seems to be fighting to hold onto the red fury as it slowly turns into a rosy flush. "The man I was all over..?" you question seemingly to yourself, as the wheels turn  in your head once again until the entire process comes to an abrupt halt at the realization hitting you. 

"Jun, that's my brother! My cousin!" 

The look on the lad's face is so incredulous that you break out into a cheshire grin, "you were jealous of my brother?" you giggle, as you playfully punch at his chest which deflates as he radiates bright crimson, skin heated. 

"o-okay brother. brother, alright. Though, I still don't stand a chance, do i?" Xiaojun questions, stammering with embarrassment while being overcome with a sudden sense of blue. Sure you didn't have a boyfriend, doesn't change the fact that you're way out of his league. 

You stare into his eyes, hoping that would somehow convey the answer to his question, but the more you just look at him, the more the light in his eyes seems to dim out. 

Offering him a soft smile, which he doesn't seem to notice, you catch him off guard when you lift his head up, tilting it while pressing your lips onto his ever so gently. Providing a soft peck as you sigh in ecstasy. 

You let your lips linger a little longer, silently pouring out your heart into the soft action of affection before hesitantly pulling away. 

"Does that answer your question?" your gentle voice pulls Xiaojun out of his haze. 

You kissed him. You like him. He stands a chance with you. 

That seems to snap the last bit of self restraint in him as he captures your lips once again with much fervor. Molding his lips with yours, all signs of softness thrown out of the window as his hands circle your hips, pulling you flush against him. 

The feeling of your heat encircling him makes him groan into the kiss, making a wave of shock run through your spine. The hairs on your hand standing proud as you play with the hair at the back of his neck, pulling at it. 

Biting down on your lips, Xiaojun positively earns a moan from you. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into yours, easily dominating your tongue as you slowly, subconsciously start grinding against him, making him squeeze tight at your hips. 

"I.. Love you.. Jun" you say in between the kiss as his hands travel further south, groping at your ass, pulling you in, supporting your grinds on his crotch.

"Fuck.." he sighs at the words, slithering wet kisses from your lips to the edge of your lips, moving onto the jaw before choosing to nip at the skin, "say it again, doll" he rasps onto your neck, while his hands sneakily makes its way under the flimsy material of your skirt, thumbing at your growing wetness while staring intently at you, silently asking for the green flag to proceed.

"I.. I love you. I love you, Xiaojun!" you nod at him while pouring all your adoration onto the lad, you'd waited too long for the two of you to take it slow from now on forth. 

Xiaojun moves your panties to the side, immediately finding the bundle of nerves, pressing nimbly onto your clit, basking in your little whimpers and shakes. 

He wastes no time to draw figure eights onto the sensitive bud, cooing at you while marking his territory on your neck, your jaw, the naked skin of your shoulders and collarbone, exposed by the off shoulder top you'd chosen for the evening. 

"I love you, too, princess. You've no idea how long I've waited for this moment." he moans onto your neck while sliding in a slender digit into your wet cavern. 

You grow frantic, soaking in all the emotions Xiaojun is pouring onto you with his actions and words, being pulled close to your high, embarrassing faster than you'd appreciate.

"You've no idea how many times I'm imagined taking you until all you can remember is my name, not even yours" he starts moving his digits after fitting in another one of his long fingers, the slick pouring out of your cunt pooling onto his palms as your moans come out as squeals. Your brain is hazing with a pleasant pink, blue and red. All of the emotions overwhelming you.

"You look gorgeous, doll face" he kisses softly at the side of your lips when you start clenching around his fingers, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap.

"J-Jun.." you sigh, face flush with content, legs shaking, your form only being held up by his strong grip, his intense gaze making you feel so small, so vulnerable, all the tell-tale signs of your orgasm nearing you present as he accelerates his fingers, clearly catching onto the fact that you'd come undone any second. 

"You gonna come for me, pretty? Am I making you feel good?" he grunts while nibbling at the lobe of your ears, digits moving so fast inside your calls that you can hear the squelching obscene voices of your walls over the loud music playing in the background, his palm constantly rubbing against your clit. 

"Feel's so g-good, Jun.." You grip onto his forearm to keep you grounded as your orgasm washes over you. Your jaw slacks as you convulse around his fingers. Xiaojun cooing praises into your ears as he helps you ride out your orgasm, pulling you into a kiss as you push his fingers away when he slowly drives you into overstimulation. 

"Fuck, you're perfect." he stares at you with adoration while you catch your breath. Forcing yourself to step out of your daze. You smile shyly until it turns into a sly smirk as you move your hands to grab at his painfully evident dent, slowly rasping out as you move closer to him,

"Your place or mine?" 

The red never felt so satisfying to Xiaojun until now. 

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Unforgettable (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello, everyone!

Songs used: "Unforgettable" By Nat King Cole (1952)

Summary: Wanda is forced to delve into her past as you deal with some unexpected obstacles trying to get back to her.

“I know, she does look shocked to meet the real us, doesn’t she?” Agnes- Agatha said to her rabbit with a laugh. Wanda couldn’t help but feel frustration creep under her skin at the air of indifference Agatha was speaking in. It was clear she couldn’t trust a word that came out of the other woman’s mouth, so she decided to take matters in her own. She would just look into the other woman’s mind to get answers. The perks of having powers.

Except… Nothing.

Rather than being able to see into the other woman’s mind she was met with a wall. Even in the early stages of having her powers this had never happened and Wanda couldn’t help but feel unnerved. “Oh, that’s adorable.” Agatha laughed. “My thoughts are not available to you, toots. They never were. So, don’t wear yourself out. It’s a waste of time. We have much more… pressing matters to tend to.”

Wanda clenched her jaw, refusing to play into the game Agatha clearly wanted her to play. “Where are my children?” Her blood boiled when Agatha mockingly repeated her question back to her.

Again, Agatha laughed. “Do you have an accent or not, sweetheart? Make up your mind.”

“Where are they?” Wanda repeated, flexing her hands to manipulate her powers only to be met with the same resistance from before. Her blood ran cold. This had never happened.

A chilling smile crossed Agatha’s features. “Aww. Sweetheart. Don’t you know? Your magic is useless here. Much like yourself.” Before Wanda could even consider reacting Agatha flicked her wrist and Wanda felt her arms get pinned tightly behind her back along with her legs as she flew forward. The invisible vice like grip tightening as Agatha flexed her fingers. Wanda groaned in discomfort.

Agatha began speaking again but Wanda could barely process the words as she panted in pain. “Basic protection spells. Honestly, how dim are you?” Wanda finally allowed herself to look around the room, taking in the strange markings that littered the wall. “These are runes, Wanda. In a given space, only the witch that cast the runes can use her magic. Do you know anything?”

“Who are you?” Wanda demanded.

“Who are you?” Agatha countered. “I was so patient. Playing along with your twisted little fantasy. Waiting for you to reveal yourself.” She smirked. “I will admit, sending fake Anna and fake Pietro seemed to push your buttons. I thought Amelia- sorry, Ellie, would have sent you over the edge but you didn’t seem to care if your wife mingled with someone else. Just like I’m sure she’s doing now.”

Wanda’s jaw clenched tightly as she pulled at the invisible restraints. “Leave Y/n out of this.”

It was clear Agatha was amused by Wanda's anger. “Oh, sweetheart. How could I do that when she’s the easiest way to get to you? And Amelia was more than willing to be an active participant in all of this to get Y/n back.”

In response Wanda leveled Agatha with a hard stare, not giving her the satisfaction. “The silent treatment? Oh, well. Guess I’ll have to talk to myself.” Agatha mockingly pouted. “When I sensed such powerful spells cast all at once… I knew I had to see it for myself. Mind control is a classic… But having thousands of people under your thumb, each with their own complex stories? That’s something special, baby.”

“I spent years practicing to be able to create one believable illusion, but you, Wanda… Westview under your spell? Every little detail is in place. You’re even running illusions all the way at the edge of town! Magic on autopilot.” Agatha pushed a hand through her hair, her eyes deranged. “What’s your secret? I need you to tell me how you did this.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t do anything. I’m not-” Before she could finish, Agatha flicked her hand and Wanda was sent crashing into the walls on either side of her. Grunts of pain falling from her lips before Agatha stopped her directly in front of herself once again.

“I tried to be gentle, I did. To wake you up from this stupid little fantasy you have but it’s clear you’d rather fall apart than face your issues, little witch. You left me no choice.” Agatha stepped closer to Wanda. “What was it you said to your fake brother? You felt empty. Like you were drowning. Endless nothingness… Let’s start there.”

Wanda wordlessly watched the woman pluck a hair from her hair and chant words she didn’t understand under her breath. The strand glowing purple as it floated over to the door.

“It’s been fun playing pretend, Wanda… But now it’s time to look at the real thing.” Agatha whispered menacingly. “Let’s go.”

Agatha waved her hand and Wanda went crashing to the floor. “No.” She gritted out, her eyes locked on Agatha, refusing to look at the familiar door. She knew what would await behind that door.

“Did you forget that I have your children lock in this basement? It wasn’t a request.”

Before Wanda could respond she could hear the voices of Billy and Charlie call out to her behind the door and she knew she had no other choice but to enter.

______________

As you were flying lower to the ground your eyes caught the sigh of someone waving their arms noticeably. You needed to get to Wanda though. You needed to see her. To tell her you were sorry. That you were there for her… That you loved her.

Begrudgingly you flew down, you would just check if this person was okay before getting to Wanda.

When your feet touched ground, you were practically knocked over by Ellie leaping into your arms. “Y/n! You have to help me!” She cried desperately, tears streaming rapidly down her cheeks.

The sight overwhelmed you as you tried to maintain your composure. “Ellie, what’s wrong?” You asked cautiously, placing your hands on her shoulders to hold her back.

“My names not Ellie. It’s me, Y/n. Amelia.” She grabbed your hands and tugged you forward slightly. “Wanda is trying to keep us apart.”

You stumbled back with her words, not expecting it. “No. I don’t know who you are, but I know Wanda. I know I love her and that I’ve always loved her. I’ve seen it in my mind.”

Almost immediately the tears stopped in their tracks. Ellie- Amelia stared you down. The sight sent a chill down your spine as your fingers began tingling with energy. “Oh, Y/n, sweetheart. That’s just not true.” You noticed she began playing with a small device in her hands. “Maybe you just need a little… encouragement.”

Your fingers sparked with nervous energy, as a pit began forming in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

Before she could reply, Anna and Pietro strolled up. “There’s something about music that messes with her head.” Anna said flippantly, as she picked at her nails. “Try that.”

Pietro smirked. “If that doesn’t work I can help you out with that little device you have there, hot stuff.” He added with a wink to Amelia.

Amelia tilted her head thoughtfully. “That won’t be necessary. Agatha taught me a little trick.”

With a small wave of her hand, a purple fog drifted from her fingers and disappeared into your mind.

“Hello, beautiful.” You looked up from your place on the floor of the training room, smiling slightly when you saw it was Amelia.

“Hi, doll.” You replied back, the term of endearment tasting bitter on your tongue. It felt out of place. You tried to ignore it. This was your girlfriend now after all.“Here to get schooled in some hand-to-hand combat?”

A laugh fell from her lips. “Oh, please. I could take you any day, Y/ln.”

You smirked up at her. “That’s cute that you think that. My mentor is Steve Rogers. I trained with Natasha Romanoff almost daily. Captain America and Black Widow. My skill levels are unmatched.” You said easily as you brushed imaginary dirt off your shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah. We get it. You were an Avenger. Blah, blah, blah. That’s really not as impressive as you th-” Amelia squealed slightly as you swept her legs out from under her, pining her almost immediately.

With a grin, you looked down at her. “You were saying?”

You noticed the way her gaze fell to your lips and you couldn’t help but smirk again. Before you could do anything, she flipped you over, pining your hands above your head. “I was saying, I would’ve thought Black Widow taught you better than that.”

Her grip on your wrists loosened slightly as you tugged her down. Your lips meeting in a kiss.

Blinking rapidly, you shook away the fog in your mind as you refocused on the world around you. “Do you see now?” Amelia called out to you. “It wasn’t Wanda. It was me you were with.”

All the pieces of memories you had seen the last few days flashed in your mind. The love you had for Wanda flashed in your mind. There would never be anyone else. “No, Amelia. I’m sorry, but it’s her-”

“-it’s always been her. I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything sooner, but I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.” You winced at the tears that seemed to be forming in Amelia’s eyes. “I can’t love you when I have no room in my heart for someone else. Even if Wanda and I can’t be together. Even if I can’t forgive her.”

Your eyes widened at the memory that it seemed you were able to recall on your own. “I told you I was in love with Wanda. Why are you doing this?”

Amelia gritted her teeth. “Because Wanda didn’t deserve you, Y/n. I did. When Agatha approached me and told me this was a guaranteed way to win you back I knew I had to do it.”

You shook your head. “I'm never going to love you back, Amelia. I need to get to Wanda.”

“Ralph, now.” Amelia told Pietro, tossing him the small device. He caught it and sped over to you.

You felt the small prick against the back of your neck and then everything went dark.

__________________

The trauma of having to relieve losing her parents and experiencing the effects of the mind stone again weighed heavily on her. The pain was all fresh and Wanda wasn't sure she could take anymore.

Then she saw the familiar sight of elevator doors.

For a moment Wanda was sure her legs would give out underneath her. She knew that behind this door was peace. The peace she wanted her mind to remain in forever that didn't exist anymore.

The simplicity that was behind that door didn't exist anymore but it was something she longed to see.

Agatha made a quiet noise of surprise as Wanda moved forward on her own, rather than reluctantly as she had before.

The doors slid open as Wanda felt the cool breeze blow through her hair. The imagine of her younger self sat looking out at the city before her. “So, where are we now?”

“The roof of the Avengers compound.” Wanda said quietly. “It’s where Y/n and I fell in love. No matter how hard I tried to shut her out, she never gave up. Pietro was dead, and I was in a new country. I had never felt so alone… She saved me from drowning.”

Wanda’s heart thudded painfully in her chest she saw the younger version of herself open her mouth to speak. She knew what was coming next. “Y/n.”

You stepped in between Agatha and Wanda a small smile on your face as the younger version of herself never looked away from you.

Wanda’s breath hitched because looking back at it now, it was clear she had always been in love with you.

“Um, hi.” You began, bashfully rubbing the back of your neck. “I wanted fresh air and it’s such a nice day out and it looked like you could use company. I mean, not that you have to have company if you don't want it. I can go if you want or I can just sit here with you and-”

Wanda couldn’t help but laugh slightly as she interrupted you. “Y/n. You’re rambling.”

Your cheeks flushed, and the current Wanda couldn’t help but smile adoringly at the sight. Of how oblivious you both were. “Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

The young version of herself never let her eyes leave yours. A stark contrast from the girl who couldn’t even look at you for more than a minute when you first met. “You don’t?”

The redness on your cheeks darkened. “Well…” You winced. “I guess I did since I knew you’d probably be here and I just-”

“I like being around you.” Wanda whispered at the same time you said the words.

“Even if we don’t talk most of the time.” You finished shyly.

Her eyes shone slightly under the fading light. “What are your intentions now?”

You shifted slightly from foot to foot. “I think my intentions would be whatever you prefer.”

Wordlessly she pat the space next to her. You smiled as you took a seat next to her, looking out over the skyline, your shoulders brushing. “Wanda, I…” She tilted her head to look at you. “I don’t want to pretend I know exactly what you’re going through because we all fight battles that no one knows about… But if you ever need to talk or just have someone around I’m here for you. If that would give you even just a little comfort.”

Wanda’s eyes flashed with controlled annoyance. “What makes you think that talking about it would give me comfort?” You stayed quiet. “Or sitting here with you?”

Wanda flinched at the tone her past self used and watched the way you began spinning the rings on your fingers anxiously. You were nervous, she could see that now.

She wanted to yell at herself for all the time she spent pushing you away when she should have been pulling you closer.

“I just thought that-”

“The only thing that would bring me comfort is seeing him again.” Wanda cut you off sharply, her eyes shining with unshed tears and her voice thick with emotion.

Wanda could see the understanding in your eyes. You knew exactly what she was going through, and she had no idea at the time.

You nodded faintly, shifting your gaze back to the skyline. “Sorry.” You said quietly. You pulled out your phone to play music, the default to being around Wanda. A silent support.

“Never before has someone been more… Unforgettable. In every way, and forever more that’s how you’ll stay.”

The music made tears well up in Wanda’s eyes because this was the first song you had played that she had allowed herself to actually listen to. The silent messages you were sending her. The walls you were breaking without even realizing it.

“I’m sorry.” She eventually mumbled.

You turned to face her, your brows furrowed in concern. “Don’t be. It’s fine, Wanda.”

A pained smile spread across her lips. “It’s just… I’m so tired.” She inhaled sharply and the glistening in her eyes became more apparent. “It’s like this wave washing over me, again and again. It knocks me down and when I try to stand up, it just comes for me again. And I… It’s just gonna drown me.”

The defeat in her voice made your heart clench as you fought the urge to hold her, to take her hand. “It may feel like it’s all sorrow right now, but there’s more.” You said quietly. Wanda’s stared back at you with curiosity. “The pain you’re in is a telltale sign of the love you gave. Of the unwavering strength of your love… because what is grief is not love persevering?” For a moment you just stared at one another.

The abrupt sound of a loud ad startled you both as you jumped. A laugh fell from your lips because of the terrible timing. “I really should start paying for ad free. Sorry.” You smiled at her nervously.

The surprise on your face was obvious when she smiled back at you. “No, it was funny.” She replied with a chuckle.

You made a face. “It is kind of funny that an Avenger can’t afford ad free music, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.” Wanda hummed, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

The sound of her laughter faded as you both stared at one another, the intensity of emotions left unspoken making the air heavy with tension. Eventually you both turned your gaze back to the skyline, your shoulders still brushing.

A single tear fell down Wanda’s cheeks as she stepped further onto the roof, the image of you both faded away as she looked around.

“So, to recap… Parents dead, brother dead, Y/n pretty much dead.” Wanda’s face crumpled in pain as the tears fell down her cheeks more steadily. Agatha continued on. “What happened when she wasn’t there to be your life raft anymore, Wanda?”

Wanda roughly wiped away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“You’re right there! Tell me how you did it.” Wanda’s chest heaved with the weight of the emotions. “They tried to take Y/n, but you weren’t going to let that happen.”

Wanda’s eyes widened slightly as she thought back to the moment. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.” She repeated as she marched through the familiar door.

Anxiously she watched herself find your empty room, she watched the panic in her every move, she watched Hayward talk about you like you were nothing.

Her heart broke all over again as she watched herself hover over your practically lifeless body.

“I can’t feel you.” She whispered brokenly, the pain in her chest overcoming her. The sensation composing her entire being as everything within her collapsed. She was alone, and she knew she wouldn’t recover.

Her eyes glowed red as she waved a hand, all of the doctors in the room turning away from your body on her command. Hayward turning away as well before he could even react.

Carefully she made her way over to you and took you in her arms, her hands glowing as she carried you away through a back entrance where no one would see her leave.

Cautiously, she placed you in the passenger seat of her car and began driving. Her heart thudding heavily with each passing moment that you didn't wake up. The only thing that brought her a small semblance of comfort was the sight of your chest still weakly rising and falling with each breath.

After an hour or so of driving she pulled into an empty driveway. “This- this was supposed to be a surprise… I bought it when we were in Scotland... For when I was finally able to propose. For when we were finally able to start our lives together. Our happy ending.”

Tears began falling rapidly down her cheeks. “We were supposed to be a happy ending.” She whispered brokenly. “I just want you to be able to see it b-before you go. You deserve more than to have your last moments in that room.” Her words were shaky as if it took all she had to even get them out. Because it did.

Wanda made her way out of the car and carefully carried you out to the middle of the empty lot. “I love you, Y/n. So much.” She whispered, noticing the way your breath was becoming weaker and weaker by the minute. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Slowly she sunk to the ground, still holding you in her arms. The pain in her chest growing unbearable. She couldn’t breathe. All she felt was pain. Broken sobs fell from her lips as she watched the color steadily fade from your face. The steady thrum of your heart rate against her fingertips fading away.

With a scream of agony red burst from her chest and you began floating in the air, gently wrapped in the red. Quickly the energy expanded and expanded. The house appearing from nothing as your feet slowly touched the floor. The hospital gown that you were in moments before gone and replaced with an old-fashioned dress. Your eyes were still closed as the red energy continued to stream out of Wanda.

When the red faded away, Wanda was left breathless by the sight. All she could see was you. Her eyes watered when she met your eyes again. The eyes she had spent weeks begging to see open again.

You, standing before her with the same smile you wore the first time that you met. Your eyes looking at her with all the love you had before it all went wrong. That was all she ever wanted.

Tentatively she stepped forward, as if one wrong move would make you disappear. The outfit she was wearing transforming into an old fashioned dress as well.

The smile she gave you was loving as her eyes shone with feelings she hadn’t been able to feel in weeks. Happiness. “Wanda. Darling. I’ve missed you.” You said sincerely. “Should we stay in tonight?”

You turned on the radio before meeting her in front of the couch.

“That’s why, darling, it’s incredible that someone so unforgettable thinks that I am unforgettable too.”

As the music washed over you both, you took a seat on the couch wrapping an arm around Wanda, pulling her closer as her hand lifted to glide over your cheek. Her fingertips brushing along your jaw lovingly until they landed on the back of your neck and pulled you closer. Your lips met in a sweet kiss and Wanda happily gave herself over to the moment. To you.

Wanda watched the moment with an aching heart as the scene before her faded away. Suddenly she heard the sound of clapping in the distance. She cautiously made her way forward, squinting against the bright overhead lights.

“Bravo.” Agatha called sarcastically before snapping her fingers and disappearing into a haze of purple smoke.

Before Wanda could react, she heard the desperate cries of her children. “Mom! Mom! Help us!”

“Please! Please, help us!” Continued as she ran to the door and into the bright daylight.

Panic coursed through her veins as she ran down the street frantically trying to find the twins. Her chest tightening as her breathing became almost impossible.

A moment later she came to a stop before Agatha. The sight making her stomach turn. Agatha held the twins hostage as the purple force wrapped around their necks, preventing them from escaping. “I know what you are.” Agatha called out, but all Wanda could focus on was the pain her children were in.

Her hands began to glow as she made a weak attempt to reassure them. “It’s okay, babies. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“You have no idea how dangerous you are. You’re supposed to be a myth. A being capable of spontaneous creation and here you are… Using it to make breakfast for dinner!” Agatha’s lips curled in disgust.

The glow in Wanda’s hands intensified. “Let go of my children!”

“Oh yes, your children. And Y/n. And this whole little life you’ve made… This is Chaos Magic, Wanda… And that makes you... the Scarlet Witch.”

And we have concluded with part 8! One final part after this!

If you would like to actually read what happens in SWORD with Hayward its in part 13 of "Love Goes" which I will tag here. And a nice conversation that they had about feeling like drowning is in part 1 of "Love Goes" which I will tag here.

Ironically, I wrote that scene about drowning before episode 8 of Wandavision came out so it kind of messed with the flashback scene when I was writing it.

Anyway, that's all. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Thoughts and comments always welcome! :)

Taglist:

@theofficialzivadavid // @tquick99 // @marrymemcgrath // @afuckingshituniverse // @pxterstrk // @aimezvousbrahms // @ensorcellme // @sapphicshots // @daisybri7

[aot-brainrot]

Spartacus ~ Hotchniss x Reader

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), restraints (handcuffs), edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, degradation, mild choking, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x Emily Prentiss. (polyamorous triad).

Criminal Minds Discord Server

Aaron had been tense all week. Between work, wrangling Jack, and then still having to find the time and energy to show some attention to me and Emily, it was completely wearing him out. On Friday night, when they had come home from work, I offered to make dinner for us while they went to shower and change into comfortable clothes. After dinner, Emily took Jack up to bed and tucked him in for the night, meanwhile, I sent Hotch up to bed. I didn’t want either of them to have to put any work into anything this weekend— especially Hotch. He deserved a break. I mean, we all did, but he did the most out of the three of us, and I could tell that it was really getting to him. So, my plan was to keep them in bed, or at least the house, for as long as I could. It started with making sure that he went upstairs while I cleaned the dishes and the kitchen.

As I was finishing up, I heard Emily coming down the stairs. I turned, my hands covered in soapy water, pointing back to the stairs, insisting that she let me do this on my own. For once, I just wanted to do something for them and not have one of them argue about it or pull the Dom card in order to make sure I wasn’t alone. Just this once. I wanted to make this weekend about them. That wasn’t too much to ask, right? Yeah, well, Emily didn’t seem to get the memo, because even though I practically ordered her to go back upstairs, she only grinned and then joined me at the sink. She didn’t help me, to be fair. She wrapped her arms around me, rested her chin on my shoulder, and she started nibbling on my earlobe as she watched me wash all of the dishes one by one.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.”

Her hands started wandering, making me tense up and freeze. “Don’t stop.” So, that was how it was going to be. I finally got around to doing chores, and her game was to distract me. What would Aaron say? Truth be told, he’d be proud of me, however, he would scold Emily for getting me worked up on purpose so that I would abandon the task of cleaning up the kitchen. “The sooner you finish, the sooner we can go upstairs.”

“We can’t tonight. He’s tired.”

“No, he’s just stressed. But you know what helps with stress…” Her hand made its way between my thighs, her palm pressing against my clit until I let out a gasp. “I said, don’t stop.” I started washing the dishes faster. “Good girl.” She put her fingers over my clothed clit now in order to add more stimulation, but still not enough to get me anywhere close to the edge. It was barely enough to just tell me that I needed her. “I think I might know a way to make Sir relax… Do you want to know my idea?” I nodded. “Answer me.” Her other hand grabbed my cheeks roughly.

“Yes, Mistress.”

She released my face. “I think that if we teamed up against him, he wouldn’t be able to stop us from finally topping him. I’ve always wanted to, but he’s too damn stubborn about it. But together…” She chuckled wickedly in my ear. “He’d be our little mess.”

I whined slightly in response to her words. I could just picture Aaron writhing underneath us as we pinned and fucked him. Fuck. “He wouldn’t like that.”

“No?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would be breaking about a thousand rules.”

“Not if we both take the heat for it.” Her fingers pressed harder. “It’s like Spartacus. He can’t punish the both of us.”

Jack’s plastic cup clattered in the sink when I dropped it in order to grab onto the counter and hunch forward. “Fuck.”

“Does that feel too good, baby?” she teased, pulling her hand away from me. I rolled my hips back against her, a silent plea for more, but she didn’t give in. “What do you think about my idea?”

I was literally too fucked to think about anything. Up, down, left, right— none of it mattered until I felt her touch again. If it meant giving into her terrible plan that would only end up with both of us getting punished— something she was sure wouldn’t happen— I would do it just to encourage her to put her hands on me. So, I nodded. “I like it, Mistress.” I left the rest of the dishes for the morning. I turned to face her. “As long as we really do it together. No giving into whatever he says or does.”

Emily grinned. “That’s it, baby girl.” She held my face steady with her index finger and thumb on my chin so that she could kiss me roughly. When I started leaning into her, kissing her back with even more eagerness and excitement, she pulled away. “Come on.” She grabbed my hand before leading me through the house. “Play it smooth. Get into bed with him and try cuddling close enough so that you can grab his hands when I give the signal.”

“What’s the signal?”

“When I come out of the bathroom, I’ll lean over to kiss him, which will distract him. That’s the signal. Just pin his hands and I’ll do the rest.” We approached the second floor of the house. I stopped, tugging at her hand slightly to warn her that I wasn’t taking another step yet. “What is it?” she asked, worried.

I searched her eyes. “I just really fucking love you.”

Her smile returned. “I love you, too.”

With that out of the way, Emily continued to lead me, walking us down the hallway and to our bedroom. As we walked in, she released my hand so that she could go to the bathroom and I could close the door. Aaron was reading a book on our bed. I thought he would have been trying to fall asleep already considering I thought he was exhausted, but Emily told me that she didn’t think he was tired at all, and this was proving it. My hope was that he was still somewhat tired. If he was off his game enough, it would make my job of pinning him down only that much easier. If I failed to do the one thing Emily had tasked me with, this whole mutiny thing was going to come back to bite us in the ass, which I really didn’t need when the whole point was to help Aaron relax for a bit. Losing control did that. The best part about being submissive was that I could just turn off my mind and leave everything up to Emily and Aaron. While Emily was a switch between being a Dom for me and a submissive to Aaron, he was strictly a Dominant, which probably took a toll on him. Considering the week he had, he probably just needed to turn off his mind. I knew all too well what that felt like.

I crawled into bed with him. He released the book with one hand so that he could drape it around me when he realized that I was going to cuddle against his side and under his arm. He was wearing his pajamas now. The soft touch of his navy blue sleep shirt rubbed against my cheek as I laid down and nuzzled against him, feeling how warm and tense he was. He rested his hand on my hip. As I laid there, my chest pressed against his side, the two of us tangled in each other’s arms, I debated how I was going to handle grabbing his hands. He was hardly sitting up, enough room between his head and the headboard for me to hold his wrists above him; but the real question was how the fuck was I going to get them there? His hands were on me and his book, which meant that I was going to have to contort in some ridiculous way in order to grab both of them while gaining the upper hand to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to escape.

And then I heard the bathroom door open. Well, it was now or never. I craned my neck slightly to get a look at Emily who was walking out of the bathroom, now dressed in only her lingerie, and her hair had been teased a bit. I suddenly understood just how far she was going to make sure that Aaron would be distracted enough to make catching him off guard easy, and also that she wanted to make it very clear to him that even though I was in on this little plan of hers, she would be the one to take all of the blame for this if he ever decided to punish us for this.

“What’s that for?” Aaron asked, peeking up at her through his lashes.

Emily shrugged nonchalantly as she made her way towards the bed, and then crawled on until she was straddling his thighs. “It got too hot.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure.”

I started running my hands over his chest. I could feel his abs flexing in response to the sensitive and unexpected touch. Emily looked at me briefly. “Aren’t you hot, baby?” she pouted, leaning forward to kiss him. He set his book to the side. Just as she dodged his lips at the very last second, she leaned back, and I raced to reach for both of his hands and pin them over his head.

Aaron’s eyes widened. “What the fuck—” Emily cut him off by kissing away his words. He moaned slightly. She barely pulled away from him, but she adjusted so that her weight on his thighs was forcing him to hold still. He tugged against my hold, but I was sitting up now, which gave me a little more strength than he had— though he was naturally strong because of how much he worked out. “Stop it,” he commanded us both with a growled. Emily shook her head and bit her lip. “Fucking brat—” He let out a loud moan when Emily passed her palm over his length that was growing hard in his flannel pajama pants. His head was thrown back against the pillow now, giving his eyesight a clear shot to me, allowing me to see the mix of anger and pleasure that was brewing in his iris’. “Y/N, stop this.”

I looked at Emily. She reassured me with a nod. “Sorry, Sir,” I apologized while shifting on the bed until I was above him, my calves sitting on his wrists to hold him down. I blushed at Emily. “Did I do well, Mistress?”

“You did so well, baby girl.” She pulled me in for a kiss.

Aaron struggled beneath us. “I swear to god, the two of you are going to regret this—”

“Shh…” Emily cooed to him. “We just want to make you feel good, baby.”

“Sir,” he corrected through gritted teeth.

“Not right now.”

“What did you just say to me?”

Emily passed her palm over him again. “I said not right now, baby. We’ve got the upper hand here, not you.”

Aaron looked up at me. “I’ll make you a deal. Both of you. If you stop this now, I won’t punish you later.”

“Not a chance.”

But I wasn’t so sure. The deal itself sounded enticing. I mean, we hadn’t gone too far yet, and we hadn’t really done enough to deserve any kind of punishment. Okay, maybe we deserved a few spanks— but that was it, and I could live with that. However, if Emily and I decided to proceed, things would be nice for a while like a calm before the storm since it would be pleasurable for all of us, but the second we were caught off guard, too, Aaron was going to get us back for whatever we would inevitably do to him. But I promised Emily that we would do this together. I made her promise that we wouldn’t give into anything he would say or do. That included deals. If she wasn’t going to give into her tricks, then neither was I, as skeptical as I was.

“Sorry, Sir,” I said again, this time with a teasing grin.

“Fine,” he groaned, rolling his hips in response to the way that Emily was playing with him. “Fine… Then, whatever Emily does to me, Y/N, just know that I’ll punish you for it.”

I froze. “What? That’s not fair.”

He grinned. “Then, you better get her to stop….” he trailed off when she reached into his pants and grabbed ahold of his erection. “Fuck—”

I felt his hands knead my thighs since that was just about as far as he could move, and since he wasn’t going to get out of it, he must have figured that the least he could do was play with me. It worked. The slightest touch set me off, making me feel the throbbing and heat growing between my legs. In fact, it was impossible to not notice it, because every time Emily did something to Aaron, his grip hardened on me, making me practically fall forward until Emily caught me. With one hand, Em was holding my chin to keep me upright, but her other hand was incredibly preoccupied with slowly teasing every inch of Aaron’s cock, twitching in her palm in response to the slow, sensitive, and calculated movements she was making. It was barely enough. Just like downstairs when she was teasing me, she hardly did enough to just get him worked up. But the way he was squirming under me was a tell that he loved it.

Emily kissed my cheek. “Touch yourself, baby girl.”

“Don’t fucking think about it,” Aaron hissed under me.

“It’s okay,” she cooed in my ear.

Well, shit. On one hand, she had just given me permission to the one thing I wanted most— which she knew would still prove to be a task considering I was still wearing all of my clothes, and my legs were a little preoccupied with holding Aaron down. But, on the other hand, Aaron was not having it. The second I’d lean back ever so slightly to listen to Emily’s command, I’d be setting myself up to get punished later. Eh. C'est la vie, right?

So, I reclined, resting my back against the headboard, making sure that my calves (practically my knees, at this point) were still trapping Aaron. As I snuck my fingers past the waistband of my pants and underwear, I hissed and bucked my hips. Emily smirked. The second my fingers made contact with my clit, I let my head fall back against the wall and my eyes screwed shut as a moan fell from my lips. Emily had made me so wet downstairs. I hadn’t really noticed the full extent of it until I was there, rubbing it around the sensitive nub that was begging for more attention so that I could inevitably cum. I gripped Aaron’s hair with my free hand.

“Don’t cum yet, baby. There’s no fun in that,” Emily said.

I pouted while looking at her. She was working faster on Aaron’s length now, even going as far as to shifting around on the bed so that she could lick his tip ever so slowly. He thrashed.

“Em, stop,” he begged lightly.

“Aw,” she sulked sarcastically on his behalf, following it up with a wicked chuckle. “Does that feel good?” He nodded his head and bucked up into her hand. Emily immediately pulled her touch away, tsking her tongue at his disobedience, but still admiring the way his cock twitched and stood at attention naturally. “Do you think he deserves to cum?” she asked me. I couldn’t seem to respond because all of my focus had shifted onto the way I was getting close to my orgasm, and I was worried that with the way my legs were shaking, Aaron could potentially take advantage of that weakness in order to get out of this. Emily wasn’t having it, though. “Answer me, slut,” she demanded, slapping my thigh.

I shook my head. “No, Mistress. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Aaron growled lightly in response to the way we were talking about him like he wasn’t even in the room, which was demeaning on its own, but then to add discussing his orgasm denial on top of that… well… maybe we just shouldn’t let him out of this. Ever. It was safer that way in the long run. Still, when Emily lowered her mouth onto him, it shocked me when he grabbed my thighs as hard as he could. I whimpered. I was getting really close. The closer my peak got, the faster I went, racing towards my own orgasm that I had been so desperate for ever since Emily put her hands on me downstairs. I tightened my grip in Aaron’s hair.

“Mistr—” I moaned while rolling my hips. “Mistress…” I was a panting, breathless, moaning mess; and neither of them had even done anything else to me yet. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like when they would finally put their hands on me and put in this same amount of effort— if not more, actually. “May I cum, please?”

“Cum,” she quickly answered after releasing Aaron from her mouth.

I let out gasps and curses as I tipped over the edge. My walls contracted around nothing, the empty feeling plainly obvious to me in that moment, but it didn’t deter me from pushing through my powerful orgasm. I let out a quiet, almost helpless scream, “Thank you, Mistress—”

And then the unexpected happened. Actually, you know what, I should have seen it coming. I suspected earlier that this could present to be a problem later on down the road, but I didn’t think it would be so quick, and I didn’t think that it would be so vicious. One minute, I was falling apart, my whole body giving out in response to my orgasm washing through me, the next thing I knew, Aaron had used my weakness and his strength against me in order to throw me off balance, giving him the chance to flip me over onto the bed, his hands on my thighs holding me so that I didn’t go flying and so that I couldn’t escape. Suddenly, he had one hand on my neck, the other one found Emily’s neck. She paused, eyes wide. I gulped. This was exactly what I had been afraid of. We thought that by teaming up, he would be outnumbered, and with how stressed he was, maybe he would give into our game; but that wasn’t Aaron Hotchner’s style. We should have known. The second an opportunity to switch control had arisen, he took it. I barely even felt my orgasm fade away because I was a little more concerned with his hold that was increasing pressure around my neck.

Aaron pulled Emily around like a rag doll, forcing her to lay down next to me on the bed. We both clawed at his hands, but it didn’t seem to matter, because he wasn’t going to let us go, no matter how much we struggled, because we had refused to let him go only moments ago, no matter how hard he struggled. Touche.

“I warned you,” he said to me.

“Sir—”

“No, no, no. You don’t get to talk. Neither of you do.”

I whimpered and kicked uselessly against the bed. Spartacus. That was the example Emily used downstairs. She said that if we stuck together, there was no way he could choose one to punish over the other— but what she failed to remember was that he had zero qualms with the idea of punishing us both simultaneously or at different points. Telling by the way he was pinning us by our necks, I was going to assume that the time for reckoning had already come, and that meant that we were absolutely fucked; meanwhile, he would get off on whatever torture he had in store for us.

He squeezed our necks until both of our breaths hitched. “Don’t move. Understood?” We both nodded as far as we could, considering his hold. “Good.” He released us roughly. Both Emily and I gasped for breath. As we shivered and coughed away the feeling of his thumb digging into our skin, Aaron shimmied around until he was able to grab ahold of my pants and yank them down my legs. And then went the panties. “Strip each other the rest of the way,” he demanded while getting off the bed. “Now.” He headed into the closet, probably grabbing the black box, if I had to guess.

Emily and I turned to each other. My eyes searched hers for a moment, fear running through both of us— but it was still a good fear that had us excited for what was going to come. Though, maybe we shouldn’t have been too excited. But I just had to ignore what Aaron was doing in the closet so that I could steady my shaky hands and reach out for the clasp of Emily’s lingerie bra. She moved her hair out of the way so that it was easier for me to do while completing the task blindly. She leaned in to kiss me quickly. I melted for a moment just as the clasp came undone, and I inched closer to her, letting her roll over me and pin me down on the bed. Our ankles played with each other as she continued to kiss me roughly and simultaneously slide her bra off her shoulders.

“My— My shirt…” I mumbled against her. We still had to finish stripping each other before Aaron could get back. She pulled away from me just enough so that I could sit up and after she was finished with peeling my shirt off, I could help her wiggle out of her panties. She pushed me back against the mattress the second we were nude. My fingers slid into her hair and twisted into a gentle grip. “He didn’t want us to move.”

“We’re already in trouble. What’s the harm?”

The faster we moved, the more obvious the shaking bed was, encouraging Hotch to come back to find us breaking basically every rule we had. There he was, holding the black box, visibly pissed off. Emily and I didn’t stop. She kept me right where I was, encouraging me to keep touching her and to let her slide her knee between my legs so that I could hump her thigh. When he slammed the black box down on the bed, that was when we finally pulled away-- more like jumped away, to be fair.

“You really wanna help them get off, huh?” Hotch asked, pulling Emily off of me. “Fine.” He tied Emily’s hands behind her back with ease, even though she was trying to fight against him. “Open.” I watched as he gripped her jaw and stuffed her panties into her mouth. She finally stopped fighting-- just long enough for her to pout up at him, begging for mercy in this whole situation, but he wasn’t going to be that nice. “Such a brat.” He spanked her. “How about you?” he asked me, grabbing another length of rope and coming around the bed. “Will you be good for me now?”

I nodded urgently. “Yes, Sir. I promise.”

He pushed me on my side so that he could tie my hands behind my back, too. “Good girl...” He wasn’t as rough with me when he put my panties in my mouth. “The two of you thought it would be so funny to fuck with me. Is it funny now?” Neither of us said anything as we watched him grab a hitachi wand and another length of rope from the box. “I don’t tolerate Y/N being a brat. Ever. You...” he cooed as he hit Emily’s ass again, “I expect it from you, but not my bunny. You’re just a bad influence, I think... A bad influence that needs to be taught a lesson. A lesson about not corrupting my good bunny.”

Hotch worked the toy between me and Emily while ordering us to move as close to each other as possible. I whimpered. I was so close to her, yet with our mouths full and our hands tied, there was no way to touch each other. I hated it. But that was Hotch’s point, I knew that.

“I’m keeping you two like this for at least an hour. The first one to cum goes on no-touch for a week.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him. He knew that I was more sensitive than Emily. She could hold her orgasms back longer and better than I could! That was his other point, though, and I knew that by reminding myself that he was punishing me for everything Em did to him. Fuck.

“Good luck.”

Once the rope was wrapped around mine and Emily’s hips, ensuring that we would stay close, holding the toy in place between us, he turned it on. I jolted and moaned. For some reason, it was tilted in my direction, hitting right against my clit while Emily hardly got everything. Hotch realized what was happening, but he didn’t move it. All he did was tease by telling me that if I didn’t want to cum before her, I needed to figure out a way to make her cum first. So, I cried and rested my head against Emily’s shoulder as I started grinding around, trying to move the toy to face her instead, but all it did was stimulate me further. At least I got it to budge. Now it was against both of us, and she was trying to push it back my way. The friction of our bodies was too much. Everything from the kitchen downstairs to Emily letting me cum a few minutes ago to the alluring thought of trying to make the other cum for Hotch’s game was... it was overwhelming. The more I struggled, the closer I got to my orgasm. I just couldn’t hold it. Emily was so much better at it than I was, and I hated her for that.

“Aw, bunny...” Hotch cooed while laughing. “You’re already close, aren’t you?” He sat at the foot of the bed and kneaded my thigh with his large hand. I nodded helplessly. “Don’t hold back for me, baby. Go on. Cum. Everything you give me today will be the last you get until next week. Don’t you wanna feel good for me?” I nodded again. “Then, cum.”

I cried into my panties and shook against Emily as I came. She kept fighting to move the toy towards me-- not for the sake of the game anymore, but because she wanted to see me struggle more. Very Dom of her.

One orgasm came after another. The more I fought to take the toy away, the worse the overstimulation got, and at some point, I couldn’t even fight back anymore. The toy had found a perfect spot between me and Emily, so as I painfully came again and again, Emily finally tipped over the edge, too; all while Hotch was watching and smirking. He was so proud of himself. He liked watching his subs squirm with pain and pleasure, unable to escape his torture. I shouldn’t have listened to Emily. I knew that this was all a bad idea-- I warned her that something like this would happen, but... but I gave in... and now I couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t until the end of the hour, when I was crying and shaking, that Hotch finally took pity on me. He reached between me and Emily, and he turned off the toy, letting us both brew there in our sweat, cum, and tears. He didn’t untie us, though. He was letting us catch our breath and cuddle while tied and helpless, and that was amusing for him. It wasn’t for us. We couldn’t protest, however, so we waited, and I stared at Emily with a look that said: “I’m never listening to you again.”

[cinnonym]

The Dark One’s Choice

As announced, I finally polished (and finished) my Dark One smut fic, sooo if you’re one of @swanqueensalad‘s horny followers (aren’t we all) or otherwise inclined to read the closest thing to smut I’ve ever written, here goes:

~5k

rating: m

mildly dubious consent, sub/dom hints, choking, restraints, power play, angst, canon-compliant

don’t like don’t read ^^

The great grandfather clock in the hallway shows half past 1 at night when Regina passes it, finally on her way to bed after a long day. Her thoughts have kept her alert until now, the risk of Emma, now as the Dark One, turning up at her doorstep to demand to have Henry too high to let her relax properly. And then there is the gaping hole in her memories, a condition she's familiar with but which still annoys her in no small measure. One moment the gates of Camelot swing open for her, the dagger pressing to her side in the warm promise of Emma's trust, then the next second she's flat on the floor of Granny's Diner, faced with Emma in full Dark One apparel, mercilessly glaring down at her. Accusing and dangerous and assuring to punish them all, though her cold eyes were on Regina only, sending a shiver down her spine that consisted of trepidation and arousal in equal measures.

Regina shudders just remembering the low purr of the Dark One's voice, the radiated dominance so different from the kind of nervous excitement that usually accompanies Emma's talks with Regina. Different, yes, but not necessarily worse, Regina thinks, the naughty admission painting an unexpected smirk on her lips, and she permits a silent chuckle before calling herself back to order. She mustn't enjoy nor underestimate the saviour's dark side. Quite the contrary, to save Emma from herself, and the rest of town from Emma, it is crucial that Regina stays alert and focuses on figuring out a way to get rid of darkness once and for all. So, no unnecessary risks. Constant vigilance.

Right on cue, the doorbell rings and startles Regina back into reality. She throws a glance at the clock. 1:40, not exactly a reasonable time for visitors, even in this tense situation. Besides, Snow, or David, and even the pirate, would have rather called to talk than walked through nightly Storybrooke with a new Dark One on the loose. No, Regina decides, it has to be Emma herself who's on her porch, now pressing the bell again.

Regina swears under her breath; if she doesn't put an end to this, Emma will wake up Henry. On the other hand, opening the door would violate the very set of rules she has just established. There's just no easy way out of this.

Emma ends up making the decision for her when suddenly greyish smoke forms right in front of Regina, vanishing to reveal the familiar frame of the saviour. Her lips set in a thin straight line, the green eyes as expressionless as earlier, she stands and looks at Regina. Just takes her in. Regina feels her skin starting to tingle when a flash of hunger crosses Emma's features, and she's suddenly all too aware of the red velvet dress she's still wearing, clinging to her curves.

"What are you doing here?" She asks when Emma still hasn't moved to talk after several seconds. Her voice is calm, only the slightest hitch in her throat betraying her racing heart. Emma is close, far too close, the aura of power that surrounds her enclosing Regina as well. She's always had a weakness for great wizardry she supposes, the mixture of envy and admiration an exhilarating drug running through her veins, and she welcomes it like an old friend.

"After weeks of sleeping wall to wall with my parents," Emma finally answers, her tone as cool and indifferent as if she were talking about the weather, "I now have the opportunity to take what I want." And she steps even closer, now bare inches separating their bodies.

A sudden fright befalls Regina, her heart fluttering weakly in her chest, colibri-like. She almost doesn't dare to ask for clarification. What if Emma has changed her mind somewhere along the way, realizing that sacrificing herself for Regina has been a mistake after all? What if she's here to make Regina pay for that mistake? What if this is revenge?

"Which is what?" Regina still whispers, hoping against all odds for a, what, fourth chance by now? But no such luck this time; Emma's eyes harden and she raises her chin. Her voice is but a whisper, her lips carefully forming the word:

"You."

Regina closes her eyes for just a second, absorbing the impact without allowing Emma to witness the emotions flickering through her mind. A second is all Emma should need to finish matters once and for all, but it passes without either of them moving and when Regina glances up at Emma again she's surprised to find a tiny glint of amusement in the depths of her eyes. And then that glint changes, grows darker, twisted, and funnily enough, heated, burning with an intensity that makes Regina automatically lower her gaze.

A throaty chuckle vibrates through Emma's body. She waves her hand, and the next thing Regina feels is the cool tapestry of the wall against her back and Emma's grip tight around her wrists, pinning her down. A hot breath tickles her earlobe when the blonde leans forward in the same movement, teeth grazing Regina's skin.

"Control is mine now. Is that understood?" Emma whispers huskily, fleetingly biting down on the sensitive flesh right under Regina's ear.

Regina can barely stifle a moan and she feels her knees grow weak. It would be so easy to give in, the fulfilling of late night dreams and poorly repressed fantasies right in front of her - but she can't. This, what's happening, is the Dark One's choice, not Emma's. And while the darkness might be prevailing in Emma's mind right now, it doesn't mean Emma isn't still in there somewhere, fighting and protesting. And when she returns and the darkness is extinguished - an act Regina will accomplish and if it so takes years - Emma will have to face regrets enough. A nightly adventure with the Queen doesn't have to be among them.

So Regina summons her strengths, and resists. Pulling away from Emma's touch as much as possible in the confined space at her disposal, she shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

"I don't think so, no."

The rage wells up in Emma immediately, her hands clenching around Regina's wrists until it hurts but Regina neither flinches nor backs down. She can tell that Emma didn't expect defiance from the way her eyes widen a fracture before darkening to a near black.

"What?"

The whisper is deadly, a promise of pain if Regina were to repeat her words. Well, Regina can handle pain, if something greater is at stake. And so she raises her chin and holds Emma's glance, proudly and with all the indifference she doesn't really feel.

"I said no, I won't defer to you. Magic doesn't make you my leader and I refuse to - "

"I am the Dark One," Emma roars and Regina once again thinks of Henry asleep upstairs. She prays he won't wake up and choose to see what's causing the commotion, or she will lose some serious ground to Emma. Maybe playing up hasn't been the best plan after all, but she can't revise her strategy now.

"I see that," Regina consequently bites right back, hoping that if she only appears strong enough, Emma will step back eventually. "But it doesn't change the fact that I won't yield to you."

It's only when the expression in Emma's changes again, turning almost playful, that Regina realizes the mistake she's made by counting on Emma's rationality. Magic is based on emotions, and since the Dark One's powers are still relatively new to Emma, she is bound to act unpredictably. Well, this brings a whole new danger to this nightly encounter. Regina's suddenly glad that her provocation didn't fuel Emma's anger. In fact, Emma is eyeing her almost fondly, leisurely letting her eyes take in every tiny aspect of Regina's complexion. The scrutiny inadvertently brings the colour to Regina's cheeks and a smirk on Emma's face.

"You don't really mean that."

And then, without another word of warning, Emma surges forward again and captures Regina's lips with hers before the mayor can dodge her. A yelp of surprise escapes Regina. She tries to jerk back, except she can't, Emma has her trapped against the wall, pressing down on her with the full length of her body. A shudder passes through Regina upon that realization, making her skin tingle and setting her nerves aflame. Never would she have thought that Emma's touch could have such an effect on her. And the kiss, the saviour's lips moving on Regina's almost feverishly. They are dry and slightly chapped under the crimson lipstick and Regina finds herself sinking into them, answering Emma's harsh bites with tentative nibbles on her own part.

But no, she must not delight in this. She has to keep a clear head, because while she is kissing Emma's lips and inhaling Emma's perfume, she has to remember that it's not Emma's mind who's in control here. And so, although a long, leather-covered leg is slowly wedging itself between Regina's, making her feel all kinds of things, including a very dominant throbbing at her core, Regina uses a momentary distraction on Emma's part to push against the arms confining her and turn her head away.

"Stop," she says, intending to sound firm, but it comes out as a strangled moan instead. Miraculously, Emma still seems to have heard her, because she pulls back slightly to look at Regina. Her eyes are darker than Regina has ever seen them and for a moment she feels her resolve weaken, but she masterfully ignores the dryness in her throat and pushes against Emma's shoulders again.

"Let me go," she demands when Emma doesn't budge, instead watching her with the faintest annoyance in the tilt of her head. Regina pushes again, a petulant move rather than a well-considered one. She should have known better than to provoke the Dark One further, but her skin is burning, and she just needs Emma to back off before she'll commit a whole different folly. And who would have known it would be just this little extra push that makes Emma snap.

But it is and the angry flashing of familiar green eyes is all the warning Regina gets before a hand wraps around her throat, constricting her airways.

"Why do you keep resisting?" Emma growls, her voice inhuman, feral. "I can see how you want this," she wriggles her leg slightly and Regina gasps when it rubs against her hot centre. It takes all her self control not to thrust her hips forward to grind against the leather, and maybe the desperation shows a little in her eyes, because Emma smirks and applies more pressure on Regina's throat.

"So why don't you take it?" She hisses and curls her index finger, the sharp nail scratching against Regina's skin, "Take it."

Suppressing a whimper, Regina feels her body react, a new gush of wetness slowly trickling down the inside of her thighs. She has to put an end to this soon or so help her.

"This is not you talking," she brings out, varying somewhere between a moan and a gasp, the limited access to oxygen finally making her feel light headed and breathless. "The darkness has lowered your inhibitions."

Emma chuckles and brings up her other hand, drawing a slow trail down Regina's stomach. When she feels muscles tensing beneath her touch, she releases a delighted laugh. It's scary how fast her emotions seem to change.

"Oh but dear," she replies, almost conversationally now, her eyes twinkling with some wicked amusement, "that is exactly why it's me talking. The darkness is simply giving me the courage to do what I've been wanting to do for a very long time."

Regina's teeth clench at the easy, un-Emma-like admission, and of course the Dark One notices.

"You don't believe me?" She snarls, suddenly furious again, "Let me prove it."

And not giving Regina a chance to react, Emma's long slender fingers press against Regina's core, cupping her through the velvety fabric of her dress. A strangled moan escapes Regina but before her body can betray her by rolling against the tantalizing touch, she summons her magic and poofs out of Emma's grasp.

Mastering magic in an emotionally turmoiled state is difficult, but Regina has perfected the technique during her long years as the Evil Queen. She materializes on the exact spot she had in mind, several metres away from where Emma had held her, an armchair in front of her, which she grabs on to in need of support. Taking a deep breath and revelling in the feeling of the air streaming in her lungs freely again, she lifts her eyes, fully expecting to see Emma leaning against the wall still. The room is empty though, without a trace of the Dark One.

Regina furrows her brow. Would Emma just leave like that? And let Regina win? It seems highly unlikely, and yet the deserted scene she's presented with suggests it. Disappointment pulses through Regina, but before she can analyse and revoke the feeling, grey smoke envelopes her. It's only due to her marvellous reflexes that Regina manages to jerk away in order to avoid being trapped again when Emma makes her appearance. An infuriating smirk is playing on her lips, which, as Regina shamefully notices while consciously pursing her own mouth, are now devoid of crimson lipstick.

"Missed me?" Emma mouths, a knowing glint in her eyes that only intensifies when Regina attempts to scoff. "Don't forget that I know when you're lying."

This comment throws Regina off balance though she refuses to let it show. It reminds her of Emma, the real Emma, untainted with darkness yet not free of pain. Emma, who through the course of her life has learned to read people to protect herself from getting hurt. Emma, whose superpower may not be perfect, despite all efforts, but with Regina it always is. Emma, who knows her.

For a moment, Regina misses her so much, the loss feels like a sharp knife twisting in her gut. And a moment is all the Dark One needs to bridge the short distance between them and cradle Regina's face in her hands. The touch is almost gentle, Emma's thumbs tracing the line of Regina's cheekbones, and when Regina looks up, she's surprised to notice the tender expression in those green eyes.

"I am still Emma you know," Emma whispers, tugging at a strand of Regina's hair, then placing it delicately behind her ear. "Still me." And then, leaning in with a wicked grin spreading on her lips she adds: "Just look at my powers like an extra gift. Something to give matters some kick..."

Regina swallows, tantalizing images penetrating her mind, colliding and overlapping with those of Emma, the real Emma, with her jutting jaw and hideous leather jackets. She shakes her head to get rid of them, refusing to let the Dark One play with her emotions any longer. It's time the Queen regains some command. For Emma's sake.

"Embracing the darkness doesn't seem very Emma-like," she counters tentatively, testing the waters by also taking a step back. Dark eyes follow her, thin lips drop into a frown, but for now Emma lets her have the distance. She just shrugs.

"Didn't want to waste the potential."

Regina takes another small step back, sees Emma's eyes dart down to her legs, freezes - but still nothing happens. Good. The gap between their bodies allows Regina to gather her wits and think of how she'll handle the situation. Hitherto, it has been Emma who set the pace, hardly giving Regina time to react. This will have to change if the mayor wants to stand any chance against the Dark One. She needs a plan to distract Emma from trying to seduce her, distract her from Henry sleeping upstairs, distract her from using her magic against Regina. And what distraction could be better than a midnight snack?

"Are you hungry? Or did the darkness extinguish this trait too?" She asks as casually as she can muster.

Emma cocks her head, an amused smile flashing over her complexion. Her eyes darken.

"On the contrary. I'm almost insatiable these days."

Regina is sure her cheeks burn brightly pink but she ignores the feeling and clears her throat.

"I meant food."

"Oh, I know what you meant," Emma smirks, disappearing and reemerging a foot closer to Regina in the blink of an eye. The mist has not yet cleared away when she repeats the trick, now standing behind Regina. Their noses are almost touching. "I also know that I'm tired of this chitchat. Why don't you put that mouth to better use elsewhere?"

A groan escapes Regina when Emma's lips once again press against hers. Still she focuses and flicks her hand to escape the Dark One's grip, reappearing on the other side of the armchair. Emma follows her before she can even breathe, pins her down to the chair, effectively demobilising Regina's wrists with her knees.

"Two can play this game," she murmurs against Regina's ear, then sits up. "Your move."

Regina's whole body seems to buzz with nerves, her skin is aflame where Emma's touching her, still she forces herself to think. Emma's magic works faster than hers, but she's inexperienced. She might be more powerful but she lacks self-discipline. If Regina managed to lure her into poofing repeatedly, unnecessarily, maybe she could tire the Dark One while saving her own strength, until eventually she would have the upper hand again.

The heat pulsing through her body is put to good use as Regina channels the energy to her palms, letting them warm up to the point where, if she were to flick her hand, she could conjure a fireball. Then she twists them, reaching for Emma's thighs.

The Dark One jerks back for only a split second, but that is sufficient for Regina who's been awaiting it. She draws her hands free and sends a magic blow at Emma. Just like she predicted, the blonde is sent flying but disappears mid air and grey mist once again embraces Regina. However, she is prepared; jumping up from the chair she creates a shield around where Emma is materializing. A hiss escapes the Dark One, then she throws her head back and laughs, short and hard. Regina's eyes dart to the staircase, to Henry, but fortunately Emma doesn't seem to notice.

"You see, there are advantages to being the Dark One," her voice comes out of nowhere as she breaks free from her cage by poofing a ridiculous amount of seven times until she's facing Regina again. "I love this form of transport."

Regina only smiles tightly, hands already up again. This is her game now. She risks wasting some of her magical energy to create a soundproof spell in the living room, then makes a swooping gesture that hurls the armchair Emma's way. Instead of stopping it, like any sensible user of magic would have, the blonde turns into swirling smoke again, and then again when Regina lets the footrest follow, and even to avoid the decorative tablecloth. It's quite ridiculous really, she's bound to get tired in the matter of minutes, and Regina allows herself a tiny self-satisfied smile. Not many can claim to have tricked the Dark One.

Except her victory only lasts seconds, when suddenly Emma's slender fingers encircle Regina's wrists once more and she's slammed against the wall.

"Oh Regina," Emma purrs in a low voice that seems to buzz through Regina's entire body. "Do you honestly think I don't know what you're trying to do?" Her free hand delivers a soft, almost gentle blow to Regina's cheek. Regina quivers, not from the sting but from the unexpected flash of pleasure that burns through her veins. Who would have thought that Emma harbours sides like this.

Not Emma but the Dark One, Regina tells herself as she stares up at her opponent, who in her turn is eyeing her appreciatively.

"What am I trying to do then?" She utters defiantly, wriggling her hands until Emma is forced to let her go. Without granting herself a second of triumph, Regina snaps her fingers and shiny black metal starts growing around Emma's wrist, holding it effectively in place above her head.

"You think you can exhaust me," Emma smirks, not at all bothered by the constraint, "You think you can lure me into wasting my power until it's drained." Another click of fingers and a chain sprouts from the first cuff, enclosing Emma's other hand and pulling it up too. Still the Dark One doesn't move, doesn't fight it. Regina is beginning to feel a bit uncertain about her plan to bind Emma's wrists. It should render her helpless, incapable of using her magic, so why doesn't she look the least bit concerned? Why is she smiling still?

"This is kinky," Emma mentions, almost conversationally. Regina cocks her head.

"Usually I'm the dominant one," she says, in spite of her instincts' warning not to trust her victory yet. A grave mistake.

"I am the Dark One!" Emma suddenly roars, and never in her life has Regina been so glad about the existence of soundproof spells. At least Henry's safe, she thinks, as she's hurled backwards into the couch. Emma, inexplicably, has freed herself from the handcuffs. Her face is contorted with rage as she attacks Regina with blasts and blasts of magic.

"How can you think my power would be finite?" She screams and wrecks the couch on top of Regina who barely has time to roll away.

"How can you think you could shackle me? Dominate me?" She screeches and the iron chains turn into snakes at her feet and lunge at Regina.

"Why won't you let me take you?" She cries and yes, she's crying now, and as they fall, her tears become ice spears that are aiming at Regina.

"After everything I've done for you!" And at this Emma breaks down, collapses into a small heap on the floor that's shaken by sobs. With her deflate the snakes, until they're just iron again, curled around Regina's legs. It is very silent all of a sudden, and Regina stands in the middle of her demolished living room, watching her friend cry.

"Emma," she says cautiously after a while, because the woman before her is Emma now, Emma in all her broken glory, Emma the abused saviour, Emma, still breathing under her cloak of darkness.

Emma, who is now lifting her head, face stained with too much mascara. It looks like the darkness is bleeding out of her with every black tear that's rolling down her cheeks, but Regina knows this is not the case, unfortunately. Darkness doesn't yield to grief, quite contrary. It consumes it, forges it into yet another weapon, feeds on it until it's strong enough to take over control. Which means, Regina has to play on this break now, has to use it to talk to Emma before the woman she likes, loves as she realizes now, becomes captive to the Dark One again.

"Emma," she says again, stepping out of the chains and hurrying to the shaking heap. She hesitates briefly, before reaching out to gingerly wrap her arms around Emma. A sigh shudders through them both as Emma accepts the embrace and leans into Regina.

"I just wanted..." Emma begins but Regina shushes her before she can finish her sentence.

"You don't have to explain yourself," she murmurs into Emma's hair and god, why didn't they hug before? Why did it have to come to a catastrophe for her to realize how much she'd yearned for this?

"But I want to explain," Emma protests, muffled against Regina's shoulder, still weak but already defiant again. Regina smiles and releases her reluctantly. Emma's hair is still the Dark One's, her face still greyish white, but her eyes look at Regina the same way they've always had. Or, not exactly the same, because when they were reserved and secretive before, they now shine with a brutal honesty that makes Regina squirm under their gaze. Emma Swan has let her walls down.

"I meant what I said earlier," Emma says at the same time as Regina blurts out: "Don't tell me things you'll regret later."

Emma frowns. "Stop interrupting me, Regina." Her voice rings with a newfound authority that has Regina look at her in alarm, certain that the darkness has regained control. But Emma's eyes remain soft and full of emotion, and her lips form a smile instead of a sneer. Regina relaxes a bit.

"As I was saying," Emma then continues as if nothing happened, "I meant what I said, about me still being me and the darkness simply giving me courage." She takes a deep breath. "I've meant every word I said and I've meant every move I made. I see the way you look at me, Regina, I know that you want me. Yet you're acting as if you hate me. Why?" Her eyes search Regina's and first now does Regina notice how tired Emma looks. How worn, how sad, how, yes, broken. And Regina realizes, she can't lie to her.

"Because," she therefore begins, her voice feeling scratchy in her throat as she fights her own terror about admitting her thoughts. "Because I like you, Emma, very much. And I can't let the Dark One ruin your life even more by sleeping with me without your consent. I can't let the darkness abuse you. I'm not gonna lie, I was tempted. It's your body I desire, but it's your mind I love and I can't do this to you." Regina's voice breaks and she realizes she's crying too now. "I can't do this to you," she repeats weakly and prays, for the sake of both of them, that the Dark One won't choose this moment to return.

"But Regina, don't you see?" Emma whispers, her hands reaching for Regina's. "I am the Dark One." She says it differently now, softer, soothing. "I am consenting. This is me acting, all me, body and mind and heart if you so will, and everything is striving after you."

And Regina is shaking her head, not believing, never believing, although she absorbs every single word Emma is saying.

"Regina, listen!" Emma says, sharper now. Regina is listening, but she wishes she wasn't, wishes she didn't have to hear the words that are too good to be true.

"Didn't I become the Dark One for you?" Emma inquires, "Didn't I give you the dagger as a token of my trust?"

"And yet you erased our memories from Camelot," Regina counters, her mind clinging to this one sane thought in a desperate attempt to withstand the madness Emma's offering.

"To protect you!" Emma says, louder, as if she feels that she's losing Regina. "Camelot was a disaster. A broken kingdom with a corrupt king. Arthur, he didn't help us to find Merlin - he sabotaged all our plans. Everything, this whole mission to Camelot failed, and in the end, bringing us back to Storybrooke was the only thing I could do to save us... Taking your memories was a necessity in the process, but believe me, I'll only keep them until I've sorted out the dangers that are still present."

"What dangers?" Regina whispers when Emma doesn't continue. Her thoughts are racing to keep up with Emma's tale. In a horrible way it all makes sense, matches up with what few memories Regina has of Camelot and its leader. The shrewd look Arthur gave them when they first arrived to the kingdom, the scheming in his glance, the triumphant smile. "What dangers?" She repeats, urgently now, afraid.

"I can't tell you," Emma says, not meeting Regina's eyes. She sounds apologetic but also stubborn, a faint trace of the original Emma in her voice and Regina's heart would warm if it weren't so frustrating.

"Emma," she sighs and the woman before her crumples.

"I'm sorry." Barely a whisper.

"Why did you come here?" Regina asks, equally low. Her heart is still pounding and her skin crawls where Emma has touched her and while she's glad they're talking now, a tiny part of her wishes they could go back to kissing. A tiny part that Regina deliberately chooses to ignore.

"I needed to see someone," Emma murmurs, still evading Regina's gaze. "To know what I'm fighting for."

"But why me?"

A frown settles on Emma's brow, her lips forming a pout and for a second she looks so much like Emma that Regina almost jerks away, the proximity suddenly overwhelming her. She doesn't have the right to be here, cradling Emma's face, not while all they are is friends and both of them have a boyfriend waiting. And yet Emma doesn't move away, doesn't tell her no. Only looks at her in this intoxicating defiance.

"Because I made a mistake. And I will fix it but I needed to be sure first."

"Sure of what?" Regina breathes, although she already has an inkling what Emma is going to say. And indeed:

"Your feelings," Emma affirms her suspicions, and for the first time tonight the blonde looks nervous. "You do have feelings for me, right?"

Regina closes her eyes. Her head is swimming, the late hour and extensive display of magic at last taking its toll.

"Emma..."

"Please." The word is carefully enunciated, every letter pronounced with a purpose that lets Regina know just how much it costs Emma to say it. "I promise I will sort this out, I promise I can. I just need to have something that I can come back to. I need you to be there when I do. I... need you."

"And I need you," Regina whispers, because what else is there to say? What point is there in resistance when all the walls have been torn down anyway, when her heart lies bare and hurting amidst the ruins? When Emma has already seen it in its truest state, what use is there in lying? "I need you, Emma," she therefore repeats, her hands still cupping Emma's cheeks, her eyes mapping every inch of Emma's face. "I need you to come back. If I let you go now - promise you will come back."

"As long as you'll have me," Emma says, "I will always come back."

And she snaps before Regina can say anything else, dissolving into grey smoke between Regina's fingers.

[slashersins-abandoned]

anonymous asked :

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

brahms

you knew brahms was a complicated man . prone to kindness , clinging to you constantly , begging for attention . prone to tantrums , destroying everything in his path , making the walls shake with his fury . prone to love , petting your hair , your face , whispering desperate words of affection . you never wanted to admit it , unable to think too long about how brahms was also very prone to violence . you were lucky , you’d heard of what happened in the heelshire manner before moving in . about a man being slaughtered , a nanny attacked and chased around like cat and mouse with the cat having an unfair advantage . you knew there were murders reported when people broke in . you knew brahms was capable . but you wer lucky . you never experienced it first hand .

the man must have been drunk . must have thought no one lived in the house despite the fact you put effort into making it look lived in . he must have been confused . that’s what you wanted to think when you heard the kitchen door be busted in . you made a mistake of not running to hide . no , you went to see what happened . it seemed you were just as unexpected as the intruder was , because he paused before taking after you like a bat out of hell , yelling and waving a wrench in his hand . you’d screamed , and brahms had nearly fallen as he clamored through the walls to seek you out .

brahms wasted no time in coming out of the walls , taking in the scene of some grimy intruder about to bring a wrench down on your prone form . he saw red . chest heaving and blood thundering in his ears as he ripped the wrench out of the man’s hands and used it to beat against the man’s skull . the intruder tried to put up a fight , he even tried reaching out to you for help , but you were too wide eyed , watching as brahms violently ended this man’s life for breaking into his home , for hurting his significant other . there was no mercy . and when brahms was sure that the man had breathed his last , he looked to you . and you saw no remorse in his eyes for the kill .

the adrenaline coursing through him had him forgetting your distaste for gore and violence . he just needed to know you were okay . he thought you might flinch , might cry . but instead you took his outstretched hands and bought them to your face . kissing over his knuckles as tears finally fell . brahms pulled you into a tight embrace , hushing you as you spilled out your thank yous , i love yous , i was so scared . he’d dispose of the mess later . right now you needed him . and he needed you .

michael

michael has never killed in front of you . there’s never been a reason to . you’re always at home , at work , at school , somewhere he isn’t when he’s destroying and ending lives . the most you see is a bloody knife in your kitchen and filthy clothes in the hamper . you don’t like it , hating to think about those who lost their life to michael’s blood lust . you know you’re lucky to have never seen it . to only deal with the smallest of traces of the destruction he leaves .

it’s a nice evening for a walk . work was running late , and so you stayed extra . and after such a long shift , you were excited to get home and hopefully find michael sitting on the couch . maybe he’d tolerate you leaning on him as you forget the stresses of the day . you don’t notice you’re being followed . maybe it’s due to you being lost in your own little world . maybe it’s due to the fact you’ve gotten used to the feeling of being watched by micahel that it just slips your mind completely . but you do feel the head of a gun shove into your back as a hand wraps around your mouth .

there’s a demand that you give up your money or else . the gun digging in your back painfully as gloved hands squeeze your jaw hard . another demand , a near desperate shout for your any and everything in your bag . and then you feel the man press against you , a weak strained noise leaving him , something thick and warm dripping down the back of your neck and over your shoulders . the weight of the man get’s heavy , and then he falls to the side , gargling on his own blood , twitching and wide eyed as he stairs at the sky .

you turn so fast you almost fall , taking a few steps back only to meet michael’s gaze . a kitchen knife in his hand , wet and dripping crimson . he watches you for a moment . daring you to run . and you do , but not away from him , to him . he lets you wrap your arms around him chest , sobbing as you cling to him . michael allows the contact until you even your breathing . you want to stay and cling to him , fingers in a white knuckle grip on his jumpsuit . you just saw him kill and yet you still stay . because you love him . because despite everything , you know at least some small part of him might love you to .

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston … preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong .

he’d taken you . taken you with threats to torture you . the fury inside of jesse was untamed . preston thought he was so smart , but jesse was smarter . he found the little hide away without any difficulty . always sloppy and so easy to track . preston was pathetic . and jesse would be doing the world a fucking favor by ending his life .

he’d never wanted to drag you into this world . he wanted you free from it . but here you were , tapped to a chair , tears streaming down your face . preston was smug as he watched you , not noticing the gleam of chrome behind him . not realizing that jesse was here , close . he didn’t notice until jesse squatted down and cut through his Achilles tendon in one deep slash . the larger man was quick to disarm preston , using the knife he’d been holding to stab through his hand with so much force it settled into the floor . jesse hand’t wanted you to see this side of him . but it open for you . jesse’s heart set on one thing and one thing only . dismembering and torturing this betrayer of trust and kidnapper of his love . it slow and agonizing , and you had to close your eyes and look away , unable to take the scene . but when the screaming stopped you looked back , seeing the way jesse’s broad shoulders shook and his head titled back .

you made a noise , and it drew his attention . he was on you in and instant . cutting you free and tugging at tap , even if it hurt , he wanted it off of you . before he could sign anything you were tugging him in , pushing his chrome mask off his face and kissing him , asking if he was okay , telling him how worried you were about him . he couldn’t help but bring you in close , bloodstained , gloved hands ridding up your shirt . you’d seen him at his truest , and yet you worried for him instead of yourself . he couldn’t ever let you go now .

thomas

the meat had got out . high on adrenaline and fear , the girl had somehow used her bloody wrists to wiggle out of her restraints . thomas has roared with fury when he saw her missing . grabbing his chainsaw as he quickly stomped upstairs . he needed to find and end them before they had a chance to retaliate against his family .

he was panting , looking for blood trails to lead him in the right direction when he heard you scream . his heart stopped for half a second as fear and rage flooded him . they had you . they would hurt you , take you away . he couldn’t lose you . he could’t .

the woman was clawing at you , sobbing as she dug her jagged nails into your skin , you tried to crawl away , tried to push her off , panic flooding you . soon her begs became screeches of betrayal as she realized you were one of those monsters who had killed her friends . her hands balled into fists and she raised them , bringing them down on you were she could . she didn’t get more than two hits in before tommy brought the chainsaw down on her , tearing into her back and through her spine , splattering the both of you in blood .

thomas kicked away the corpse , dropping the chainsaw as he looked down at you . fear in his eyes as he panted . he wanted to reach out , to hold you . but how could he ? you saw him kill . you would think he was a monster . and he deserved it for not tying the meat up tighter . for not just killing the meat right off the bat .

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness  … you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay .

billy & stu

the boys are possessive and protective . they don’t like when people try to step in on their territory . it’s not you they don’t trust . it’s them . and there is only so much they can take before they snap . so it’s no surprise that they do . they don’t have their gear . but they do have a pick pocketed pocket knife and rage , and that will just have to do the trick . they don’t have time plan , they only have time to act . because that drunken bastard hasn’t left you alone all night , and he decided it would be find to just fucking grab at you despite you telling him to stop .

they gang up on you , putting themselves between you and the drunken bitch fuck who was trying to grind on you . they don’t want you to see , one of them backing you up , while the other all but guts the bastard in a swift motion , careful not to get blood on them . it happens so fast , the screaming , the boys acting shocked , the sudden need to rush outside , to leave the bar and sneak away . stu blocks you from view , billy leading the three of you to a gas station . with and outdoor bathroom .

they shove you in , billy washing the blood off his hands and trying to clean out the sink the best he can . stu trying to keep you from looking , but it’s too late . you can put it all together . and you’re wide eyed as you look between your boys . the looks in there eyes show you that there is a secret they’ve been hiding . something dark , something they’re scared of you finding out . and as you watch their faces everything falls into place .

this isn’t how they wanted you to find out . they didn’t want you to find out . even if they both knew that with time you would . and here in a shitty public bathroom their secret became exposed . they wait for your response . teetering on the edge of fear and rejection . when you take their hands in your own . raising them to your cheeks and give them that soft smile , they feel relieved . and you’re next words , accepting and concerned for them have them both laughing and pulling you in for kisses . just stay safe , for me .

[vrishchikawrites]

About YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids Post-WWX Arrival

Dear Dee, feel free to delete or ignore this or post it, whatever floats your boat. This just stuck in my head after those posts and I had to blurt it all to someone. Thanks for taking the time to read my word vomit.

So I had to do this instead of an ask because it got long and I wasn't sure how many asks it'd need or how short I could cut it down without losing parts of the argument. And then other things came up as I was writing and, well.  Well..... >_>;;;; 

But you know, after that post/ask you had about YZY fics saying 'Fuck U' to YMJ/JFM & leaving both with her kids, I had a sarcastic 'yeah right' attitude about it. Mainly due to a lot of negation emotions to such an abusive (and delusional) bitch, partly due to how she wouldn't do that since it doesn't seem to be something her sort of character would consider either because she'd think of it as 'losing' (losing what, IDK, it's why I consider her type of person crazy) or she legit wouldn't think about such a viable action.

But then later, in the shower, I seriously went 'Wait, she can't fucking do that' and it wouldn't be about how MXTX uses her as a part of the narrative but entirely about the/their culture in the novel; the actions that have and would be taken in response; and her entire toxic personality as well.

1) We already know that the sects and the cultivation world in general is sexist, elitist and so Capital T 'Traditional' to the point that it's starting to petrify and any deviancy from this is an exception rather than the norm. YZY might be a madame of a great sect (for what that's worth considering how shit of a madame she's been and the titles she's chosen for herself) but she's still a woman even with her high rank and the things she's personally accomplished.

Even if she was in her rights to leave a 'bad' marriage, she'd be the one who'd get scolded more instead of JFM by her natal family, her former husband's family and by their entire society at large even if she had a few singular supporters. Because That's Not How Things Are Done in their society and I do believe that such a thing was rare even when it was accepted method by the upper echelons. Especially since it would have to be done by more than YZY simply deciding that She Wants Out and just- goes and Gets Out. With no serious allegations that would allow her to divorce or separate from YMJ/JFM without the input from her family, JFM's family and, I think, possibly some measure of compensation as well. And no, having or bringing in a 'bastard child' is not a serious enough offence for such a humongous decision. I think something more along the lines of treason or crimes against multiple, high-ranking parties would be more along the lines. Maybe.

And even if she does this, she'd be considered 'Used Goods' (such a terrible comment) and there'd be no other good/proper marriage prospects for a divorced woman with children let alone a woman like YZY with her entire abrasive personality and attitude put off even easy-going JFM.

(If she'd been widowed then it'd be more forgiven but I consider that a Real Bad End since, IMO, it would lead to the sudden and inevitable decline of YMJ either via mass exodus of disciples and/or residents of LP; being merged with another sect due to it's unstable leadership; or create an internal political war 'cause I bet you anything that the YMJ Elders/relatives (if they have any) Would Not Want YZY in charge of YMJ when she's already proven herself such a shit betrothed let alone madame.)

2) Speaking of families, while YMJ/JFM/LP as a whole might be glad to see YZY's back, I don't think her natal sect, MSY, will be glad to see her come storming back after all the effort they put into getting that particular marriage alliance with YMJ. And if she brings her children with her? Oh man, oh boy- mother or not, that could be considered as kidnapping or line theft (is that a thing?) especially if YZY is also seriously considering divorce proceedings and raising them as Yu and not Jiang. That could give leave to, for anyone more unforgiving and maybe JFM if he's pushed enough, disown both JYL and JWY from the Jiangs through no fault of their own (though I'm sure YZY would make it so as well as blame JFM for her own decisions and mistakes).

Therefore, any inheritance or benefits they might gain for being legitimised children of a great sect are forfeited. JYL will likely lose that betrothal with JZX because JGS will drop it like a hot potato and JWY won't be a sect heir because YZY literally decided to remove that by deciding to raise JWY as a Yu, no matter their blood relation to JFM. They leave him, they leave YMJ and everything attached with it. Which is if YMJ/JFM doesn't demand MSY to give back their heir/ess and to punish YZY for her actions. Or send all three of them back for the appropriate reactions/decisions.

Their society would demand no less in reaction because, to them, it would seem like YZY had gone mad and JFM would look weak (or weaker) and imply that YMJ is vulnerable and exploitable if JFM doesn't do something in response to her actions. That's not even getting into what the other smaller sects may try to do in an attempt to curry favour with YMJ or what LLJ or QSW would try in order to destroy or diminish YMJ. And whether JFM chooses to demand his children back or not, it may not change the fact that this may give him reason enough to choose a nephew or niece to be the new sect heir especially if, even after getting rid of YZY's poisonous influence, JWY grows up to be his mother's child more than his father's or even his own person.

Either way, such a thing would bring great backlash on YZY, and MSY as well as the collateral. No one would want to give face to her or her children because it would bring up some very uncomfortable questions and scenarios to the other sects- specifically, what would happen if the female members of their clans/sets decided to follow the footsteps of YZY and leave with their children and heirs. Especially if they use it as an excuse to leave for their own comfort and whims and not some legitimate wrongs and dangers. That would create some more restrictions on women thanks to YZY

3) And lastly, if any one of those idiot YZY stans think that she'd ever give up the status of being a madame of a great sect they'd be as crazy or crazier than her. YZY is all about status and power and face. Specifically, her status, power and face and how people in her reach reflect her or 'insult' her. She is a selfish, terrible, abusive and toxic person and can only see people in regards to how they would benefit her and the elevation of her and in no other way. Especially her family. They cannot be their own person, they can only be an extension of her and gods forbid they go against her.

We can see this in how she treats the people she supposedly loves. JFM? Arguments day in, day out along with accusations and slander of cheating, having one(1) supposed 'bastard' and being 'in love' with CSSR. Which all seems sus as hell. And that's when she's actually there and not out 'night hunting'. Even her 'training' seems to border on unhelpful rather then helpful if my vague recollections of juniors fainting from exhaustion can be relied upon (please call me out if they're not or find proof).

JYL? Berated by not being 'strong' but not helped at all to be 'strong'. It doesn't help that YZY seems to believe in the same standards strength in their society- that is, of martial masculine strength which does not and should not apply to JYL who has been said to be sickly. Which means h should have been learning a different way of cultivation/fighting anyway.  If that was something she wanted and had been offered in the first place- which I doubt. That isn't even getting into her repeated generational trauma mess of a betrothal which was decided only by those 'sworn sisters', accepted by her as a way out of her terrible home life and puts her squarely within reach of JGS who we know to be a womaniser, rapist, predator and a possible ephebophile considering we don't know the exact age of his youngest 'conquest' or the age of MZY's mother when they met which could be anywhere from 14 to 21.

JWY? Gods, so much meta on him and his(non-) relationships with his parents that I don't think I can contribute more to it. It's been all said and done. Unless people want me to stir the pot by saying that, maybe, just maybe, YZY resents JWY as much as she 'loves' him.Either because he's her son and yet never manages to 'accomplish as much' as WWX or because he's a boy and therefore, more benefits and allowances than a girl/woman- more than anything that YZY ever got without either a fight or screaming at someone about. *shrug*

So, in conclusion to this sudden an unexpected essay that I wrote(I'm so sorry about that, I thought it would be shorter -.-;;;;), YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids? Impossible. Not without some sort of personality transplant or a complete AU. She's too prideful, too bitter, too angry, too everything negative and little positive. She's a resentful product of the values and restraints of her society taken to the extreme negative with a willingness to inflict her pain on others to an abusive degree. But she's also too obsessed and reliant on those same values and restraints to keep up the image of her status. So her? Giving those up? You'd be more likely to see WRH as a doting grandfather than that.

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Dee - All of this is true and yes YZY leaving YMJ is highly unlikely. While there will be consequences if she decides to leave, she does canonically lives separately from her husband. They seem to be in a situation where they are married but living separately, which was a common way to end a marriage (at least in spirit) back then. She essentially had all the perks of being Madam Jiang but fulfilled none of the responsibilities.

Afaik, her training the Jiang disciples is a donghua thing? I may be wrong but I recall she spent most of her time nighthunting.

As for taking her children along with her- that's completely impossible. At that point, children were the property of the father. She could leave but she would've never been allowed to take JC.