#just remembered I did this like half a year ago and thought I should submit them

[evillious-renders]

(Edited) 3/4 and full-body renders of the sinners and their loved ones from Ichika's twitter / Pixiv!

[holly-fixation]

An Astral Myth: Chapter 1

Summary: Cloud Strife is an engineering student at Midgar U, who decided to take art history as an elective because it was the only good option left. But when an assignment on an “obscure god” (nothing Shiva or he gets stabbed with an ice pick) causes repeated dreams of swirling pink clouds in a blue sky, Cloud has to find out what it means. And the best place to start: seeing the statue for himself. 

Inspired by this art by @hueyoart and the concept by @ehrenyu on Twitter.

Please Enjoy!

Junior year. Third year. Whatever it was called, Cloud could not believe he made it this far. Three years at Midgar University. Well, two and a half. He really thought he would fail by now, yet here he is, two years away from a degree in engineering design. This was a dream almost come true. He always loved to design all sorts of things. As a kid, he had this insane idea to build a sword made of smaller swords that fit together like Lego pieces. Of course, all of his attempts didn’t go well but his mother refuses to get rid of his only somewhat successful attempt made of cardboard, card stock, duct tape, and hot glue. Nowadays he designed more practical objects and helped out his various other friends in similar majors. Although Barret almost broke his arm after seeing how fantastical he made the simplest concepts. You need to chill the hell out, blondie! It’s the modern day, not the renaissance, man! Then Barret made him redesign all of his concepts for the team’s sanity. Oof, that was a bad day. 

But now he’s more than halfway there, just a few more engineering classes and...electives. Ugh. He hated electives. When they were related to his major, he cared and he tried. But these other, unrelated, useless to the real world electives...he rolled his eyes. What a waste of money. He tried, gods did he try, to take the easiest, most pointlessly simple class he could to fill the slot. And then they all got taken by the seniors, and the only class he could get into with ‘okay’ ratings was Art History: Analysis of Mythology. He was kind of interested in mythology. Who wasn’t? If it was all based off of things that aren’t real, it should be easy right?

Wrong. 

The class only had two assignments, which decided the entirety of the grade. If he failed one, he failed the class. Fairly high stakes, but it didn’t seem that bad, compared to his major classes which required multiple six-hour-assignments completed per week, until tonight. 

It was 11:45 PM, and he was smacked with the sudden realization he needed to submit his topic for the first paper. Hell, he suddenly remembered he was in this class. Gods forbid he got any rest tonight, gods forbid he hung out with his friends until 11:30 on a Sunday. Cracking his eyes open, he pulled his laptop into his lap and sat up in his bed, immediately clicking the class page. Maybe he was lucky, and this was one of the professors that made assignments due before lecture began?

Nope. Due date: Today, 11:59 PM. Fourteen minutes until submission closed.

Okay, the essay must be a research paper into an obscure or uncommonly studied god or goddess. “If any single one of you picks Ifrit for this assignment, I will fail you immediately.” His professor’s voice suddenly rang in his ears, spoken in lecture when assigning this a month ago. For extra credit, he could take a selfie with the statue of this god. Yeah right, not unless he’s desperate. Then he realized he forgot about this class, and that extra credit may keep his GPA up to standards. He sighed. So none of the Six. Got it. Maybe he’d get lucky if he checked archeology websites. He couldn’t care what this god was, as long as it was obscure enough. 

Maybe some god really was on his side. 

A month ago, archeologists discovered a shrine to a god named “Sephiroth”, supposedly some God of the Stars. Please have enough information publicly available, Cloud begged internally. 

Though the statue was recently discovered, many texts have been unearthed and translated throughout the last few years. Using a language similar to the Cetra, most of the legend of “Sephiroth and his Sacrifice” has been translated. This legend is available at this link. However, for all the information, most photos of the shrine itself were corrupted during digital rendering, and the current museum housing the main statue refuses to allow professional photos. 

Perfect, good enough. Cloud immediately wrote a response for the assignment, making sure to “paraphrase, not plagiarize, and quotes are for newspapers, not essays!” a five sentence backstory. Well, the two facts he could learn in two seconds with some nonsense about why he was interested. And now...submitted. 11:56 PM. He knocked the back of his head against the wall with a sigh of relief. 

...Shoot. Now he’s awake. The panic from his sudden realization forced his heart to race. So screw it. He decided to start his research tonight, collecting links for sources and taking sections of lore that seemed important, though he was barely skimming the passages and absorbing almost none of the words. His document was filling quickly, about a solid page and a half by the time he felt tired again. He glanced at the clock: 12:30 AM. He had his early class tomorrow. How the hell did he get stuck with an 8 AM in his junior year? 

He closed his laptop and placed it back on his desk before lifting up the covers and attempting an early sleep, tossing and turning until his subconscious finally took over.

He felt his eyes open, as if waking up from a peaceful dream, to the sight of swirling pink clouds, separated at the center and turning like the eye of a slow hurricane. 

Was he standing? Or floating?

He could almost feel a surface beneath his feet, but when he looked, there was no ground, just the ever present stirring of the pink puffs. 

Was he looking up? Or forward?

He found himself staring at the blue opening of sky, mesmerized, hypnotized, and...controlled. 

Had he made a single decision? Or was he pulled by invisible strings? 

By a red thread of fate? Or the clear strings of a puppet at every joint?

His thoughts quickly vanished, his attention captured. A tiny gold and white light shone in the center blue, tiny, like the stars in the night sky. But as he watched, it grew. It couldn’t be a star, it was too unbalanced, too many points of the spikey nature emitted from the bottom half. Then it got bigger. Grander and brighter, all consuming like the sun. Blocking out the sky and obscuring the shape. Capturing the clouds in its reaching rays. 

White. Blinding white devoured his sight. 

Suddenly he surged in pain, the seering of a blade ripping through his chest, through his back, deeper, and deeper, and Deeper, and Deeper.

Cloud jumped awake with a gasp and held his head and his heart, his breathing out of control and cold sweat dripping down the sides of his face. What the hell was that? It felt so real. He felt that blade tear through his body. What kind of nightmare was that?! He quickly grabbed at his phone and opened the screen. 4 AM. Maybe reading lore on some random god right before bed was a bad idea. Noted. Would not happen again. 

Well, he was awake, so he might as well check his messages before he passed out again. He opened his email app, deleted a few spam notifications, and saw an email from his professor. Alright, the god he picked was approved, so there was no going back now. He decided to officially start this essay tomorrow, and checked his various entertainment apps until he was tired enough to fall back asleep. 

* * * 

“You forgot you were in a class?” Barret almost slapped him in the back of the head for his stupidity. “How do you forget about an in person class?!”

Cloud scratched the back of his head and looked away as they both walked to their next class. “It only has a few deadlines, nothing popped up on the course page before the weekend, so I thought I was good,” He tried to defend. 

“You still go every week, right?!” He didn’t necessarily yell at the blonde, he was only loudly confused. 

“Yeah yeah, I do.” He adjusted his bag. “But he didn’t mention anything about it last week.”

Barret sighed, deciding to cool down the almost fatherly tone. “Look, Spiky, just don't overwork yourself. We still have a project milestone to finish!” Cloud let out a soft groan before Barret continued. “Just start it early. Twenty minutes a night should at least get you interested in this god essay.”

He sighed. “Gods I hope so. I’ll try it.”

“But you better be at the meeting tonight.”

“Of course I’ll be at the meeting tonight,” Cloud countered. “Haven't missed one yet.”

So, that was exactly what Cloud did: went to his lectures, got multiple hours of homework completed, and finished the night off with the team meeting before finally arriving back at his apartment. Once he was settled in and ate somewhat of a dinner, he was back at his desk to try to enjoy the small remainder of his night (if he planned on having a slightly okay sleep schedule). Then he remembered his conversation with Barret. Crap. 

He groaned to himself. Twenty minutes less of ‘him time’ wasted for this stupid essay. Maybe paraphrasing what he copied last night would be a good place to start. He opened his laptop with a pout, angrily opening the links he collected from the previous night and his current document. He took a breath before actively reading the text.

Sephiroth is an ancient God of the Stars, whose worshipers are currently unknown. Though, from carvings and surviving text, they clearly spoke a language similar to the Cetra. He is the son of Jenova, Goddess of the Cosmos, and is one of the few gods who remained completely loyal to their patronage. However, his father is still unknown.

So they’re space gods. Got it. He’d moogle if there was a specific difference between the cosmos and the stars later, and he noted that in his document before he continued. 

Ironically, despite their nature, there is no current mention of any constellation bearing either name. 

According to legend, Jenova came to our planet, Gaia, on a meteor dating back about 66 million years.

Oh come on, everyone knows that’s the meteor that killed the dinosaurs. And are they really claiming humans were around back then? He groaned again. He did not care about this useless parent, but every article on this god explained her origins. He guessed he didn’t have a choice. 

Translations and transcriptions differ greatly on the reason she came to Gaia. Some claim it was curiosity, stating we are one of the few planets with life in the cosmos. Others say she landed by accident, and our people accepted her as a new God, worshiping and praising as she wished. Though no written text agreed completely, they all claim she was strikingly beautiful and impossible to look away from, almost like the night sky. 

Were they really pretending humans were around to know that back then? 66 million years ago?

But Jenova’s presence or aura, carrying the weight of the cosmos, was too much for the planet to handle. Both the Lifestream and the oceans gravitated toward her like the moon. All types of plants, animals, fish, insects, and fungi suffered or completely died off as a result, even though she was not on the planet for long. 

The people of the planet, though we are unsure if they were human or some other species at the top of the food chain, asked the goddess to leave for the sake of their world. This is where conflict of translation and various sources comes up. This angered or some even just said annoyed her. She agreed to leave the planet after seven of our days. 

It’s claimed her retaliation for the disrespect were calculated diseases and mutations to plague the inhabitants, similar to how overexposure of mako happens extremely rare today. 

Good to know Shinra’s bribing them to keep things quiet. Cloud gave a quick shake of his head to remove the conspiracy theory going through his mind and return to the page before he had to re-read the entire section due to lack of focus. 

Yet other sources claim the effects were a result of her anger directly, even some claim she did not know she caused it at all.*

*This is where the language similarity to the Cetra gets difficult to translate, as we are still learning most Cetra scripts and these legend scripts are not completely identical to the Cetra language. We provide as many of the accepted translations as possible, but the most accurate translation has yet to be determined. 

Fantastic, so he either needed to copy every attempt at a translation or pick one and defend why he believed it was the most accurate, something he was not at all qualified to do.

Her reign was too large to maintain such minimal functions intentionally, her anger rarely ignited by any being to know how to handle the unconscious response. 

What was she, a robot? ‘Minimal functions’?

Every planet she visited was affected differently, so the people were not asking her to leave out of fear, but for the sake of their world. Seven days was too long. Their world was falling to her in only three. 

Then Gaia, the Goddess of our Planet, spoke to the other goddess and explained the results of her presence. Intentionally or not, Jenova was killing Gaia (both the planet and the goddess). The Planet made a deal with The Cosmos: to feed her curiosity, let her heal and then send a proxy when it was time. This proxy would be taught all the knowledge of herself and the creatures that called her being their home. Her people would be informed when the time came, and they would prepare for the proxy. Jenova agreed, on two conditions: Gaia must accept any proxy of her choice, and the people must obey her proxy unquestionably. 

Gaia agreed.

What could possibly go wrong?

With honor of their agreement, Jenova left the planet, and her virus stopped. Millenia of millenia passed before Gaia informed her people of the messenger’s title and coming arrival, with some reports dating back only 2,000 years ago. 

Oh for gods sake. Really? Were they honestly claiming this? Were humans walking around and completely ignoring this new god? Comparatively, compared to 66 million years, it was not that long ago. Oh come on.

Not once in Gaia’s billions of years of existence did she expect the cosmos to send the most cherished son: Sephiroth, God of the Stars, as the proxy of the cosmos. 

Alright, that’s enough for today. He’d finish this lore some other night. He wanted to enjoy the rest of his time, playing some games or watching some shows, or doing anything that wasn’t an assignment for once. Just to reach the page minimum faster, he looked for this statue that made this god known. He scrolled through this article: nothing. The next one: nothing. The third, fourth, and fifth: nothing. Why were there no photos? Even if the professional shots were only available through a museum pay wall, there should at least be some pictures and selfies on social media, right? 

Report: Is the new statue cursed? 

It sounded like clickbait and looked like a blog, but no other article explained this specific phenomenon, so he read on.

The original photos from the exposition were corrupted within the day, before printing or digital upload was possible. This was odd, but technically possible. However, even photos taken in the Midgar Museum of Natural History, where the statues are currently on display, are immediately ruined. Whether it’s a flash from some ancient technology or some kind of spell, every photo taken results in a bright shine from the halo, the same effect as taking a picture of the sun. 

Halo?

We should probably explain what the statue looks like.

That would be very helpful.

The most interesting and popular statue, “Reunion”, depicts Sephiroth and his Sacrifice, and is based off of one of the final scenes of the legend. Sephiroth’s upper torso and face resemble a human’s, but his legs are six perfect angel wings, and his right arm is a deformed wing holding a sword. He has two halos emitting from his center like a throne, and his long hair flows up through them. Many observers state the beauty of the statue, especially Sephiroth himself. As for his sacrifice, he’s pulled up and impaled by the sword, straight through the heart. Yet his face shows no pain, almost like sleep or acceptance. “Reunion” is supposed to refer to the promise Sephiroth made with humanity, but there are too many mistranslations for us to count so we’ll spare you the details.

Wow. Did Cloud really manage to pick the only god on the planet who cannot be photographed? There goes the extra credit. Maybe he’d look for artwork later. He wanted to enjoy his last few hours of night before it was back to the grind. He bookmarked each open tab, then closed the browser before finally enjoying part of his night. 

* * *

He woke up to the same panic, the same strings, the same searing pain through his body, for four days. Something was wrong. He never had the same dream twice, but this was identical four times in a row. The same light, the same sky, the same clouds, the same sword. Sword? Yeah, probably a sword, through his chest. And now he had a headache. Again. Wonderful. He hadn’t touched the assignment since Monday. How was this still happening?

He should tell someone about this. Who, though? It was too soon to tell Tifa, and he didn’t want to seem like a wimp around her. Barret may actually hit him in the head in an attempt to knock some sense into him. Zack… Zack’s a good plan B, but it requires, absolutely requires, playful fighting that always ends with Cloud in a headlock. Maybe Aerith?

Yeah. Aerith was good for situations like this. She always knew what to say to make people feel better. Her minor in psychology completely reflected that, even though her major was environmental science. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and texted her. 

Cloud: Hey Aerith, is there any way we can meet up tomorrow? No big deal, just need to destress. 

Then send. Oh Gods he hit send. What time was it?!

Sent: 4:38 AM.

She might actually kill him. He didn’t know how late it was. He didn’t mean to text this late. Oh gods she’s gonna be- His phone dinged. 

Aerith: Sure, Cloud! I usually eat lunch alone on Thursdays, so come to the Chocobo Student Center at 11. I’ll be there. 

Okay, maybe he wasn’t a complete jerk or he absolutely just woke her up and she was hiding it. 

Cloud: Works for me. Thanks, Aerith. I’ll see you there. 

* * * 

Even on a Thursday morning, these restaurants were buzzing with students, everyone looking for something to eat that wasn’t the slowly degrading dining hall food. The large windows gave an effect of calm by actually allowing students to see sunlight, unlike his usual study spot, which had just the right mix of orderly chaos from tables nearby but came at the cost of no natural light.

He scanned the square tables for his friend with the pink bow. She always wore that bow. She told him once it was because the bow reminded her of home. 

“Cloud!” He heard her yell from the exact opposite direction than he was looking. He turned and saw her waving at a table she had already begun eating at with a smile.

“Over here!”

Cloud waved awkwardly before approaching and dropping his bag in one of the open seats. “Hey. How’s it going?” 

“Pretty good for now,” She answered casually. “And you?”

He shrugged as he sat. “Hangin’ in there. You know how it is with STEM majors.”

She gave him a point in agreement. “You got me there.” Then she smacked a hand to the table in order, like a judge does during court. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong while I eat? And next time, try to text me a little later. A girl’s gotta sleep, you know.”

Cloud rubbed the back of his neck and avoided her eyes. She saw right through his message to the truth. “Sorry. I didn’t know what time it was.”

She kindly waved him off. “No worries. Just imagine what would happen if you texted Tifa that late.”

His cheeks heated as he considered what their friend would think. She’d probably assume it was a drunk text, march over, question him for the truth, and kick his ass if he was  really drunk.

She gave a soft giggle. “I’m kidding! But come on, tell me what happened.”

Cloud took a breath before dropping the hand from his neck so he could cross his arms lightly. Then he explained the project of the god, the lore he could remember, the weird photo corruption, and the repeated dream that haunted his mind.

“It happene four times, I feel stupid-”

“You’re not stupid for asking for help.” That was the first time she talked during his explanation. 

His eyes dropped straight to the table at her nearly scolding tone. 

“You can’t find any pictures of the statue?” Aerith asked for confirmation, and he nodded. “Why don’t you go to the museum? Maybe if you actually see it, you’ll stop worrying about it so much?” She tilted her head softly. “It’ll at least put a face to the name.” 

He pouted and mumbled under his breath, “Would that be better, or more nightmare fuel?”

She shrugged with a genuinely caring expression on her face. “There’s only one way to tell. And it’s only a few blocks away, so it won’t kill your day to go over there.”

He stared down and paused. “Is there any way I can convince you to come with me?”

To his dismay, she shook her head. “Sorry. Zack gets off work at five, and I’m stuck in classes until then.”

He sighed, but nodded. His classes got out at 4:50, but it wouldn’t be fair to Zack to take his girlfriend on a field trip just because of some weird dreams. “I understand. Thanks, Aerith.”

“Of course!” She smiled at him, attempting to raise his spirits a little. “If you need me, call me. And if for some reason I don’t answer, leave a message and text me.”

He nodded again before standing up and grabbing his bag. “Thank you. I will. But I hope I won’t need to.”

* * * 

Well, here he was, on the marble stairs, following Aerith’s advice. He stared and read the sign on above the stone columns of the massive structure. 

Migar Museum of Natural History

He inhaled. He exhaled. Let’s do this. He adjusted his jacket, then his bag, and marched up to the entrance. He bought a ticket, security checked his bag, and finally he was off into the building of unearthed knowledge. Next step: he needed to find the exhibit. It was a new discovery, so it might be closer to the entrance. Luckily, there were QR codes on nearly every corner, which were scannable to get a pdf of the map on phones. Convenient. 

Oh of course they put it in the back so you waste more time here. He shook his head to rid himself of the negative attitude, because it certainly wasn’t helping him through this. Cloud steeled himself once again and walked through the many decorated hallways, past dozens of displays and exhibits in search of his target. Though he would be lying if he claimed he was not distracted every once in a while by a particularly interesting piece, most of which were swords or various other bladed weapons. That tiny, childish part of him still cried out in joy whenever he saw a new or interesting design, too ingrained in him to keep his heart at a steady rate, the small excitement inevitable in his chest. 

Finally, he made it to the new exhibition hall, which was far less crowded than he expected. It was a Thursday, yes, but this was a completely new discovery, correct? At least fairly new? The ceilings in the hall were three stories high, and he saw a second level balcony wrapping around the room with bronze trim. As he looked higher, he noticed a circular skylight, simulating rays of the sun which cascaded down to the largest and most detailed statue in the exhibit. The light through the window was blinding, and his only option was to move closer to see the statue at all. 

He should not have come here.

The descriptions online were accurate, the piece was stunning. “Reunion” was stunning. The god occupied most of the marble in ways that didn’t seem physically possible, like a simple gust of wind would crack the piece in two. Yet it remained strong, fighting in majesty. But he couldn’t focus on the magnificent god, because the sacrifice the god was holding was Him.

The sacrifice. Was him. To a T. The body, the face, the hair, every detail visible on this statue was Him, like looking into a mirror. 

It’s me. It’s me.

His body froze as his eyes analyzed every detail of the statue subconsciously. Every feather, every engraving, every point, every cloth, every cloud, every body, every strand of hair. Something grabbed at his chest, some kind of glow consuming him, eerie and familiar, like being wrapped in a warm blanket of feathers, with a low underlining of dread. 

He ran, no, sprinted out of the museum, not caring for anyone he rushed passed or bumped against on his way out. It was him. It was him. It was him. Down to the sword through his chest. His breath defected to panting from the exertion. Was he having a panic attack? His whole body was tight, wound like a music box, like a timer ready to blow. He was barely thinking as he pushed the doors open and barreled down the stairs, his mind racing as fast as his body for three blocks, ignoring every bystander around him. 

Aerith. He has to call Aerith, she always helped, always. He stumbled as he whipped out his phone to slow himself down. She said to call her first, so he tapped the icon and held the phone to his ear. But only after the first ring did his body seize, and he instinctively canceled the call, his phone still held to his ear. 

Across the street, there was absolutely no mistaking it, was the god from the statue, who looked like a normal man to anyone else. Long silver hair in a ponytail that stopped at his mid thigh instead of defying gravity, and the exact same face and upper body. Though this man was dressed in a formal black suit, with a button down shirt with a little too buttons attached than socially acceptable, almost like a stereotypical businessman from a movie. He stared down at his watch and took a sip of his coffee as his purposeful walk continued through the sidewalk. 

“I don’t care what it takes,” Cloud heard him in perfect clarity despite their distance, as if he was only inches away, the deep voice weaving its way through him like cold water on a summer day. “I need that report on my desk by tomorrow. Understood? …Good.” Then this walking god tapped the center of his ear, probably to stop the call and move on. 

It took everything Cloud had not to scream. His panic surged back in full force, he sprinted all the way back to his apartment. This isn’t possible. This isn’t possible. This isn’t possible.

* * * 

Damn it, he’s asleep again, because he’s back in the clouds.

But this time was different. He knew it was a dream. He knew what was happening.

Though the sky looked exactly the same, and the star still appeared in the distance, it didn’t brighten as it got closer. Cloud could finally see what this star really was. 

It was the god. His six wings moved like the fins in perfect symmetry, yet his right arm was completely black, a deformed wing that grew on the side of his shoulder, the curve of the dark wing that held the sword in the statue. 

He came closer and closer and Closer. So close Cloud could see his eyes. Snake-like, mako blue. Mako?

“Are you real…?” Cloud questioned softly, barely audible in the ever swirling sky, the first time he ever dared to speak in this place.

It was silent for what felt like an eternity as the god seemed to scan him. 

“The time is now.”

The god spoke to him, and it was the same voice as the businessmen across the street..

But immediately after, he shot awake without a stabbing pain in his chest for the first time in four days, the warm feeling from the museum returned. Yet he was at his desk, and the only pain he felt was the crick in his neck from the terrible angle and lack of support. As his sight returned, he saw his open laptop with dozens of open tabs, every one of them about the god he just talked to. There were so many different translations and interpretations of this god’s legends that Cloud was ready to bash his head through a wall. Every theory he derived was too illogical to be true, even when compared to every attempted translation on the internet. He slowly glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen. 12:03 AM. He did not eat dinner. He had not showered yet. Maybe those two tasks should be accomplished before Cloud attempted more research or passed out again. 

First he grabbed his phone and opened it subconsciously. Oh no. The call he canceled with Aerith earlier went through, and his phone was still on silent for lectures. 

He missed three texts and two calls from Aerith, and one of each from Zack. 

He’s a terrible friend. And he’s surprised they didn’t break his door down looking for him. Should he respond? Aerith was probably asleep by now. He decided a text would be better and sent it to both of them, hoping neither would respond.

Cloud: Sorry about the call. I’m okay. I’ll try to explain tomorrow. 

He sighed as he sent the message,  then flipped his phone screen face down. Don’t look, he told himself. Just let them sleep.

 * * * 

No more pain in the morning. No more dreams in those clouds either. But it came at a cost. Cloud looked up at the sky through the window in his room, and he could see a white streak, like a comet, hovering in the sky. Though the tail burned and fizzled, it was stationary in the blue mass. The timing was too perfect. He checked his phone for any reports, unconsciously ignoring the messages from Zack and Aerith, but the news showed nothing of the phenomenon, anywhere. Taking a picture, he sent the scenario to his entire friend group through a group chat and asked if they saw anything.

They all claimed the sky was perfectly normal, and talked about how good the weather was looking today.

What the hell was going on?

. 

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!

Author’s Notes: Well, this is my second attempt at a full au. I hope you enjoyed it! I’m totally willing to continue it if people are interested. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading! (Check the tags for more notes)

Update: Will be continuing. Hope you're ready!

[n1ghtcrwler]

Explaining my Departure

I've tried to focus on my writing but it hasn't clicked and every time I try to my mind comes back to this so I think I just need to get it out of my system before I can get anything of note done. But to do it I'm going to tell a story because of who I am, fundamentally, as a person.

A couple years ago, on twitter, I came across this writing podcast that billed itself as a community for all writers and got all this praise from people I was following for being super supportive of writers in general, and I checked them out and started following and interacting. Some months later they had a contest, in which writers were encouraged to upload a video of themselves reading a chapter of their book. The person with the most likes on their video won; I don't remember the prize, but I could see the numbers on my video and others and knew that I wasn't getting it. So when they had the live episode where they were going to announce the winner, I was there more to show support and cheer along with everyone than out of any expectation that my story would get mentioned; by this point, they had a few times called for people to share info on their books in replies, and had highlighted a few books each time, and to date mine hadn't been acknowledged, so that was what I expected.

But then they announced early in the episode that they were going to show a bit of each video that had been entered and give comment on the chapter, and I got kind of excited. It would be after they accomplished some other business, you know, put that stuff at the end so people watch the whole episode, so I spent the next hour curious what they would say about my story (since my book didn't have chapters as such, but rather short stories, I had read one of those). A big part of the conversation was on the nature of critiques, and the hosts went out of their way to talk for a little while about how obsessing about first lines was a bad method and no one respectable should judge a story by the first line.

They got to the chapters, hitting each one in the order it was originally submitted, and pretty quickly fell into a rhythm. For each video, they would play the first paragraph or so (roughly guessing by how it sounded), highlight something they liked about it, talk about how many likes it got, and then move on. Mine was in the latter half of the ones they went through. They played the first sentence and then immediately stopped it. "Does that first sentence hook you?" one host asked the other. "No, it doesn't," the second host replied, and they went straight to the next video. No listening beyond that, no further comment, nothing good or even neutral, no statement about how many likes it got. Just one statement that the first line didn't hook them, a criteria they had just condemned not a half hour earlier, and then jump ahead to the next. I thought maybe they were getting tired and wanted to speed things along so I watched the rest to see how they treated the remaining videos; every single one got the first paragraph or so, highlight something they liked about it, talk about how many likes it got, and then move on treatment.

I was hurt and angry. The lack of mention prior to that moment hadn't really bothered me, but now that they had finally acknowledged my work only to shit on it? That they broke their own standards just to insult my story and literally no one else's? I went back through our interactions to see if there was anything I did that may have caused offense to warrant such blatant and public disrespect and found nothing. I asked other people who were more emotionally aware than me and not connected to the situation to do so, and they found nothing. I debated for a week whether or not to bring it up, but ultimately decided that it wasn't worth it (just as it hasn't been worth it to name them here). The conclusion I drew was that this simply wasn't a place my writing was welcome, so I just left the community and went about writing my second book.

Now, I don't get much feedback on my books, but it is overwhelmingly positive. Having done more than one year of events now, I've had complete strangers excitedly returning to my table looking for the second book while raving about the one they bought the year prior. I get messages about how good the story is and demands that I hurry up and get the next book finished so they don't have to wait as long to continue. The bulk of negative feedback has been one of two things: people who told me it was too scary for them to finish, and that one podcast dismissing it out of hand. And what I learned from all of this is that it isn't my writing that's the problem (though there is, obviously, room for improvement and always will be), but finding the audience who will appreciate the stories I'm telling. It isn't worth my time to keep trying to find my place somewhere that doesn't have room for me. When a place makes it apparent that my stories will not get respect or traction there, it is better to take the hit and turn my attention elsewhere. I am slowly finding my people through this process, and I love every encounter with them.

Writeblr has shown itself to not be the place where I will find my people. I have spent years here literally giving my story away, tagging people who asked to be tagged in updates, engaging in the community to the best of my ability. I don't know if it's my story (genre? tone? style?) or myself (I can't keep up with tag games or the weekly events that seem to happen every single day now and I don't do visuals much), but I've tried, and it hasn't clicked. I have watched as mutuals write and reblog post after post about how we all need to be supporting one another and reblogging is the bare minimum around here and get praised for being so supportive of all the writers on the site while my story that I know is crossing their dashboards every single week day continue to get no likes, no reblogs, nothing. I've seen posts about how people aren't being ignored by the community, their posts just get lost in the noise, but that's bullshit. Every single post, literally hundreds of posts, from one specific person gets lost in the noise? No matter what time of day it goes up? Despite the lack of algorithm, despite doing everything everyone here says to do to break through the noise? Not one post gets through?

Don't fucking lie to me.

I'm not discouraged enough to stop writing, leave tumblr entirely, or stop trying to boost the stories I find on my dash. My stories will continue to get published, things will continue to go onto my blog for others to see and probably ignore, I'm still open to be on tag lists if people want me to see what they're doing; but Writeblr clearly isn't the place for my stories and it's exhausting and painful trying to find a place here. So I'm done trying to figure out how to connect with it. It isn't worth my time or energy to watch every attempt at connection fall flat anymore. I have stories to write and an audience to find. See you around.

[automatismoateo]

I asked my friend to be an atheist for 1 day he cried. via /r/atheism

I asked my friend to be an atheist for 1 day he cried.

Hi.

Some of you might remember that a few days ago my muslim friend asked me to try and belive for one day.

You can find that post here.

Long story short i did i regretted it and we laughed about it.

A few comments on that post said that it would only be fair for my friend to do the same ''experiment'' I did.

So today i told him to be an atheist for a day and walk a mile in my shoes.

Here in Turkey you pretty much have to be muslim.

Like from the day you were born you are just shoved with the idea of islam.

Of course at first he hesitated.

But after a few ''I did it for you'' s he said fine.

So today He asked me:

''So what do i have to do''

''Nothing''

He seemed a little shook after that response and we talked when he was supposed to go to a mosque.

My friend is a smart guy that was forced to belive.

They all were....

So i showed him what the media and his ''friends'' didnt.

All of the idiotic stuff from the quraan not the one paragraph that stuck to the wall.

The massacares on women and childern.

The rapes.

And what people on here reddit thought.

How they were liberated when they left religion.

Heck even th good stuff in the quran is cursed when you read it in a language you can understand and don't listen to it like you are in a trance in arabic.

I was expecting the old:

'Never again'

But he starts crying.

He says that no loving god could do this.

And that he doesn't know how to live knowing these.

I don't know what to do.

I am happy that my friend of almost 5 years is finally understanding me but at the same time i don't know if i did the right thing.

His beliefs were always weak sure.

He only went to the mosque once a week.

He only fasted for half of ramadan using the i'm young excuse but still.

Anyways we talked an hour before.

He said that while he still belived he needed a little time to look at things objectively.

So my friend is questioning and %90 will become an agnostic atheist such as myself.

I don't know if i should be worried that i fell good for him and me.

Submitted October 22, 2022 at 06:53PM by ejderDj (From Reddit https://ift.tt/iQFsD9L)

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

weird, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: Your roommate and best friend, Kim Seokjin, forgot to double-check the autofill information and shipped his package from the online sex shop with your name on it. Naturally, this ends with you tying him up and sucking his dick, and him tying you up with you riding him like a wild animal. Wait, what?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends with benefits; crack (sorry, I can't be serious for more than two seconds when writing Seokjin); yes, reader usually fucks younger dudes XD; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics (both switches), bondage, m-receiving oral, thigh riding, cowgirl, spanking); non-idol!BTS - just two best friends fucking for sexual exploration, don't mind them

technically a prequel to love roulette, m | myg yes, this is the explanation to that mysterious package, but is it really an explanation or rather an excuse to fuck WWH, you decide

--

“Seokjin, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

When Kim Seokjin looked at you, it was a bit like looking into the eyes someone much younger than you even though he wasn’t. He had that youth about him, the ‘here’s-to-never-growing-up’ sparkle in his large brown eyes, complete with parted lips in a small ‘o’ and, alright, yes, his Nintendo Switch in his hands.

“A long time ago, I asked you which way you think you lean, more dominant or more submissive, no?”

His handsome face flushed pink, slowly scooting away from you.

“Er… yeah, I remember…”

“What?”

“Huh?”

You poked him and he squeaked, slapping a hand over his side even though he was wearing a brown sweatshirt. Seokjin was always cold, even during the summer.

Your best friend was an odd character.

You chuckled. “Why are you being so awkward? I thought we were over this phase.”

Well, he should be. You had known Seokjin since elementary school and seen him, er, date was a strong word for what you both were doing in middle and high school, more like being bumbling messes and walking in on each other bonking classmates, but, hey, what mattered is that you both got better at it over the years.

It being sex.

Not romance.

You both still had only sketchy ideas about what romance was supposed to be.

“We are,” your best friend coughed, clearing his throat for absolutely no reason. “We are, I just…”

“Used my name for purchasing goods from an online sex shop?”

He choked and nearly flung his Switch. You caught it, swiftly placing it on the coffee table as you procured the cardboard box from behind your back, already open, address and name circled in thick black permanent marker on the rather inconspicuous package.

“W-What, that’s absurd, why would I ever–?”

You hummed pleasantly, sweeping the box away from his lanky limbs and his flailing hands. For someone who didn’t purchase goods from an online sex shop, he sure was interested in getting the box. He tumbled into your lap, and quickly scrambled back, black hair suddenly fluffed and wild from the movement.

“Something tells me you didn’t check the autocomplete form before clicking submit.”

You saw Seokjin choke on air.

He jerked away from you and fumbled with his phone beside him. You peeked over his broad shoulder and saw that he was scrolling through his emails like a madman, except Seokjin had a bad habit of never deleting any. He had maybe fifteen thousand unread emails to sort though.

“You don’t have to check. I am sure I didn’t order red cotton bondage rope and a leather flogger.”

Seokjin whipped his head around, face redder than a tomato, looking halfway between fainting and screaming.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is it for you or a mysterious imaginary girl that you’re dating?”

Now your best friend seemed to be contemplating holding his own breath until he passed out to avoid your questioning.

“I-It’s not for me!”

“Oooh, then who? You’re not an internet hookup kind of guy though… unless she was dumb enough to put her full name as her username, then she’s too airheaded to be a catfish–”

Seokjin flapped his hands, smacking you in your pajama-covered chest, sputtering. “No one! There’s no one! I just…!”

You caught one of his wrists, raising an eyebrow.

“Just?”

He froze.

Silence.

“… Seokjin?”

You left go of his hand. It stayed there, frozen in the air.

Ah, it seemed as if his soul left his body.

Rest in peace Kim Seokjin. You were the handsomest best friend one could ask for.

You prodded him in the side again and Seokjin doubled over, trying to cover his face with the large sleeves of his sweatshirt, long legs in black sweatpants curling up as if he could cocoon himself away from the conversation.

“Seokjin, you can be interested in whatever you want,” you snickered, placing the package next to his fetal positioned body. “I simply thought it was funny that you accidentally used my name. Although I wouldn’t use that flogger on a real person, only for posing in pictures. In any case, have fun being freaky by yourself and not for some mysterious woman you refuse to tell me about.”

You stood up, about to leave and give your best friend some space. You shouldn’t go too far teasing him after all.

“What do you mean?”

You stopped, looking back. Seokjin’s large brown eyes were peeking out of his splayed fingers, shifting awkwardly when you made eye contact. He cleared his throat. He was doing that a lot for someone who seemed perfectly healthy ten minutes ago, shrieking at himself for missing the ledge in his game and dying.

It had seemed like a good time to interrupt and embarrass him so you could save your eardrums.

He coughed and pointed to the box. “About the… um… whip… thingmabob…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You marched over and opened the box, making Seokjin jolt and cover his red ears instinctively, but you ignored him, pulling out the black pleather flogger you had already unwrapped from the plastic – purely from thinking it was your own package, by the way, no other reason, surely not because you were mildly curious about what your best friend was into, nope – and you slapped the short three tails into your hand, wincing.

“This kind of cheap material is too plastic-like. If you use this on bare skin and hit too hard, you’re going to cut someone and I know you’re squeamish around blood, unless you secretly have a blood fetish too and have been a really good actor all this time–”

“How do you know that?”

You blinked at his question.

“What?”

Seokjin sat up, giving you a confused pout. “Why do you know something like that?”

Now it was your turn to shift your eyes around.

“Uh…”

Er… how to tell your best friend that the younger guy you were casually fucking for the past couple of weeks was, ah, rather knowledgeable about certain things, was, um, interested in teaching, uh, yeah, teaching…

Seokjin squinted at you suspiciously. “Is it that idol trainee that was here two nights ago when I was out drinking with Hose–”

You waved your hands very quickly, tossing the flog aside carelessly and slapping your thigh to silence Seokjin and his far too invasive questions. “Look. I just don’t want you to hurt anybody on accident, okay? Your rope choice was good though. You should always use an organic material for shibari, cotton, hemp, linen if you’re rich, but you’re a cheapskate, so–”

Your best friend narrowed his eyes into slits. “How much younger is that guy compared to you again? Hm? And what was his name? Ye–”

You slapped a hand over Seokjin’s mouth, smiling sweetly and dangerously, reaching into the box and pulling out the red cotton rope.

“I know a lot of knots now and I can tie a noose just for you, Seokjinnie.”

Your best friend, rightfully so, looked terrified.

“Now. Let’s talk about you, okay? Okay.”

You removed your hand and held onto the rope.

Seokjin gulped, but then shook his head vigorously, frowning. “What did you call it?” He was already moving past your death threat. Smart man.

“Call what?”

“Shi-something?”

“Shibari? Japanese rope tying?” You lifted the cotton cord in your hand. “Is that not what this is for?”

Seokjin blinked very rapidly.

You blinked back at him. Then it dawned onto you. “The diamond-y rope patterns where they’re all tied up and stuff.”

“Ah! Yeah! That!”

“You want that done to you?”

Seokjin jerked to one side. “What? No! To someone else. Maybe. No. What?”

You slowly placed the rope on his lap and scooted away.

“Uh… huh. Okay. Enjoy.”

“Wait,” he blurted.

“What?”

“CanIpracticeonyou?”

“Can you WHAT?” you echoed shrilly.

“Right, yeah, okay, never mind–”

-

“Seokjin.”

Your best friend choked on his own toothbrush and threw himself into the bathroom wall, colliding into the towel bar and howling in pain while simultaneously hacking up a lung.

“I’ve decided I am going to teach you some simple knots to prevent me from having to pick your naked ass up from the police station or hospital,” you said calmly as Seokjin half-died on the floor tangled in your mint green and his navy-blue bath towels. “And because I don’t want to have to cut some poor girl off your bedframe because you’ve blacked out running onto your door trying to find me.”

“I’ve never–” he wheezed.

“But you will if I don’t take precautions,” you cut in, grabbing your purple toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it as Seokjin attempted to collect himself off the ground. “Like that one time you ran into the window when that wasp was in the apartment.”

“That was a fucking wasp, you freaked out too!”

You started brushing your teeth. “Yeah, but I didn’t knock myself out and wake up with a fat bump on my forehead. That was you,” you gargled.

“Ack…”

“Anyway, I know a few things and I figured I would do a good deed and enlighten you.”

“Who taught you? Was it Ye–”

You jabbed Seokjin forcefully in the ribs and he immediately shut up because he choked on his toothbrush again.

-

“Why do you have scissors?”

“For cutting the rope.”

“Yeah, but why are they so big?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Cool, now I’m gonna tie you up. Give me your hands.”

You unwound the end from the bolt and frowned, nudging his knee with yours. You were both sitting on his bed, him cross legged and you on your knees because he was wearing black sweatpants and you were wearing no pants, just your usual large lavender pajama shirt with a pattern of yellow stars.

“Take off your sweatshirt. It’ll get in the way.”

“But I’m cold.”

“You won’t be because apparently this shit turns you on,” you snickered.

“Shut up, it does not. It’s the other way around,” Seokjin grumbled, yanking his chocolate brown sweatshirt over his head.

You paused.

“I thought you were more sub.”

Seokjin froze, head half-out of his sweatshirt. You waited. He didn’t move. You waited some more. He coughed and chucked the article of clothing aside, yanking his white t-shirt down and smoothing his hair, not looking at you.

You waited.

He smoothed his hair for a full two minutes.

“Um, anyway–”

You planted a hand on his knee and Seokjin tried to chop your hand away, only for you to snatch his wrist, so his other hand came up to stop you, but you wound the end of the rope around his wrist and bounced off his mattress, pinning your knees on top of his knees and making him squeak as he tumbled back into his pillows, bringing you with him. You had to jerk your head out of the way to avoid collision.

“My nuts!”

“I didn’t hit your precious nuts, you numbsku–”

Hang on.

You locked eyes with Seokjin under you, who gawked back at you, absolutely terrified.

“… You are still a sub.”

Seokjin winced. “Ugh, it’s just… I’m getting older, alright? I can change my mind…”

You could get off him. You could let it be. You totally could.

But were you going to?

No.

You straddled his abdomen and brought his hands to his chest with a big grin. Seokjin’s eyes turned into giant brown saucers. He looked ready to pass out and not from your weight because you weren’t putting much weight on him.

“W-W-What are y-you d-doing?!” he shrieked.

You rapped him in the forehead. “Teaching. Pay attention. Hands up.”

“You aren’t taking your rings off?”

He was referring to the three silver rings you wore on a daily basis – an onyx stone on your left middle finger, a goat-head shaped ring on your right thumb, and a skull with a jester hat on your right ring finger.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do I need to take them off?”

He lifted his hands and gave you an exaggerated shrug in between your thighs. Come to think of it, Seokjin had a rather broad chest so you had to spread your legs pretty wide to accommodate and hover over him.

Precarious.

“Ah, perfect.”

Your best friend yelped as you wrapped the rope around his wrists, leaving the end sticking out between them, first focusing on loosely binding. He tried to break away, but you harshly squeezed his sides with your thighs, narrowing your eyes.

“Stop squirming.”

He froze at your cold tone, shifting his eyes awkwardly.

“Watch. Now.”

His eyes immediately snapped to your hands.

“Wrists together.” You nudged them so the inner parts of the wrists were touching. “A little space in the center,” you added, looping out the end of the rope. “I’m just teaching you how I learned it, there are a few ways, but the details are important so you don’t prevent loss of circulation,” you added seriously, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “So, wind it around a couple times, but don’t overlap. Four or five?”

“But I can still get out.”

You glared at him. Seokjin shut up and jammed his plush pink lips together, shaking his head rapidly as if to say, who me? I wasn’t talking!

“Turn it ninety degrees like this,” you demonstrated. “And start going perpendicular to and in between the wrists to create the binding. Line up each coil side by side. Mind the starting end here. Then…” You reached for the scissors and snipped the excess away, dropping the rope and scissors beside you on the bed. “You tie it off on the outside. I use a square knot, so this end over this end, and then retie it the opposite way. Try to break free.”

Seokjin frowned at the red rope around his wrists, twisting it this way and that, squirming underneath your legs. You put your hands on your waist triumphantly, nodding to yourself in pride. You did a good job! It looked neat and it was inescapable without tightening on any blood vessels to cause any dangerous loss of circulation.

Hang on.

Seokjin froze.

You froze.

You both looked down.

You smacked him in the cheek.

“Ow!”

“What are you looking there for?!”

“Why did you hit me? Why do you always resort to violence?!” Seokjin accused, jabbing you underneath your breasts with his bound hands. “What is going on down there?”

“Nothing! Stop moving!”

“No!”

“You–”

You closed your thighs around Seokjin’s waist and sat down on him, causing him to gasp, wind knocked out of him as his diaphragm was pushed up into his lungs, struggling with the rope between his wrists and resorting to slamming them down on the bed above his head. You growled as you towered over him. He started yelling, as he always did.

“Yah!”

You slapped your free hand over his mouth.

“Silence.”

He glared at you behind your palm, breathing hard. You sat on top of him, breathing just as hard. He was bigger, strong, yes, but not in the position of power and – being honest, after all – your best friend was never really out to fight you and win. He was more of a ‘I’m-going-to-be-stupidly-annoying-until-you-do-what-I-want’ type, which made him rather childish in some ways. You were more of the ‘I’m-gonna-beat-your-ass’ type.

In conclusion, it was a healthy friendship.

Seokjin started licking your palm and making crazy eyes at you.

Your eye twitched.

“Stop it.”

Unsurprisingly, he did not, in fact, stop it.

“I said, stop it.”

And you slid down, past the wet spot now on his t-shirt, planting your soaked panties on top of his crotch, grinding down, and, yup, Seokjin bucked and yelped, immediately stopping and seizing up as if he could hide the massive erection that you had been willing to ignore but he was being a little – nah, actually, an extra-large, supersized – shit and it was getting on your last nerve, so what better way to resolve a wordless argument (on his part, heh) then humping his hard-on?

You removed your hand and Seokjin had a brief moment to gasp your name before you slid the pads of your fingers onto his tongue, rubbing it roughly and making his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“I told you to stop, but you aren’t listening,” you snarled.

Seokjin whimpered, brown orbs glassy, pupils blown out.

You stilled.

Hold on a second.

You had a brief epiphany where you realized you were grinding on your best friend’s dick with him tied up and you were wetter than the Yellow Sea. This wasn’t some guy you picked up at the night market that won you that sleeping Pikachu at the claw machines, only to chat him up and end up with bed with a guy who was – ack, never mind his age – anyway, this was your best friend.

Kim Seokjin.

Oh shit, I’ve gone too far.

You let go, backing up. “S… Sorry, I–”

But then Seokjin’s plush lips closed around your fingers, sucking hard and you choked slightly, feeling his hips roll and the tip of his clothed erection hit your covered clit. He was glaring at you. You gasped as his teeth gently but firmly caught your two fingers. It did hurt, but only a little. Mostly it sent a rush of rather uncomfortable and mind-boggling arousal racing from your knuckles to your core, drenching your panties further.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled around your fingers.

Don’t stop?

DON’T STOP?

His teeth let go, panting, staring into your eyes.

“Don’t make this weird,” Seokjin muttered, shifting his gaze. “Don’t make this weird, okay?”

His brown eyes flickered back to you. His bound hands were still over his head, black hair flaring out of his pillows, white t-shirt messed up, still trapped between your thighs. You paused, fingers slipping out of his lips, the pads trailing on his lower lip, turning it glossy with his saliva.

Your heart was racing fast.

He furrowed his dark brows and, for the first time, his serious expression made you think that perhaps, maybe, there was a side of him down there, the other side to the coin.

“I just…” Seokjin exhaled slowly, not looking away from you. “I trust you to do this. You’re capable and knowledgeable. I know you are. Word gets around with your, er, habits with younger guys…”

You felt your cheeks heat and you scratched your head awkwardly.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you wanna… er… get off. With me. Because I’m so handsome and all.”

You were thiiiiiiis close to leaving out of sheer embarrassment that instantly dissipated at Seokjin’s sudden unexpected self-compliment. Instead, your eye twitched and you squinted in annoyance.

Seokjin coughed, ears singeing bright red. “Unless you can’t, of course. Because it’s easy to fall in love with me, and that would be very bad considering I don’t want to marry you–”

“I don’t want to marry you either,” you snapped. “You’re ugly.”

Seokjin gasped dramatically, highly offended. “How dare you–!”

He abruptly sat up and you twisted back, only for his arms to swing over your head and sandwich you between his tied wrists and his chest, ramming you back onto his lap and his hard dick. You hissed and bit down your moan, not willing to admit it was mildly turning you on, because of course neither you or Seokjin hated each other – only in that classic way best friends hate and love each other at the same time – and, yeah, sure, you could admit Seokjin was handsome and cute and fun to be around, but he wasn’t the one, not that you knew what the one was supposed to feel like or knew if you would ever feel such an intense, romantic love, but you had this strange idea that the one for you would be someone who could understand you on a different level, and you didn’t have that with Seokjin even if you did talk all the time. You were quite sure the feeling was mutual and now, looking into his brown eyes with a scowl, you saw that the feeling was indeed mutual.

Also, Seokjin was an immature shithead.

A loveable, worldwide handsome, immature shithead. Redeemable.

Still.

You were horny.

And Seokjin was horny.

You weren’t going to date Seokjin ever, but your best friend was hot as hell and you could definitely bang him without any regrets.

“Let’s fuck,” he breathed into your face.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Don’t make it weird, yeah, okaaay dude–

Your thoughts were suddenly cut off when Seokjin kissed you.

His forearms closed in behind your back and he pressed his bound wrists into your shoulder blades, pushing you into his solid chest and his embrace, taking your breath away. He always had good hugs, even if they were just to comfort you when your favorite flavor of ice lollys stopped being stocked at your local grocery store – still tragic to this day – and even when he was clinging onto you like a howling monkey because a cockroach was in the bathroom and he was screaming at you to kill it and nearly blowing out your eardrums, even then…

Now.

You closed your legs in around his hips and rolled your crotch into him, suddenly kissing him back.

He gasped into your mouth, your eyes half-opening, him gazing back at you, long lashes and dark eyebrows and glowing tan skin, holy shit, your best friend was handsome as fuck, why did other men even try when Kim Seokjin existed?

“Are you falling in love with me because I’m so handsome?” Seokjin teased, nipping at your lower lip.

Your eye twitched. Oh, yes, that’s right, because you’re annoying.

You shoved him and he yelped, clutching your back as you both fell onto the bed with a flump! You slid out from under his arms, skin prickling at Seokjin’s involuntary whine at your departure. Don’t make this weird, yeah, okay, don’t turn me on this much, dumbass, you are reminding me of… You pushed the thought away.

You didn’t want to think about other people when the person you were touching was right in front of you.

“What are you – yah!”

You gripped the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked down, exposing his underwear – bright blue, nice, nice – and his clothed erection, leaning in, hot breath ghosting over it, Seokjin jerking his arms about because he seemed undecided on either if he wanted to see or not see, but you let him deal with that in his own time, lowering your mouth, tongue extended, fingers splayed over his hips, silver rings glinting in his bedroom lights.

“You look like a demon,” you heard from above you.

You planted your tongue on the spot where the head of his cock would be and soaked it with saliva.

“F-Fuck!”

That shut him up real quick.

Your eyes drifted up, lapping slowly, barely stimulating the sensitive head through his underwear, closing your lips around it so the fabric clung wetly to the taut skin underneath. His cock swelled and twitched under your mouth; the action was mirrored by Seokjin’s jaw. He was clenching it along with his hands balled into fists, gasping for breath.

“O-Oh, f-fuck…!”

You were beginning to get the hint with each passing second of working your tongue around his rapidly hardening cock. Seokjin had put himself in the sub category when you asked back then because he liked to things being done for him. It was less about the mental aspect and more of the physical acts of service in his case. However, he wasn’t very good at articulating what he wanted and thus the natural pattern of someone just doing it led to, ah, exhibit A.

You currently parting your lips and letting your tongue snake out, coating the length with saliva.

But.

You could see it in his eyes, that burning intensity.

Maybe part of it was because it was you. He probably didn’t have those butterfly jitters of trying to woo a stranger or the nervousness of looking bad in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. There was already a level of comfort – and the ability to readily shit-talk each other at any moment – and so Seokjin was free to relax, even if it was a bizarre situation of sexual discovery.

“Take it off,” he growled.

Your fingers creeped up his sides, hooking over his boxer briefs. Slow, deliberate, kissing up his length, on the tightrope, dominant in your control, submissive in the action, raising your head so Seokjin could lift his hips, feathering kisses on the exposed skin and making him hiss and shudder, eyelids fluttering, slipping into subservience a little.

At the end of the day, who killed the unwanted bugs in your shared apartment?

Yeah, you.

“Oh, f… fucking shit…”

You tilted your head and ran your tongue up and down the length, licking up the sides and circling around the thick head, bordering on frustratingly soft, switching to wet, sloppy kisses when his hands raised, making him pause, gazing down at you curiously and attentively, entranced by the action. You ducked down, tongue slurping around his balls, lifting his cock, kissing, sucking, eyes closing, tip of your wet muscle drawing zig-zag patterns that soft skin.

Seokjin moaned your name.

A shiver of electricity went up your spine.

Alright, fine, you were getting turned on.

You wrapped your lips around his balls and enveloped them both with your mouth.

“Whoa!”

You opened your eyes to see Seokjin staring wide-eyed at you, hands straight up to stare at you between his upper arms. You almost laughed at the hilarious triangular-looking pose, but your mouth was currently full, so you restrained yourself.

“That’s possible?! You can put both nuts in your mouth at the same time?!”

Uh.

Where you supposed to respond with your cheeks stuffed with his nutties?

You hummed casually in response.

“A-Ah…!”

Seokjin gasped at the vibrations and the movement of your tongue slapping all over them, short, rapid licks all over his skin, watching him with a cocked eyebrow, but he didn’t even notice, hands dropping and moaning to the ceiling, his eyes closing and savoring the hot wet warmth and the power of your mouth, shivering as your hand slowly stroked his length in time with your tongue.

You let him bask in it before detaching and swallowing his cock.

“Gah!”

Seokjiinie, you thought wryly, we gotta work on your repertoire of sex sounds.

You spied him looking down at you, so you paused around the swollen head and slid your tongue out, circling and wrapping around his length while sucking on the tip and rubbing the back of your tongue along the underside.

Seokjin made a bunch of weird croaking noises that were, strangely, rather attractive. Okay, you could admit it. You were kind of a sucker for your best friend in the most platonic way possible… while in the middle of sucking his dick.

What?

He was handsome!

You began to bob your head up and down, tongue and lips descending, taking him deep so you kissed the base of his cock, head buried in your throat, waiting for him to glance down at you, hazy brown orbs under lush lashes, and you would peek your tongue out and lap at his balls, interrupting the tightness, causing him to swear and jerk his hips up, urging you to keep consistent speed and pace, all the while watching every single movement of your tongue. You kept this irregular pace, slow, then fast, then slow again when he looked at you, then fast when the ecstasy was too much and he closed his eyes, over and over. You could see that a battle was being waged Seokjin’s pretty head, between wanting to observe the lewdness of you licking his balls with his hard cock buried in your throat while also desperately needing to get to the fuck off.

“You… bitch… suck me off properly, fuck…”

You raised all the way so only the head was in your mouth and sucked, rubbing up and around it, swirling all over, teasing the slit and soaking the sensitive skin, rutting it against the roof of your mouth and Seokjin groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, black hair covering his eyes, fists pressed to his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, let me cum!”

His hips rammed up and you dug your nails into them, wincing as the head hit the top of your throat and slid down, cutting off your air, and then he began to thrust erratically, the position, inability to use his hands as leverage, and your resistance not letting him set up a good rhythm. You had to force him back down, popping your mouth off, snarling.

“I’m gonna gag if you do that! You want me to vomit on your dick or what?”

But all of a sudden Seokjin sat up again, grabbing your pajama shirt and yanking you to him, saliva dripping down your chin and then it was on his chin, a messy, savage kiss, ravenous need in his actions, pulling you to him, close, closer, you twisting and then gasping as he pushed one of your thighs down, planting your soaked panties on the exposed part of his thigh.

“Ah, Seok–”

He attacked your lips again with a light growl, sparks shooting across your skin, his thigh rising and bouncing you both on the bed, his legs still tangled in his pants and underwear but the effect was undeniable.

Seokjin was making you ride his thigh.

Whoa.

He bit your lower lip and sucked hard, your eyes fluttering closed, hips rocking, heat turning hotter, wet turning wetter, your sticky, sweet juices clinging to his upper thigh, your own pressed against his saliva-covered cock, wrapping your arms around him, close, closer, you thrusting your tongue in his mouth and him moaning before he did the same to you, starting a tug of war, rubbing harder against his skin, his muscle tensing against your covered clit, friction and wetness everywhere, too many clothes and no eye contact, one of your hands slipping into his black locks and tilting his head, deepening the kiss and inhaling his exhale, shuddering at the erotic nature of the moment.

He mumbled your name against your lips, still clutching your pajamas, stars bunched in his hands, fingertips pressed into the curve of your breasts.

“Can I try the rope tying now?” Seokjin whispered, voice gravelly and low.

-

“Excuse me?”

There was a ripped-open condom wrapper sitting on the bed.

“What?”

Your pajama shirt, bra, and panties were on the floor, along with Seokjin’s shirt, sweatpants, and underwear.

“Why are you – gah!”

You sucked in a breath as you sank down on his cock. Fuck, it was tight, tight as you lowered yourself onto his hips, Seokjin gasping and clutching the long length of red cotton rope that you had carefully untied from his wrists. You had even taken the extra step to massage them afterward, not that he needed it because of your careful work – good job, past you – but he appreciated it all the same, because deep down Kim Seokjin was a prince.

“Oh my God, you’re so tight, shit, shit, shit…”

You neglected to tell your best friend that you were both low-key proud of and turned on by your own ability to take dick without much foreplay. That little edge of tightness added just the right amount of spice of pain that amplified to the pleasure.

Okay.

And yes, you felt a special kind of glee as you witnessed Seokjin’s stunned shock and near passed-out expression from being inside you.

You held out your wrists and grinned. “Go ahead. Tie me up.”

Seokjin gawked at you like you had three heads.

You squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, tilting your head with a devilish grin.

“God, you’re so hot, but you look crazy,” he wheezed.

Your grin dropped and your eye twitched. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or…?”

Seokjin shrugged, and moved your hands so they were in the better position for him. Much to your annoyance, he didn’t elaborate.

“Um, let’s see, you left a bit out to use as a tie and…”

You began to rock your hips.

“H-Hey!”

The side of your lips curved upward. “What? We’re multitasking.”

“We–?” Seokjin choked, gritting his teeth as you pulsed around his hard length, rolling your hips gently, adjusting until you found a comfortable spot so the head hit you in just the right spot, ah, yes, right there, spreading your fingers out over his chest, leaning your forehead against his, not quite going full force but a slow, deliberate rhythm that wasn’t going to make either of you cum, but, damn, did it feel good.

Seokjin shuddered, gasping your name.

“Tie me up, Seokjin,” you murmured back, caressing his skin.

His eyes darted up, saturated with lust, searching your eyes, and you gazed back.

You could be a real jerk right now.

His hot exhale washed over your lips, a shudder of nervousness.

But this was your best friend, and he was trusting you.

You tilted your head and kissed him softly, flush against his plush lips.

“Come on,” you nudged his nose lightly. “Do it.”

You viewed him from under your lashes. He shivered. Almost.

He needed only one more little push.

“Want you, Seokjinnie,” you breathed against his skin, hints of need and desperation in your voice.

A small smile danced on his lips, staring into your eyes.

You might have fallen for him a little bit in that moment.

“Okay.”

He kissed the side of your mouth, a teasing little peck, and you smirked, turning your head so you wouldn’t break the image you had created for him, but he was already looking down, busily occupied with your wrists, so you drew back, focusing instead on riding him, closing your eyes. You built a leisurely, pleasurable pace, leaning forward a bit to rub your clit against the base of his cock, sighing contentedly at the way he filled you, a wonderful, thick, satisfying girth that you could get used to, other than the fact that most of the time Seokjin drove you up the wall, but, hey, maybe if both of you reached a certain age and you were still single, maybe you could marry your best friend solely for having accessible dick…

“Ah! Perfect.”

You cracked open one eye.

And tried not to burst out laughing.

“Erm… well…” you coughed, tugging at the rope a little. It looked messy and rather hideous, parts overlapping and twisting awkwardly, but he had the… basic idea? It wasn’t like you were going to do anything dumb anyway, so it was pretty good for a first time.

Seokjin frowned. “I don’t know how you did it so neatly…”

“You line up the coils next to each other – ah!”

He seemed to think that was good enough and grabbed handfuls of your ass, causing you to tip forward and brace your hands against his chest, gasping as his hips thrust up into you, abrupt pleasure blooming up your core, sudden squelch of wetness between your joined hips.

“Come on,” he grunted, clenching his jaw, tone getting deeper and more dangerous with each word. “I have to get off, and now.”

He smacked his hands down on your ass and you almost whimpered.

Almost.

Seokjin drew back a little, giving you a strange look.

“W… What?” you managed to get out.

He tilted his head. “Do you like that?”

You almost said, no, of course not, but you stopped yourself, looking down at the red rope tied around your wrists, heat flaring in your cheeks, ass stinging slightly from his slap.

His cock twitched inside you.

Your eyes flickered up to him. A sly smirk danced on your lips.

“Yeah. I like the things you do to me.”

You saw Seokjin pause, brown eyes widening a little, black hair over his forehead.

You pushed him down on the bed. He gasped, but he was used to it now, gripping your ass and tipping his head back as you began to really ride him, waving your hips to ram his cock into your pussy, not even noticing the moan seeping from your lips, fuck, it was good, fulfilling and deep, your bound hands on his chest, fingers spread out and nails digging into his skin a little, but Seokjin seemed to be into it, his own nails sinking into your ass, pushing you down with every descent, hitting you harder, rougher, intensifying the pleasure, building onto it. Hot breath, warm skin, joined hips, loud slaps, rocking bedframe, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes, not quite seeing each other but drowning in the gratification, the roughness, gasping sharply as his open palm smacked down on your ass again, making it bounce and jiggle in his hands, your core and thighs squeezing tighter, witnessing his tight hiss of desire, mesmerized by your sound so he did it again, spanking the other cheek, and you did it again, whimper creeping out, arousal consuming his handsome features, intoxicated by your reaction to his action so he did it again and again, hard, stinging slaps as you rode his stiff, quivering cock harder and faster, fuck, Seokjin must be incredibly turned on because he was so fucking hard, just so incredibly sexy how hard he was right now, even the pain was nothing but an injection of added carnal pleasure, throwing your head back and sinking your nails into his skin, fucking him recklessly, forgetting about hiding your moans, who the fuck cared, not you and not him because Seokjin too was crying out, the sinful sound of sex echoing off his bedroom walls, except instead of you in your bedroom putting headphones on to drown him out, you were in his bedroom, doing it, fucking the daylights out of him.

Alright.

You could see why girls wanted to date your best friend now.

Seokjin was a loud dork, but he had a great dick.

“F-Fuck, Seokjin, fuck!”

He had a similar response, although it was more a choked garble of your name mixed with, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You must really be drunk on his dick because even that turned you on and tipped you over the edge.

Your thighs tensed and you moaned deeply, tucking your chin down and spreading your palms onto his pecs, wrists straining against the cotton rope, a rapid torrent of adrenaline soaring through you and then you smacked your ass down onto Seokjin’s crotch, whining as you came in vicious pulses of pleasure, clenching around his jerking length and you realized Seokjin was clutching your ass, pinning it down so you couldn’t move, shooting his release into the condom, so much that you felt his cock shudder and throb inside you, head buried in your deepest, most pleasurable spot, you feeling all of him and him feeling all of you.

Holy shit.

You almost saw stars.

“Hah… wow… I guess I can’t blame younger dudes for wanting this pussy…”

Your eyes weren’t open but your eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Shut up, Seokjin.”

-

“Come on, man! Look what you did!” Seokjin barked accusingly, pointing to his chest with red indents of your rings.

“Excuse me? I’m the one who has scratches and a bruised ass!”

“You’ve marred my beautiful skin! I should fine you!”

“Where’s that fuckin’ whip – get your naked ass back here, Kim Seokjin!”

-

Hm, well, maybe you would find your true love some other time. Maybe try gambling?

--

masterpost

[yuujism]

a curse like you (ryōmen sukuna x reader)

REQUEST:  Hello! I really love ur sukuna fics and i was wondering if i can request a yuuji/sukuna x fem reader where mc is a curse that sukuna knew from many years ago?? Can be fluff, smut or angst. Up to you 😁 thank you so much!! 🤗

| PAIRINGS:  ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

| WARNINGS: little suggestive but nothing bad, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: 1,653

A/N: i focused this more on sukuna idk  if that’s ok with you !! if not you can send me a message or reqeust and tell me what did you expect so i can change it if i can😭!! anyway i like yearning and ex lovers to lovers prompts so uhh yea 😳 might even write this better with yuuji being more involved and more things happening lmfaosh !! i hope you enjoy!!  ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

Sukuna was bored out of his mind.

These situations were becoming more recurrent now that the brat that called himself his vessel started becoming stronger and getting the hang of the use of cursed energy.

He could hear everything that happened during the fight: the swearing, the sound of flesh splitting open, blood splashing and some motivational speech every now and then.

This was all a routine for the King of Curses now.

When he felt the light in his flesh for the first time in thousands of years, he swore he would never feel something like that again. It wasn’t anything that deemed itself meaningful, but after centuries of not having contact with anything at all, that moment felt like pure ectasis. He didn’t really count with having to spend most of the time inside of a brat after that.

It was all boring now. Boring, boring, boring. 

“Sorcerers come pretty green now, don’t they?” 

Oh? 

He lifted his head way too quickly, almost giving himself whiplash even if it was impossible. 

That voice. Sukuna knew that voice well. Very well if he said so himself. 

This was the voice that would call him a King in a mocking tone, as if it was calling him the King of idiots instead of the King of Curses. The same voice that refused to let out the sound of his name, too proud and stuck up but whenever they were alone, feeling each other, it would slip out every now and then. A voice that would let out the sweetest pleads and moans whenever he would let his hands travel around that body. And it became the last thing he heard before he was cut into pieces and retained by sorcerers for decades, sinking into the darkness. 

And now, the owner of the voice, who he thought was dead, was standing there, in front of his vessel, with the biggest smirk on her face.

Y/N. The proclaimed queen of curses.

And Sukuna’s... ex.

Sukuna felt Itadori freeze in place, looking directly at you with fear filling his body. The curse couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. Even after thousands of years, your power was way too intimidating and immaculate Sorcerers of the old age would even avoid saying Y/N’s name in fear of summoning her, knowing damn well she wouldn’t hesitate to kill them for making bad use of her title. 

They could feel it. They knew you weren’t just a cursed spirit. You could talk and appeared out of nowhere without even making your presence known. You were probably at the same level as Sukuna. Or Sukuna was at the same level as you.

He really thought you were killed after he was captured, only remembering your revengeful words towards the sorcerers who killed your lover. After that, and for obvious reasons, he never heard of you. Not even in this new era where sorcerers spawned one after the other, never mentioning your name or any hint that lead to your survival. So to see you in front of him, safe and sound and impactful as ever, Sukuna felt relief.

Y/N’s eyes landed on Yuji’s restless ones, as if she was staring at his soul. Which, basically, she did. Her gaze passed all the way through his barrier and soul, finally reaching what she was looking for: Sukuna’s own soul and eyes.

“Damn, King, is that you?” in a blink of an eye, you were right before Itadori’s face, too quick for him to even react and even too scared. “Shit, you’re pretty fucked now, huh? All trapped inside a bag of human flesh.”

Before the girl with the hammer could strike your body after snapping out of her trance, you limited yourself to press a finger in the sorcerer’s forehead, smiling almost sweetly before sending her body flying back with extreme force against the furthest wall of the space, knocking her out. 

“K-Kugisa- Hngh!” Itadori’s words were interrupted by a hand wrapping around his neck, slightly lifting him from the ground as he struggled to move, too weak from the constant fighting with all the cursed spirits that came in a flood. 

“Now, now,” Your voice was too calm, almost tired, getting closer to Yuuji’s face “Why don’t you switch with the oh-so-mighty King of curses? Too scared to come out, huh, King?” 

Your tone ticked Sukuna in more than one way. You were still the same annoying bitch as before. 

If you wanna live you better switch with me, you damn brat.

“Like hell I would switch with you! You’re gonna kill us!”

“Oh, so you can talk with him within yourself?” You let out an amused snort, your grip getting tighter. “Ridiculous!”

Foolish human, she will kill you. Switch with me.

Even if his vessel dying didn’t mean anything to Sukuna, he knew he would never get the chance to meet you again, probably for another thousand years, and these sorcerers were too invested in vanishing him from the face of the earth. 

When Yuuji was about pass out, eyes half closing and his windpipe being pressed roughly, you noticed the way his skin started developing black marks in his face and along his body. You smiled widely when the small scars under the sorcerer’s eyes opened to reveal a red colour looking straight at you, the whole features of this guy in front of you changing to reveal what you were looking forward too.

Sukuna’s hand wrapped around your wrist, claws digging into your flesh as you both stared at each other with a mix of emotions: hatred, anger, amusement. And something more.

“Move.”

You dropped him, backing up a bit as he fixed the hoodie his vessel was wearing, glaring at the queen of curses. You didn’t change at all. If Sukuna had to be honest, you were as hot tempered and attractive as before. He could perfectly remember the way your body reacted whenever he touched the spots that drove you crazy A sly smirk appeared on his face as he noticed the same movement of fingers when you were restless, and he knew it was because of him.

“Nervous, Y/N?” Sukuna chuckled, walking to you to circle around your frame, looking up and down your body. “You know I don’t bite, baby. Unless you ask me to, that is.”

You turned around to look at him behind you, incredulous.

“Hah?” Your head fell back, letting out a louder than usual laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, King. I’m just worried I’ll easily step on you while you’re in this vessel of yours.” Your hand started glowing with your cursed energy, raising an eyebrow at the way his indifferent expression didn’t flinch. “And even more now since you get dominated so easily.”

Once again, something in Sukuna ticked. If there was something he hated more than being looked down upon, it’d be the fact of not being in control of any situation. He never once admitted it, but your comments really got to him. He wanted to be praised and adored by you, queen who would never adore anyone but herself. This just made him even more infatuated by you. Perhaps even after all this time, he could make you say his name in a broken voice.

“You see, you shouldn’t be talking to me like that.” Your smile went away when a hand reached one of your cheeks, caressing it with such care you almost gagged. However, you couldn’t help the way your heart started beating faster. “Or do you think I don’t remember the way I made you submit to me?”

This time, it was you who twitched with anger. Sukuna’s hand grabbed your chin, his eyes falling on those delicious lips that committed the most sinful of acts and spat out the dirtiest of words. He was getting excited already, the fire within him starting to awaken after a long time.

When his face started getting closer to yours, you spat on him, the liquid landing on his cheek and laughing at his dumbfounded reaction after such action.

“A half-assed curse like you shouldn’t be talking to ME like that.” You snarled back, your arm swinging to attack the man in front of you. You almost chanted victory when your fist perfectly landed on the side of his face, making his head to turn to the side.

But when Sukuna turned to look back at you still with your fist against him, you gulped. There was no reaction, no injury that showed he was at least a little faced by the sudden attack.

This was it.

“Well, fuck.” You almost laughed again, expecting the worst to come when his eyes flashed with something dark, grabbing you by both sides of your head. All that time surviving for nothing. Keeping yourself hidden from every single sorcerer that walked the earth and now you were going to get killed by your ex-lover.

But instead of receiving the coup de grâce, Sukuna’s lips smashed against yours in a hungry manner, groaning against your mouth as your hands flew to scratch his arms in surprise, eyes open wide before the movement of his lips and strong hand in the back of your neck made you close them, not being able to fight back your own desires.

Sukuna missed this. Honestly, he missed any kind of physical touch but the fact it was with you again, made him realise it would always be you.

He was as calm as the silence surrounding you now, only the sounds of your heavy breathing filling your flushed ears. You were burning up, face red and glassy eyes. Sukuna smiled before slightly pulling your hair, head slightly falling back and taking advantage of this to place the softest of kisses in your neck. You let out a rather pathetic moan and he deeply chuckled.

“And a curse like you should know who is in charge here.”

[skiitter]

A prompt, my dear. Hermione and Draco + “who hurt you?”

Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, the majority of which were less than desirable to any sensible person, but one thing he was not was late. His punctuality was a point of pride, in a sea of arrogance no doubt, but Hermione had come to appreciate it over the course of their working relationship. It was something she could rely on, something immovable in an otherwise dangerously murky situation. He may needle her ceaselessly and leave her to do the lions share of the paperwork, but he was always there when he was expected, an effortless air of smugness clinging to him like bad cologne.

This Sunday, however; this unremarkable, overcast Sunday in late September he was late. It was the day after her 24th birthday as well as their final meeting. The report had been ostensibly completed, the field work essentially finished, and the conclusion inevitably drawn. After the better part of a year dedicating 1/3rd of every weekend to spending most of the day with Malfoy, Hermione's Sundays were about to become her own once more; a prospect she was not all that excited about.

Everytime the chirp of the bell above the door announced a new arrival, she would glance over, expecting to see a shock of platinum hair above a signature sneer and everytime, she was disappointed.

"Another tea, miss?" The waitress asked, her expression a perfect blend of professionalism and pity.

"No, no thank you." Hermione spared another look out the window, searching for him among the crowd. "Actually, I think I'm done here. Could I get the check?"

Bundled up against the autumn chill, Hermione paid and left the Cafe' and it's memories behind. It wasn't quite noon yet, and the streets were slowly filling with the townspeople emerging to go about their days. She smiled at a few passersby but was otherwise lost in her own thoughts as she made her way to the Apparition point.

Maybe Malfoy had just decided their final meeting wasn't all that important. To be fair it was more of a formality than anything else. His decision to not show would have no negative consequence on anything other than her feelings. Feelings, of course, that she was deliberately not thinking about.

As she rounded the corner, absorbed in her denial, she didn't see him until it was too late. With an audible "oof" she ran straight into Malfoy, colliding chest to chest. She immediately bounced off but he caught her arm before she could hit the sidewalk.

"What--Malfoy?"

"Graceful as always, Granger." He let her go and she stared, wide eyed and confused, at the state of his face.

"Merlin! Your face it's--"

"Your manners leave so very much to be desired." He looked cross but it was hard to tell beneath the bruising. An ugly, mottled patch of purple marred the left side of his face, stark and violent against his pale skin. It was fresh, the edges red with the recent impact, and it appeared to have just narrowly missed his eye.

"Malfoy," she reached her hand out, ghosting her fingertips over the bruise. "What happened?"

He sneered at her and jerked away. "Keep your obligatory Gryffindor concern to yourself, Granger."

"It's not an obligation!"

"Says the war hero."

"Will you--ugh!" She huffed and dragged him back around the corner, off of the sidewalk and into an alley. "What happened?" She repeated.

"Nothing."

"Malfoy."

He looked around, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her. "I made a wrong turn at Diagon Alley, is all."

"A wrong turn?" The incredulity in her voice was palpable. "To where? A boxing ring?"

"Just drop it, Granger."

"I will not just drop it. Look--look at your face!" She closed the space between them. "Malfoy, please. What happened?"

He sighed and the rigidity of his shoulders softened. "I forgot, okay? I went to Flourish and Blotts to get you your bloody birthday gift and when I left, I ran into some adoring fans."

"What--"

"Our former school chums don't take kindly to my presence in Diagon Alley and, after our last little spat, I'd forgotten the warning they'd left me with." Malfoy's jaw tensed and he squinted up into the clouded sunlight. "They took it upon themselves to remind me."

Hermione balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Who?"

"It doesn't matter, Granger."

"Who?" She took a steadying breath. "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know. I vaguely recognized them from Hogwarts. It's fine."

It wasn't fine. It was categorically not fine. Malfoy was hardly the first of their class that had been on the wrong side of the war to be attacked. Harry had spent a significant amount of time trying to dispel such violent grudges and, to the best of her knowledge, it had been handled. Clearly, she was mistaken.

"We need to report this to the Ministry. Harry needs--"

"Absolutely fucking not." Malfoy gave her an indignant look. "The last person that needs to hear about this is Saint Potter."

"Malfoy, Harry's job is dealing with--"

"No, Granger. I said no."

"So what? Those nasty little insects just get to get away with it? No. I refuse. We didn't go to bloody war--"

"I was on the wrong side of that war, remember? So, yeah, we did go to war for this exact scenario to exist." He could see the lack of effect his words were having written across her face. "Granger. Please. I don't want this to become another of your crusades."

She reeled as if she'd been slapped. "Crusades?! Malfoy, it's about the injustice of it! You don't deserve to be attacked in the streets for something you did nearly ten years ago!"

"The court of public opinion begs to differ."

"Oh they'll beg alright," she snapped. At her genuine anger, his features softened and Malfoy gave her an unreadable look before looking away.

"You're such a fucking Gryffindor." He said it with an air of affection, though, and it helped to ground her back in the now.

"Thank you." Once more she placed her hand upon his bruised cheek and, to her surprise, he leaned into the touch. Her breathe caught in her lungs and she swallowed. "We--we should take care of that."

"It's just a simple spell. I'll handle it."

"No," she insisted and stepped away from him. "I will. It's the least I can do."

"This is hardly your fault."

"You went to Diagon Alley for me, remember?" She looked him up and down. "Speaking of..."

"I've been attacked and you're worrying over your stupid gift?" His tone was lighter than it had been since she'd ran into him.

"Of course I am. It's not everyday the evil Draco Malfoy buys you a gift." Hermione nodded to the Apparition point behind them. "Let's go."

"What about the Cafe? You can't honestly expect me to deny our Waitress her weekly opportunity to oogle at me." He gestured to his outfit: an expensive and perfectly tailored muggle suit that Hermione had forced him to buy after he showed up to their first meeting in robes.

"I've already been. It'd been weird to go back now. Besides, I think the bruise will overshadow your fancy slacks."

"Women like a man with scars."

She snorted. "It's hardly a battle scar, you git." when he gave her a pleading look, she rolled her eyes and looked around, to make sure they were alone. Satisfied with the lack of muggles, Hermione drew her wand and tapped it gently to his cheek. The static heat of magic bloomed between them and the ugly purple faded away, leaving his pale cheek unblemished once more. "There."

In the process of her healing, Malfoy had stepped completely into her personal space and the look he was giving her was heavy, deliberate.

"This isn't over, Malfoy. I'll find out who did this, with or without your help. They don't get to just attack you and get away with it."

"I'm hardly a weakling, Granger. I fought back."

"Good. It'll make them easier to identify."

"You're not going to let this go." It was not a question.

"No. I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because." She gave him a defiant look and he tipped her chin up with his hand. "You're my--"

"What? I'm your what?"

"Friend?"

"Is that all?" He was dangerous, but in a completely different way to the bully he'd been in their youth.

"That depends."

"On?"

"On what you got me for my birthday." She grinned and he laughed, pressing his forehead to hers a moment before pulling away and offering her his arm. She looped hers around it and let him steer them back in the direction of the Cafe.

After a lunch of finger sandwiches and tea, Malfoy finally handed her a perfectly wrapped gift that she immediately tore into. It was the latest book in a series on beasts that Rolf Scamander had been releasing, and it wasn't supposed to be out for another week.

"How did you get this?"

Malfoy shrugged, as if it was the least important thing in the world. "Money is an exceptionally good incentive."

"I love it. Thank you." She beamed at him and he cleared his throat as if it would distract her from the flush creeping up his neck.

"It's no big deal, Granger."

"To you maybe. It is to me. You know how I feel about birthday gifts." They both thought back to the spectacle she'd made of his back in June.

"I did fight for my life while I was out getting it." He grinned but the smile faded at the sharp look she gave him. "I'm joking, of course. Just a little fisticuffs, nothing serious."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I really am. You didn't have to go all the way to Diagon Alley for this."

"Sure I did."

"Just submitting your half of the report would be gift enough."

"Lucky for you I've done both. Besides, I'm sick of using that bloody report as an excuse to be around you." Hermione blinked, unable to process the weight of what he'd said. At the shock on her face, he shrugged again. "Come on, Granger. You can't possibly think I care about work this much."

"I--you--what?"

He leaned forward and captured her chin in his hand. "My fierce, naive little lion. You're horribly dense." Malfoy gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and pulled away. "Let's go before the Waitress gets jealous."

"But. What."

"I've rendered the great Hermione Granger speechless. I am truly magnificent." His laugh brought her to her senses and she launched herself across the table to kiss him.

"Sod the waitress."

She did, in the end, figure out who hurt him and in true Hermione Granger fashion, made them rue the day they laid hands upon someone she loves.

[gwynrielsupremacy]

one shot prompt -

gwyn at training, purposely being more affectionate towards his shadows than him because she knows he wants it so she's teasing him but also, why should he always get the attention?? and az being pouty because he's a simp and he knows it and he can't do anything about it in front of cass and rhys and he has to quietly be jealous the rest of training and watch his shadows hang with their mum because she's cooler.

Gwynriel One-Shot: "Shadows and Training"

So this is my first attempt at an one-shot, inspired by this ask @deardiarystuff sent me! Hope you like it <3 It was so much fun to write. Feel free to submit more prompts in my ask, and I'll check them out as soon as I can :)

“This is not funny.” Azriel muttered to himself, watching Gwyn as she smiled and played with his shadows, which couldn’t stop encircling her.

She likes us a lot, master. And we like her better.

He rolled his eyes at the ones still in his shoulders, crossing his arms against his chest.

“What’s not funny, brother?” Cassian had just approached him, following his gaze to the young priestess on the other side of the training ring, engulfed by a large part of his shadows. He snorted. “Wow. What are they all doing over there?”

“I could ask them the same.” He grunted in response.

“It seems to me your shadows are growing fonder of your mate than of you, Shadowsinger. And vice-versa, may I add.” Cassian switched his stare from the scarce tendrils behind his brother to the majority of Azriel’s mighty shadows hanging around Gwyn, creating a sort of cape around her as she exercised, focused on her movements. But that constant sly smile on her face was driving him insane. As if she knew exactly what it was doing to him.

It’s been no more than a year since they discovered about their mating bond, and since then, Azriel’s life gained a new meaning. It was months and months of getting to know each other, slowly solidifying that bond with each day and night they spent together. And it was the happiest Azriel had ever been. Even the rest of his family noticed it; the way he was easier around others, made more jokes and comments than he usually - well, than he ever - did. All because of Gwyn, and what loving and being truly loved and cherished by the one who was meant for you entailed; the way she was helping him through his darkness, just like he was helping her.

She is teasing you and enjoying it. Go talk to her.

And so he went over to where she stood, alone and panting after she finished one of her sets: “You might hurt yourself if you keep doing it like this.”

She turned her face to him, narrowing her eyes, her beautiful freckled face flushed from training. His shadows were still hovering around her, like a dark cloud. She raised her eyebrows, reading right through him. She wasn’t actually doing anything wrong. Her feet could be spread a little wider, but it wasn’t necessary to her stance. He was just blabbing anything so he could have her attention.

It started a few days ago. They were having dinner together, and then he said something particular that bothered her. An opinion about a book she liked and he didn’t. He couldn’t exactly remember it now, to be honest. She disagreed with him, and argued back. So they found themselves immersed in a discussion about plot lines and poorly developed characters, in their usual bantering. But when they were over, his shadows unexpectedly crossed the small distance between them and went to stay with her.

And then Gwyn started talking to them. Bragging - seeing the expression in Azriel’s face - about how her point made much more sense than his, a victorious smile spread across her face. She talked to them with such fondness he couldn’t help but feeling some kind of jealousy, as ridiculous and irrational as it sounded. His shadows were a part of him, and he was well aware of that fact, but even so.

The way he reacted that night, knitting his brows together and shaking his head slowly, with a slight pout, was enough for Gwyn to notice the effect it had on him; and then she burst into a fit of laughter, her melodic voice easing him almost immediately, and leaned over to give him a soft kiss. And that was all it took for him to keep repeating his reaction every time that interaction happened again. Just like it was now.

“How come, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn teased, returning to her stance. Waiting, he could see, for him to correct her. And knowing for a fact she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“You could open up your feet a bit more, to improve your posture and give you more balance.”

“I thought my balance was quite well as it was, like you mentioned yesterday.” She turned her head away from him, preparing herself.

Azriel grunted, to which she smirked playfully.

“You know” She kept staring ahead of her, and swiftly twirled her body to bust a kick in the air “It’s not necessary for you to be jealous of me. After all, your shadows are bound to you; it’s not like I could go on and actually steal them.”

We would be happy to test this possibility.

He ignored his shadows, quietly admiring her quick and clean movements as she kicked the air again and again, huffing with each strike.

“Unless…” She trailed off, finishing her set and facing him at last, bracing her hands on her hips and lifting an eyebrow “Unless you’re not jealous of me with your shadows, but of your shadows with me.”

Azriel couldn’t help it, then. Mother, he was so fascinated by her; that challenging look when she assessed him, her clearly amused smile and that twinkle in her teal eyes. Her constellations shining bright with sunlight and sweat, making her face a sky he would happily look up at for the rest of his nights.

“I’m not jealous, Berdara.” He declared, in a low tone.

She nodded delightedly, eyes narrowing. “So you wouldn’t mind if I kept them for now, then? We’re having so much fun together”

He watched as she smiled charmingly at his shadows hovering around her, embracing her shoulders and hips and arms, and then stared deep into his eyes. All he could do was shake his head half-heartedly, in a quiet act of defeat, knowing full well he should let her get back to training.

Before he turned to leave, though, she grabbed his arm, and with a graceful movement she leaned on her toes and kissed him lightly. Quickly, because well, there was still an audience around them – Cassian and Nesta included, whom Azriel could practically feel the stare from across the room – but enough for him to close his eyes and savor her lips, breathing in her scent. Their kisses, they took his breath away ever since the first one, hesitant and soft. And Azriel had a joyous feeling it would always feel like this.

“Thank you” She whispered cheekily and winked when they parted, face mere inches away from his.

He couldn’t help but smile then, the grin that was only meant for Gwyn. After all, she was the reason that made him remember how to do it once again. He was still grinning when he turned away to join Cassian, and it spread as Gwyn hummed a gleeful “’love you!” at him.

When he stood by his brother’s side he was greeted with a laugh from the General, who scanned him from head to toe.

“Damn, brother, you’re such a…”

“I know.” He interrupted, never taking his eyes away from his mate and his shadows as she resumed her practice. “I’m a fool for her.”

And he didn't mind.

No, he didn't mind one bit.

[tth-pdf]

Burning for love; JJK [02]

Contents: Smut, like a little heavy, but just a little, this just started, dirty talk, supernatural, romance, fluff and another painfully unedited chapter.

Pairing: Werewolf!alpha!jungkook x Omega!reader

Summary: A handsome man is hunting you in the dreams world, making every day more difficult to repress the need to come and find him in the middle of the night to submit yourself to his every wish.

Requests: ON

A/N: Hello little ones, I’m really sorry about this chapter because don’t know if this is what you were waiting for but mainly for the time that I promised before but it actually took me more than I thought and this is a tiny bit longer than what I was used to, so hope this makes something for you, thank you for reading! 😭😭😔😔🥺🥺💖💖

Jungkook wasn’t feeling himself that day and the fact that he did’t really knew what was happening with his mind was not really great, all that plus that attitude of yours adopted after knowing the truth behind the bond between your (by that time) unknown mate, so after that one and only night that you let him have you for himself and just himself he knew that he would never had enough of you. Ever since he was just a little pup learning how to shift, watching you so timid, behind your mom’s legs, smaller in size than him and afraid that you wouldn’t be able to have friends, but in fact every single one of the pups around you wanted to be your friend, your glow was just like that, so attracting even as a kid but sometimes you were a little overwhelmed with the attention, almost on the verge of tears, even at that time, being so little old he would feel the need to drop everything he was doing and just held you, maybe a little kiss on the cheek, but just with you, he would cringe if he had to kiss other girls cheek, he wanted to protect you. So his mother knew before himself, and she would just watch with heart eyes, eventually she would explain to him the paths that the moon weaves on her own to reunite two souls destined to be one, and he thought he was dreaming, but he had to wait, until you were ready. You were always good friends, not too close since you were still too shy, just enough to let him scent you every now and then, let him walk you home and even held your hand in the way to end with just a tiny hug but he started to grow up and since he was two years older than you he presented as an alpha first, he had to learn what a heat was, the pain of being incapable of touching you and showing you how much he wanted to spend his life with you, the pain that caused by having you so close but so far away. His mother and father were watching with concern and living the difficulties with him, everything was tolerable until Jungkook turned eighteen, his wolf becoming stronger and more demanding, clawing at him to come and get you but a little part of his brain reminded him that you were only sixteen and not prepared yet, so his parents, with the intention of distracting his mind sent him away to a camp were other future pack leaders trained to make the best of their abilities and it actually worked, but when he was back, a year and a half later, you being a young lady with new fucking aromas, it felt like you were a damn drug, your hormones changed and you were almost ready, but he couldn’t do anything about his desire so he walked away from you and you thought that he hated you, that somehow he changed his mind about you all this time by himself but boy, you couldn’t be more wrong. You tried, you really tried, tried to forget about how he scented you, kept an eye on you in case you would need help, little gazes around, expressing something without the need of words, tried to forget his puppy eyes and that pretty smile of his, not even mentioning the protective bubble that somehow he manages to create for you, but when you thought that every little detail was finally out of your mind your omega blood kicked you in the ribs and the dreams started to come and go, your mind understanding all the feelings that you had with him, but you didn’t wanted it that way, you wanted to be paired with someone simple, just like you, not really wanting to be the center of attention and being with Jungkook just meant getting hateful glances from the pretty omegas around, Jungkook was wanted in more that one way and transporting both of your thoughts to right now, this moment, you wrapped around his hard body as if your life depended on it, reminded you that after all you would be the one he held at the end of the day, always.

It’s to this point that you don’t have idea how both of you ended in what you supposed is his room or at least a place where he spends a lot of time, judging only by the incredible and strong scent of him everywhere.

“Don’t worry my pretty angel, I built this place just for you. I knew since the very first moment I laid eyes on you that you will be mine and a good alpha is the one who takes good care of his omega, right?”

If your mind was gone before now you feel like floating, but at the same time all that’s in your mind is him, him, him and him alone.

He’s caressing your cheek while he’s talking, the timbre of his voice like silk hugging your sense of hearing, your sense of touch screaming for you to past your fingertips between his silky hair strands and to trace his lips, your sense of taste aching to know every single one of his flavors and your sense of smell… Oh hell, that blessing of a powerful sense of smell, sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse, but right now there’s nothing more pleasant for the omega blood running through your veins than that, you wish you could melt with him, right now you feel like its not enough, even with you straddling him, nose buried deep in his scent gland and rubbing yourself on him.

“Pretty girl is having a hard time, isn’t she, where do you want me to touch, huh, honey?”

You couldn’t wait any longer so instantly after he finished that words your hand took his to tease yourself a little, closed eyes while you traveled his hand in the middle of your chest, down your tummy and finally over your hot and aching center.

“Gods above, I swear I can smell every little detail, have I triggered your rut sweet baby?”

You felt like simple jello between the fingers of your seductive lover.

“You want me to rub you over all this layers of clothes, don’t you want me to use my mouth on this glorious cunt of yours, knock you up with a healthy litter of pups, with this amazing tits to drink from, gods, such a dream for your alpha”

There wasn’t any rational thoughts in your mind right now, everything was kind of too much, the roughness of the sheets under both of you, the roughness of his fingers, everything was too hot.

“You made me wait so long for you. My little omega does not have idea of the pain I used to feel just by seeing you smile and blush, felt like a sin to me, smelling like one too”

By the time he’s saying that he was changing positions kneeling you right in front of his pretty thighs.

“I’m really sorry for you puppy, but you will have to wait just like me back then”

You were slightly confused, since your mind was all over your man and suddenly losing his warm touch when he kneel you before him.

“Touch me now little one, touch me with that silky hands, put that pretty mouth of yours on me”

You were gone again, you have never sucked someone off but you were entirely being guided by the heat of the moment and natural instincts.

“Pull me out of the pants angel”

You did as you were commanded, a pretty long length was released in front of your eyes, making you salivate just at the mere view, flushed and veiny, definitely pretty.

“What should I…”

Jungkook could only smile at you with that beautiful glint in the eyes, possessiveness.

“Lick me sweet angel, as if I was your favorite sweet”

Once again you obeyed the orders of your alpha, licking a stripe up his pretty cock just to add a little suck to the dripping head, making him release a loud moan, hands instantly grabbing your hair and guiding your head up and down.

“So good baby, such a good girl, little obedient bitch for the one who owns you, suck a little harder baby, not gonna break”

You did it and he let his head fall back, letting you see his neck, his Adam’s apple bob, more veins appearing in his perfect skin but what caught your eye was a single and simple little place, where you knew he had his scent glands, your little heaven in other words, guided just by the thought of it your canines started to grow in size, wanted to mark what was by the law of the moon yours, but snapped back to reality when you heard him hiss in pain, making him met you worry eyes.

“Hey little one, careful there, it hurst a little bad if you use that fierce canines, you will get what you want if I think you deserve that, so work hard”

His eyes were telling you to behave and to keep going so you attached your lips once more to the head of his length licking and sucking what he had to offer for you, taking little breaks to just breathe a little deeper, only for him to grab again your head and stuffed your mouth full, rough and encouraging him to just go deeper, choking you.

“That’s right sweet angel, choke on that cock, hurt a little that throat of yours just for tomorrow to remember that your big bad aloha did it”

He was loosing himself a little too quickly without giving you nothing, so he separated you from his core, watching with love and lustful eyes the way his cock was connected to your lips by a mixture of his precum and your saliva.

“Bring yourself over here precious thing and let me have a taste of you”

Legs guided purely by the desire burning inside your body, not even thinking twice and throwing yourself in the mattress , imagining already the worship of your beloved mate, shyness suddenly hitting you hard and attempting to close your legs and hide your burning core from hungry eyes.

“Come on sweet girl, don’t be so shy when seconds ago you were all over my cock, I will show you exactly how perfect I am for you so you don’t have that stupid ideas again, of giving yourself to another wolf, even knowing that you will always end up in my arms.”

You frown, taken aback by the little sentence at the end.

“How did you…?”

You were a little surprised that he somehow found out that little comment you have made to one of your closest friends, you had made it without thinking, full of anger after you found out who was you alpha.

“You thought that I would never now?, that little comment that made want to rip every throat in my way, especially the one of that little weak alpha you compared me with…He would never have a female like you, only because you are mine, mine and mine alone, remember that we are connected honey, anywhere you go my senses will be right behind you, that’s a little of how much you drive me crazy and you have to always remember that the moon never makes mistakes”

After that sentence he buried his head deep between your legs, licking a long stripe in that delicate and most intimate part of your body making you look up at the ceiling and letting out the most lustful moan in your short life but the fact that you wasn’t looking right at him while he ate you out with all the love and the possessiveness in the world made him mad enough to suck harder and harder on the sensitive bundle of nerves situated right in the center of your core, taking out of you a little groan of pain, not being prepared for his rough teeth and tongue.

“Look at me my sweet angel, why don’t you want to see your alpha praised your body, watch me prepare you to be the mother of my pups, oh yes honey I know you would raise them well, gods above, our pack will see you so pretty with a big baby bump and smelling of me everywhere”

And at this point you wanted everything he wanted, he was yours and you were his, his desires and dreams were also yours, wherever he went you would be right by his side, expecting to fill any need that he might have, as soon as he bruised your skin with that fangs of his, marking you for life, there will be no return.

Tag list: @min-nicoleee, @in-a-way-that-i-should-not, @imluckybitches, @teresaisla.

Next update: ?

All rights reserved.

[yn-ymn-yln]

Can i request a klaus mikaelson x reader where the reader is in hayleys place… a pregnant wolf but in the end klaus and her fall in love?

Okay lovie I got pretty carried away with this so it's kinda long... but thank you for the request! I hope you like it!

Clarification

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

*I didn't want to copy the show verbatim so I basically made this completely different from what happens to Hayley I hope that's okay!*

“Nik I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!”

“LIAR!” The pain in his voice has you recoiling. How had things gotten so fucked up?

“I swear, I love you! Please stop!” The hybrid’s furious gaze turns to your father who challenges him for what you all know is the last time.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” Your father’s corpse drops unceremoniously to the ground within seconds. You can’t take your eyes off of the man that had raised you, tears slipping down your face.

“Remember this day Y/f/n Y/l/n. This is what happens when you betray the original hybrid.”

Three years ago, to the day Klaus Mikaelson had slaughtered every remaining blood relative of your pack right before your eyes, leaving you the sole survivor of his man-made massacre.

Standing at the entrance to the compound you hoped today would go smoother than that day had all those years ago.

Klaus didn’t speak after you’d said your piece. Letting the shared history between the two of you cloud his judgement he’s on you in a second. His hand is wrapped around your throat, pinning you to the wall before you even have the chance to react. Instantly your own hands fly to his wrists pulling harshly to try and free yourself and continue the conversation without conflict.

Klaus doesn’t let up though. His grip gets tighter with each passing second. As his eyes begin to glow, the veins beneath them appear in a show of dominance.

Problem was, you were never one to back down from a challenge.

Growling lowly, you refuse to submit to the hybrid before you. With all rational thoughts out the window you sink your teeth into the arm of the man holding you. His unrelenting choke hold falters offering you your only chance to slip free. You push past him and take shelter behind his oldest living brother.

“Please do tell, what exactly is going on here?” Ever the noble gentleman, Elijah tries to diffuse the rather abrupt display of aggression.

“I’m pregnant.” The words fall past your lips without warning. Elijah didn’t know who you were, none of the Mikaelson’s did except for Klaus.

“Pardon?” Turning towards you, you can already see the look of disbelief color his features.

“She’s a liar! I’LL KILL HER!” The threat did little to scare you off. If he had really wanted you dead, he would have killed you three years ago when he had the chance.

“I’m not lying and we both fucking know it!” Lunging at you Klaus tries to maneuver around Elijah only to be stopped with a hand to his chest.

“I think that’s quite enough. What is your name?” He addresses the hybrid, then you.

“Y/n.”

“I find it hard to believe a woman I’ve never met harbors the child of my brother.” You chuckle humorlessly then.

“I do know him, have for years. He just doesn’t want you to know that.” Admittedly you had wounded more than Klaus’ pride when things had gone south between the two of you.

“Niklaus?” Elijah gives his younger brother a look that reads don’t fucking try lying to me. He doesn’t offer Elijah an explanation, opting instead to leave the room in a huff.

“I know this isn’t ideal, but I promise it’s his.”

“Very well, make yourself comfortable, we’ll find a witch in the morning.” You don’t ask him to elaborate, you knew they all needed proof, he needed proof. Without a word more you trudge up the stairs, Elijah following closely behind you. “If you’re lying about this, I’ll rip your heart out myself, you have my word.” hastily leaving the room you both had entered, he quietly shuts the door behind him.

There was nothing left to do now but wait.

Klaus Mikaelson should have been the last person you wanted to see. The remaining hatred you had for him should have been simmering but it wasn’t. You had never gotten a proper goodbye from the man that had stolen your heart. Your alcohol fogged mind told you there was no better time for a good bye than right now, and what better way to say it then to fall into the bed of the man you had once loved?

Klaus had eyed you suspiciously, his heart locked behind the walls he had built that fateful day.

You hadn’t even spoken, words had never been your winning feature. You had grabbed him by the collar pressing your lips to his.

It was heaven

He didn’t ask questions, choosing instead to lead you out of the bar hand in hand to the only safe place he knew.

His bed.

The months that had followed had been nothing short of chaotic. The witches of New Orleans had “officially” confirmed that you were in fact carrying the child of Klaus Mikaelson. He had taken the news rather poorly. Disappearing for weeks before finally surfacing at the compound again. Though he had returned, his icy demeanor towards you had stayed ever present. So, you kept as far away from him as you could. Until you didn’t.

You had been passing his study when the door had opened quickly causing you to stumble. You were sure your face was about to become very acquainted with the hardwood floor of the hall way when a pair of strong arms hand wrapped around your waist. You hadn’t meant to grip his wrist desperately, one hand flying to your barely showing baby bump.

“Your alright, I’ve got you.” His sentence was clipped, but that had been the most he had said to you since you stepped foot in the compound all those weeks ago.

“Thank you.” You’re not sure what had possessed you to bury your face in his chest but the warmth and comfort was worth the ire you were about to face. You’re surprised to look up and see him peering at you through confused eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t- It won’t happen again.” You leave before he has the chance to yell.

After your bout of clumsiness Klaus had laid off his harsh temper with you. You were sure it had been Elijah’s doing, probably some speech about stress being bad for the baby, but you didn’t mind. The somewhat calm atmosphere had brightened your mood considerably and gave you the tiniest shred of hope that maybe this wouldn’t be such a nightmare.

“ELIJAH!!!” You had never seen a thousand-year-old vampire move so fast in your life.

“What is it?! What’s wrong?!” His panic laced tone has a sheepish smile spreading on your face before you feel the tiny flutter again. Grabbing the originals hand, you place it on your stomach and wait.

“Come on little bean, you can do it.” The look of utter surprise that spreads across his face as a tiny thump reaches his hand is priceless.

“KLAUS COME HERE!” Elijah doesn’t move his hand, the wonder of human life making his undead heart melt. Klaus rushes into the room in much the same manor, the only difference being the glowing eyes and raised fist.

“Come feel!” You don’t hesitate to place his hand over your ever moving child. Elijah leaves the room then, wanting to give you and the father of said child a moment. “Do you feel it? Feel her?” A small smile spreads across the hybrids face his hand pressing slightly harder to the fading kick.

“I do. It’s amazing.” Silence fell upon the two of you, with it your doubts grew.

“What if I can’t do this?” The vulnerability in your words has Klaus looking at you in shock. He had never seen you so unsure of yourself.

“You can love, you are going to be a great mother.”

“No, I’m not, this baby is screwed and we both know it. Fuck, you can’t even look at me half the time. What kind of a family is she going to have?”

“This family isn’t perfect but it’s hers.” His words do little to comfort the growing fear inside your heart.

“I wish my dad was here.” The sob that rips from your throat is deafening, not for the first time Klaus wishes things had happened differently between the two of you.

“I’m sorry love.” You don’t let him finish, far too hormonal to not hug the father of your bastard kid. Klaus holds you tightly letting you release the built-up emotion, kissing your forehead every so often. “We will get through this, I promise.” Nodding your head, you stay firmly planted against the hybrid’s chest.

You hope he’s right.

Things weren’t perfect between you and Klaus, but with each passing day you saw the tension leave his shoulders and felt your anger slip through the cracks.

You loved him. It was simple, but none of it mattered if he didn’t love you back.

Sitting on the couch watching T.V. you traced patterns onto your stomach, mindlessly humming a melody that lived rent free in your mind. Klaus made his way into the living room, lifting your feet before placing them in his lap.

“What are you watching love?” The nickname had become a staple in the conversations between the two of you as of late.

“I’m not sure, I’m not really paying attention.”

“Why? Are you feeling alright?” Rubbing his hand up and down your leg you watch the man before you. Things had been so corrupt between you both, at one point you were sure you could never go back. Now though? You weren’t sure what to believe.

Nodding lightly, you try to defuse his worry.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Us.” The word hangs heavily in the air.

“What about us?” Inhaling a lengthy breath, you burst the perfect bubble you had been living in.

“I’m in love with you.” Klaus pauses his movement on your leg shifting his gaze to stare into yours.

“What?”

“I know a lot of shit happened between us Nik, and I know you don’t trust me but I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped. I know you might not feel the same” Your sentence is cut short by the hybrids lips connecting with your own.

“I thought I would never hear you say that again.” Closing the gap again, you press your forehead to his.

“We both made mistakes. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”

“I forgave you a long time ago.” At his words you feel the moisture begin to pool in the corner of your eyes.

“Me too.”

The love you and the hybrid shared had never faded, you both just needed a little clarification to see it.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

[drwcn]

《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 9 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj [Master List], you should also have read [6] [6.2]

Lan Qiren coming to visit Hanguang-fu effectively put an end to Wei Wuxian's time as Lan Wangji's servant. He wanted to send Wei Wuxian back to Jiang-fu, but luckily, Jiang Yanli interfered.

Jiang Yanli has been slowly recovering since her drug-induced miscarriage, and while Wei Wuxian had slowed her progress with sedatives, he's been careful to keep an eye on her intake to make sure Jin Ziyan hasn't been messing with her again. As well, with Wei Wuxian occupying Lan Wangji's time and keeping the Jiang family in his good graces, Jiang Yanli had the time she needed to recover fully without needing to push herself to entertain Lan Wangji for favour.

“妾身见过太师，给太师请安。” “阿离啊，听说你小产后一直身体不好，这下着雨，你怎么来了。起身吧, 孩子。” “承蒙太师与陛下惦记，殿下垂怜，阿离的身子已经大好了。阿羡本是妾身院里的，是妾身的陪嫁，一直都安分守己，对王府对殿下忠心不二。是妾身无用，身子一直不见好才让阿羡到王爷身边侍奉。刚见阿羡被太师训斥，相比是阿离平日里管教无方，无心顶撞了太师。有什么过错，都是妾身的错，还请太师责罚。” ~translate~ Jiang Yanli dipped into a proper curtsey, kneeling before Lan Qiren, "This humble concubine greets Taishi. I pray that you've been well." "A-Li, I've heard that you've not been well since your miscarriage. It's raining today, what troubled you to come? Rise, child." Lan Qiren's stance softened upon seeing Jiang Yanli. His late sister-in-law had no daughters, and so often summoned the daughters of nobles into court to dote on and mentor as her own. Jiang Yanli, gentle and proper, has long been known to be a favorite of the late empress. She may not be the greatest beauty in her generation, but was second to none when it came to etiquette and grace. "Thanks be to His Majesty and taishi for remembering, and thanks to dianxia's for his care, my health is much improved now. A-Xian was once a member of my court, my peijia. I've always known him to be obedient and conscious of his place, and loyal to wangye and this princely manor. It is only on account of my poor health that he's been summoned to serve at wangye's side. Earlier, I heard Taishi chastising him; surely it must be A-Li's fault for failing to teaching him propriety and thus causing his unintended offence. The fault is with A-Li, and so I humbly submit myself to your discipline, taishi." Lan Qiren sighed. He did not wish to stir up trouble over a servant. If Jiang Yanli was willing to stand up for this Wei Wuxian, then he must have his uses. At the very least, he'll be a confidant for Jiang Yanli against Jin Ziyan. Lan Qiren so hoped that one day Wangji would choose the Jiang girl as his legal spouse and secure his marriage once and for all. If sparing one lowly servant was the price then so be it. "Very well, A-Li. Since the servant is yours, then his training and discipline shall be your responsible. He is unsuited to serve at the prince's side. It is good that you have recovered; Wangji should not be without a caring partner."

And so, Wei Wuxian returned to Jiang Yanli's side as a servant. Lan Wangji had to watch him go and could not interfere. The next several days was depressing for both of them on multiple fronts.

Xue Yang was very unimpressed:

"So you're tell me that you got to spend quality time with Lan Wangji for months and then... didn't get anywhere?" "I was getting there okay? How was I supposed to know his stupid uncle was gonna barge in like some nosey busybody and ruin everything!? I haven't seen Lan Zhan in days..." I miss him. How horrifyingly embarrassing. He probably forgot me already. "Don't tell me you actually miss him??? That you - barf - fell for him? Whatever happened to standards??!" "You watch your mouth, Xue Chengmei! I'm still your shixiong! And I have standards; Lan Zhan is...very good." Xue Yang: ( ˘︹˘ ) whatever.

Lan Wangji, the sulky boy that he is, brooded for days until Lan Xichen finally sought him out for some good ol' brotherly heart to heart.

"I hear Uncle took away your shiny new toy." "Wei Ying is not a toy." "Wei Ying is it?" Lan Xichen wiggled his eyebrows. "Ah, didi, you have to think a little more creatively. So your Wei Ying has gone back to his mistress, but is his mistress not your concubine? Jiang-furen is still unpregnant, I might add. Visit her. Then surely you'll get to see him." Lan Wangji grimaced. The thought has occurred to him, but the idea of bedding anyone not Wei Ying is intolerable. "Yes, Yanli is lovely, but I'd rather not...you know..." His brother was too polite to roll his eyes. "You've done it before, Wangji." "I would not have had to, if xiongzhang simply did his duty." Lan Wangji bit back icily, and instantly regretted it. Lan Xichen's eyes widened, his cheerful-teasing expression stuttering and crumbling in seconds. "Yes...yes that's true." "My sincerest apologies, huangxiong - no - bixia." Lan Wangji rose to his feet and then bowed down deeply. "I forgot my place. I accept any punishment." Lan Xichen sighed and extended a forgiving hand to pardon him. "Not necessary, Wangji. You're right. I haven't done my duty for Gusu." He pulled the younger man to sit beside him again. "You are doing this in my stead, stepping up where I have let the country down. I should not make light of your sacrifice. The matter of a harem is inevitably complicated, which is why I never cared for one. Neither did Father. His harem had always been sparse, and his first empress was not one of his choosing. When she died in childbirth and our unborn sibling along with her, he elevated our mother's rank to Empress and visited no one else henceforth." "Mother was never popular with the ministers for that reason." "Yes. They suspected that she had something to do with...well, in any case I imagine they were quite relieved when she passed." Lan Xichen shook his head. "The harem is not a happy place, Wangji. You were born after Mother was already Empress, you would not have remembered a time when she was consort. But I do. Like you, your concubines did not get to choose their fate. The fault, ultimately, lies with me." "Huangxiong -" "It's true, Wangji. The fault is mine." Lan Xichen patted him on the arm placatingly. "You cannot love them, and clever as they are, I don't think your concubines would expect you to. However, you can ensure their happiness in other ways. Jiang-furen seems the kind to very much want a child of her own. It will make the rest of her life in your harem more bearable."

After some deliberation, Lan Wangji went back to his routine of visiting different concubines regularly, but never more than just sharing a bed-space. With the exception of Jiang Yanli. Lan Wangji could see it in her eyes; she knew who he really wanted, but those words never needed to be said aloud. Jiang Yanli was kind to him, and he was kind to her in return. All things considered, it wasn't awful being with someone who wasn't your preferred, but who knew you for yourself and shared your struggles.

"Dianxia, you must've heard, that before I married into your wangfu, I was betrothed to Jin Zixuan." She mentioned one evening over a game of weiqi. Of all his concubines (which he has 4) and friends (which he has few), Jiang Yanli's skill on the weiqi board was unparalleled. Lan Wangji half wondered how the Marquis and Marchioness of Yunmeng could have buried this talented daughter of theirs under the shadow of their son for so many years. "Yes I am aware." "I loved him." "...." For a minute Lan Wangji did not know how to reply. He stared at the chessboard. Jiang Yanli's black pieces had surrounded his white ones and forced them into a corner. "Why are you telling me this?" "Your court, my clan: we are their creatures." Jiang Yanli 's smile was knowing. "I am not A-Xian; I can see what he cannot." "Which is?" "You've fallen for each other. Completely. He denies it, heaven knows why." Jiang Yanli took a delicate sip of tea. Fleetingly, Lan Wangji imagined that if he could not have Wei Ying, if he were forced to take a legal wife to make empress, that she would make a magnificent one. "Father loved Mother. Loved her as a wife even when she was only a consort -" "And his love spurred the hate of the royal court." "They blamed her for his loving a woman more than his country, as though she should have persuaded him to love her less. I do not want the same to happen to Wei Ying." "Nor I." "Huangshu says I would need a legal spouse one day, someone virtuous and from a strong pureblood family." "Is that what dianxia wants?" "I want it to be Wei Ying, though I know it to be impossible. Barring that, I'd want to keep him safe in the harem, the size of which will only grow after I succeed the throne." "For that, dianxia will need a spouse who will reign over the harem as you rule over the country." Lan Wangji contemplated his choices and the options available to him. After some time, he placed the white piece he fiddled between his fingers back into the bamboo bowl, conceding that he'd lost this round. Jiang Yanli waited patiently for him to come to terms with the offer she already knew he would make. He wondered how long ago she had foreseen this moment, whilst simultaneously realizing that if his uncle had any idea just how intelligent she truly was, he would not be so quick to suggest her as a candidate for princess consort. A weak emperor and a strong empress never boded well for the stability of the realm. This was dangerous waters Lan Wangji was wading into, but he knew beyond doubt that the only way to survive was to keep straight ahead. He had no other path to take, none which maximally balanced what he wanted with what he needed. Jiang Yanli was his only solution, his only ally. "Huangxiong suggested that we have a child together." He finally said, staring her squarely in the eyes. "You and I can agree that the son of Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang would certainly be a strong contender amongst his brothers." "She could be a daughter." "Then I'd cherish her more. A child and a crown - would they make you happy, Yanli?" "If I said yes?" "Then they're yours." Jiang Yanli smiled.

Two months after Wei Wuxian was dismissed from Lan Wangji's service and the prince began visiting Jiang Yanli, good new was delivered to Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. The message was this: Hanguang-wang's Jiang-furen was with child yet again.

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 2: Fire

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You wake up somewhere strange *again*. This time your underground and greeted by Liu Kang. For some reason you trust him, but why?

A/N: Have I mentioned I’m a huge fan of the slow burn? Whoops. I’ll let you guys know when the paths are branching between Lao/Liu. Thanks for reading and hope you keep enjoying! Also, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

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Warm flames flickered off brown-gray stone walls. Other than the burning flame to your right, the room was small and dark. There was no door and you could hear movement somewhere beyond its opening. I’m underground, you thought. The air smelled musty and it was so dry that your nose burned. Underground and maybe in the desert. You closed your eyes again quickly.

In your mind’s eye you pictured the small purple flower Kung Lao had given you in your youth. Frail and rare. Many flowers had grown in your hometown but purple had been a new and exotic color. You’d always been fond of it afterward. You’d never gotten the chance to tell Kung Lao that. For a time you had kept it pressed between the pages of your favorite book as a memorial to the boy who had been your best friend. You hadn’t thought about the flower in years. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him.

The details of what happened were fuzzy. You remembered the fight in your shop and remembered waking up to the face of Kung Lao. It was still insane to think that the boy you’d thought dead was, in fact, alive and in good health. It was even crazier to think that he’d been the one to save you from the fire in your shop.

You shook away the memory lest it return you to the darkness of unconsciousness.

You were, again, in an unfamiliar bed but things were vastly different. You’d been cared for and changed into a modest dressing gown, judging by the soft but coarse material. This had likely been done by a health professional. You were certain that Kung Lao must have brought you somewhere to be helped. Then again, most hospitals you knew of weren’t underground and they certainly didn’t use these types of gowns. It wasn’t a hospital gown, more like the type of gown that would have been worn for bed in ages past. Long and thin, but warm. You pictured it off-white. The one you wore had no sleeves, most likely for ease of access since you’d been injured.

You had to decide if you should panic or not. If you looked around and saw a medical professional or Kung Lao then you would remain calm. If you didn’t then panic seemed the way to go. Opening your eyes again, you were relieved that the world didn’t spin and you weren’t nauseous. But there was no doctor and definitely no Kung Lao.

There was a different man in his place, unfamiliar, shorter in stature, his gaze focused on something other than you. He was dressed mostly in black, no sleeves (which seemed the fashion of this underground wherever), and a red sash tied around his middle. His demeanor was calm and quiet and in his left hand he clutched a string of prayer beads. His skin was dusted with soot or grease, you couldn’t tell. He looked as though he had been handling charcoal for hours. He was also surprisingly muscular.

And handsome. You wouldn’t deny that you’d admired him. His brow was knit with concern and as you shifted, he turned toward you. Brown eyes met yours with genuine concern and he held a hand up defensively. “Take it slow.” His voice was soothing but this was all too familiar.

A strange bed and a stranger next to it after having fallen unconscious. He was telling you how what to do and how to feel. Again. Not a chance! On the small table next to the head of the bed there was a bowl half-filled with water and some medical tools. The tool closest to you was a hook used for stitching up wounds. It wasn’t the best weapon but it was all you could reach. You sat upright quickly, snatched the hook, and moved far enough away from the stranger that you had room to breathe and could better gauge his intent and reactions.

But you had moved too quickly and suddenly there were ten of him as the room spun. You thought you might puke if he got any closer. That would get him away from you, probably better than the needle would. Much to your surprise, he laughed with the subtlest of smiles. The smile radiated more from his eyes amidst his worry than it did outwardly. “You’re surprisingly fast for someone who has been in and out of consciousness for over a week.”

“A… a week?” You stuttered and forced your vision to focus on the blurry version of him smiling in the middle. Thankfully, your brain obeyed and the room stopped spinning. He didn’t seem to pose you any threat. You could tell just by his smile. A smile that made him all the more handsome. The time that had passed was not important so you didn’t wait for an answer to your initial question. “Who are you? Where am I? And where is Kung Lao?” Those three things were at the top of your list now that you were thinking clearly. There were a hundred other questions you had about Mortal Kombat, the dragon mark on your back, and other realms but you figured those could come later. Dealing with the here and now; that was the right way to do it.

“I am Liu Kang.” He bowed his head, holding up his prayer beads as he did. “You are in Raiden’s Temple where the Order of Light gathers to protect Earthrealm. Kung Lao is off on an errand at Lord Raiden’s behest. I assure you that he did not wish to leave you but had little other choice.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you leaned against the cool stone behind you. Answers, finally. “I’m Y/N. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Kung Lao mentioned you would likely be defensive.” Liu Kang gestured to the bowl on the nightstand. “I have been caring for your wounds. I do not usually tend to the sick but I promised my cousin that I would see you were cared for.”

“Cousin?”

“Kung Lao. He is my brother. Not by blood but by bond.”

That was a relief. At least this complete stranger had a connection to the other near complete stranger that you’d met the last time you’d woken up in a strange place. Wait… hadn’t you gone blind? Setting the hook back down on the side table, you patted your face in search of a mark or wound that would have caused that. There was none. Liu Kang’s eyes were sparkling in amusement.

“The last thing I remember is losing my vision.” You explained.

“Yes, about that.” Liu Kang moved the hook back to its original place. “The men who attacked your shop were vicious and cruel warriors. They were gifted but squandered their gifts to satiate their greed, a thing that can never be sated. You did the world a favor by stopping them. However, the blades that wounded you were coated in a rare poison. It is lucky that Kung Lao found you and could bring you to us for treatment. The blindness was a temporary side effect of the poison.”

“Poison?” This was wild. That morning you’d been stocking your shop and had taught a class of ten-year-olds. Now you’d been attacked, killed a few men, and had been poisoned. Wild. You supposed, in reality, it had been over a week ago and not that morning. Whatever. You decided to take the blows as they came. Deal with the problems and insanity as it happened. It was the only way to keep a clear head.

“It took many days and much prayer but we bled the poison from your wounds. Now they should begin to heal.”

“I’m still stuck on the poison part of this story. Really? Who does that?”

“You must be very resilient, Miss Y/N. Even the mightiest of warriors poisoned so terribly would submit to death. You are a fighter.”

“Thanks… I think.”

Liu Kang bowed his head again respectfully. He was easy to talk to, you weren’t sure why. You’d been careful around Kung Lao but you found yourself immediately not careful around Liu Kang. There was an instant connection to him.

“I was ill as a child. It made me more resilient to sickness, perhaps.” You had been ill but it had been the kind of illness that parents sent their children away for, the kind where they couldn’t explain how their child saw or did things beyond their understanding. It had made you terribly sick and weak. Why were you telling him this? It’d slipped out of your mouth without permission from your lips.

“I have not met many who would credit childhood illness for their resilience.”

“Perhaps I’m more stubborn than most. I’ve been told I have thick skin. The kids would tease me for being different. I was told that I would never be strong. I would never catch up. Never be normal. I didn’t like that word, not even as a kid.”

“Which one?”

“Never.”

That subtle smile again. Damn, it was attractive.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed with an apologetic bow of your own. Your head spun and you mentally cursed your politeness. “I didn’t mean to say all that. It just slipped out.”

“It’s no problem. I would like you to continue your story if you would.”

“Only if you’re certain.”

“I assure you that I’m not merely being polite.” There was something genuine about his words, as if he considered them carefully before he spoke. Perhaps Kung Lao had warned him about you. Or perhaps he was just careful. Your first instinct had been to jump at them both. It was their every right to be defensive but you couldn’t be blamed either. “How did you overcome your illness?”

“I fought. I worked harder than most did just to be on the same level as everyone else. I grew out of my sickness with age and thanks to my hard work I became stronger than most. After that I dedicated my life to teaching others to become strong, to be more than the ‘never’ we’re told we’ll be.”

“Admirable.” Liu Kang seemed as relieved as you had been upon discovering he was not there to hurt you. Maybe he’d been worried about your intent too. “It is nice to have another worthy of their marking.”

“The dragon mark?”

“Yes.”

“About that…”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“Kung Lao said something about being chosen because of the mark but I’m guessing that the mark only came to me because I killed those men. Am I right? It had to belong to one of them. It’s less like I was chosen and more like… I stole it.”

“Yes. Did Kung Lao tell you? He said you wouldn’t understand.”

“I assume that he would have told me but then I went blind. As you can imagine, I no longer cared much about the mark after that.” You laughed and so did Liu Kang. His laugh was quiet and genuine. It made you smile far more than should have been allowed. His joy was as comforting as the flickering light of the candle on the side table. “I didn’t have the mark that morning. I can only assume that was when I got it. Weirder things have happened so it was as good a guess as any.”

“Your intuition is remarkable.”

“What happens next?”

“For now you heal.” Liu Kang gestured to your arms. The gauze wrapped around your forearms was stained with blood even though the dressings looked fresh. You didn’t feel any pain. Either you’d been given good drugs to deal or adrenaline was protecting you. “You are in no condition to begin training. Lord Raiden has been told about you. I am keeping him informed on your condition.”

“So, you’re my babysitter.”

“I prefer caretaker. But yes.”

“If it’s been a week and I’m still bleeding like this then I have a feeling it could take awhile to heal. Can I learn more in the meantime? About any of this? I don’t want to just sleep and sit around doing nothing. I don’t know anything about this place and I know very little about the Order of Light. And I definitely don’t know anything about this mark or Mortal Kombat.” Liu Kang seemed surprised, but pleasantly so, as if this were something he’d greatly desired to hear.

“You really want to learn more?” He smiled brightly. You nodded. “The masters have trained me for years in matters of Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm. I would be happy to teach you if you would allow me.”

“I would be delighted to have the company, Liu Kang.” You very much meant that.

“I have some work to do around the temple but we can start this evening.”

“Perfect.”

Next Chapter >>

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ Wooyoung- School President (Oneshot)

Genre: light angst, suggestive/steamy, high school au.

Pairing: SchoolPresident!Wooyoung x badgirl!reader

Warnings: none.

"Miss L/N, detention after school till 4 p.m." your chemistry teacher said, making you mentally groan. It was the last class of the day and you were dying to go home, but now you had to stay for an extra hour. All your classmates turned to look at you, but they weren't surprised. "You still haven't submitted the assignment."

"Can I just submit it tomorrow?" you asked in a bored tone.

"No, you were supposed to submit it a week ago," she said, gathering her stuff to leave the class. "Detention with Mrs. Hwang today." You heard people around you snicker. Well, fuck. Mrs. Hwang was the strictest teacher in school. Even you were scared of her despite your badass attitude.

You got up from your seat, leaving the classroom with an annoyed expression on your face.

"Detention again, Y/N?" your bestfriend asked as she made her way to you with your other friends.

You rolled your eyes. "Ms. Jang will never fucking let me live in peace. I'll see you guys tomorrow," you said, making your way to detention.

You were surprised to find the room empty. Usually, there would always be about three or five students. Since no one was here, you decided to ditch; you would skip school the next day so that your teachers will forget about it. You turned around to leave, but ended up bumping into someone, slightly startling yourself.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at your school president and heartthrob—also called 'senior's eye candy' at your school—Jung Wooyoung.

You had to admit, he was certainly the most handsome guy you've ever seen. Jung Wooyoung was absolutely perfect. Every girl wanted him and every guy wanted to be him. You were sure half your school tried to hit on him despite the fact that he has a girlfriend.

"Unfortunately, I'm here to make sure that you won't escape detention as Mrs. Hwang is busy, so take a seat," he said, moving around you to sit on a chair and taking a notebook out of his bag.

You always found Jung Wooyoung very interesting. Other guys like him—the nerdy ones—can't even talk to you, let alone look you in the eye. Jung Wooyoung was the complete opposite.

You sat on one of the chairs, immediately taking your phone out.

"You can't use your phone here," Wooyoung said, not looking up at you from his notebook. "Why don't you complete your assignment?"

You scoffed. "And if I don't? What are you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing," he said, looking at you. "It's not affecting me in any way, so I don't care. However, Ms. Jang is gonna fail you again if you don't submit your assignment."

You knew he was right. And that annoyed you; you really just wanted to shut his pretty mouth up.

"Whatever," you mumbled, taking out a notebook and the assignment sheet to start working on the reactions you had to write.

However, you were completely blank. You didn't know or understand a word given on the sheet. You bit your lip as you stared at the sheet, wondering what to do.

Finally, you took out your phone and googled all the reactions, easily finishing the assignment in less than half an hour.

"You know, you won't be able to copy during finals," Wooyoung said, closing his notebook. "Even if you're copying now, at least learn what you've copied."

"I didn't ask for your comments," you retort. He was about to say something, but his phone rang.

"Hey, baby," he answered. " . . . I'm in charge of detention today . . . Oh, that's okay," his face fell slightly. " . . . No, it's alright. We can go some other day . . . Hmm, I love you too. Bye!"

You snorted, feeling bad for the boy. You were surprised someone as smart as him hasn't figured out that his girlfriend has been cheating on him. You've seen his girlfriend shoving her tongue down random people in the club, and hitting on people at your school. You remembered how shocked you were when you first found out that she was cheating on him; because why would anyone cheat on someone as perfect as Jung Wooyoung?

"You can leave now," Wooyoung said, getting up from his seat. "Detention is over." You nodded, leaving as fast as you can, just wanting to go home and sleep.

"Your grades aren't very bad, but they aren't great either, Y/N," your class teacher said. "You'll get into an average college with these grades. But I know you can do much better. So I've asked one of the prefects to tutor you in Chemistry and Physics."

You groaned. "Can I do it by myself?"

"You wouldn't do it by yourself," she said. "Anyway, Jung Wooyoung will be tutoring you. Discuss and decide your timings with him. I expect you to score well on the next exam. I do not want to see you fail in any subject again." Before you could say anything, the door to the staff room opened, revealing none other than Jung Wooyoung. "Ah, Wooyoung, I just told Y/N that you will be tutoring her," she said. "I'm expecting you to do a great job."

Wooyoung smiled. "I won't let you down, Mrs. Park. But Y/N must put in efforts or else there's no point," he stated in a polite tone, and you rolled your eyes.

"Yes, that's true," she turned to look at you. "I'm expecting nothing but your best efforts, Y/N." She's always expecting something, huh, you thought. You only smiled, bowing politely.

"I'll do my best."

-

"What the actual fuck is this?" you mumbled, staring at the lengthy derivation written in Wooyoung's notebook. He rolled his eyes, so tired of hearing you say that to literally everything you saw written in his notebook.

"Ah, why did they have to make me tutor you of all people?" he whined. "You clearly haven't paid attention in class for even half a second."

"No one told you to accept it," you said, ignoring his last comment.

"I had to," he scoffed, stretching his arms out, making you glance at the veins on his arms. "Extra credits, you know?"

"Nerd," you muttered under your breath. He heard you, but didn't say anything. He began teaching you how to derive it; you paid attention for the first few seconds before zoning out. When you zoned back in, he asked you to explain what he just explained. You bit your lip, thinking of what to say.

He sighed. "You didn't pay attention again."

"I zoned out, sorry."

"That's what you said for the previous derivation," he said, a disappointed look on his face while he packed up his things.

"You're leaving already?" you asked, glancing at the time on your phone; you still had twenty minutes left.

"I'm not going to waste my time teaching you right now," he said. "You clearly aren't in the mood to focus." You only scoffed, watching him leave the library. You bit your lip, feeling kinda bad for not paying attention when he was making an effort to teach you.

The look of disappointment he showed you had somehow made you determined to prove that you could focus and do better.

You were at Wooyoung's house, sitting on his bed and scrolling through your social media while waiting for him to finish changing out of his uniform. You spent an entire two weeks studying your ass off, and you were proud you made a big improvement, thanks to Wooyoung. He was quite surprised that you were actually making an effort to understand whatever he taught you. You both even became friends, and you were quite happy about that.

"I'm done," he said, coming out of his bathroom, making you look up from your phone. You held your breath at the sight of Wooyoung dressed in grey sweatpants and a black tank top. You couldn't stop yourself from checking him out: the veins running down his muscled arms, his exposed collarbones, his sharp jawline, his plump lips . . .

You were so immersed into checking him out, you didn't realize he was doing the same to you. He loved how your uniform skirt rid up your thighs, and how another two buttons on your shirt were unbuttoned, exposing a little bit of your cleavage. Before you knew it, he was slowly making his way towards you, eyes now locked with yours.

"Let's start, hmm?" he said with a smirk; he knew you were checking him out.

You clear your throat a little. "Yeah, let's start."

You spent the next half an hour trying to pay attention to whatever Wooyoung was teaching you. It didn't help that he absentmindedly placed his hand on your knee, or brushed your hand with his; he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Your mind kept wandering to the things you want him to do to you right now on his bed.

" . . . and now you should tell me," he leaned a little close to you with a smirk, making your heartbeat speed up. "Which formula should be used?"

"Fuck this," you muttered, pushing the books aside before straddling Wooyoung's lap.

"Took you long enough," he chuckled, and you crashed your lips on his. He instantly kissed you back, hands moving to grip your waist. You wouldn't admit it to anyone, but you have been dreaming about kissing Wooyoung the second he talked back to you a year ago.

You pulled away to litter his neck in kisses, sucking the skin gently. He groaned softly, making you smirk. "Fan of neck kisses?"

"You have no idea," he said, hands moving underneath your skirt to grip your bare inner thighs. He gave it a squeeze, making you involuntarily grind down on him. He moaned at the feeling, encouraging you to do it again. You moved your lips back to his, grinding on him even more. Wooyoung's hands slipped into your panties, grabbing your ass to help you grind down on him faster. The friction made you moan, craving for more. You tugged on his shirt, breaking the kiss to let him pull it off. You ran your hand down his toned torso in awe, loving the feeling of his abs beneath your fingertips. Your eyes widened at the tattoo above his hip bone. "You have a tattoo?!"

Wooyoung gripped your hips, moving you off of him so that he could hover over you. "Mhmm, bet you never expected the nerdy school president to have a tattoo, huh?" Your hands moved to his hair, playing it with while he began to kiss your neck, driving you crazy.

Wooyoung kissed down your chest till where your shirt was unbuttoned. He glanced up at you, fingers toying with the buttons. "Can I?" he asked. You nodded, letting him unbutton your shirt and slip it off you. You sucked in a breath when he ran his fingers over the lacy material of your bra.

"Take it off," you whined, making him chuckle.

"Patience, baby," he said, one hand gently rubbing your thigh.

But you really didn't have any patience right now.

You brought his lips to yours while you moved his hand to touch you where you desperately needed him, surprising him a little. He kissed you back hungrily while his finger moved on your clothed clit, applying pressure, making you get wetter. Your moans made him smirk; he loved how he was the reason behind it.

You both got startled at the sudden sound of his garage opening. He halted his movements, pulling away from you instantly.

"One of my parents is back from work," he said, quickly putting on his tank top and handing you your uniform shirt. You quickly buttoned it and straightened out your hair; you really did not want Wooyoung's strict parents to suspect anything since they already did not like the idea of him tutoring you in his final year of high school.

Wooyoung's father knocked on his bedroom door before opening it, finding you and Wooyoung busy writing equations.

"Oh, hey, dad! How was work?" Wooyoung asked with a sweet, innocent smile like as if he wasn't smirking a few minutes ago while touching you.

"Hello, Mr. Jung," you said politely.

"Hello, Y/N," he said. "Work was all right, as usual. How is your tutoring session going?"

"Good, dad," Wooyoung said, trying to control himself from smirking. "It's going really great."

[nekojuro]

Hello there :) I really LOVED your asl brothers headcanons + the fluffy sabo one

So we know the majority of the fandom headcanons Sabo as a not really jealous type of bf, but what if when he DOES get jealous, its quite a mess ? May I please request an angsty headcanon of this with a fluffy ending ? Female!S/O please,

Thank u ❤

hello, thank you for the request! y'all really love sabo and im in for it, as you should! im not really fond of making angst because i can't take myself seriously but i tried my best with my own version and I'm sorry if it's nothing like you requested. also, I can't imagine sabo in an angsty headcanon but feedbacks are highly appreciated! hope you enjoy it! genre: sfw | v light angst - fluff warning(s): f!reader, modern-day timeline note: not proofread and a really long one so I'm gonna call it a one-shot with headcanon format

JEALOUS SABO ONESHOT

as we all know, sabo is caring and patient. that being said, he doesn't really care about other people and respects those people around you. he's v rational and doesn't mind much those guys who have hots for you.

unless the same guy kept on hitting on you and gets under his skin while he's in a not-so-nice mood, all hell breaks loose.

okay, it's so rare for him to get jealous but when he does, you get lowkey intimidated and scared.

he's the silent treatment type of jealousy, he won't even look at you and let you touch him. he'll be so distant but will expect you to cling unto him and if you don't? he'll get sulky and impatient, he won't be able to stay still istg

he calms down with your scent tho

you know that well and the last time you had this issue was around half a year ago

because you're a dumb bitch who's too oblivious for your own good, it happened again.

sabo is waiting for you at his apartment and since you decided to go on a date tomorrow, you'll be spending a night there since sabo had been whining for the lack of time you've been together for this whole month. unfortunately, you're late because there was a company dinner and you forgot to text him that you'll be late since you thought it won't take an hour but here we are.

god, I'm so stupid! you thought

a co-worker offered to give you a ride home which you didn't refuse because of course, you want to be home as soon as possible. you thanked your office mate and when you were about to unlock the door, it opened and there you saw sabo in his pajamas-- a white shirt and gray sweatpants. he looks concerned and immediately grabs your bag and coat so you could remove your heels.

"I'm so sorry, love. there was a sudden company dinner but it only went for an hour because there's only 4 of us there anyways. have you eaten?" you explained while you walk towards the kitchen to get water.

"yes, did you eat well? there's a leftover if you're still hungry. who was with you anyways?" he curiously asked

"oh, the team manager and his wife then my desk mate. do you remember him? the one who gave me a bento cake last time?"

his forehead creased and you look at him for a second when you heard him clear his throat which you didn't pay much attention to.

"ah, okay. let's go to bed right after you wash up, we're leaving early tomorrow." he smiled at you but it didn't reach his eyes

still, you chose to shrug it off because he's been always like that whenever he's tired and sleepy.

you skipped lightly towards him to give him a hug and kiss which made him chuckle

he hugged you tightly and places his face to the crook of your neck when he stiffened under your touch.

nonetheless, you paid no mind and go on with the night since as he said, you'll be leaving early tomorrow and you just want to dive in the bed--wrapped in his arms.

when the morning comes, you woke up when you felt the other side of the bed--cold and empty. you immediately got up to get a cup of water while thinking that he might be watering the little plants he has.

you tied your hair before going out but instantly stopped in your tracks when you found him leaning at the main door, talking with your office mate.

"uhm? what's up?" you were so confused about what's happening but you can clearly see that sabo is not having fun while your office mate was smiling sheepishly.

you walked towards them that made sabo click his tongue which made you uneasy

"oh, I'm just passing by. i think you dropped this hairpin on my car last night." you mirrored his smile and lightly tuck in the little strands that fell on your face

you were about to reach for it when sabo grabbed it-- a little too hard-- that made you tense as you can feel his intense gaze even though he's not looking at you.

"yeah, thanks. you can go now." sabo blandly shooed him which made your eyes widen as you rush to pull him back and stand in front of him to face your co-worker.

"h-hey! yeah, thank you so much! i didn't notice it but I appreciate it. well, see you at the office...i g-guess?" it was so hard for you to maintain a smile on your face when you can literally feel the heavy pressure of sabo's presence.

"oh, actually the manager announced that we're gonna have a one-day trip to osaka for screening of the new products at the group chat. she was looking for a volunteer and the team manager wanted you to c--"

"she's not available, can't you fucking see?" you almost yelped at the impact when sabo pulled you unto him that made you bump on his chest.

they were exchanging glares so you had to cut it off and apologize because you're not gonna volunteer for that, not when sabo is like this, you're better off dead than go with your team.

when you bid farewells to your co-worker and close the door, you can feel your stomach-churning. the moment he lightly pushes you to go back to his room, you knew this is gonna be a long day.

it's early in the morning and today is date day, what a bad timing to show up in front of sabo.

"love? hey..." you called out when you saw him in front of his study desk and laptop with glasses on. a sign that the date will get canceled.

you immediately go behind him and tried to touch his cheeks but he evaded it smoothly with attitude. you almost laughed but you know it's not the right time and you're not that stupid.

you tried different things but he just wouldn't accept anything right now so you decided to give up pestering him and took a shower instead. you can't allow this day to be a waste, if you have to drag him just to make the date happen--you will.

even after dressing up, he's still ignoring you but you know he's also aware of what're you doing because you can see his hands stop from typing whenever you make a move.

"love, I'm going out. you comin'?" trying a new approach, you asked but no reply.

you sigh heavily and head to the kitchen, you saw him shift around at the corner of your eyes when you opened the door.

pouring an orange juice into the mug and going back to his room, you placed it beside his laptop. your hands place on his shoulders for support, you take off one of his earpods.

"sabo, I'm going out for a while 'kay?" you stand straight after giving him a kiss on his cheeks.

but before you can even take a step, you're immediately pulled by him. standing between his parted legs as buries his face in your stomach. he's a little bit calmed down so it'll be easier to talk to him.

"you come back home late with another man's scent on you then the next day, they come knocking on my door. that fucking assho--"

you cut him off with a light slap on his head, "sabo, that's mean! don't act like i forgot your rudeness earlier." you warned

he looked up to you with a glare, "yeah, he earned it. are you siding with him?"

"no, love. you know you've been rude!" you raised a brow which he mirrored

"baby, I'm your boyfriend." he stated with his cheeks slightly puffed like that sentence will do its magic

you sighed, giving it up. i mean, it's partly your fault! you're just lucky this time because he's attention and touch starved-- that's why he's easy to submit.

"okay, okay. I'm sorry, I'll be careful from no--"

"as you should." he cuts you off with a sass

you squeezed his cheeks and kiss him on his nose and forehead, "c'mon, stop being a baby and get up. we're going to movies instead, my treat." you winked at him.

he instantly stands up and hugged you tightly while peppering you with kisses.

before closing the bathroom door, he looked back at you and flashes his infamous charming smile that made you chuckle.

"you look so good, love."

[everlarkficexchange]

The Principal

Prompt 37: Forbidden romance AU: Katniss is the school principal. Peeta is a new teacher fresh out of college. Age!gap Everlark. Smut happens. [submitted by @mrspeetamellark]

Author:  JHsgf82 

Rating:  M (may go up for the next part) 

Word Count:  5,336

Author Note:  Edit by @mrspeetamellark​​.  Thank you!  Quote is by L.M. Montgomery from Anne of Green Gables.  Okay, so I preface this with, I’m not a smut writer.  I’m branching out into this territory, but I’m still quite inexperienced, so go easy on me.  Due to lack of time, the smut scene is pretty short, but I plan to write a much more extended one, several, actually, in the next part (s).  I hope you enjoy it!   

Trigger Warning:  Age gap/age difference, Older!Katniss.  Both adults.  

Katniss strode down the familiar halls of D12 to her office, her father’s old, brown, leather satchel slung across her shoulder and a single muffin in hand, which she’d bought from this nearby bakery she’d decided to try out.  She wore a black boatneck tank beneath a long, ribbed green cardigan (left unbuttoned), black dress pants, and belt.  

At 30, Katniss was the youngest principal in the history of D12 and one of only two female principals.  Her female predecessor, two principals ago, Ms. Lucy Gray Baird had been an inspiration to all, and though Katniss never met her, she felt her influence everyday.  For one, her eye always caught Principal Gray Baird’s picture on the wall‒her dark, curly hair pulled up in a bun, makeup on her face, and smiling.  And two, she’d heard Lucy Gray Baird could sing like a bird and likewise led students to frequently place in All-District (or higher) choral competitions as Katniss had done when she was a teacher.  

But Katniss didn’t participate in those things anymore.  And as for Ms. Gray Baird, well, some said she was alive, but no one knew exactly where she’d flown off to after she retired.  Whether she was off somewhere living peacefully, or dead, strangely, Katniss felt as though her spirit roamed these hallways‒and Katniss was not a supernatural or superstitious kind of person.  

Two years ago, Katniss was offered the principal position.  It was a great honor, and although she hated leaving her teaching position, she couldn’t decline it.  Since she’d become principal, Katniss had implemented some good changes, so she thought, and she truly hoped her father would be proud of her.  

Katniss prided herself on being authoritative, firm but fair, and decisive.  She trusted her gut instincts when making decisions in work and in her personal life, and normally, she made good ones.  Last night, however, was not the best decision of her life, and she’d already caught some heat for it this morning.  But, to quote one of her favorite authors:  ‘[Today] is a new day with no mistakes in it…yet.’ 

Once settled into her office, Katniss brought up her email and her schedule.  She was to meet with the new teacher in only ten minutes.  It didn’t leave her much time; she could either quickly send out a few emails that needed to be sent and scarf down her muffin or save the muffin for after the meeting and deal with the hunger gnawing at her insides. 

Fortunately, Katniss was something of an expert on hunger‒not life-threatening hunger, but she knew what it was like to do without and forego her urges.  Again, not last night.  Last night seemed to be the exception to all rules pertaining to Katniss Everdeen.  What she had experienced last night was similar to what she was feeling now, albeit entirely different‒last night’s hunger had nothing to do with food. 

With a sigh, Katniss dug into her temples.  This was neither the time nor place to be thinking about last night’s escapade, but she couldn’t seem to help it.  As her hang‒headache wore off, more details kept coming back to her, and she felt herself reclining back in her chair a moment.  There was nothing wrong with a little daydreaming, a quick fantasy, although work was not the best place for it; but perhaps, it would sustain her throughout the day.  Resist.  She squeezed her eyes shut, commanding her hippocampus to shut down its function, gripped the arms of her chair, and leaned forward resolutely. 

As she attempted once more to focus on her work, that other type of hunger, actual hunger, pricked at her, urging her to take a big bite of the muffin. 

Great.  In a matter of seconds, she’d thought about the very two things she’d vowed not to‒the muffin and last night.

Satisfy it. 

At least the former.   

Hoping to satiate her stomach, Katniss reached out with pinched forefinger and thumb, thinking she’d just tear a little off the top, but then…no.  She didn’t trust her urges lately, even if last night had been incredible.  She needed to learn, or re-learn, how to control them, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.  So, she ignored the muffin.  This would be an exercise in self-control.

She returned to the e-mails. 

Not long after, her assistant chimed in over the phone’s intercom, “Miss Everdeen, Mr. Mellark is here.” 

Pressing the button, she talked into the speaker, “Thank you.  Send him in.” 

When the broad, blond man stepped through the doorway of her office, Katniss felt all the blood drain from her body.  Her eyes widened, and her mouth, all of a sudden drier than cotton, dropped open.  Realization dawned on his face, too, his pale eyebrows shooting up and his body going stiff.  Much like hers.  Katniss felt as though she had a ramrod stuck up the back of her shirt for as straight as she was sitting up.   

Oh no, not him.  

But it was him, the man from last night, the man she took home with her after a chance encounter at a bar.  In a flash, those memories her brain had been sorting out, which she’d so deliberately been trying to subdue, came rushing back at her, assaulting her.  And the night’s events unfurled before her eyes in a montage of flirty conversation, sexy looks, sensual touches, lingering kisses, and...sex, incredible sex. 

Katniss felt pinpricks stabbing her all throughout her chest; she could barely breathe.  Inhaling and exhaling, slow and steady, she placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart, urging it to calm down, as if that would do a thing; then, she fumbled for the water bottle in her bag.  She located it and took a quick swig, kind of wishing it was alcohol‒although, look at the mess that got her in…

“Are you alright?” he gently asked.  She glanced back up at him. 

On second look, yeah, it was definitely him, the very same blond man she’d had in her bed less than 3 hours ago.  What was his name…?  It started with a P…something to do with bread…  Shit.  She couldn’t even remember his name! 

But it was even worse than that.  Not only did she sleep with a man who was now her employee, but he was six years younger than her!  

Oh God, was this going to be her legacy now?  Screwing the younger teachers?  She could just imagine the whispers and the looks she’d get, what the parents and her colleagues would say if they found out…  

As for him, he didn’t seem wholly un-phased, although he looked calmer than her.  He was just standing there watching her, his cheeks slightly ruddy and his hands tucked sheepishly into his pockets.  

“F-fine,” she choked out.  But she wasn’t.  This situation was anything but fine.  And what kept reverberating in her head was:  ‘How could I have been so stupid?’  It was stupid enough to get intimately involved with a guy she just met, one much too young for her, while intoxicated, but for him to be a teacher at her school…!  Okay, so she didn’t know that then.

Pushing aside her ignorance over who he was…but yes, there was that.  She really should have known.  Upon recollection, he’d said he was a teacher; he’d even told her that tomorrow was his first day and he had an early morning meeting with the principal of his new school‒there were only a few schools in this area…  She should have pieced it together, or at least, been more cognizant of the warning signs.  

Why had she done it?  Well, all she could really say was that she’d wanted to lose herself last night.  And it had been nice, more than nice.  Last night, she’d realized how starved she’d been for human affection.  For touch.  Closeness.  Had it really been so long?  Or, maybe it was his specific touch she’d been craving?  No, that was foolish. What kind of useless drivel was her mind formulating now?  This is what she was reduced to when she was hungry.  

But how could she have even entertained the notion in the first place?  How did it even begin? Oh yeah, she remembered now…she’d been in a shitty mood, had a bit too much to drink, and he was hot.

Thinking back, Katniss recalled their eyes locking across the bar, and she’d done a double-take, then a triple-take, then a slow observation up and down his body, what wasn’t blocked by the bar, anyway.  She’d planned on leaving it at that, as a look-but-no-touch kind of scenario, because this guy was clearly younger than her, and frankly, she just wasn’t in the mood.  Or, so she thought.  But he had other plans…

Katniss watched him stand from his seat, take his drink and napkin, and approach her.  She swallowed down the lump in her throat at the enticing sight of his lower half which had been previously hidden from sight.    

“Is this seat taken?” he asked.  Polite or cliché line, whichever the case, she didn’t have any fight left in her today, so she merely shrugged.  He was good-looking, and he smelled nice, like a masculine aftershave (a rain-soaked wood perhaps) and strangely, also like cinnamon and dill.

‘Okay, this is fine, so long as he isn’t a talker…' 

He was a talker. 

But Katniss rather enjoyed the velvety sound of his voice, and he seemed nice enough.  He was clearly working subtle flirtations in, and though she appreciated the ego boost, it was best to cut it off before he put in too much effort.  

She was direct, so she went with a blunt tack.  

Katniss sighed, exaggerating her annoyance with him.  “Go away, little boy. Go home to your mother.  I’m sure it’s way past your bedtime.“  This young guy was hot and obviously interested, which was flattering, but she was in such a shitty mood that she didn’t even care if he thought her a bitch. 

"Ouch.”  He grimaced yet seemed undeterred.  Boldly resting his hand on her arm and leaning in to where his lips barely brushed the shell of her ear, he whispered, "I promise there’s nothing little about me." 

Katniss couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing.  "Really?  Is that the line you’re choosing to go with?”

Still, he didn’t seem discouraged.  “I admit it’s not my wittiest remark, but I get better with time."  He shot her a little wink.  

Cheeky kid.  

"How old are you?” she asked.  

“24." 

"I was right, just a child.”

“Last time I checked, the age of legal adulthood was 18." 

Katniss scoffed. "What are you, a lawyer?"  Not her wittiest remark, either.  

"No, a teacher.”

Huh. Small world.  

If only she knew then how very small, indeed…  

“So, how old are you?” He rested his chin on his knuckle, making him look even more boyish.  She couldn’t deny he was cute.  

“You’re not supposed to ask a lady that,” scoffed she.  

"Alright, then how about I guess?"  She rolled her eyes as he went off in his head.  "Mmm…27?”

“You’re sweet, junior.”

“Thanks, but I prefer ’Peeta.’"  He stuck out his hand, and reluctantly, she offered hers.  

"Katniss.”

“Katniss,” he repeated, tasting her name on his lips like it was a fine wine or something.

This guy was good.  He’d kept her talking and gotten her to introduce herself.  He hung onto her hand, placing his other atop their clasped ones, trapping hers there.

“Well, Katniss, so you’re older than me."  He shrugged.  "You look young, and it doesn’t really matter to me, anyway."  

"Why not?”

“Because you’re beautiful.  I’d know; I have an eye for beauty."  He flashed her a perfect smile.  "Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?  It seems like you’ve had a rough day, and I could use one, too.  No harm in having one together, right?” 

She eyed him suspiciously. 

“Look, I’m not planning on getting sloshed; I’m just a little nervous about my first day of work tomorrow, so I could use a little something.  Keep me company?  I promise you’ll barely have to put up with me at all.”

Smiling faintly, Katniss nodded. 

Yes, he was very good.  Persuasive.  Incredibly persuasive.  He’d persuade her of a whole lot more that night…

Even knowing where it was inevitably leading, they’d taken their time at the bar, chatting about a little bit of everything but nothing really.  Peeta (that was his name) kept touching her in a manner that was just enough to get her engines revving but not enough to make her uncomfortable.  

And Katniss had thought, why not?  Why not give herself a little treat?  She made it sound like she’d gone for an ice cream at Dairy Queen rather than dragged a young, hot guy she just met home, but at the time, it hadn’t mattered.  She’d impulsively decided to live a little, for once.

And he was good, so very good. 

They’d barely made it in the door before they were tearing at each other’s clothing, lips roaming, bodies pressed up against each other.  They’d slammed into a couple of surfaces before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist.  He’d carried her off to her bedroom, which took her a moment to remember where it was.  He’d covered her body with his, propping himself up slightly, and she’d ground her hips up and into him while he teased her center and tasted her tongue, then her breasts, then moved lower. 

He’d eaten her out, and after, he’d pressed her up against her headboard; she’d had to grip it tight and hold on for the ride as he swiftly entered her from behind.  Then, when he was ready, he’d flipped her over onto the bed and slipped inside her again, lacing his hands with hers and thrusting strong and steady until she reached completion a third time.

By the end of the night, they were sweaty and spent, and she was a little hoarse. 

But she recalled how it wasn’t all fast and rough.  He’d also been tender with her, brushing the hair out of her face, peppering her face with little kisses, and whispering sweet nothings into her ear while he spooned her.  

But all that fun was over.  Now, it had come back to bite her in the ass. 

First off, Katniss had woken feeling disoriented, and a bit sore.  When she remembered (the gist of) what had happened, she’d been mortified, but at least the mystery guy with the odd name had had enough sense to be gone when she got up.  

Good, she’d thought.  Saved her the embarrassing conversation of having to kick him out.  

At the time, it had seemed like a better idea to go to her place than his.  He would know where she lived, yes, but if he tried to murder or harass her, that’s where her neighbor came in. 

Her cranky old neighbor, Haymitch, was a cop, when he wasn’t drunk, that is.  Katniss imagined him to be like one of those rogue cops in the movies and TV series, who wasn’t afraid to pop a cap into someone who deserved it when the criminal justice system failed.  And for some strange reason, he’d taken a shining to her.  Most of the time they mutually despised one another, but occasionally, it was as if he flipped a switch and decided to be pleasant, and he could even be protective of her.  He’d hollered and acted crazy once to get rid of a guy for her, even pulled his badge on another crazy boyfriend.  And if all that didn’t work, at least she had a weapon under her bed.  

Speaking of crotchety, old Haymitch Abernathy, she’d passed him in the hall while he was stumbling out of his door for this morning’s paper, and he’d accosted her…   

“Ya really shouldn’t be dragging strange men home from bars, sweetheart.  S’not safe.” 

“Didn’t know you cared, Haymitch,” she said dryly, folding her arms.  Although, she did.  He was a textbook type, putting on a tough façade, acting as if he didn’t care about anything or anyone when actually he cared a lot.  

“Sure,” he shrugged, “you’re like the daughter I never had‒and never wanted.”  He added the last part with a slight curl of the lips.  

“Gee, thanks, Haymitch.” 

“No problem.”  He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat.  “So, I take it this one was okay?” 

Katniss rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, he was okay.”  More than okay…  “He even left without me having to tell him to.”  She tapped her fingers against her arm.   

“Ah, a smart one.  However, I do have a complaint.  Y’all made quite the racket last night!” 

“Haymitch, god!” Katniss groaned.  She pressed her fingers into her temple.  They did; they really did‒she was surprised they hadn’t broken her bed‒and she was trying hard not to smile about it.  Not in front of Haymitch.  “Please, please do not talk like an overprotective parent one minute then comment on my sex life the next.”  

“Then keep it down, why don’t ya?!” 

God.  Well, now he knew about her one-night stand.  Oh well.  Not like he’d say anything to anyone, and he was the least of her worries.

Back to the matter, and the man, at hand.

Peeta Mellark, the new teacher, stood in the middle of her office as if he didn’t dare come closer without permission.  He was dressed in an orange and white striped button-down dress shirt tucked into navy pants, and he wore a navy tie.  His ashy blond hair was gelled and slightly coiffed.  

He looked good. 

He’d looked good last night, too, more casual, dressed in a slightly form-fitting baby blue Henley and jeans, and his hair had fallen in waves across his forehead.  Last night, he’d been cute and hot and fun; today, he was handsome and distinguished, and he’d suddenly aged five years.  Katniss couldn’t decide which look she liked better on him.  Both were attractive in their own right…but no, she absolutely should not be focusing on his looks right now, or ever. 

Composing herself, she finally beckoned for him.  “Mr. Mellark.  Have a seat.” 

He sat down, threaded his fingers together, and gave her a tentative smile. 

Well, he certainly was much less confident today.  Not that she could blame him; she was rather a jumble herself.  She supposed she’d better address the elephant in the room.  

She sucked in a breath and swallowed the lump in her throat before proceeding.   

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t realize it was you.  I couldn’t remember your name at first.” 

Good one, Katniss.  

“Ouch.”  He gave a little chuckle.  “Well, I remember everything about you, Katniss.  Like, you have one sister; your favorite color is green; you love to get out into nature and go hunting, and you’re obsessed with hot chocolate and love to dip your bread in it.”  

Well, they had covered some informational ground last night, hadn’t they?

His sexy grin returned, and just like that, the ice was broken, and he was the same cheeky, charming, albeit slightly smart-mouthed man she remembered from last night.  

“Are you trying to be romantic or piss me off?” she blurted out.  

“Neither.  Just saying…” 

“By the way, you should address me as Ms. Everdeen or Principal Everdeen.  And we’re in a meeting.”   

“Excuse my informality, Ms. Everdeen,” he stressed her name.  How was it he could sound both contrite and like a smart ass at the same time?  “I suppose it is much more appropriate if I call you that here.” 

What was he inferring?  That he might address her differently elsewhere?  That they might actually associate with one another outside of school ever again?  Their night together had been fun, amazing, really, but that was over.  Even if she wanted to see him again, it was now forbidden… 

Damn it all if thinking of it as ‘forbidden’ wasn’t getting her all hot and bothered.  She squeezed her legs beneath her desk, digging her nails into the arms of her chair to ground herself.  

She inhaled and slowly exhaled.  “Yes, it is.  Thank you, Peet-Mr. Mellark.”  

Katniss still couldn’t understand what in hell was the matter with her.  And how had she not put two and two together last night?  She supposed it was because she hadn’t been on the hiring committee when he was hired; she’d only seen him as Mr. Mellark on paper.  And they’d only exchanged first names last night. 

Plus, she’d been stupid and horny.    

“By the way, how’d you sleep, Ms. Everdeen?”  Peeta gave her that sassy little smirk of his.  

She scowled at him.  “Never you mind how I slept.”  

Peeta chuckled.  

He was on dangerous ground.  If he kept laughing at her, he was gonna get his cute, tight little ass fired.  But then again, she couldn’t really do that.  She had no legitimate reason to fire him.  Sexual harassment, maybe, but she certainly couldn’t not claim that without coming clean about what happened between them.  

“You know, I wanted to greet you properly this morning, but I had to get going.  So sorry to just leave a note.” 

Yes, she recalled his note.  It was…a little sappy for her taste, but sweet.  

Katniss sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.  All of a sudden, her shoulders felt tenser than ever and that small twinge from before had become a gigantic pain.  

“Did you injure yourself?” He wasn’t laughing or smiling this time; he seemed genuinely concerned.    

“No,” she snipped.  She had, but she wasn’t going to admit it to him.  She certainly wasn’t going to tell this young, twenty-something that she’d pulled a muscle having sex with him.  How humiliating that would be.  Granted, it was probably made worse from sleeping on it the way she did, but the initial pull came from the sex.  It made her feel much older than she was, and he seemed just fine.  Bodies truly didn’t seem to function the same in the thirties as in the twenties; it was like an invisible line was crossed.  “It’s nothing,” she told him.  “Just a crick.”  

“Oh, I’m sorry.”  He paused.  “You know, there’s a remedy for that.” 

“Oh yeah?” She eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the inevitable pick-up line‒an offer to massage it for her or something.  And dammit, she was getting turned on again!  

“Heat,” said Peeta.   

Oh.  She internally berated herself for her lusty thoughts.  What was worse was that now she couldn’t get the image of him massaging her out of her head.  

“There is also massage, of course.”  He flashed her that brilliant smile of his. 

Damn mind reader!  

With a sigh, Katniss drummed her fingers several times on her desk.  Okay, this would be fine.  It was over and done with, and they could begin a new, professional relationship‒so long as he got it through his head that this wasn’t fun and games.  

“Okay, let’s get something straight, Mr. Mellark.  This can’t happen.” 

“What can’t?” 

“This.”  She motioned between them.  “You…and me, whatever.  Not again.” 

“Oh, so we are going to talk about it,” said Peeta, crossing one leg over the other.  

“I think we need to.  Because this…I don’t know…this flirtatious talk and those smiles of yours can’t continue.” 

“I can’t smile at you?”  Peeta’s brow furrowed, and he placed a hand on his chest. 

“Not like that, no.” 

“I was just being friendly, Miss Everdeen.” 

“No, you weren’t.  You know what you were doing; you…nevermind.”  She placed both hands on her temples and rubbed.  Once she’d dug in really good, she covered her face with one hand, dropping the other to her desk.  Suddenly, she felt his large, warm hand cover hers.  

When she looked up, Peeta was leaning forward.  Her gaze flickered between his bright blue eyes and his hand covering hers.    

“I’m sorry to cause you stress.  I promise I won’t make things difficult for you.” 

“Thank you.”  Katniss’s words came out with a gust of breath.  “I appreciate that, Mr. Mellark.  Thank you for being mature about this.” 

“Uh, yeah, no problem.”  Peeta removed his hand and used it to scratch the stubble on his chin.  She couldn’t help drifting back to the way that stubble had felt against her inner thighs…  

“I mean, what happened was a complete coincidence,” he continued.  “No reason it should affect our positions here.”  He dropped his hands to his lap and folded them.

“Right.  So, then…”  She perused his file.  Thank God she was a speed-reader because she hadn’t had the opportunity to learn about him in a professional capacity, as she should have been doing, last night.  “I see you have your Master’s in Elementary Education.  And hm, seems you come highly recommended.” 

Peeta’s hand had raised to partially cover his mouth, and she thought she caught the slight upturn of his lip.  Was he laughing at her struggle to keep her composure, or…She swore if it was because she’d said ‘come’ she was going to reach across her desk and slap him, consequences be damned!  He said he would be professional! 

But really, what did she expect?  He was young and most likely, immature, and she had just banged him last night.  He probably wasn’t taking her seriously right now, at all. 

“What?” she snipped. 

“Nothing.” 

Peeta was eyeing her muffin now.  Did he really have such a short attention span?  How did he ever make it through school, let alone become a teacher?    

“I hope you enjoy the muffin,” he commented.   

“Thanks.”  What a strange segue.  

“You know, I was going to make you breakfast this morning, but since it was your place, I didn’t want to overstep my bounds by rummaging around in your kitchen.”

How thoughtful.  But overstep his bounds?  Well, they were both so far out of bounds last night that the boundaries weren’t even visible.  

“Plus, I had to leave early for this meeting with you, which I didn’t know was with you, since you never gave me your last name last night, and I was only told I would be meeting with Principal Everdeen.”  He gave a sardonic little laugh.  “What are the odds?” 

“Glad you find this so damn funny, Mr. Mellark.” 

“Not funny ha-ha, just kind of ironic.  Not great literature-ironic or anything, but interesting.” 

Katniss huffed.  “Mr. Mellark,” she chided.   

“I know I’m supposed to address you by your title, but you can call me Peeta if you want.” 

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Well, then I suppose suggesting a rain check on breakfast would be a bad idea?” 

“Yes, it definitely would.” 

Peeta nodded.  “Well, at least you have the muffin. Do me a favor and tell me how you like it.”

“Alright…"  She sighed.  How odd.  Then again, Peeta didn’t seem like the typical guy. He’d made a lot of…quirky remarks last night.  “But let me remind you, this is a professional meeting.” 

“Of course.”  

Before she could go on, Peeta interrupted.  

“But you have to admit, it is a bit ironic, isn’t it?” 

Katniss folded her arms on her desk and dropped her head to rest on them a moment.  “Peeta…,” she began in a warning tone when she raised her head.  

“You’re not at all glad to see me?” 

“No, Peeta.  Sorry, but I’m not.”   At least, not here she wasn’t.  “This is horrible.  It’s not ironic, and it’s not fate, unless you count it as a cruel joke of the universe, if you believe in that sort of thing.” 

At the look on his face, she huffed in exasperation.  “How can you not be as mortified as I am?  It’s worse for me, but how do you feel knowing you fucked your boss the night before your first day of work?” 

“Well, I’m not ashamed like you are, and I can brush it off.”  Apparently, he couldn’t.  “Two people met in a bar; they liked each other; they hooked up; it’s no big deal.” 

“Maybe not for you.  But can’t you see how this changes our whole dynamic?” 

“Only if we let it.”  

Katniss sighed.  He made a good point.  Perhaps he was wiser and more mature than she gave him credit for, even if he wasn’t acting it right now.  Maybe if she started treating him more like a colleague and a man rather than a kid. She certainly saw him as all man last night.     

“Alright.”  Peeta casually folded his hands in his lap.  “What is it you’re concerned with?” 

“I don’t want anyone to know we know each other, let alone that we had a…physical involvement.” 

“Fair enough.”  Peeta nodded.  

“And you’re to always address me by my title, not my first name, and definitely not by any of those little pet names you were spouting last night.” 

Peeta laughed.  “You didn’t like them, huh?  I guess it was a little much; I just get…chatty when I’m turned on.” 

Katniss rolled her eyes.

“Sorry.”  He cleared his throat.  “Anything else?” 

“I also want you to know that what happened last night…that’s not me, or something that I normally do.  Ever.” 

Peeta nodded.  “I didn’t figure you for the type.  And neither am I, if I’m being honest.” 

Katniss pressed her lips together. 

“So, may I ask–and I’m not fishing for a compliment here, but‒what was different about last night?” he asked.  

“Well,” Katniss heaved a sigh. “I was in a crappy mood last night, a really, really crappy mood.  I don’t want to get into it; it’s personal, so let’s just leave it at that.”  She thinned her lips  “I was upset; then there was the alcohol, and you were…”  There.  It was more than that, of course, but she wasn’t going to stoke his ego further, nor add to the inappropriateness of the situation by saying how attracted she was (still is) to him.  Not like it would come as a surprise, given her enthusiasm last night.  “Nice to me.” 

Again, Peeta nodded. “I see.  Well…”  He raised his broad shoulders and paused as if he didn’t know what to say next.  “I hope I made your night better.” 

Katniss couldn’t help it; she snorted.  “Um,” she picked at her nail, grinning slightly.  “You did.  You…definitely did.”  She looked up then, the smile falling away.  “But I meant it when I said we should be professional, so I think this should be the very last this topic is ever brought up.” 

"Anything else?" 

"No, I don’t think so." 

“Okay, then, let me see if I have this straight. You are Ms. Everdeen or Principal Everdeen to me, and I am Mr. Mellark to you. We’ve never met before today, but we have a mutual respect for one another and a purely professional working relationship.” 

“Right.  Very good.” 

“Well, I do have a very high IQ.  It’s in my file, you know.” 

Again, she rolled her eyes.  

“I think we have an understanding.”  Peeta reached out to shake her hand, and when she touched it, she felt that same bolt of electricity she felt last night.  “And I promise to be completely respectful and professional from here on out.”