#let's-run-away-together posts of the middle aged

[orgasmic-garlic]

I know it's time to log off when there are just too many posts that make me cringe

[backtothefanfiction]

Professor Peter Parker

Summary: The first day of college nerves are suddenly made worse when you realised the guy you f*cked last night is your new Physics Professor!

Warnings! 18+ ONLY! This is some of the filthiest smut I have ever written and posted on here yet. Female reader and pronouns, Age gap (everyone is of legal age, Peter is a very young Professor), Oral (F + M Receiving), Dirty Talk (so much fucking dirty talk), praise kink, edging, P in V, Peter Parker (YES he does need his own warning), One Night Stand... or is it?, ITS SEX PEOPLE, JUST STRAIGHT UP SEX WITH A LITTLE PLOT FOR ADDED TENSION AND POW!

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Consider this my formal application piece for the literary prostitutes society. There are no words for this, so I'm just gonna type/sing Don't Lose Your Head from Six. "Sorry not sorry but what I said, I'm just tryin' to have some fun..." But seriously though this was so self indulgent and I can't believe this came out of me. It's very much giving Aria and Ezra in Pretty Little Liars but older and much more Peter Parker. Also I am really sorry about if the tense keeps changing, I sometimes have a problem with finding my rhythm and I really cba to spend the time working it all out and changing it.

First day of college. Standard level of nerves for a first day. Are you running on just a couple hours of sleep? Sure. Still a little tipsy from last night? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little, but that’s a good thing right. Takes the edge off. But then again numbers and science had never let you down before. You can do physics. You’ve got this.

You took a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door handle. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life.’ You said to yourself, breathing deeply.

You found a spot somewhere in the middle of the room. Not so eager you were at the front but you also didn’t want to hide away in the back. That and you were pretty sure you were due for an eye test and if you sat any further back you wouldn’t be able to read the board. You got out your notepad, flipping open to the first page, your fingers smoothing across the fresh paper comfortingly. You reach for a fresh pencil from the novelty pack your Mom had bought you especially for your first week, knowing you prefer the feel of writing in pencil than pen, the ink always getting smudged on your hand from your messy scrawl. You pluck the one with tiny zebra all over it from the clear case before placing it back in your bag. Your fingers drum the back of the pencil on your page nervously as you wait. You tried not to overthink things as your stomach began to churn. Had you really turned up this early? You took a quick look around the room at the other 5 people who had actually been there before you. ‘Hey,’ you reasoned to yourself, ‘at least you weren’t as early as them.’ 

You yawned. Damn you were tired. Although you had this early class, when your new room mate suggested you go out with the guys who lived across the hall you couldn’t say no. To be fair, it had been a good night all considered. You had met some new people, exchanged a few numbers, agreed to go to the end of semester drama club performance even though the term had only just started, drank way too many jello shots, got snuck into a local bar and then ended up going home with a tall brunette with the softest yet devious brown eyes you had ever seen who completely rocked your world. 

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat as you thought back to his head between your legs. The lewd moans he’d pulled from your lips echoing around your brain. It sent a fresh new wave of arousal straight to your core.

‘Not the time or place.’ you berated, instead forcing your mind back into the classroom and the task at hand. ‘Physics of Matter with Professor Peter Parker. He was probably middle aged’ you thought to yourself. It was always the case with classes like these, middle aged men finally leaving the lab for the first time after finally completing their life's work, now relenting to their wife’s begging to spend more time with the family. Or older men with white hair, wrinkles and tweed, desperately holding on to their independence, understimulated by the idea of retired life when all that knowledge of matter and the universe was rattling around their brains. ‘Young hot professors were only to be found in the movies or on TV’ you daydreamed as you tried to distract yourself from the growing pit of nerves in your stomach.

You check your phone every few seconds as other students file into the room, finding their own seats as you count down the minutes. 5 minutes… 3 minutes… 2 minutes… 1 minute… … He’s late… 1 minute past… 2 minutes past… 3 min-

“Okay, okay, settle down!” A voice called out as the classroom door opened, far younger than she expected and slightly familiar. “Welcome to Physics of Matter,” the voice continued as he made his way towards the board, picking up a bit of chalk and lifting it to the board as he spoke, “I am Professor Parker, but please,” he said dropping the piece of chalk back onto the little shelf at the bottom of the board, “call me Peter.” He said finally turning around.

SHIT!

DOUBLE SHIT!

You dip your head towards your page as you sink a little bit down in your seat. Hopefully he won’t notice. ‘FUCK!’ your head was suddenly screaming as all those memories of the night before flooded your brain again. His messy hair. His naked body. The way he had moaned into your cunt- FUCK!

You subtly glanced around the room from your head's dipped position. This had to be some new prank show right. There’s no way this happened in real life. There had to be cameras. He’s an actor right? Ashton Kutcher was about to burst through the classroom door shouting “YOU’VE BEEN PUNK’D” any second followed by the actual Professor Parker, right? Right?

“Now I’m not gonna ask you to get your books out this lesson,” he began to say playfully, his voice carrying around the room as he walked back and forth in front of his desk surveying his new class. “Today is about you getting to know me and me just going over all the things we are gonna be covering over the course of our year together.” He said, talking a lot with his hands. “As much as I’d love to start getting into equations with you, I’ve learnt that that tends to be futile during our first lessons. I mean, just by a show of hands, who went out drinking last night?” Professor Parker asked and a shower of hands across the room went up, Peter’s gaze scanning across the faces of the raised hands as he continued, “Keep your hand up if you’re still a little bit drunk-” his voice cut off as his eyes finally landed on you, his own oh shit face befalling him.

You felt your skin crawl as people lowered their hands and began following his gaze to you. You moved your hand up to your face as you sank down in your seat further. ‘Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring!’

8 HOURS EARLIER 

“I couldn’t help but see you staring.” He said as he sidled up to you. ‘Holy fuck’ he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, perfectly messy brown hair and the most delicious biceps (not too big) that were flexing under the cuffs of his fitted T-shirt you really just wanted to wrap your fingers around and squeeze. Damn. “Is she okay?” He said turning to your friend.

“Yeah she’s just-“ your roommate started before nudging you and breaking you from your hypnotised gaze on this absolute Adonis of a man. “She thinks you’re really hot!” she shouted over the music to him.”

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a small chuckle, flattered, as you cringed. They both laughed at you. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked as he took your hand.

“Yes, she does!” your friend said, pushing you off your stool. His other hand comes out to steady you as you almost slam into his chest. You blush before turning to give your roommate a death stare. 

He flashed one of those charming smiles again before he began to guide you away from her and to the dance floor. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he starts to bop and bounce, easing you both into the music. You slowly relax, smiling as a giddy feeling churns in your stomach, as you begin to bop with him to the music.

The music swells and he gives you a twirl under his arm before he pulls you closer to him. “So have you got a name or am I supposed to refer to you as flower for the rest of the night?”

You frown. “Why Flower?” 

“Isn’t that the name of the skunk in Bambi who is all quiet and has those big eyes and blushing cheeks and-”

“Don’t call me Flower.” you quickly say, slightly embarrassed by the way you had gone all goo goo eyed and helpless over him.

“Okay, then what can I call you?”

You hesitate for a second as you think about giving him your real name but what would be the fun in that, especially if this only turned out to be a one night stand. “Trouble.”

He laughs, his head dipping to hide his amusement. “Is that so?” he says from beneath his lashes. “Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it, you can call me Professor Brat Tamer, Professor for short.”

You feel your arousal soak your panties the moment he says it, the words going straight to your core. What have you gotten yourself in for? It’s like he knows too from the way he’s smirking. He turns you, pulling you back into him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to grind himself against your ass. “Now, are you gonna be a good student?” he coos against your ear only loud enough for you to hear. “Or are you gonna be like your namesake says and cause me a whole lot of trouble?”

He can feel the way you relax your body back against him, your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling his words elicit in you. 

You smirk as you look back at him, “I’m sorry Professor, but you may have your work cut out for you.”

An hour and a half later he’s pulling you into his apartment, your back slamming hard against a wall of exposed brick as your mouth latches onto his. Both of you had done so well keeping your hands to yourself the whole way back, but the moment you got through the door it was like a starting pistol had gone off, both of you suddenly in a race for pleasure.

You moan against his mouth as his tongue slips between your teeth. You can taste his final Jack and Coke he had had before you left. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“Fuck.” You gasp as his mouth is suddenly moving across your jaw and down your neck, his teeth and stubble grazing you slightly in his hunger for you. 

“God Trouble, you sound so fucking pretty.” he coos against your chest, his hand moving to paw at your breast, bunching it up to spill over the top of your dress as he leaves wet kisses across the skin.

Your fingers wrap around his messy tresses as you pull his head back up so you can connect your mouth with his again, a small growl escaping his lips at the slight pain. You kiss him messily, both of you breathing heavily before you push him back, allowing you room to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor. Your fingers immediately begin to fight with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking sending arousal straight between your own legs.

“Fuck.” He pants as he looks down at you, his hand reaching to cradle either side of your face as you pull down his jeans and his boxers in one swift pull. “Uh, baby, baby, baby.” he coos as you take his length into your mouth and immediately begin to work your tongue up and down his cock.

His fingers move away from your face, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt and you watch as he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the rest of his body to you. Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Oh my god.” he cried out when you began to swallow his length down your throat, your nose pressing to his pelvic bone. “Uh,” he said, his head tipping back, “she’s not trouble, she’s fucking perfect.” he says as he drops his head back forward to watch you, his thumb reaching to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

You take his length out of your mouth as you gasp for air and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Come here Trouble.” he says as he takes your face and chin in his hands and lifts you from the floor, pulling your lips back to his as he smashes his mouth into yours.

He begins to kick off his shoes as well as his jeans and boxers that now sit tangled around his ankles as he continues to kiss you, freeing himself so he can lift you up into his arms, your own arms throwing themselves around his neck, as he carries you to his bedroom.

You can’t help but cheekily bite at his lower lip as he stops just before the foot of the bed. “Oh she has some bite does she?” he says against your mouth. Your teeth almost clash together from how close you are as you grin, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. “Okay,” he says as he pauses a little for dramatic effect, “I can bite back.” he says before throwing you back on the bed.

You let out a small squeal as you're caught by the mattress springs and pillows. You quickly prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see the devilish look on his face as he pulls off your heels before he stalks up the bed towards you. He leans over you, attaching his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding deftly into your mouth and out again with every kiss until his last, when he uses it to suck your lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it. He releases it just as you’re beginning to feel it bruise, his lips instead attaching to your throat as his hands come up to pull down the top of your dress. He had already clocked that you were sans bra from how low the back of your dress was and is even more grateful now he can immediately latch himself onto your nipples, his tongue lapping at the small sensitive nibs, one and then the other.

You moan under his touch, your eyes falling closed as your head tips back, fingers gripping tightly at the covers beneath you. When he looks up at you, keening under his touch, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Look at me baby.” he softly commands and you oblige, your chin pressing to your chest as you gaze straight into those big brown eyes. It’s the sexiest eye contact you’ve ever held. It’s like he’s fucking you with his eyes as his fingers begin to snake their way up your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress up to your hips so he can pull down your underwear. He takes one feel of them before saying, “Fuck, trouble, these are soaked.”

You can only nod in agreement, as all words seem to have left your brain. ‘Fuck, he’s so fucking hot’ you think, as he kisses his way down your middle, over your dress until he reaches the hem where he can start kissing at your skin. You sigh, your head falling back again at the sensation of his lips kissing across your hips and then down your thighs. 

His fingers spread your legs and he gives a small nip to the inside of your thigh and you gasp at the small feeling of pain, that quickly turns to pleasure, as yet another wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.” he says as his finger scoops up the arousal thats begining to drip down your thighs, bringing it up to his mouth. You watch hypnotised as he sucks on his fingers. “Damn, trouble, you tast so fucking good.” he says as he slips his fingers from his mouth. It’s so filthy. He has barely done anything and you’re a fucking goner.

His tongue suddenly crashes between your folds. “FUCK!” you cry out loudly. His fingers trace over your thighs, reaching for your own fingers which you entwine with his. He’s got his eyes closed, savouring every moan, every little gasp he pulls from you. 

He can tell you’re getting close from how your cunt begins to grind itself down against his tongue, chasing you’re high, but to allow you to have it would be too easy. He listens closely to your breathing, your moans; one… two… he suddenly moves his mouth away and you want to scream. He playfully nips at the inside of your thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. You really do scream now in frustration. “Told you I could bite.” he says coily as he mumbles against your skin. 

He licks another stripe through your folds as if in apology, as if to soothe the sting but his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit before he sucks it hard between his lips and you cry out again. “Mmmm.” he hums against your cunt, “you sound so pretty when you scream like that.”

You want to cry, you are so sensitive and overstimulated but suddenly he’s lapping at your pussy again and you’re melting back into the bed as your muscles begin to relax again with the long slow licks of his tongue.

When you both begin to feel the build of your climax again he doesn’t pull away this time. He lets you have it, your thighs closing around his head, hips bucking off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. He keeps going, his mouth lapping up everything you’ll give him until you're pulling yourself away from him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes from the over stimulation as you pant and whine and rub your thighs together, desperate for the feeling to dissipate. He grabs at your ankles, holding you still as you flop back into the pillows at the top of the bed.

“So good for me Trouble, you’re doing so good.” he says as he crawls up the bed to kiss you. 

Although he’s wiped at his mouth, the taste of you still remains and you lick it off every part of his mouth you can reach as he settles himself between your legs.

His hands slide up your thighs before they’re grabbing ahold of your waist and suddenly he’s flipping you, his head crashing into the pillows as you straddle his hips. Your lips race to chase his as you continue to pant breathlessly into his mouth, another flood of arousal soaking between your legs. 

His fingers reach for the bottom of your dress, lifting it up and off your head, leaving you finally, completely naked before him. “Fuck, trouble,” he moans as his eyes drink you in, “has anyone told you how absolutely fucking perfect you are.” You giggle and blush as you lean down to kiss him. “No. No. Look at me.” he says as he takes your head in his hands and moves you away from him so you have to look at him. He’s giving you that look with his eyes again as he holds your face in place, not allowing you to break eye contact with him for one single moment as he begins to grind his hips up against you, his rock hard cock grinding against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “So fucking perfect.” he repeats. “Now tell me, trouble, how do you want me to fuck you?” You can’t think, your eyes closing as you try to focus your thoughts as his skin drags across your clit teasingly. He gently taps your cheek with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Eyes on me Trouble,” he says, “find your words, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You shake your head as you close your eyes again, really unable to think. “Options.” you say breathlessly, your eyes flying open, before he can punish you for breaking eye contact again. “Give me options.” 

“Okay.” he concedes with a small nod and a smile. “Okay, pretty girl.” he repeats again soothingly as he pulls you back down closer to him, his lips kissing you sweetly and encouragingly, aware he’s over stimulating your brain. “I can fuck you like this.” he says as he looks into your eyes. His hand slowly trails down to wrap around your throat, his other hand still cradling the back of your head as he flips you again. “Or I can fuck you like this.” he says as he continues to slowly grind himself against your sex. “Or,” he says as he lowers his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply as he speaks directly into your ear, “I can flip you over and fuck you from behind.” You sigh as his words go straight to your core again.

“The last one.” you say breathlessly as your eyes close.

“MMM.” he hums into your ear as his teeth nip at your jaw, satisfied with your response. He pushes you back into the bed slightly as he lifts himself onto his knees, his hands moving away from your face and you watch him eagerly as you await his next move. He leans over to the bedside table, reaching into the draw for a condom, lazily tugging at his length with one hand whilst he uses his teeth and the other hand to open it up. You’re almost starring as he’s rolling it down the length of his cock, fully taking in his erect size. He smirks when he looks up to notice you nibbling at your lower lip.

“Come here, trouble.” he says before he’s flipping you over, your head finding a comfortable position on the pillow as he lifts your ass into the air. 

He slides his fingers down your opening before placing two fingers slowly inside you, stretching you out and you let out another breathy moan at the feeling. He pumps them in and out of you a couple more times before he slowly lets them slide out of you, his fingertips dragging agonisingly across your clit before he uses them to pump his cock again a couple times, shifting himself into position.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hips as he lines himself up and slowly pushes himself inside you, your back arching with the stretch, head shifting as you let out another moan of satisfaction into the pillow. “Mmm, let me hear you baby.” he says as his hand removes itself from your hip to reach for the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he turns your head back towards him.

“Fuck.” you hiccup as he pulls himself out little by little before he’s slamming his hips forward against your ass, pushing himself in even deeper.

“Fuck, trouble. So fucking tight for me.” 

You lose all ability to speak as he begins fucking into you, slowly building his pace until he’s fucking into you at a wicked speed. You want to scream again, your face screwing up in ecstasy as his cock continuously hits that spot inside you that makes you want to explode. His other hand reaches around for your throat, pulling you back up as he leans over you so he can stick his tongue back into your mouth. It adjusts his angle somehow, making the feeling in your cunt even more intense. Your mouth falls open as he holds it there, you’re panting and moaning into his mouth. “Look at me.” he encourages as his thumb rubs soothingly across your jaw. You can’t help but obliged. 

It’s too much. It’s the hottest, most filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You know you’ll never be the same again. Nothing, no one, will ever compare to this. “Please, please, please.” you find yourself repeating as your eyes close again. You’re so close and he knows it because your cunt is constricting like a vice around his cock. 

He moves his hand down to circle at your clit between your legs. “Come on, trouble, give it to me,” he coaches, “Fuck, baby!” he snarls against your mouth as he smashes his lips to yours again, pulling at your lips bruisingly. 

You pull your mouth away from him, wailing, gasping for breath as your body convulses around him, his pace only slowing slightly to help you ride out your climax. “So good.” he coos, “My trouble, so fucking good for me. Atta girl.”

His pace is steady as he feels you begin to relax again but you’re still so stimulated. You’re surprised he’s still going. “Your turn.” you say to him breathlessly and he smiles. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to push your luck. “How do you want to fuck me?” you coo, now you’re the one who’s eye fucking him.

You watch as he closes his eyes, head falling back. He chuckles then, something low and devious. He suddenly pulls out of you. It makes you feel so empty. You’re about to whine but then he’s flipping you over and pulling your legs together and then over his shoulder as he bends you in half. He lines himself back up with your entrance and slips back in with ease and you gasp as he bottoms out, the position making him hit that devastating spot inside you instantly. He leans all the way over so he can kiss you, his mouth swallowing every moan, gasp and breath that leaves your mouth as he pounds down into you like something fierce.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whine as the sensitivity grows too much. His pelvis is slamming against your clit with every thrust. Now you really are crying, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel yourself clamping down on his cock again. 

“Oh my god, baby.” he says. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking good. Such a good fucking girl.”

It’s a guttural wail you let loose into the room as you cum and his head dips down as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing even faster as he chases his high. “Stay with me, Trouble,” he says, trying to ground you. He lifts his head, hand reaching for your face, forcing you to look at him. “Just a little bit longer, baby, just a little bit-” but he can’t finish his words. He’s so fucking close. One pump, two- he suddenly stills as he buries himself inside you, his forehead pressing into yours grounding you both as he pumps his seed into the condom inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cock pulsating against the still extremely sensitive spot inside you.

“You did so good.” His voice reassures as he strokes soothingly across your cheek forcing you to look at him as you breathe deeply and heavily in your come down. “So fucking good.” he says as he kisses your forehead before slipping out of you. 

With his body no longer crowding you you fully relax back into his sheets, your eyes closing as you try to regulate. You think you might even pass out. You think you may even have blacked out for a second, but you know you haven’t as your eyes fly open and your body jumps at the feeling of a cool damp cloth between your legs.

He watches you content as you suddenly relax once more, the cool washcloth doing wonders to soothe the hot swollen feeling between your legs as he cleans you up. You definitely black out then, completely exhausted.

You are disturbed again a few minutes later, a soft reassuring hand brushing up your legs. “Here.” his voice says softly as he sits on the side of the bed next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him so he can pass you a glass of water.

The cold liquid does wonders to help regulate your temperature and you can’t help but stare at him again in wonder as he sits before you in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He leans over you, kissing the top of your head, breaking you from your sex induced stupor.

“You can stay if you want.” You nod your head, you have no energy to move yet.

“Okay.” he says with a soft smile as he takes the now mostly empty glass from your fingers. “I’m gonna go get you another one of these,” he says motioning to the glass now in his hands, “you go to the toilet, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, get yourself ready for bed and when you get back we can cuddle.”

You still have no words, just dociley nod and agree. You wobble slightly as you try to stand, blood rushing back to your limbs and his hand reaches out to steady you. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” You say as you sway slightly and wave him away.

He just chuckles. “Whatever you say, trouble.”

You crawl into bed beside him 5 minutes later, tucking yourself into his side as his arm wraps around you. “You really are Professor Brat Tamer huh?” you joke as you nestle into his bare chest.

“And don’t you know it.” he smiles, pulling you tighter into his side so he can place a kiss to the top of your head.

You wake just after 6am, sneaking from his bed with a smile on your face as you pick up your clothes before doing the walk of shame back to your student halls. The sun is just coming up and the leaves are just starting to change, you can still feel the alcohol in your system as well as the after effects of your orgasms and you know, although you’re tired, today is gonna be a great first day… or was it?

________________________-

@tarzinnia @withahappyrefrain @xenasolos @sincericida

Is this a one off? I don't know. Is there a lot of room for this to turn into a collection of shorts... yeah, maybe.

[spaloonbabooguuscooties]

You could drink your whole life away and still never get that taste out of your mouth.

half commission for @salempie half completely self indulgent dreck pieced together from our insane conversations abt franke and elka. told myself id finally write a big explanation for all of the dum shit between these two for context so Thats Under The Cut.

so I already wrote some stuff about elka and franke's relationship back in whispering rock so feel free to look at that too . it goes over elkas blindness/‘seeing’ with clairvoyance and how her and franke started talking & all that good stuff

SO FOR STARTERS. a lot of thsi wont make sense without a big breakdown of elka herself. because elkas potential as a character is like insane to me. like just the idea of her in the long run of her life reads as something so potentially tragic; a young girl whos plagued with visions of doom and destined to be an outcast even in her own home for things she cant control and clings to the One vision of her wedding that she thinks is 'happy' even despite the fact she doesnt really love the person in it. im choosing to take the li-po doc as canon here because its funny shes the only one with backstory-

but my fucking god even the smallest look into what her parents are like is soo fucked up to me. and i do think elka especially gets a lot of influence from her mother; its funny how easily you can fit mabel doom into a box just from what elka says about her. knees deep in an avon-esque pyramid scheme and leaning into her daughters depressing ass visions & taking her to therapy at age 11 (which would be good if not for the kind of person you can already assume she is & so i doubt the therapist she has really does her any good. i think they share one). she reads as a very I Am My Daughters Best Friend type of mom to me and i can see elka being a centerpiece of the conversation when she has her Amway Girls over for drinks. wine-mom that lets her kid sip from the glass so she can feel like a big girl type deal.

and you can tell that elka is trying to hard to be too mature for her age even in her campster posts. how she writes letters to nils' mom and exchanges baking recipes with her and that feels like she really only interacts with middle aged women and not really many people her own age outside of camp (like her moms friends). which makes sense shed feel the need to ‘grow up’ early when shes probably had to process so many hard things at a young age bc of her visions.

theres a lot of filling the blanks here of course.

elka obsesses over nils to an overbearing degree even despite the fact he treats her like shit ('you promised no talking' and so on) and she treats him bad right back. she leans onto stereotypical heterosexual ideals like taking care of him and overblowing how Manly and Protective JT is and she admires romance stories like pride and prejudice and it feels like she Projects Soooooooo much of what she wants onto boys she barely feels anything for without knowing what its actually supposed to feel like. and clearly she WANTS that ideal future, a happy marriage, an actual romance- but according to nils even when they were dating she ignored him most of the time, which just seems Very Telling

like shes filling a role, overcompensating for emotions and lacktherof she cant digest quite yet, and it only makes more sense when you know shes had visions of their future together. how could that be bad for her? shouldnt it be like the books and movies? but she doesnt really connect the fact that her visions are only for Doomed futures, and if she does she certainly doesnt show it. Doomed relationships. it's been a part of her family for generations and she isn't turning out much different, is she? i dont think she even realizes thats all she ever sees yet, just that its Going to happen. that it's Her future, and it always will be

and like, her only reference for a real marriage so far has been her own parents, and she already Knows they have an affair, and theyre doomed to split, (and i actually like to think they were in rough waters anyway and elka was a child meant to mend a crumbling marriage but thats a whole other thing) and so without a framework for what an actual healthy relationship is supposed to be like she cant really grasp that her relationship with nils Isnt that and isnt ever going to be. she can only cling to this one happy idea of the future, and thats why she keeps chasing him, self fulfilling the actuality of her situation and creating and fostering the unhappy life they will inevitably live together.

and that bleeds into everything else in her life, of course, because as the years go on, as the visions grow in number it just makes sense for her to fall into the predictability of her life. she always knows whats going to happen, her visions are Never wrong- so why try to change things? shes had time to process tragedies days, weeks, months, years before they happen, shes had time to settle into every crack of her life. her parents divorce, her various break ups, her future with the psychonauts.

“and she's already seen so much of a future with [nils] she feels trapped almost. Like she has to be happy in it or else it just means her life is miserable. And it's a mixture of pride and fear of the unknown that keeps her clinging to the One thing she knows. BUT LIKE!!! She knows what's gonna happen! It's easier to grieve when she's been grieving for years... She wants so badly to be happy, But to do that she has to step into the unfamiliar. And that's more terrifying than staying the same miserable person she's always been.”

and thats where franke comes in— and yeah you Do have to take a lot of liberties for frankes character since it’s basically, like, all the info for her is just that shes a Supreme Baby Dyke but thats enough for me. i think she has protective butch itch in her . on campster shes defensive over other women evidenced in the way she keeps watch over the girls cabins for lili when elton is pursuing her . but shes also eager to please and constantly trying to make kitty laugh and also Very naive. but she tries! and i think it only solidifies more as she gets Older and really gets a hold of her feelings & her powers. this is incredibly franke to me

and i think as they grow older together— because i think franke and elka Do stay friends, both because elka is just pathetic and needs that positive connection even if she doesnt realize it and because i think franke is a very Loyal person & annoyingly persistent if you let her be . and i am also a kitty/franke truther. because kittys also important in this web we weave

because i think franke and kitty stay together after camp, to a point— theres a falling out facilitated on kittys end and they break up, but reconnect, and franke kind of... saves kitty from herself a little, from her strict military father whos love only extends thru finances , from her own stifling future , she drives all the way to bakersville in her shitty van handmedowned from her dad and they move in together eventually . they get jobs at the motherlobe , because it’s a pipeline to a decent job, because it’s whats easy, because franke doesn’t really have a future, because she’s never really been good at much, because shes never had much sense, because franke doesnt really care as long as she can live and help, sometimes, if she can, and because kitty’s there, and because elka’s there, and shes so used to being elkas eyes now and shes good at it. shes good at being the muscle of the missions when her colleagues lack it, when hypnosis and predictions arent enough. she likes it that way.

and elka appreciates frankes company. she listens, shes sweet, she does little things for her that no ones ever really put the effort for before; she likes her. franke is strong and bold and makes her laugh and shes always there but god elka cant let go of that future, of that box shes put herself in, that her mothers put her in, of being a Good Wife to a Loving Husband, of getting married normally and falling into unfailing familiarity. thats all shes ever wanted and shes not going to jeopardize that . not for franke, who may not be a boy but is handsome like one, whos always held her after every break up with nils and the men that filled empty days inbetween.

and elka is too stubborn to recognize those feelings anyway. too prideful to accept a way out. too set in her cycle no matter how much she hates it, her little self fulfilling tragedy of her own making, wallowing in her own doom. she struggles for control of her own life when she feels like every choice has been made for her anyway, she puts up her walls and carefully constructs what people see. but franke was always harder to trick, because while empathy isnt a particularly useful psychic power it’s certainly an inconvenient one. all franke has to do is get too close and all those carefully crafted walls fall apart, and elkas control is gone, and thats all she really has. and she tries to distance herself, really she does, but franke is also too persistent. and elka wears gloves, keeps contact that would make her walls crumble from happening as best as she can, but she cant really keep herself from the brief moments where she feels like someone actually fucking cares about her.

and that slightest lack of control, the need to wrestle it back is why she proposes to nils the next time theres a falling out— she knows how it happens, she plans every detail. and he accepts, despite everything. gets her a cheap ring and it feels like lead on her finger and its nothing at all like how shed thought it to be when she was a kid, theres no feather light feeling in her chest, only that dreadful reality that she cant turn this back. BUT WHAT CAN U DO LMAO

elka doesnt tell franke about this engagement until later, on their way back from a mission. late at night when neither of them can sleep, and franke invites elka to smoke in her van, because its been so long since theyve been alone like that, because elkas been so strangely absent lately. and because of everything, because frankes always so damn nice, because elka hates the feel of the ring on her finger, because she let herself get high alone with franke fucking athens whos always been so good at pulling her apart— the truth of it all spills out and its messy and emotional and she hates it, she hates the life shes made for herself, but franke makes it easier to bare and now shes here and shes so close and god she wishes she could see her smile again, she wishes she could see franke, thats all she needs right now and she cant but she can touch her and she can hold her and for tonight, she can be known, she can let those walls crumble, she can be something else just for once here with franke . she can kiss her here in this van, touch that happiness for just a moment, and forget the future that waits for her outside of it. franke begs her to forget the wedding, to just let herself be happy— and god, she wants to, but it means turning her back on everything shes known and everything shes saw to be inevitable, and franke has never been in her future, so if it were supposed to work out why hadnt she seen it and she cant, she cant take that risk but she can have this, even if its temporary, she can have it.

and just as soon as she gets a taste of it, its gone. after that night, after the missions over and theyre back at the motherlobe and have to pretend like nothing happened (franke doesnt, of course she tells kitty about it, she tells kitty about everything.) but that brief moment together haunts elka every time she sees franke, sees herself through frankes eyes, sees herself in her wedding dress because god its all franke can think about! of course it is! she knows how much elkas destroying herself she knows how much misery shes wallowing in that kiss in the van felt like an emotional punch to the teeth and she hasnt ever forgotten it and all she can do is sit and watch while elka throws herself into a loveless marriage. she can come to her wedding and see the way the bride and groom kiss with the emotional weight of a wet towel no matter how hard elka tries to hide it under a pretty dress and bouquets of flowers and meticulous planning.

and elka resents nils but she cant really hate him, its not his fault, not really. he feels trapped just like she does and his feelings of misery only cycle back into hers . they fight and gnash and wear away at each other and its a relationship thats crashed and burned a million times before elka even said i do. and its inevitable that she falls into her mothers habits, a sip of wine here and there to loosen up, until it turns to a glass, until it falls into a bottle on nights when whatever work nils does runs late.

but franke’s still there. shes always been there, hasn’t she? always trying to play knight, always trying to save her, dragging her home when shes stumbling over herself because god who else is going to do it but her? who else is left to care? certainly not nils. never nils. because franke knows her. because franke pities her. shes always pitied her. shes always known. and elka hates it, she resents it, but god in the same breath she’s desperate for it, she envies it to her very bones. elka is a mess but after frankes done with her she has someone to go back to that loves her. and god what elka wouldnt do to have that. to take it and keep it for herself because shes never ever got to have that movie romance shes always wanted.

so now comes this.

because elkas particularly miserable and particularly spiteful and she needs to get franke to understand, just for a moment, drink with her and get on her level and she needs her there with her no matter how her pity makes her feel. no matter how much it makes her shake with anger and envy and desperation, but god the way franke looks at her, the way she still tries to salvage what they have, the soft, slurred way she tells her that it’s okay but its not okay, none of this is okay, it never has been and she just wants franke to shut up and see that, and if she cant then she’ll show her, she’ll show her all the raw angry desperation, with too much teeth and hands that claw and grab and she’ll know why everyones always said she’s too much.

and she knows this puts her on nils’ level too. that this makes her a cheater, that shes no better than he is now. no better than her father and his affair. but god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to be in control. just for once. she wants to feel right and she wants to feel happy and she wants to feel loved. thats all shes ever wanted. and franke will let her have that, just for a little while, at the very least.

anyway. sorry. sorry for being crazy . this isnt even getting into the shit after the comic takes place . elkas stupid brainworld thag she has to overcome in order to finally be allowed in the polycule and live happily ever as worlds first lesbian divorceman

sorry for all the shit i make up instead of caring about actual characters with screentime . bye !

[aemondsbabe]

Two Souls, Entwined

summary: dreams & dirty talk || helaena has been plagued with visions; things between her and her lady in waiting finally reach a boiling point

pairing: helaena targaryen x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, mutual pining, angst but happy ending, dry humping, breast/nipple play, dirty talk but make it poetic and loving, slight aegon slander i broke my own heart, i love helaena sm, there needs to be more content for her i love her, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 4.1k

a/n: happy day ten of 12 days of smuff!! i'm actually very excited/proud of this one, it got a lot more personal than i was expecting! really feeding that scared bi girl i was in middle school idk. i hope y'all enjoy it!!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @merrypembertons

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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Helaena sighs when she opens her eyes and blinks, disoriented by the early morning light, her head still clouded with sleep. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe…” She whispers to the emptiness of her chambers, the cryptic phrase a familiar one now as it had been making its home in her head for the past few weeks. 

Sitting up with a groan, she pauses at the edge of her bed, staring blankly ahead as the cloudy figures from her dream seem to swirl around her still. She was growing frustrated with the shadowy shapes, as much as she hated to admit it – she did not often enjoy her dreams, they often brought news of unpleasant tidings, secrets that she alone seemed expected to bear, but for the past few weeks her dreams had been… pleasant. Joyous, in fact. Yet they seemed much further away than the others, only revealing small slivers of information to her night after night. 

She smiles softly as she gives one last glance out the window before padding over to the vanity in her chambers, determined to brush out her hair before the maids have the chance, they were always too rushed and hurried. Her mind drifts back to her dream as she runs a comb through her fair hair; lately, this mysterious dream seemed to be the only thing she could focus on for very long. 

The figure in it seemed so familiar, moving around her as if it was an old friend, someone safe. She sighed again as she thought, blushing despite herself as she recalled her latest vision, remembering how the shadow had moved about her, as if in a courting dance, before it leaned in closely, though if it were for a kiss or to whisper a secret she didn’t know. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe.” She repeats, as if the repeating will somehow reveal more. 

It puzzles her greatly, the feelings of safety mixed with distinct romantic desire, a deep wanting from somewhere within her. There aren’t many people she even feels safe around, and even less so those she’d ever felt romantic longing for, and a much shorter list followed of people who had ever felt romantic longing for her. She feels secure around her mother, of course, and grandsire and her precious younger brothers, but she cannot help but wrinkle her nose with disgust at the thought of romantic intent with any of them.

She blinks, setting her hairbrush down and biting her lip as she thinks. I feel safe with Aegon, she ponders, brows knitting together, He’s never given me a reason to not feel safe but… She sighs, not bothering to finish the thought. She was well aware her marriage was one of politics, not of love. She remembers there had been whispers of many suitors when she’d finally come of age; everyone from Aegon and Aemond to her half-sister’s bastard sons had been considered, and though Helaena appreciated some more than others… she didn’t desire any of them. 

Before she can help herself, her blue eyes flit over her own curves as she gazes at herself in the mirror, wishing, as she had so many times before, that she could reach out and feel her own reflection – feel a mirrored twin with similar soft skin and supple flesh. She wishes that soft, delicate fingers could touch her as well; she had grown tired of rough, battle worn touches long ago. 

Someone I feel safe with and feel romantic longing for, she thinks again, blinking rapidly as a familiar face immediately springs to mind yet again, just as it had every time she’d pondered this mystery for the last few weeks, only growing more frustrated. It can’t be, she’d decided that long ago, long before this vision began. 

But...

The Gods only ever seemed to show her visions that were assured, that would come to fruition, one way or another. Maybe… maybe that meant that y–

No, she thought, locking eyes with her reflection, Don’t be ridiculous. 

She smiles as she hears her chamber doors opening, at the same time they do every morning, and turns around on the ornate, cushioned chair at her vanity, her eyes locking with your familiar ones as you waltz it. 

“Good morning, Princess,” her heart beats a mite faster at the sound of your voice, at the bright smile that graces your lips as you stride to her, “I trust you slept well?”

“Good morning, sweet friend,” she greets you brightly, standing and pulling you into a hug as she did every day, “I did, quite peacefully, actually. And you?” She asked, trying to ignore the small voice that longed to hold you more closely, as she did everyday. 

“I did as well,” your hand lingers in hers for a moment as she steps away, sitting back at her vanity as the maids arrive, instantly fluttering around the two of you like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, “After we break fast, would you like to come to the gardens with me?”

Helaena merely nods, though inside she buzzes, her heart fluttering like a bird’s wings. 

I would follow you into the Seven Hells, she longs to say. 

You wake with a small start, your hand instantly flying to your lips. You could swear they still tingle for a second from when she’d kissed you, just before you’d woken up. Blushing, you glance around your chambers, as if there would be anyone else there, and finding them empty leaves you both relieved and disappointed all at once. 

Sighing, you slide off of your plush bed and walk over to your small vanity and use the small wash basin to splash water on your face. A small thrill shoots up your spine as you glance over your shoulder in the mirror, knowing from the position of the light filtering through your windows that it’s nearly time to go find your friend. 

Friend.

It’s a funny word, you think, not one you would have imagined assigning to the princess all the many years ago when you’d arrived at King’s Landing, young and eager to be a lady in waiting for Helaena. You can’t help the smile that blooms on your lips each time you think of her, your quiet, captivating princess. You meet your own gaze in the mirror and frown, looking at yourself in the way a disappointed parent would look at a child. 

Not yours, you chide, like repeating it over and over would make it hurt any less, Not yours, not yours, not yours. 

Sighing yet again, you rise from your spot at the vanity and quickly grab your robes, eager to escape your own thoughts. 

“This one is the iphiclides podalirius,” Helaena says, her voice soft as she marvels at the delicate butterfly perched on the back of her hand, “More commonly called the scarce swallowtail, I believe. It’s truly remarkable, normally they don’t travel this far north, though I’m told they’re a common sight in the gardens of Sunspear.”

“Then we are quite lucky to see it,” you smile, setting your embroidery hoop on the bench beside you as you study the yellow and black striped insect, though your eyes seem to drift to the princess on their own; you can’t help but smile as you see the way her beautiful sapphire eyes light up as she examines the small creature, “It’s very beautiful.”

Like you, you think, swallowing down the words. 

“Would you like to hold her?” Helaena asks, looking at you hopefully. 

As always, you nod, aware that you were the only one who seemed to entertain her fascination with insects and plants. Selfishly, you liked that. 

Slowly and carefully, Helaena guides the butterfly onto the back of your hand; the two of you sitting close together, close enough for your shoulders to press together. A giggle leaves you at the feel of the insect's feet on your skin, so small and light, like tiny, faint kisses.  

“Perhaps she was drawn to the hydrangeas,” the princess muses, “Those are new this year, though I suppose any of the other very colorful plants would spark her fancy as well, like the lilac or poppies or…”

It takes you a second to notice that she’s gone quiet next to you and you finally tear your gaze away from the butterfly, frowning slightly when you see the look on her face, her blue eyes hazy and unfocused as they flit back and forth like she’s watching figures you cannot see. 

“Princess?” You ask softly, reaching out to take her hand, only halfway aware of the butterfly fluttering away, “Helaena?” You ask again, a bit louder, gripping her hand tighter. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe…” She whispers, so faintly that the words scarcely leave her lips. Your frown only deepens, your eyebrows knitting together as you shake your head, trying to make sense of her words. 

“What?” You ask softly, used to hearing her mutter odd phrases but seeing her in a trance was something altogether different, “Helaena? Should I go fetch the maester?” You don’t know why you ask her, not expecting a response. 

The figure danced in front of her again, clouded in darkness, though instead of feeling cold and empty like the dark so often did to her, these shadows hugged Helaena like a blanket. 

She blinked, and suddenly everything changed, becoming clear as if she’d blinked away tears. The clarity was startling for a second as the edges of the figure sharpened before her, still leaning toward her as if it meant to whisper an amorous secret.

Finally, her eyes focused and in that moment, she felt as if she could be knocked over by the air current made from the flittery wings of a butterfly. 

You. 

It was you, just as she’d always suspected, standing before her as if you’d always been there. 

Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe. The phrase repeats in her mind like a mantra as she stares at you, marveling at the way you stare at her. 

Like she’s precious, something to be fawned over. Something to be… loved? 

Her heart hammers wildly in her chest as she reaches out, her fingers finally skimming over your cheek. 

She could cry, perhaps she is crying, she doesn’t know. The only thing she’s sure of is that this feels so right, like a puzzle piece within her has finally shifted and slotted into place. 

Just as it crosses her mind to lean in and kiss you, the vision falls away, words echoing in her mind as the gardens come back into focus.

Not a friend. 

Not a friend.

Not a friend.

Yet...

Not a foe. 

“Helaena, please!” You beg, urgency coating your voice as you lean in closer, closer than you’d ever dared before, praying to see some spark of recognition in the princess’s eyes. 

Suddenly, she seems to come back to herself, gasping as you jump back away from her, startled. 

“Oh!” She breathes, blinking a couple times before her blue eyes finally fix themselves on you, “I’m so sorry, I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

You shake your head quickly, moving back toward her and taking her hands in yours once more, your heart twisting as you notice them trembling slightly. “There’s no need to apologize, I’m just happy you’re alright.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, Helaena staring at you in a way that makes your cheeks heat up, as if she’s seeing you for the first time, before she seems to catch herself and look away, much to your disappointment. 

“Was that one of your dreams?” You ask softly, looking down to where her hand rests within yours. 

“Yes.” She says simply, her eyes locked on the way your fingers overlap hers as she desperately tries to ignore the voice in her head telling her to enterwine them. 

“What did you see?” You ask, catching her gaze again. There’s a fire in her eyes now that makes you shiver. 

She’s quiet for a moment, neither of you so much as breathing as you stare at each other – the princess looking at you so intently you wonder if she’s trying to hear your thoughts. You pray she can’t. 

“Nothing of importance,” she says finally, pulling her hands away and standing from the bench suddenly, “They’re just shapes, really. Fuzzy things.”

“Alright,” you smile as you stand with her, picking up your embroidery hoop from where it had been abandoned at your side, “If you ever wish to discuss them, I would be more than happy to listen.” You tell her, desperately wanting to hold on to whatever moment you had just shared with her. 

She merely nods with a small, soft smile and holds her arm out for you to take, “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late for supper.” 

The fire warming your skin from the hearth in Helaena’s chambers normally felt cozy and inviting, but tonight the heat of it was stifling as the two of you sit in silence. Each of you is presumably working on an embroidery piece, although the atmosphere feels more like that of a stalemate with each passing moment. 

You can feel her looking at you, sneaking glances every minute or so. You imagine she can probably feel the same, perhaps that’s why she keeps looking your way, because you can’t seem to keep your eyes off her either. 

Finally, the tension in the room seems to boil over and you can’t take it anymore; your fingers dig into the wood of your embroidery hoop as you gather the courage to speak. 

“Have I… Are you cross with me?” 

“Pardon?” The princess asks, jumping a bit before laying her hoop at her side, her eyes wide as she looks at you unabashedly now. 

“You, well, you keep looking at me. I just, I’m hoping I haven’t offended you in some way.” You chance a glance at Helaena and quickly do a double take, heart clenching in your chest when you see that she looks as if she’s about to cry. 

“You haven’t,” she breathes, shaking her head emphatically, locks of pale hair cascading down her shoulders as she does, “I simply… I was considering the dreams I’ve been having, the one I had earlier today.” 

“But what does that have to do with me?” 

“You’ve been in them!” She says suddenly, loudly, like she has to force out the words. 

“What?” You blink. 

She sighs heavily and swallows, wringing her hands on her lap. “You were in them. You have been for weeks.” 

You wonder if the princess can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you blink, silently praying to whichever of the Gods may be listening that Helaena’s dreams and your dreams were not somehow intertwined. In the back of your mind, you knew your pleas were useless. 

Your mouth opens and closes a few times like a fish that’s been plucked from the water before you finally find your voice, “What… what am I doing in them?” Your whole body buzzes, fearing the answer and desperately needing it all at once. 

The princess hesitates, you want to scream as you can all but see her weighing her options in her mind before she finally, finally speaks. 

“Courting me, kissing me.” 

A small withering, wounded noise passes your lips at her words. You feel dizzy, the room spinning as you feel as though the entire world is crashing down around you while at the same time, it’s as if a mountain’s worth of weight has been lifted from your shoulders. 

“And your visions… they only show things already fated to occur?” You feel frozen as you ask, not a muscle in your body moving. You know the answer even as the question leaves your lips, but you need to hear her say it. 

Helaena sighs and shakes her head, a frown cutting across her pretty face, “That’s why it’s frustrating,” she bites, spitting the words like the mere act of explaining is painful, “This one cannot come to pass, I do not understand why I see it…”

She keeps speaking, talking through her annoyance, but the sound of your own blood pumping wildly through your veins blocks out her words. 

No, your head pounds as you silently scream, No, no, no! Please, just let me explain, give me a chance, I’ll do any—

A loud sob cuts through your thoughts; the world seems to wrench its way back to you as you look at the princess, eyes widening when you see the tears flowing down her flushed cheeks. 

“You could never truly wish to…” She says slowly, brokenly, words fading like she can’t even bear to say them. 

“I do.” The words feel punched from your chest like you’re holding your heart out to the open air.

Helaena’s ocean eyes cut to yours as her breath hitches, the both of you not daring to move a muscle as you sit together on the small sofa in her chambers; the fire crackling in the hearth is the only indication that time has not ceased to exist. 

You aren’t sure who moves first, maybe the Gods have threaded the two of you together so tightly that you move as one, you can’t be sure. 

But her lips are on yours. 

And her hands cup your cheeks as yours scramble to fit around her waist, four hands poised on a knife’s edge. 

You sigh against each other, pulled together like a knot in a thread, and you gasp as you find yourselves pressed together, chest to chest.

Finally, you part for air, panting together as you stare, foreheads pressed together. 

“Princess—“

“You love me?” She asks, swiping a thumb over your cheek; it’s only then you realize you’re crying. 

“Yes,” you breathe, your hands grip her tighter, pulling her impossibly closer to you, “And you?” 

“Yes,” she echos, her thighs slotting over one of yours as she climbs atop your lap, “You are my heart beating out of my body.” 

Her words zap through you and your heart twists in your chest as your hands clamber against her, your lips press against hers again urgently. Twin moans, muffled into each other's mouths, sound between you as your hands cup her rear, pressing her more urgently against you. 

“You are beautiful,” you sigh, hands grabbing at her plush curves through the silk fabric of her skirts, “You’re so soft and —“ 

“Warm,” she breathes, moaning into the column of your neck as her lips move against your skin, “You’re so warm, my love, like the sun.” 

My love. The pet name sends a shiver down your spine as the two of you move together, pressing kisses against whatever patches of skin you can find, rocking together instinctually. The firmness of her thigh presses deliciously against your center, your skirts rucked up enough to bare your smallclothes, which press welty against your core. 

You gasp, pressing a kiss to the princess’s collarbone as her hips move tantalizingly on your thigh, the warmth between her legs nearly suffocating as you whimper and sign against each other’s soft skin. 

“I have always loved you,” you confess, nearly coming undone as she begins tugging at the ties at the bosom of your gown, her hands shaking as she pulls them loose, “Always, from the first moment I saw you.”

She makes a noise between a moan and sob as she finally tugs your bodice loose, and you whimper as her lithe fingers ghost over your breasts, causing your back to arch into her touch. “I’ve always loved you too,” she sighs as her soft hands cup your chest, kneading the flesh in her palms, “I always wanted to court you, marry you, I,” her voice breaks off in a faint, high-pitched whine as you finally manage to unbutton the bodice of her gown, she savors the feel of your lips and hands against her breasts for a moment more before continuing, “Gods, I wished to bed you, I’ve always longed to know what you would feel like, how sweet you’d taste.”

Her confessions nearly make you weep as you kiss over the fat of her breasts, keening into her supple skin as she delicately pinches at your nipples, “I have only ever thought of you, my sweet princess,” your chest heaves as you speak, your words muffled as you lick over her nipple, “When I sleep, when I wake, when I–” The words stick in your throat as you freeze, peering up at her through your lashes, somehow still impossibly afraid of going too far, or too fast, or too anything. 

“When you what?” She asks, her voice so soft and sweet as she stares down at you, her fingers digging into your breast and side as her sapphire eyes flit between yours, “Tell me, my love, when you what?” She urges, her hips moving somehow more desperately against yours, only serving to fuel the fire slowly building within you. 

“Gods, when I touch myself,” you whisper, shuddering as she lets out a breathy moan above you, “When I peak, sweet princess, I think only of you.” Your confession ends in a sharp gasp as she angles you backwards, anchoring you to her with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Her lips trail down your neck and collarbone before finally, she presses firm, fiery kisses to your breast, panting as she wraps her petal pink lips around your nipple and sucks, pressing her thigh more firmly against your center as she does. 

“I think only of you too,” she breathes, blue eyes fluttering up to yours as your hands tangle in her pale locks, “Every time I touch myself, I dream of you,” she mumbles around your breast, her touch all but burning into you as she kisses across your chest before mouthing at the other side, “When my brother beds me, it is you I see, my precious lady.”

You practically sob as her admission sends you reeling, each cell in your body bursting like lightning from a stormcloud as you peak. You’re useless to do much else other than tremble in her hold as shivers travel in currents down your spine, your smallclothes no doubt ruined as your center clenches frantically at nothing, your pearl so taut and achy as it twitches against the princess’s thigh. 

You don’t waste a second when your high subsides, moving frantically as you push Helaena back, slotting yourself perfectly atop her, pressing your thigh between her legs like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Your skirts fan out around your bodies, blanketing your forms in a soft sea of silk, your bare chests pressed tightly together as you rut against her, needing to see her awash with pleasure more than you need breath in your lungs. 

“My love, my sweet princess,” you sigh into her mouth, your tongues swirling together as she all but cries beneath you, her hands digging possessively into your waist, “I am yours, my love, until the end of my days.” You swear, pressing your thigh tightly against her center, and your heart soars as she finally shatters in your grasp.

You watch, enraptured, as she peaks; mesmerized at the blush that blooms on her skin, at the way her blue eyes roll back as her eyes flutter closed, at how her breasts heave as she sucks in desperate breaths. The sounds she makes seem to pierce into your soul, each whimper and moan and cry ripping away parts of you until your heart is stripped bare, beating only for her. 

The two of you lay in a heady silence for many moments, the only sounds being your soft, panting breaths as you each come down and the ever-present crackle sounding from the hearth. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe.” Helaena whispers, her voice raspy as she speaks.

“Pardon?” You ask, pulling back from her embrace just enough to meet her gaze.

“That phrase,” she explains, her eyes glimmering in the firelight as a smile steadily blossoms on her pink lips, “I kept hearing it, in my dreams about you.”

You stay silent, tracing soft circles on her soft skin, leaving room for her to continue.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but now I see.”

“Hm?”

You aren’t my friend, the Gods spoke truthfully,” she beams, radiating joy as she studies your face, “You’re my love.”

Her statement is simple, but it makes you smile all the same as you press a sweet kiss to her lips.

“Yes,” you nod, pulling back to meet her eyes as you lay a hand over her heart, “Always.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[newpathwrites]

I Love it All (Din x f!reader)

“My body is just so…” you closed your eyes, disgusted with yourself. “It’s so… soft… and saggy… literally everywhere…”

He huffed in response, clearly expressing his disagreement. “You mean you’re middle aged…”

Summary: You’re unhappy with your body, and Din is having none of that.

Notes: I don’t know if this is any good - I got this idea and wrote it in a rush instead of working on my WIPs 🤫. It was supposed to be a chaste thing, but for some reason I couldn’t stop it from heading the sexy route. I’m still not very comfortable writing smut, so this is very vague and nondescriptive, and I may have rushed a bit through those parts. This is absolutely not my best work, but I’m trying to follow the advice of all those reassuring Tumblr posts and put it up here, anyway.

Warnings: Non-descriptive sexual content, negative thoughts about one’s body.

Word Count: 1.1k

Read on AO3

Main Masterlist

————————————————————

“Why are you so focused on my worst features?”

Din froze, hand halting its gentle exploration over the skin of your stomach, eyes searching your face.

“What does that mean?” he asked in an unexpectedly dark tone.

Did you really think any of your features were anything less than perfect?  Or did you think he believed so?  That idea was downright offensive.

“It’s just…” you started hesitantly.  “Your hands always seem to gravitate toward the ugliest parts of me…”

“You have no ‘ugly’ parts, Cyar’ika,” he replied quickly.

“We both know I do…”

He looked at you with a mixture of concern and confusion.  “I do not… I think every inch of you is perfect.”

“Well, maybe you only think that because it’s me…”

“Yeah.  Is that not the same thing?”

Stars.  He could be so sweet sometimes without even trying, but he was missing the point.

“You know what I mean, Din,” you sighed, pulling the robe tightly around your body, clearly trying to hide yourself.

“I really don’t, actually.”  His hand snaked around your shoulder to rub your back over the fabric.  “Explain it to me.”

“My body is just so…” you closed your eyes, disgusted with yourself.  “It’s so… soft… and saggy… literally everywhere…”

He huffed in response, clearly expressing his disagreement.  “You mean you’re middle aged…”

You opened your eyes to look at him.  “It’s not attractive.  Don’t try to tell me it is.”

“Alright, look,” he began, pulling your hands away from the fastenings of your robe and exposing your upper half.  “I appreciate the softness…a lot...”  He squeezed once before running his fingers over your breast, thumb passing over your nipple and eliciting a small gasp. “Sure, you look a little different now than fifteen years ago, but… I like that we’ve aged… it means we managed to survive this long together…”

You craned your neck up to kiss him once in agreement.  “That is true, but…”

He cut you off abruptly with his mouth once again on yours.  “Let me finish, Cyare.  I’ve got your whole body to cover here.”

He didn’t wait for a response before adjusting your bodies so that you lay flat on your back below him.  He peeled off your robe entirely and ran his mouth down your neck and chest while gently groping your breasts.

And then he moved on, kissing down your abdomen until he reached the soft rolls of your stomach.  “It makes me happy to see that you’re not skin and bones like you were when we met.  We’ve done well for ourselves - we’ve never gone hungry since, and we should be proud of it.”  He ran his hand softly over your stomach.  “This is evidence that you’re healthy and nourished, and it’s beautiful on you.  I’d like to remind you that I have plenty of this, too.”

He smirked as he laid his lips there, and you allowed a small giggle to escape.  It was true - and you loved that little bit of fat he’d accumulated there.

His mouth continued down until he reached the band of your underwear, eyes looking up at you for permission.

You nodded, and he peeled them down your legs.  “You worry about this, too… don’t you?” he questioned as he ran his fingers through the soft curls of hair there.

You looked mildly but genuinely pained as you responded with mock despair, placing a dramatic hand over your eyes.  “Even my vulva is sagging, Din!”  

He laughed.  At least your mood had improved.  “It’s just aging, Cyar’ika.  A similar part of me is sagging, too.”

Your eyes sparkled with amusement.  “It’s not the same.  Those sag at baseline…”

He laughed again as he lowered himself to the floor at the foot of the bed, kneeling as he pulled your body closer to the edge of the mattress..

“I love all of it exactly as it is.  Okay?”

You nodded.  He’d made his point.

But he was not done.  His fingers had continued to caress the sensitive skin there, heightening your slowly building arousal.  

He placed light kisses on your thighs, purposely focusing on the parts he knew you disliked, hoping to prove to you that he really did care for every part of you, wrinkles and sags and all.

Meanwhile, his thumb found the most sensitive part of you as he reluctantly pulled his mouth away to move back up to the head of bed.

You immediately reached for his face, kissing him deeply through whimpers of pleasure.  “I like your sagging parts, too…”

His chuckle was soon replaced by a low groan as your own hands clumsily reached down into his sleep pants to return the favor.  

Your efforts were uncoordinated as you fought his clothing, but as the waves of your orgasm abated, he took it upon himself to kick off the offending items, readying himself over you.

“Slow,” you told him emphatically as he filled you.  “I want to tell you everything I love about you, too.”

“If you say so…” he huffed with strained humor.

You reached up to run your hands through his curls as you spoke against his mouth, delighting in his slow and gentle movements.  “You’re self-conscious about the gray… and the creases on your forehead… and the patches in your beard, but it all looks so good on you, Din.  You’ve only gotten more handsome with age.”

He could only groan against your lips.  He wasn’t sure he believed that, but stars did he appreciate that you thought so.

“And your scars - they tell your story, and I’ll never tire of tracing them to remember that you came out on the other side to me.”  Your fingers found the well-healed gash on his neck.  He hated that one in particular, but you loved it because he survived.

You were becoming a bit breathless now, too, the pleasure building again as he kept to your instruction to go slow.  It was a wonderful kind of torture.

“And that little roll of fat on your stomach… I’m the only one privileged to even know it exists… and I love that…” you said between small gasps.

He was really straining with effort now, your words having their intended effect.  His forehead pressed against yours as his thrusts became a bit more forceful even at this languid pace.  “I don’t think I can hold back anymore, Cyar’ika…”

“Then don’t, love.”

This was one of your favorite parts of him - the one that allowed himself to lose control with you.

No more words were spoken as you moved together at a more steady rhythm, and the release was that much more incredible because every bit of self-consciousness about your aging bodies had melted away in the process.

“Do you really like my scars?” he whispered against your neck when he finally went slack against you.   Ah, so he was insecure, too.

You pulled back to look at this face, smiling adoringly.  

“I love your scars.”

____________________

Thank you for reading!

[foundfamilyhq]

Welcome + Rules

Welcome to the Tumblr Found Family HQ! Here, we present your blorbos to the masses to have them vote upon whether they should be added to the collective tumblr found family or not. Submit your blorbos here:

See which blorbos have already joined the found family HERE! To avoid seeing the results posts, mute "ff results" The rules are: 1. Play nice; be respectful to others 2. Blorbos can be of any age, since a found family can be just that. So feel free to submit a one-day old infant or a ten thousand year old tree, if those are your blorbos 3. No Harry Potter (or other titles associated to this series or the author) 4. No real people (might make an exception if it's funny) 5. "No real people" includes no individual tumblr users, youtubers or streamers (this might seem obvious, but there were still a lot of them submitted) 6. No OCs. All your OCs are great and I'd feel sad if they got rejected from the found family F.A.Q. under readmore:

(No one has actually asked any questions, but these are the ones I'm anticipating) Some of these questions have been asked now lol Q. How does this work? A. A post featuring a blorbo shall be made, stating who they are and their source material. A poll will be attached set to one week, asking if the blorbo shoulf join the tumblr found family. At the end of the week, based on the result, I will announce if they blorbo has joined or not Q. What is a found family? A. A found family is a family you find for yourself. It is a term often used in fandom to describe a group of characters who aren't related by blood (although a few members might be) but have come to think of each other as a family through circumstance. Alternatively, they might not be officially recognised as a found family in canon, but wider fanon regards them as such Q. Is this a tournament bracket? A. Nope, blorbos aren't competing against each other, they're only here to be judged by you. We are here enternally submitting blorbos (at least until I run out of steam or pass away lol) Q. I'm not sure if my blorbo counts because of ___ reason? A. If it's not any of the reasons mentioned in the rules, then feel free to send an ask. Or just submit them anyway and I'll decide Q. I submitted a blorbo and they haven't been posted. Did you get them? A. Again, feel free to send an ask. I don't have a regular schedule for posting these. Somedays there'll be batches of polls, others there'll be one or none Q. My blorbos are a duo/trio/etc., who cannot be separated. Can I submit them as a group? A. While I would prefer to stick to individual characters, if you have some who absolutely cannot be separated, I might make exceptions. Most likely, I'll make a poll asking if they should be judged as a group or individually, since there's a lot of media I won't be familiar with Q. My blorbo got ditched on the roadside! Fuck you! A. Friend, as a fan of Theseus from Hades Game, I understand what it's like to have your fave hated by fandom. Anything decided on this blog can never affect your personal headcanons, so go in peace with your middle finger held high Q. What are your icon and header? A. The icon is of the Pokemon Bouffalant and Natu, based on a series of trading card art where Bouffalant finds two Natu and rescues them - the true spirit of found family. The header is a group of characters called the Black Ravens from the Professor Layton series - a group of ragtag working-class kids who make a black market together Q. I wrote some propaganda on the submission form, can you post it or send it back to me? A. Submissions are deleted as the polls are posted, so I can keep track of how many I have left to post, which means I can't do this. Please save your propaganda for the post and not the submissions form Q. Did you know you used fan art on ___ poll? A. Unless I'd mentioned getting permission from the artist, then please assume that I did not know and let me know. I hate art theft and wouldn't want to partake in that, but I'm just not familiar with a good 80% of the series submitted, so sometimes it might slip through the cracks Q. Can I submit a character who isn't my blorbo? A. Also fine! I enjoy it when people submit controversial characters to see how they'll do Q. What happens if there's a tie? A. The blorbo in question becomes an occassional family member who appears with our found family for some important cutscenes, but isn't officially considered part of the found family

Q. No, but seriously, my blorbo got ditched. Do they get another chance? A. At the beginning of each year we host a Redemption Event, where any past blorbos who were submitted get another chance. Because of the high volume of ditched characters, to be included in the event, your character will need to be submitted with propaganda via a form that will be released about a month before the event Q. I think the image used is a big reason why my blorbo got ditched. Why did you use that image? A. If an image hasn't been submitted, I will just grab one from an image search result in most cases. You know your blorbos best, so if you have a specific (non-fan art) image that you think shows them in their best light, please do submit it when you submit them Q. Did you mean the book version or movie version of that character? A. Whichever version of the blorbo that gets submitted, that'll be the one I use. If no specific version is mentioned, I'll just post that blorbo in general and use whatever image is most common when I look them up, unless an image has been submitted or a book cover has been requested to be used Q. My blorbo is a character played by a youtuber and/or streamer, not the youtuber or streamer themselves, is that okay? A. If it's a character, then it's fine. But please mention this on the submission. Because if I look them up and the result looks to be just some real person, that won't be included. I am largely unfamiliar with these kind of fandoms and will always err on the side of caution about their inclusion Q. What counts as a "sweep"? A. Any character who gets 90% or higher in either joining or not joining is counted as a sweep. This doesn't give them anything extra, it's just for bragging rights Q. What counts as a "close call"? A. Any character who's poll results are within the 49%-51% range for join/don't join is counted as a close call Q. How many characters can I submit at a time? A. There's no hard rule, since the form doesn't track emails, but please be considerate to others and try not to submit more than 10 characters per submission period. See next question for more details Q. How many characters from the same series can I submit at a time? A. Four (4) characters per series per submission period. I'll be lenient for if they've been submitted by multiple people, but from my experience running this blog, it's only the current Hot New Thing that'll be submitted by multiple people and anything else is usually one person submitting one character after another. I used to allow more, but people took this for granted and submitted 50+ from the same series, so now 4 is the cap Q. You missed a tag from that poll! Can it be added? A. Sure! Tags are either provided by the submitter or where left blank, I'll use my best guess. At minimum, you'll get the name of the character and series as they've been submitted. If you know more, let me know and I'll add them to the post during the voting period. Please note: The polls themselves cannot be edited after being posted, only the tags Q. Can fictional characters based on real people be submitted? A. Fictional characters that are inspired by real people (e.g. Steven Universe being inspired by Rebecca Sugar's brother) are generally fine. But characters that are basically just some real celebrity making a cameo somewhere (e.g. Simon Cowell appearing on the Simpsons), are a no. Q. I don't understand what this blog is A. Don't worry about it, friend. Just keep driving and whatever you do, don't wind down the window. We'll be safe soon :) Q. Didn't think blog used to be called the Found Family Adoption Agency? A. It was, but I were made aware that the language used on the blog could be seen as potentially harmful to real life adoptees, so I changed the name of the blog and made some edits to try to avoid using such language. Posts made prior to 5th May 2024 will still contain references to adopt/ditching, so tread with caution on older posts

[fanfictionalraven]

Piece by Piece Pt. 1

Title: Piece by Piece Pt. 1

Summary: Nearly 18 years old, the reader runs away from a bad situation. On her way, she meets a handsome stranger running from his own problems.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, other SPN characters mentioned

Word Count: 2,422

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and abandonment, implied smut

Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

The snow was coming down heavier now than it had been when you’d left. Stupid, channel 10 weatherman. He’d said the snow would let up overnight. He didn’t say a blizzard was moving in. You didn’t have a winter coat – or a plan for that matter. You’d just wanted out. So, you’d thrown together the few belongings you’d amassed over your past 17 years and climbed out of the second story window. Well, more like you’d fallen from the second story window, twisting your ankle in the process.

Now, here you were. Middle of the night in the driving snow, limping down the side of the road. You had originally thought you would be able to hitch a ride but not a single car had passed by in the hour you’d been walking. You needed to get as far away as you could before they woke up. You couldn’t go back.

The road suddenly lights up and you hear the sound of an engine approaching from behind. You turn and shield your eyes from the headlights as you stop and hold your thumb out. That’s what they did in all the movies. The women also generally showed a little leg but you weren’t stupid. It was dangerous enough being a 17-year-old girl out in the middle of the night by herself asking complete strangers for rides. The vehicle slows, coming to a stop next to you. You pull the handle on the door and quickly slide into the passenger seat, immediately thanking whatever entity was listening for the radiating heat inside.

“Where you headed, Sweetheart?” The driver of the car asks. You look over at him for the first time and your heart nearly stops. He was gorgeous, probably around your age. In his bright green eyes, you could see – concern? Why was he so worried? Did you look like a deranged serial killer?

It wasn’t until he reached over and turned the heat up even more that you realized you were shaking so profusely. You hadn’t noticed how cold you had actually gotten standing out in the snow. You probably would have drifted into hypothermic shock if he hadn’t come around that corner when he did. Your savior quickly sheds his leather jacket and reaches over, draping it around your shoulders.

“Th-thank you,” you tell him through chattering teeth. You pull the lapels of his leather jacket tighter around you and his scent envelopes you immediately; a mix of the leather, cologne, and earth.

“Where you headed?” He asks again. You frown and shake your head slightly.

“As f-far away from here as p-possible,” you admit. His response is unexpected. He laughs. You look at him and his smile is breathtaking, highlighting two perfect dimples in his cheeks.

“You too, huh?” He asks. It takes a second to register then you smile as well. He was running away too. He puts the car in gear and slowly continues down the road. “I’m Dean by the way. Dean Winchester.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you tell him. The two of you ride in silence for a few minutes as you bring your body temperature back up to normal. Once the shivering subsides, you glance over at him. “So, Dean Winchester, what are you running away from?” He lets out a sigh and you see his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“My dad – he’s got some pretty high expectations. Got tired of it,” he says. You nod and he cuts his eyes over at you. “What about you? Family trouble?” You shake your head, looking out the window at the driving snow.

“No. I don’t have a family,” you say. You know he’s still waiting for you to explain. You hesitate for a moment then sigh. “My mother got pregnant when she was just a kid, 17, my age. Neither of my parents wanted me so I’ve been in the system since I was just a baby. I was with this one family, the Baxter’s, till I was 13. They were great. I thought they were going to adopt me but…I don’t know. One day, they called my social worker and told her to come get me. I’ve been in eight different homes since. And this one…it’s not a good place. I’m almost 18 but – I don’t think I can handle another 3 months.”

“Sounds like a damn good reason to me,” he says. You glance over at him, surprised. You’d expected him to press you for more information, ask you a ton of questions you didn’t want to answer, but he didn’t. He let it go and, instead, punched in the cassette tape that was sitting half out of the player. The sound of a lead guitar fills the car as you ride on into the night.

Eventually, the snow gets too heavy to keep going. Dean pulls the car off onto a side road and parks between a couple of trees. He turns the volume down so that it’s just background noise then turns to face you. You expect those difficult questions now but that’s not what you get. He asks you your favorite color, movie, song, book. And you ask him the same questions. The two of you spend the next two hours playing 20 Questions, or 120 Questions more like.

“And Sammy got mad, threw the ball at me but he missed and knocked out the back windshield,” he laughs. You smile and shake your head, watching him. His smile falls slowly as the memory continues to play in his mind. “He was scared to death. I told Dad it was my fault.” He looks at his hands, an unspoken truth hanging in the air between you. Sliding across the seat, you take his hands in yours.

“Sam’s lucky to have you. I’d give anything to have someone love me the way you love him,” you tell him. He smiles slightly then turns your hands over in his. He carefully pushes the sleeve of your shirt up. You watch as he gently runs his thumb over the small circular burns that pepper your inner arm.

“You know, I’m not sure I like the idea of you out on your own,” he says, glancing up at you. You raise an eyebrow at him, fighting a smile.

“Oh? Why’s that?” You ask. He looks up at you fully now and the look on his face is one you’ve seen already, when you first got in the car – concern.

“There’s a lot of bad stuff out there, Y/N. Evil stuff. Monsters,” he says. You smile a little sadly and look down at your arm again.

“I already live with a monster,” you tell him. He shakes his head, letting your hands go. You return your attention to his face to find he appears torn, as though there’s something he wants to tell you, something he needs to tell you. He’s searching your eyes for an answer to an unspoken question. You bite your lip then takes his hands in yours again. “What is it, Dean?”

“You’ll run if I tell you,” he says. That sentence should scare you, but it doesn’t. He says it with so much care and concern. Something deep inside tells you that you’d never run away from him, no matter what he says or does and that scares you. But he’s worried about you and you can count on one hand the number of people in your life that have been genuinely worried for your safety and well-being.

“I don’t scare easy,” you tell him. He looks at your hands then closes his eyes and for a moment you think he’s praying; praying that you’re right. You squeeze his hands and he sighs before speaking.

“Monsters are real, Y/N. I don’t mean just bad people. I mean…monsters. Like vampires and werewolves and ghosts and — when I was four years old a demon killed my mom. So Dad, he packed me and little six month old Sammy up and we’ve been hunting down these monsters ever since, trying to find the demon that got Mom,” he confesses.

There’s nothing but the sound of the wind and Bon Jovi playing quietly in the background as his words hang in the air. Vampires. Werewolves. Ghosts. Demons. Dean looks up at you slowly, trying to read your face but years of practice help you keep your emotions in check. You take your time, processing each word carefully. Finally, you look out the windshield at the snow.

“One of the houses I was at, I was sure it was haunted. No one else believed me but every night my room would get so cold and I could hear a girl crying. But I was the only girl in the house. Then finally I saw her. She was in the corner, crying. They were convinced I was crazy, had me taken away the next day,” you say slowly. You look at Dean to find he’s watching you and you smile. “Joke’s on them, I guess.”

“You believe me?” He asks, staring at you as though you were telling him monsters were real. You let out a light laugh and nod.

“I don’t claim to know everything or have all the answers to life’s questions so yea. I’m sure there are plenty of unexplainable, paranormal things out there,” you tell him. He gives you a big, goofy grin that makes you laugh even harder. “So…if I can’t go out on my own because a…goblin is gonna get me…”

“Goblin? Really?” He asks, laughing now. You smile, watching, as he leans back against the door, shaking his head. “Sorry, Sweetheart, but David Bowie isn’t gonna come kidnap you.”

“Didn’t have you pegged as a Jim Henson fan,” you say, smirking at him. He smiles and shrugs.

“You watch whatever you can growing up in motels,” he explains. You nod then look at your hands, still intertwined with his own.

“Okay, no goblins then. I can’t go out on my own because a…vampire?” You ask, looking back at him. He nods once and you continue. “A vampire might attack me. What do you suggest I do then?” He smiles a crooked, half smile and shrugs his shoulders.

“I was thinking – maybe – instead of dropping you off at the Greyhound station in the morning, we could stick together,” he suggests.

“You asking me to run away with you, Dean Winchester?” You ask, watching him. He shrugs again. You smile a sad, knowing smile and shake your head. “No.”

“No?” He asks, surprised. You shake your head again and look at your hands.

“No. See, you don’t really want to run away. You’re just mad at your dad right now. You’d want to go back to him and to Sam,” you tell him. His face falls and he looks away, knowing you’re right. “And me, well – I know what’ll happen to me if I run away. I’ll end up on the street, a nameless victim for some monster, human or otherwise.”

“You’re going back there??” He asks, looking back at you quickly. You smile and reach up, placing your hand against his cheek. That same concern was back in his eyes, his beautiful green eyes that you never wanted to forget.

“I am. Sure, it’s bad, but…I turn 18 and graduate in three months. I’ll be able to leave and get some help with college and work. Lesser of two evils,” you explain. He still frowns, unsure. Your smile slowly turns into a smirk. “Besides, aren’t you 19? I don’t think this counts as running away anymore.” That makes him smile before chuckling.

“Yea, pretty sure we’ve crossed into grand theft auto,” he says, nodding slightly. You laugh and now it’s his turn to smirk. He sits up, leaning in towards you slightly. “Guess that makes you my accomplice.”

“The Bonnie to your Clyde?” You ask. He nods and you just catch his eyes quickly dart down to your lips. You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth for a second then let it go. “How mad is he gonna be?”

“I’ll just tell him I was rescuing this girl from a goblin,” he tells you. You throw your head back laughing and he smiles widely, showing off those dimples again. “Ya know, it’s crazy. We’ve known each other barely three hours but…I’m really gonna miss you.” You smile softly and put your hand against his cheek again.

“Me too,” you say quietly. You see his emerald eyes drift down again, slower this time, before returning to your Y/E/C ones. Your fingers slide back into his hair before you lean in, pressing your lips against his. His lips are soft and timid at first, unsure of your intent. You move forward, slowly straddling his waist. His hands find the edge of your shirt and his fingers just graze the skin underneath, sending a shiver down your spine.

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

Dean finds a blanket in the backseat as you slip into his flannel button-up shirt. He smirks as he watches you before pulling his jeans back on.

“What?” You ask, laughing. He shrugs slightly.

“Looks better on you,” he says, pointing to the shirt. You smile as he lays back on the seat before laying down next to him, curling into him quickly. He throws the blanket over the two of you then wraps his arms around you tight. “You sure you don’t wanna go on back? Sneak back in and avoid trouble?” You shake your head quickly.

“Can’t sneak back in. Besides, I’d really rather stay here for a few more hours,” you tell him. He nods and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Alright. Sweet dreams,” he whispers into your hair. You close your eyes and quickly drift off to sleep.

The next morning, Dean drives you back to the house. You share one last kiss that neither of you wants to end before he drapes his leather jacket back over your shoulders. You get out of the car and trudge up to the house slowly, knowing you’ll never see Dean Winchester again. When you get inside, the family isn’t happy like you knew they wouldn’t be. You return to your room, fresh wounds on your arms. Later that afternoon, a man knocks on the door, asking to speak to you. He says he’s with the FBI and asks you about the bandages on your arms. Before he leaves, he speaks to your foster parents alone in the other room. They don’t touch you again after that.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 2 here.

[cyberchronics]

・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

vampire choso 😵‍💫😵‍💫 omggg

♥︎ ngl saw @/rice5x's vamp gojo post and it made me start thinking about jjk men as vampires... shoutout to them ♥︎

★ choso is kinda creepy, reader is here for it, feeding, blood, written way more sexual than it is ★

✩∘₊ ✩*✯☆⃟⃟⃟✯*✩₊∘✩

choso is definitely the reserved type of vampire... staying in an old house in the middle of the woods, living off whatever animals come by both because of how antisocial he is and out of the desire not to hurt anyone.

it's not hard to imagine his struggle when you stumble by his home. clothes drenched, thin coat doing a terrible job of keeping you warm... what kind of monster wouldn't have taken you in for the night? certainly not this one.

it's absolute torture trying to control himself. he can hear your blood as it streams through your body, the rapid pace of your heart slowing as he serves you a warm cup of tea. it's been ages since the last time he's so much as seen another person, let alone someone as pleasant as you. you're so tantalizing without even trying, making his fangs sink into his lip and draw deep red blood.

he's not gonna hold up much longer.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Choso can't help how weird he's being. His instincts are starting to take over for the first time in forever, carnal urges telling him to stop watching as you relax on his old couch and go in for the kill. His sensitive nose twitches as it picks up the subtle scent of your sweet blood, nails digging into his arm and drawing red lines. He has to distract himself from the desire to listen to them, and find something else to focus his energy on.

For a while his mission is successful as he holes himself up in the bathroom, patching up his clawed-up arms and sneaking to the kitchen to grab one of the various packs of blood stuffed in the bottom drawer of the fridge. No matter how much Choso drinks it's not enough, the bland taste of rabbit and deer is almost unpalatable compared to the nectar he knows is right beneath your supple skin. Maybe... a little taste wouldn't hurt?

That's right. He has enough sense to not suck you dry right now, so one or two sips will be enough to quell his growing hunger. He should take care of it now instead of letting himself fester fully into a bloodthirsty animal. At least, that's what Choso tells himself as he creeps towards your snoozing form, crouching down slightly and poking your cheek to test how deep your sleep is. When you show no reaction, he quiets his nerves and grabs your wrists gently.

There's a moment of stillness as he admires your wrists, licking the soft flesh to prepare it and lining his fangs up with your veins. He takes a deep breath, whispering to himself one last reminder not to go overboard, before sinking in slowly. The taste is better than he could've imagined. Sweetness and slight tang meld together into a delectable syrup that lingers on his tongue. He moans at the sensation, loud and erotic despite his urge to stay quiet.

Choso's brain melts and his sensors cross as the simple pleasure of this moment takes over his entire body. His ears feel as if they're on fire as he drinks slowly, thighs rubbing together unconsciously as he revels in it all. What a spectacular experience.

Reluctantly, he prys himself away from your arm, lapping up the leftover blood that follows his fangs. Choso takes a minute to catch his breath, coming down from the exhilarating high and looking up— only to be met with shining eyes. His own turn into saucers as he begins to trip over his words, starting his desperate attempt to explain himself and apologize, only to be shushed by you. A look of confusion is cast your way as you sit up, simply rolling up your sleeve and offering your arm to him.

"You can't be satisfied with that." Your voice is borderline angelic as you give him a sweet smile, embracing this side of him instead of pushing him away or running off. What the hell did he do to deserve this? "I can handle it. Get your fill."

Who is he to deny your offer when you ask so eagerly?

・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: this is definitely gonna be a series... please leave other vamp characters u wanna see :3 next post will probably be gojo fic pt 2 then some ratio crumbs for hsr fans

[nycbaby21]

my first post so pls be kind I’m still new to writing. Sorry it’s so long. :)

Cole Caufield imagine

Summer is my favorite time of the year. No more waking up at the crack of dawn headed to class after class, no more annoying roommates who never clean up after themselves, and most importantly no more time away from your friends.

I was twelve years old when I first met the Hughes brothers for the first time. I spent the summer with my grandparents and the family moved in next door. Immediately clicking with the middle son who was the closest to your age and making a life long friend.

Jack was my best friend my platonic soulmate, Quinn was the older brother I never had, and Luke was the annoying little brother who also always had a shoulder for me to cry on. Jim and Ellen quickly became like second parents to me, claiming that I was the daughter they always wanted but never got. Ever since that summer everyone had bets on when Jack and I would realize “our feelings” and finally get together. I love Jack with my whole entire being but never in the way our families wanted.

This summer was already off to a great start, I pulled up to the lake house and didn’t even have time to park before the guys came running down. I barely made it out of my seatbelt before Trevor and Jack were pushing each other trying to get the “first hug of the summer.” It started years ago when Alex got to my car first and bragged the whole summer about being the favorite because he got my first hug. As Jack and Trevor pushed each other out of the way, Cole rounded the car and slipped into the passenger seat leaning over and giving me a hug. My heart fluttered and my cheeks blushed hugging him.

I always thought Cole was attractive and a great guy but I never thought it was of it as more than a schoolgirl crush. I mean being friends with all of them I’d have crushes on some of them before but they quickly faded. My feelings for Cole never did, if anything they kept getting stronger and stronger. Last summer was when I actually realized how bad I had it for him. It was the last night at the lake house and everyone tried to stay awake as long as they could. All of us outside by the bonfire just being with each other before life took us all our separate ways for the year.

Slowly everyone started turning in and only Cole and I were left outside. The fire had started dying down and the cool breeze was more apparent now. I cuddled deeper into my chair and pulled my blanket higher trying to stay warm not wanting to go inside enjoying the time alone with Cole. He obviously noticed, because he always notices the small things about everyone, and rounded the fire pit and sat down next to me. He smiled down at me and wrapped an arm around me pulling me close. I was thankful I could blame the flush on my cheeks on the flames. We stayed that way for hours just leaning into each other and talking about the summer.

I hug everyone else when I can finally make it out of my car. The guys let me settle in the room I had claimed since the first time Quinn and Jack showed me the place. The room was untouched exactly how I left it last summer. Smiling I get everything situated and the picture frame on the small dresser catches my eye. It was from my high school graduation when all the guys surprised me by showing up.” It won’t be long before we get to take another picture like that,” a voice breaks me from my trance softly placing the picture down. My eyes are met with the soft smile on Quinn’s face while he leans against the doorframe.” It’s so weird that I only have one more year left and I’m all done with school.”

I make my way to the bed and sit down patting the spot next to me before laying back and looking at the ceiling. Quinn chuckles and joins me just like he had many times before. He was the easiest person to be around, we could sit in complete silence and be totally okay with it. His presence was calming to me, like a security blanket of some sorts.” We were thinking about heading to the course and playing a round of golf. You wanna come or stay here and rest,” he asks turning his head to the side looking at me. It was sweet that Quinn always included me in whatever the boys did, even when I didn’t like the activity the invitation was still there.” Yeah sounds like fun. Just let me get changed and we can go,” I say looking over at him.

“She said yes guys! She said yes! Go get dressed before she changes her mind,” we hear shouting from the hallway. Seconds later we see five guys rushing around throwing outfits together. Quinn and I bust out laughing and he jumps up turning and pulling me up with him. Shaking my head laughing I look through my clothes and grab a light blue shirt and paired it with my white golfing skirt. Quickly changing and brushing my hair, I head down stairs into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of water. When I turn around Trevor is standing so close our faces are almost touching. I jump slightly because he scared me and my reaction makes him double over in laughter.” Ha ha yeah really funny Z,” I say sliding past him opening the water and drinking some. He turns and I can’t help but smile at him because of how squinty eyed he gets when he laughs really hard.

I gather my hair into a ponytail at the base of my neck when the rest of the guys finally make their way to us. My eyes drift over to Cole as I take in his appearance. The tight golf shirt and pants weren’t helping me at all. I thought I was quick enough checking him out no one noticed, until I saw the look Jack was giving me. I was totally busted and silently prayed he would keep his big mouth shut. Shaking my head at him as a warning he just smiles really big and heads towards the door. Throwing an arm around my shoulder he leads us outside and to the dark suv in the driveway. It was an unspoken rule that whoever got to the car first got shotgun, a stupid rule which always ended up with someone mad or hurt from racing outside. Quinn was driving with Luke in the passenger and Cole, Trevor, and Alex sharing the middle row. I was pulled into the back with Jack and settled in. Normally I never golfed, I just went and sat in the golf cart the whole time sipping on whatever drink I had at the time.

This past year I had been practicing and finally felt confident enough to join in. I hadn’t told anyone yet hoping to surprise them because the only time I ever played ended so badly.” So you and Coley eh,” Jack ask leaning down whispering in my ear. My eyes go wide and I slap him shushing him. The loud smack of my hand hitting his chest alerted the middle row and three heads turned around starring at us. Blush creeps it’s way onto my face and Jack can’t help but laugh.” Jack quit being annoying and bothering her,” Quinn says looking at him through the rear view mirror. He fakes shock,” how do you know it was me? Y/n could have been the one bothering me.” The sentence makes everyone laugh.” Because she’s y/n and you’re Jack,” Alex laughs turning back around.” Also she couldn’t be annoying if she tried. Annoying is your default setting,” Cole smiles looking over at me. I send him back a small smile as he turns to face forward. I immediately regret looking over at Jack who has a smirk on his face. Today wasn’t going to be a good day, I could feel it.

After getting everything in order we all made it to the first hole and set up the order. After Luke swung the guys all started heading to the carts for the next hole.” Actually could I maybe play this time,” I ask all of the sudden scared about if I could really play like I had practiced. They all send me shocked and amused looks and nod. Trevor walks over and present a club to me like it was made of gold or something. Laughing everyone settles down as I make my way to start my turn. I take a deep breath and shake out my shoulder nervously.” Hey Coley why don’t you help her with the stance,” Jack suggest sipping on his drink. I all of the sudden had the urge to run the devils player over with the golf cart he was sitting on.” You don’t have to. I’m fine really. I should be able to figure it out,” I rush out while he makes his way over to me.” It’s no problem. Really I don’t mind helping you out,” he stands behind me and wraps his arms around holding the club with me.

I try and hold my breath scared he could hear my heart beating. As Cole helps me adjust my stance I can’t help but imagine if this is how it would be if he took me on golf dates. His body pressed against mine, soft voice giving me instructions in my ear, and our friends chirping us saying get a room.” So you got it,” he asks stepping back and leaning against the cart closest to him. I clear my throat and nod with a smile. The swing wasn’t one for the record books but it was double as far as any other time I had done it. I slowly turn and see all the guys looking at me bewildered. I laugh and shrug my shoulders,” I guess Caufield is just a really good teacher.” As I pass him I squeeze his shoulder and place the club back into its place in the bag.

After what felt like years we finally finished the game. I lost like badly but it was an improvement from before. Making our way back to the house we all loaded up back into our original seats. Fatigue set in from the game and the Sun so I leaned my head onto Jack’s shoulder closing my eyes. As I drifted to sleep I didn’t hear the conversation happening just one row ahead of me.

“Cole seriously grow a pair,” Trevor exclaimed loudly. He was quickly hushed and the trio looked back to see me sleeping soundly on our shared friend. Jack had leaned his head down to rest on mine and closed his eyes too.” Shut up Trev. Drop it okay,” Cole said sadly turning around not wanting to see Jack all cuddled up with the girl he had fallen for last summer. Alex looked at his friends face and leaned over,” they are just friends Cole.” He knew that obviously but that didn’t stop the small part of his brain from thinking how natural it was for the two of you. Everyone always made comments about her ending up with his best friends but never him. Last summer he tried to share his feelings only to see the girl of his dreams asleep cuddled into his chest by the fire pit.

The rest of the afternoon was relaxed. Everyone set out doing their own thing and I couldn’t help but look for Cole to see what he was doing. I couldn’t find him anywhere. I check the kitchen only to find it empty. Sighing I turn towards the window above the sink and watch Trevor chase Alex and Jack with a water gun.” He’s out by the dock,” Quinn’s voice startles me for the second time today.” I have no idea what you are talking about,” I say trying to pass him and he stops me. Looking up into his eyes I can tell he sees right through me. Quinn could always tell what I was feeling, sometimes even before I had it figured out.” Cole. He’s out by the dock. Just in case you wanted to know,” his eyes sparkled. He knew why I was looking for Cole but he didn’t say it. I shook my head and sat down on the counter and sighed.” It doesn’t matter Q. He doesn’t see me that way. I heard him and Trevor talking about a girl in the way home today.”

It was true I hadn’t been asleep the whole time and I heard parts of the conversation about the girl Cole had liked for sometime now and how he wanted to make a move.” You don’t know that,” he says walking towards me stopping right in front of me. “ Yes I do okay. I’m not the kind of girl guys like him date. I’m just the kind he’s friends with,” I sigh looking into his eyes. He leaned forward and placed his hand on my knee squeezing it gently.” He’s be an idiot not to see you like that. And trust me Cole Caufield is no idiot.” His words swirl in my brain as he walks out of the kitchen leaving me sitting their with my thoughts. Taking a deep breath I make my way down to the dock. Walking down I see the boy swinging his legs over the edge of the dock from where he sits.

“This spot taken,” I ask trying to keep my confidence as time went on. Quinn would never lie to me and hurt my feelings on purpose, so I was really hoping he was right about this.” All yours,” his smile didn’t meet his eyes like it normally did. I sat down close enough that our shoulders brush. We sat their in silence for a minute while I tried to calm my breathing.” So I heard you and Trevor on the way back today,” I finally say looking straight forward at the water not making eye contact. I can feel him stiffen and looked over at me. His eyes scan my face for any sign that I may share his feelings.” You did,” he asks with a low voice. Finally looking at him I nod my head.” Just so you know any girl who doesn’t want to date you is an idiot Cole,” I say looking from his eyes to his lips so quickly he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t starring at me so closely.” I don’t think you’re an idiot y/n,” he whispers so low I barely hear him. He breaks eye contact and stares ahead.

I freeze and look at him. Did I hear him right? Was Quinn actually telling the truth? How long had I been holding my breath? My lungs started to burn so I took a deep breath and cupped his face with my hands making him look at me. His blue eyes widened and scanned every inch of my face.” I don’t think I’m an idiot either,” I whisper afraid if I talk too loud I’ll scare him away.” You don’t,” he ask slowly turning his body towards mine and leaning in. I shake my head no and look between his eyes and lips again. When he doesn’t pull away and puts one of his hands on my waist and the other on my thigh I can’t take it anymore and close the distance between us. I always figured when I finally got to kiss him fireworks would fly and butterflies would jumble all around in my stomach. I was so wrong. Sitting there on that dock kissing him felt comfortable, felt normal, felt like home. Cole Caufield felt like home.

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 7

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 2.6k

Chapter 7: 'Slipped'

Juliet had forgotten what it felt like to walk in the forest, under a blanket of trees so thick that daylight could only be found creeping through the gaps in their branches. She closed her eyes when the light hit her, caressing her face and warming her skin in a soft, dewy glow. Joel walked a few steps ahead of her, twigs crunching under his muddy boots as he marched up the continuous incline of the worn path they followed. 

Days had passed since their run in with the clickers in the Boston museum. It had taken them a whole other day to get out of the city after they came across a large hoard of infected stumbling through the streets, there must have been at least a hundred of them. Joel decided they would seek shelter in an old doctor's office for the night while they planned an alternate route out. So they sat, under the orange glow of Joel’s oil lamp and ate their rations on the dusty floor littered with old newspapers. 

After their ‘meal’, Joel cleaned and changed the bandage of Juliet’s shoulder wounds, muttering something about not wanting to miss out on her promise of supplies if she died of an infection. Juliet sat in complete silence while Joel wiped a cloth drenched in whiskey over her shoulder, soaking up the blood pooled around the exit wounds. The whiskey smelled like him. His movements were clinical but careful, his touch tender as he rebandaged her shoulder. It was strange to see his rough hands, marked with calluses and scars, engaged in an act of such gentleness.

His performance was not to be mistaken for kindness, of course. Joel was very clear, with the speed in which he moved away from her after he had finished, that he was only protecting a worthwhile investment. 

Joel’s coldness remained after days of travelling together, his scowl never letting up. He communicated with Juliet almost entirely with nods, grunts or gestures with his hands. Which was demonstrated when he turned to meet Juliet’s eyes and signalled to pause in the clearing between a few trees. Juliet looked up at the space between the branches and noticed that the sun was nearing the middle of the sky, almost mid-day, it appeared Joel was stopping for a quick ‘lunch’. Food was scarce, they had combined their separate stashes the previous night and found that there were only enough bite size pieces of jerky to last another day. Juliet was not overly worried by their draining supply though, as Joel informed her last night that they were headed towards some friends of his who would provide them with food and ammo for the rest of their journey. 

Juliet had stiffened at the mention of Joel’s friends, although that was not the word he had used. Joel referred to them as his partners, meaning people he frequently smuggled with, Juliet assumed. She was uncomfortable with the thought of other people trespassing on the budding camaraderie she was developing with Joel.

Juliet worried that he would change his mind, join another group, and leave her to cross the country alone. She didn’t like to be dependent on others, usually wearing her solitude and independence as a badge of honour, but Juliet couldn’t deny that she needed Joel for this journey.

She didn’t know the route, she didn’t know the best roads to avoid major cities or how to hide from groups of infected - that wasn’t her main concern when she made the same journey only three years prior.

Being a young woman living in a post-apocalyptic world was a death sentence, she needed someone to watch her back whether she liked it or not. Juliet knew all about the kinds of sick men who lurked around every dark corner of America’s deserted landscape. A shudder ran through her at the thought.

Joel stood next to her, his backpack on the ground next to his feet, his back pressed against the trunk of the tree they both stood under. Juliet copied his movements as he tore a bit of jerky with his teeth and swallowed. The jerky was tough, it tasted like burnt rubber, smelled like it too. Juliet didn’t care, she was so hungry she devoured it in seconds. She took a swig of her water, cleared her throat, then decided to test Joel’s capacity for conversation.

“So, how long till we reach these ‘friends’ of yours?” she asked in the most nonchalant tone she could muster, staring down at her feet to enhance her act. 

Although her eyes were pointed downward, she could feel the burning weight of Joel’s stare simmering on the side of her face. She didn’t dare lift her head as she waited for him to respond. 

“About five hours if we keep the pace up,” he answered as he crumpled the paper his jerky was stored in and stashed it back in the pocket of his backpack. Then he swung it over his shoulder and adjusted the strap. 

Juliet nodded as she did the same. “Cool,” she replied, deciding to leave the conversation there for now. Juliet was becoming more familiar with the timescale of Joel’s irritation. 

They continued their hike, Juliet matching Joel’s speed as much as she could. Her thighs were screaming in pain but it was nothing compared to the ache of her shoulder.

She was worried the wound was becoming infected, the pain shouldn’t be increasing as the days went by, should it? 

Joel had stitched the exit wounds closed the night she was shot, when she was thankfully heavily unconscious. However, his supplies, found in the decrepit ruins of the store, were obviously not as sanitary as they should have been and Juliet was becoming more and more anxious of her continuous waves of dizziness and hot flashes.

An infection was the worst case scenario. Antibiotics were like gold dust in today’s world and she no longer lived in the QZ where she could bribe or blackmail the medic workers for a few pills. No, in the outside world, infection meant almost certain death. Alarm pounded through her. Her death would mean Ethan would never be saved. Her death would mean Joel would never receive the remaining supplies he needed to reach his brother. 

The burden of Juliet’s survival was overwhelming.  

Juliet knew the best medicine for this situation was denial, so she burrowed the possibility of her impending death in a tight corner in the back of her mind and focused on Joel’s back as they made their way through the forest.

…………………………………………………………

They were about fifteen minutes out from Joel’s ‘friends’ place, their steps slowing as they neared their destination. Juliet was becoming increasingly anxious, she didn’t know anything about these people, didn’t know their intentions. To make matters worse, the pain in her shoulder had started to flash down her arm to her fingers. Juliet was sweating profusely and struggled to hide her panting from Joel’s questioning stares. 

“What are their names?” Juliet asked, her voice a low croak. 

Joel shot her a quick glance, his eyebrows furrowed at her dishevelled appearance. “Bill and Frank,” he replied. 

“How did you meet them?” she pried, desperate to take her mind off the pain ricocheting around her body. 

“Long story,” he said after a pause. 

“Right,” Juliet whispered, it was futile trying to use Joel as a distraction. 

They stayed silent again until they finally approached a tall metal fence expanding the perimeter of a massive property. Juliet could make out a row of large houses lining both sides of a street covered with fallen leaves. What was this place? 

Joel’s already stiff body language had turned glacial as he approached the fence and typed in a quick four digit code. The door to the fence made a sharp buzzing noise before the lock popped open. Juliet glanced up at Joel, attempting to gauge his reaction and waiting to follow his lead but he stood entirely still, the now familiar veil of Joel’s survival instincts falling over his features. 

Something was off. 

Joel looked down at Juliet and caught her already staring up at him. He blinked and turned away, facing towards the small town, then he nodded and walked forward, holding the gate open for Juliet to pass through. His eyes said trust me as she passed. So she did. 

They walked at a slow pace along the street. Juliet twitched to pull out her gun but she trusted that Joel knew what he was doing. She was confused, though. She knew that only two men were living here but it still felt too quiet. The stillness in the air was a crushing pressure that wrapped around the both of them. Joel kept walking until he abruptly stopped in front of a beautifully preserved two story house, the paint looked fairly new, the blend of blues and white creating a soft contrast against the dark brown of the door and window sills. It was magnificent, she was amazed that someone had put so much time and effort into maintaining its beauty. That was why she was so surprised when she noticed the overgrown garden and the dead plants lining the entryway onto the property. Why would someone put so much care into the maintenance of the house but forget to water the plants? 

Juliet was startled from her thoughts when Joel slipped his gun from his back pocket and clicked the safety off. The usually quiet sound echoed around them in the silent street. Juliet looked to Joel with questions in her eyes which he answered with a low “Stay here” then he started to stride down the path to the front door. Juliet’s mouth dropped open slightly, astounded that Joel would ask her to wait behind. She rolled her eyes, took her gun out and followed after him. 

They met at the front door, Joel let out a quiet but weighted sigh when he turned to find her standing next to him, then he reached out and turned the handle to the front door. They both raised their guns as they stepped through the doorway, Joel immediately moving forward to sweep the bottom floor as Juliet waited by the entryway to the dining room. There was a folded piece of paper lying on the dark wood of the extravagant dining table, along with two sets of cutlery and decaying bits of food left in ceramic bowls. Juliet froze, her mind travelling back to only days ago when she found a similar piece of paper lying on her own dining table. She swallowed and called for Joel.  

He rounded the corner immediately, his eyes wide and jaw tense when he saw the paper Juliet pointed to. As he walked closer to it, Juliet noticed car keys sitting beside it on the table. Joel picked them up before opening the letter. Juliet was unsure what to do while Joel read the words written on the yellowing paper, she wanted to give him privacy but she was also desperate to know what had happened and what this would mean for their situation. She jumped when Joel suddenly dropped the paper on the table, pocketed the car keys and marched out the front door, letting it slam behind him. Juliet flinched at the sound. 

She stepped forward and set her gun on the table, then tentatively picked up the letter, anxious to read the words which had caused such a reaction in Joel. She understood, though, when she read the first few sentences and knew that his friends were dead. 

What confused her was the mention of a woman’s name she hadn’t heard Joel mention before: Tess. Juliet swallowed when she realised the implication of Bill’s words. 

‘I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep Tess safe.’ 

She must have been close to Joel, close enough to both have a friendship with these men. Juliet couldn’t remember any mention of a Tess in the Boston QZ or a mention of Joel even having a partner. How long were they together for? 

Juliet released a long, slow breath before she slumped into the dining chair at the head of the table. She thought about going after Joel but she didn’t know him well enough to comfort him or to predict his reaction to finding out that his friends had died. Juliet decided the safest thing to do, to avoid Joel’s potential wrath, was to sit quietly and rest her eyes. She was exhausted from the hike and the pulsating pain entirely covering the side of her body where the bullet wound resided. It was only seconds after she had closed her eyes when she felt a black numbness crash over her mind.

………………………………………………..

The feel of a burning hot hand pressed against her forehead woke her up, the world was foggy and Juliet’s eyes struggled to focus. 

“Fuck, you’re burnin’ up,” a voice cursed. Nausea gripped her now, a gag rising in her throat as the hands that belonged to the rough voice tipped her forward, slid his arms under her and lifted her into the air. She was floating for only a second before she was placed on a cushioned surface that felt so comfortable Juliet wanted to drift off again. 

“Hey ” the voice barked, a hand now tapping her cheek. “Stay awake.”

Juliet wanted to follow his instructions, she really did, but she was just so tired and so cold and the hand that touched her cheek was so warm. She pressed her face against it, a moan slipping from her lips. Instantly the hand pulled back and a low groan rang out in the blackness behind her eyelids. 

“Shit,” the voice said. “I’ll be back in a second, don’t you dare fall asleep again.”

“Okay,” Juliet whispered as she urged the darkness to descend upon her again. 

………………………………………………

She woke to solid arms lifting her body up in a seated position, careful to avoid her injured shoulder. Juliet opened her eyes with a sudden wince, where was her t-shirt? She was on a couch in only her bra, the wound on her shoulder now leaking blood and other fluids onto the strap.

“What? -” Juliet muttered and her head rolled to the side before it was caught by a rough hand. 

“Shh” a sharp voice cut her off. “Open your mouth, now,” it commanded. 

Juliet blinked a few times, her eyesight finally focusing, and the blurry form crouched in front of her became clearer.

Joel.

One hand cradled the back of Juliet’s head as the other held a large white pill against her mouth, urging her to part her lips. Joel’s face was so close, his pupils so dilated that his eyes looked almost entirely black. Juliet licked her lips then allowed them to fall open. Joel instantly dropped the pill on her tongue then reached for a glass of water which he helped her take a sip of before he gently held her mouth closed as she swallowed the tablet. 

Juliet gasped as it slid down her throat, her eyes falling closed, and this time, Joel let them. His grip was firm but careful as he helped her lie flat on the couch again before he let go and moved to sit on the coffee table beside her. 

Juliet’s eyelids fluttered open and her head rolled to the side as she watched Joel wipe a hand over his face and sigh. Her mind was so fuzzy, she couldn’t tell where they were or what time it was, but one thought pressed against her consciousness, keeping her awake…

“Joel?” she breathed, her voice a whisper.

“Who’s Tess?”

[chalk-prnce]

You sure we're out of their sight?

in which you can't admit that you like komaeda, let alone liking a boy. warnings ; internalised homophobia, breakdowns male reader x komaeda nagito

im so sorry for never posting! i forgot all about this account and focussed on my ao3 account! but im here now so, enjoy that "Car lights" fanfic i promised but a different title.

The sun had already set, a premature twilight settling over the horizon as you stared out with the entire universe on your shoulders. Perhaps you should be more glad to get away from the city for a bit, even if you were only about 20 minutes away. Your friends proposed to all go out tonight, but you refused. You can't function properly if you don't figure yourself out and quick.

Sand crunched under your shoes as you breathed a hissing intake of air- it wasn't the best day for you today. You had drove to the nearest sea shore after a long day of battling your own disgust to something you'd rather not name. Even labelling it was shameful but tempting. If you say it aloud, usually it confirms it in your mind. For example- saying how much you love watching shitty sitcoms that you found hilarious when you were about 10 at the age of 17 going on 18 kind of seals the deal on it. A verbal contract- a shameful confirmation. 

Your tank was about one fifth filled up, and you were running on fumes of hope that it would still be able to take you to the nearest gas station after you're finished brooding. Even after being here for what felt like days, you still hadn't been able to figure yourself out. What are you really even freaking out over? What is your problem? Your dilemma? 

Komaeda Nagito. 

About a couple months ago, you two had met in the library on not the most friendly terms. However over time, you somehow managed to look past it and you two kept coming back to that same spot in the same library. 

"..Pride and Prejudice.." The ivory boy mumbled, sitting beside you as he leaned against his elbow on the table. "..You've truly never read this before? It's such a famous piece of literary artwork. One of the most famous actually.. Makes sense that someone so painfully average like you wouldn't know that."

He talks so much to you for someone who despises the very precense of the Reserve Course. "...Shut up, of course I knew about it- I just never found it interesting so I blew off reading it." 

You both scoff at eachother before sliding the book into the middle of the table and read it together, pointing out small bits of the book every now and then. 

"..I'd never fall for someone like Mr Darcy.. So cold.. so cruel. Even for money- seriously! That'd fuck me up." 

"..Well- I'd assume you wouldn't fall for someone like him- he's a boy." He let out a small laugh through his sentence- pushing you out of your thoughts. You couldn't believe you let that slip. 

"Right- nah, I'm just saying y'know. If I was a girl and liked guys, I'd never choose him." A slight awkward silence ensues after that awful slip up from you. It's only after a whole chapter does Komaeda begin to speak again.

"Would you though?"

"Would I what?"

"..You know, date a boy?"

You fiddle with the corner of the pages, sucking on your teeth before breathing out a small string of words. "..Relationships are tiring." Is all you can pull out from your mouth before going back to reading. It was an nice way of getting out of the topic. You could've easily said no- but for some reason you remained vague. 

"..That's not answering my question. Are you seriously that incompetent?" He sneered before leaning his hand on the seat of your chair, his head lulled to the side of both of you. "..Don't answer that actually, I know you are that incompetent." It was hard to tell in that moment if Komaeda was against the idea of homosexuality or not- he was always mixed signals. You open your mouth to say something; but now he was much closer, you could feel that sultry voice vibrate down your ears, and so you close your mouth and stay silent. 

"..You've gone quiet. Are you truly that stumped by my question?" He hummed, chills now digging it's needles into your back. "..I suppose it is quite the hard question, even for an Ultimate it could stump them." That's a weird thing to say, especially from the suspicious implications. 

"..You talk too much. Just keep reading." Is all you breathe out before you flip the page over and Komaeda shifts back away from your chair. The moment ends.

But it wasn't even the fact that he was in a much higher position than you- a high standing pedestal than your excuse for being a "symbol".  Perhaps you're over reacting about the wrong thing. Komaeda had a reputation for despising all reserve course's to the core. A more filthier piece of trash than him (if that was possible in his mind.) The purest scum of the Earth. You should be running for life, and you would if you were in the most rational state of mind. But you're quite obviously not. He's going to eat you alive but god you wonder how it'd be if you did so first. Laying back onto the hood of your car, you shriek out a loud groan and grip at your hair in frustration. You don't know exactly why you're so stressed over him, someone who's merely a friend. Barely, actually- more like civil accquantainces who had common interests and that was all. He despised being seen in public with you; if his classmates ever walked into the library whilst you two were there, he would quickly but quietly shuffle to another nearby table. 

In the earlier months of your accquantainceship, you would've scoffed and insulted him after they left. But now, you simply look at them crowd around as they ask how Komaeda is before leaving. You felt like a frog amongst swans, something so dirty and unfitting to be with.

Silver glints of the moon fracture over the tides, the serene scenery surrounding you was ethereal, a song for the eyes. You've been here for about 5 hours, sitting in different positions all whilst rubbing your temples or banging your forehead onto your knees. It's getting harder to ignore this, to ignore him. Why are you here? You want to go home, but it feels like an obligation to stay and sort this out before you begin to lose your head. You'd honestly rather cut off your wings so that you can not fly into the sun but rather fall into the mighty blue beasts teeth than confront these ghastly thoughts of yours. Komaeda, Komaeda, Komaeda. You've never felt more stress over a name such as his. You should be cast to the wolves for these thoughts. But what thoughts? Your head does not contain blasphemies and your mouth has not committed any heresies. So why are you so troubled? Perhaps you do know, but if you even dare mention it you'd finally commit said heresy you so very feared. You can't say it. You won't dare think it. You refuse. You won't do it. 

But you can't stop- you've already done it. You imagine how perfectly your arms would fit around him, how easily your hands could mold together and your eyes would easily find the pearls of the deep dark in eachother's irises, how wonderfully your lips would fit like a jigsaw. 

You can't remember exactly how you became enamoured by him. Perhaps it was when you accidentally let your stare linger longer than you intended. That day, Komaeda brought in a book that you could only find via an online bookstore due to it being quite a strange piece. Turns out, he was absolutely infatuated with it, and rambling about it came easy to him.

"..The Book Of Disquiet is quite the interesting read- it was never finished, but it's easy to get how the book ends. The heteronyms that Pessoa created for it was intentionally made to be...boring. I've done alot of research on him- he really delves into the whole "Terrible Paradox of Self Awareness" topic- noting to the reader that writing and doing and saying is all completely meaningless yet continues to write, do and say things." The Lucky Student trails off, flicking back and forth to pages of his notes page he did on the portugese author, explaining and going through each little bit. 

You absorbed it in like a sponge- his voice was calming and his eyes were soft as he looked at the pages like it was a puppy. His hair was falling perfectly down his face and spilling onto his shoulders, his eyes shining with a glimmer you've only seen in the stars. Komaeda's beauty could never be put to justice through photos. Not even paintings could immortalise his visage- a night sky within his eyes and the sun within his soul. It was as if you were in an trance. There was a subtle breeze in your imagination as you stared- that was until you realised that was because Komaeda was waving his hand infront of your face.

"..Hello? Are you alright?" That was a first. He doesn't ask that often. "..You seem pretty out of it. It is quite warm in here.."

"..No. I'm fine. Keep reading." And the moment ends.

In your dreams, you described it as simple infatuation, but in reality it was not as airy and feather-light as that. In your nightmares, you described it as a deadly desire, but in reality it was not as short-lived and capricious as that. But to call it anything else in your own conscious mind? You'd rather be ripped from your organs.

But you don't want to keep thinking about it. You don't think you can do it any longer in this swealtering heat of the night. It was humid, but it barely felt like any air was being circulated around the Earth. One last sigh leaves you before you get up from your indented place in the sand and wander off to your car. It was an alright car, not the best and it was used by alot of past owners but it was the best you could get at your age. You pull out your keys and make sure to shake and jingle them a bit just so you can hear the clacking against them, hoping it'd snap you out of whatever this was. Opening the door and slamming it once you're inside, you push your keys into the engine and twist. Your car moans and groans several times, and you could've sworn you felt your heart shoot down to your gut. Your repeated attempts to twist your keys and turn on the engine are almost ridiculed by the curdling screams of the exhaust. Oh, come on. How did this happen? You take great care of your car! Not a single scrape or dent or even a mere collision with any other vehicle. What happened?

Ah. Right. Your tank- it was only one fifth full. Shit.

Well, now you're stuck at this beach with more rocks than grains of sand. His luck is rubbing off on you. Great, there you go again! You always just have to find some way to mention his name even in the most dire situations. What's wrong with you? A loud bang clanks against the hood of your car from the hail that was now pouring down, mocking you as you replicate those bangs onto your steering wheel from your forehead. Atleast you had shelter from it. But you had no money to call a repair work, and almost all of your friends were out for tonight. Oh, but who else is in your contacts that IS free? 

Komaeda Nagito.

You fully groan at his name, your hands dragging the skin of your face up and down. Do you really have to resort to this? It's either him or you stay in the hail with your car as shelter on a school night. God, and who knows how many assignments you probably have to do right now? You feel like crying. You end up crying. 

Hot blobs of salt run down your cheeks as you feel the overwhelming sense of dread. Nothing was going right for you today, nothing at all. Your bones feel heavy in your skin, your eyes straining to keep up with the amount of tears leaving you. Your car has no gas, it's hailing loudly and you're caught between the tides of pain and rapture as you stare at his contact on your phone. You hadn't even figured out the reason of why you are here. Maybe that's for the best. It'd be more awkward to face Komaeda if you had figured it out- but does that mean you most likely know what's wrong with you then? Are you in denial?

"...Hello?" His gravally voice seeps through the audio output.

"..Komaeda, can you come pick me up? My car broke down at the beach- I can't get home and I have no money to call repair services." Your voice is cracking and crumbling as you call, your hands occupied with either your phone or holding the wheel. All you hear is a groan that interrupts a 5 second silence. "..Please- after this I'll never call again, I promise-" All you hear is a beep. He hung up. What did you expect? Why would he ever come and help someone as pathetic as you?

You fall back into your seat, hands dragging your face again before you grumble to yourself under your breath. Why do you care so much? His attention burns your skin and his precense warms your nerves. You could practically melt at the thought of him. This isn't right. It just isn't right at all. It's disgusting, it should be illegal to feel like this for another man. You feel ashamed like you've committed murder. Being burnt at the stake would be a worthy punishment for this. Oh but the more you deny and refute this, refute him, the more you can't push these feelings down. It's all you're thinking about. 

So now you're stuck here and potentially broken what little bit of friendship you had with Komaeda. Great work. Aren't you just the most intelligent man alive? 

You huff it out in large and saltier blobs of misery, soon letting your exhausted eyes fall heavy. You're sitting in your car, hail now slowing as you drift off into probably one of the modt uncomfortable positions possible. In your dreams you envision a timeline where perhaps one of you were a girl instead, and loving eachother wouldn't need to be so compromising. Or perhaps a timeline where loving another boy wouldn't be compromising.

Soon enough, you're awoken by loud thuds and thumps against your window, you can barely make out what it is banging your window due to how much more the rain was pouring down now. A loud groan leaves your throat before you roll down the window, and your eyes finally open fully. That frizzy tuff of white cotten, now flattened by the rain is all too familiar for you. You stare at it. But not at his eyes.

Komaeda Nagito.

You both stare at eachother, stoic yet painful words were folded into the corners of eachother's eyes. It's been about 10 seconds you've been staring at eachother through your car window.

"..."

"..You truly are so incompetent, aren't you?"

What?

"..Driving all this way and you didn't even think to fill up your tank. On top of that, you call me of all people to solve this pathetic problem of yours and you're not even going to say a thing to me when I arrive."

He came here? But he hung up?

"..Are you blind? Are you deaf? Hello??" Komaeda sneers at you, grimacing at you. It's hard to see eachother through the rain.

"...you came."

He shuts up at that, and despite the rain, you can see his eyes soften. "..I did. You called me, you sounded.. stressed. So I came." But why?

"..I don't why I did. It was like I needed to. It doesn't make sense." He sighs before looking away. You narrow your eyes slightly, softening them too before you get out of your car and closing the door behind you, leaning against the soaked metal.

At this point, the only source of light came from your car lights, blaring from it's home to display all the droplets of rain that passed it. "..What happened?" His voice was quieter than quiet. Despite the rain being louder, you could only hear him. "..You don't usually go out so late. I thought your friends invited you out?"

"..You paid attention to that?" He nods. "I just needed to figure something out." He hums.

"..Well, have you?" You shake your head.

"..Maybe I can help. What is it you're troubling yourself with?" You huff.

Both of you wander over to the hood of your car, sitting ontop of it. "I can't tell you. I'd honestly rather die than do so. You'd rip me to shreds."

"What? Are you striving to become an Ultimate or something? It couldn't be that bad." You scoff and lay back onto your hood.

"..Remember that conversation we had a couple weeks back? You asked if I'd ever.."

"..Date a boy?" You nod. "..What about it?"

It takes a lot of courage to continue this conversation. "..What would.. what do you- think? Would you ever date one?" He shrugs. "Probably. Why? What does this have to do with anything?" How dense can someone be?

But that gives you a little something. He might. 

"..Put two and two together you fucking moron." At this point, you're getting tired of running away. Your feet are calloused with how much you've ran away from this problem of yours. You need to decide it now.

You glance over at his face and you see no malice in his visage. Perhaps he isn't here to taunt you. He's probably trying to understand what you meant. "..Ah." Is all he says before laying back onto the hood with you. "Whatever you decide for that, despite how..painfully filthy you are... I'll support you." 

He heaves alot during that sentence. Maybe it's due to the rain or maybe it just took too much out of him to try to be nice to you. You both look up, squinting through the rain. "..How long have you been out here?"

"..About.. 8 hours..? I don't know. I needed to find some space." Komaeda hums in agreement as he combs his strands back. "Fair enough. But you might catch a cold." That's new. "Since when did you care, Main course?" You could just about hear the small chuckle under his breath.

This all felt like some strange peace treaty between you two. It was no longer insults but rather it felt like light-hearted jokes. Like you two had known each other forever. "Would you rather me let you out to die from pneumonia?" You laugh and shake your head. Your laughter simmers down and you both look at each other, you hadn't looked at him for the entire time. Looking at him almost made you sob. You don't know if you can do this.

"So... what made you start... thinking of this whole liking boys thing?" He asks with a careful tone, talking to you at this moment felt like a delicate activity. You can't tell him that. You just shrug.

"So you pull me all the way out here, just so we can lay in the rain on your hood?" You smile at that but you shake your head. "..I don't think I can tell you why. I don't want to ruin this." You gesture to the little space between you two. "It's taken me so long to just say I potentially like...boys. I feel like I should be atoning for this."

"No shame in liking guys. You don't need to tell me why then," You thank him with your silence, ", Any guys you like right now though?" You slap his shoulder and he puts both hands up in the air with a smirk. "What? It's a genuine question!"

Eyes roll as you simply return to looking up at the crying sky. "Perhaps. Do you?" He shrugs. "Perhaps."

"You can't just copy my answer. Give me something here."

"You're not giving me a thing here. How about we both give small hints?" It's a good idea and so you agree. "Hair colour?" God that is the worst question. He'll easily tell who it is then. "That's way too obvious!" A small huff leaves him before he goes back to thinking. "Hm, fine.. which course is he in?"

The thing is, you don't know anyone else in the Main Course other than him and Kazuichi. He was your neighbour for a long time and you two grew close as friends. But he didn't know that, did he? "..Main Course." You awaited a scoff or a remark of how you don't deserve to love anyone from the Main Course, but he just hums.

"..Would you like to know mine?"

It almost takes your entire being to not say yes so eagerly. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

"..Reserve."

There's a strange casual coolness in his voice, as if he hadn't just said something that completely shook you to your roots and make you question everything about him. This contradicted everything about him! What kind of weird enemies-to-lovers experience did he have?

"..Shocking, I know. Seems like we're in similar situations, unfortunately." Komaeda remarks, however he has a smirk on his face that gives you a bad feeling that he knows. Maybe you should give in to defeat.

"..Don't you hate us? Why would you ever want to love one of us?" Your inquiry is the one to make him finally scoff. "..I never wanted to. But I had to accept it soon enough, I have enough things to eat away at me. I didn't need another." It felt slightly insulting but you got it. It was exactly like you and this gay situation. "..That's...fair enough. When did you finally accept it?"

"..About.. A month or two ago? I had let it waste away at me for about.. 4 months." 6 months. You've known him for 6 months.

"..Wow.. You've been in love with some dude ever since the day we met and you didn't bother to tell me? I'm honestly betrayed, Komaeda."

"Well I didn't exactly see you as a friend back then, did I?" That caught you off guard. "So that means you see me as a friend now?"

"Perhaps." That leaves a smile on your face.

You two stay out on your hood for another 5 minutes. It's getting cold. It's very late.

"..You figured it out yet?" His voice sounds less sultry, now it was more careful and smooth. You shrug.

Over the course of 5 minutes, 2 things went through your head. Should you just give in to defeat and tell him and potentially ruin everything or should you just say no and just get him to drive you two home and send a service for your car later? The latter sounds tempting. It's such a cursed mindset- it felt like a fruit from a poisonous tree. Your thoughts were fickle between the decisions of defeat and stubborness. All your troubling thoughts brutally clawed at your face and brain, infecting it like your brain was filled with scorpions. Your tolerance was beginning to simmer and sizzle. Perhaps you thought about it too much. Maybe you're overthinking. What if you gave in to defeat and he rejects you? It was all for nothing. But he doesn't owe you that affection just because you came out to him within the same day. Why can't you decide? Why won't you hurry up? Why, why, why?-

Your thoughts silence. His lemon grass eyelashes fluttered at you like rare butterflies in the spring morning. You take one more breath.

"I like a boy from the Main Course. I can.. confirm that now. I'm not the most.. okay with that fact but.. I can't let it eat me away aswell." You smile weakly at him. Looking into Komaeda's eyes, you can see glints of a smile in them. He seems proud of you.

"But I... uh.. don't think he likes me back." He cocks his head slightly to the side. "Why do you say that?" This might also give it away.

But your rational reasoning had been long gone from your brain ever since you started crying and screaming on a beach in a broken down car.

"He doesn't exactly like Reserves." You cover your mouth to giggle as if you just told someone the dumbest secret ever. His eyebrow raises at you. "Oh?"

Oh.

Shit.

"..Aha.. Ahhhhh... Yeah. What about your Reserve Crush? Does he like Main Courses?"

"No. He always scoffs when he sees me."

"I would too." You already do.

"Why wouldn't he like you though? Despite how painfully average you are... You're quite stunning in the moonlight. And somehow you're able to make me laugh everyday." You are quite the comedic genius.

"Because I'm no Ultimate. I've heard the way he talks about the Ultimates and I'm never going to live up to that. I wish I could. I always wonder if I'm ever going to."

"Maybe he's let go of that aspect of hatred from you." He suggests, looking over at you. "..Maybe he sees you as something even more." It's your turn to raise an eyebrow. "..How would you know that?"

"My luck is that of the stars. I might be right." Komaeda winks before staring deeper into your eyes.

"My troubles lie exactly with if he'll like me or not right now, and supposedly your luck will help me?" He shrugs. You two have become ever so much more closer on your hood, sitting upright. You two haven't made this long of eye-contact ever. You two haven't made this type of contact ever either. He's beautiful. You can feel his cold breath against you.

Over the course of your time together on your car with raining weeping onto you, Komaeda came closer for warmth and you came closer to try and hear his small tone. It's only become more apparent of how little space there was between you two. You have a strange feeling on where this is going with how close he is becoming.

"Are you scared?" You nod slightly. He probably noticed your eyes shake between his lips and the surroundings and back to his eyes.

"I feel like someone will see us."

"Through the car lights? I doubt it. Do you still want to deny yourself this? I can stop if you want." He backs away slightly as a demonstration, but you catch his shoulders and shake your head. "...There is nothing to run from. I'm not scared. I only have one more worry on my mind but... it's nothing you should be concerned about." And he smiles.

"Would you..let me answer your troubles?"

You're unsure of what he means, however you aren't given much of a chance to question him. You feel a cold pair of lips press against yours, and you feel complete. You two complete eachother, knocking their air out of eachothers lungs as you hold hands and kiss on your hood. "..Don't let them see my face." Is all you mumble through your muffled lips as you two, push eachother up against the car, holding eachother like life lines. "I don't know how to be without you." Komaeda mumbles back, digging his nimble hands into your hair.

It feels like fireworks as you finally break away and look at eachother. Your finger tips slowly trace to his knuckles, holding his hand tightly as you two continue to watch the tides rise and retreat.

"...Would.. would you.. like to go back now?" You nod. You two get off of the vehicle and enter Komaeda's. You leave with smiles and blushes between a silence.

The rain stopped at that very second.

[according2thelore]

omg i love that es sam post!!! imagine him “taking a break” from the three of them. he’s a jealous bitch and feels like they don’t even WANT him around, they all like each other better anyway!! cue Flagstaff Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

gosh!

if sam ran away, it would be an absolute shitshow, lol. i don't know if i think he would full-stop run away. i think maybe it would be a miscommunication--especially since for ES!Dean, stanford is so fresh and raw.

in my head, i'm picturing maybe ES!Sam steps out because he found a lead on a surprisingly non-BS book on time travel at a new-age bookshop a town over and gets stuck out overnight. and honestly, he's not that mad about it. he could do with a fresh night at a motel away from the Sammy and Dean show (and will not admit that it stings that he's not the 'sammy' in question). plus! sunlight! he hadn't realized how dark and damp everything is underground until he actually has a room with a window.

at first, as much as it sucks to admit, no one really notices at first. ES!Sam has really tried to distance himself from everyone (much more at the beginning of this ordeal than a few weeks in), and spends most days either archiving a storage room that LS!Sam told him about just to have something to do or in he and ES!Dean’s room avoiding them.

so LS!Dean is the first to notice. he's just had the idea to maybe reach out and offer the kid a grilled cheese for lunch. but...he can't find him. anywhere.

he goes to ask ES!Dean&LS!Sam who are tucked in next to each other in one of the armories, giggling, and LS!Dean gets distracted for a bit at how irritating--and honestly?? kind of arousing--they are together.

they "split up and look for clues" as LS!Dean puts it, quite excitedly, and ES!Dean kind of flushes like 'wow you're such a dork' but he's practically skipping down the hallway and LS!Sam rolls his eyes.

once their search turns up no sam...it's Hit Every Alarm Bell Time.

ES!Dean is the most freaked out. what if ES!Sam got taken back to the past without him? what if ES!Dean's stuck here? what if whatever brought them both to the present kidnapped him? he's guilty because he should've noticed it sooner. he's been spending so much time with LS!Sam that he didn't even notice his own little brother was missing for what? hours? dean's little brother is his whole thing! and he didn't even notice! not to mention stanford is still so fresh for ES!Dean that he's absolutely the most freaked out about the Lack of Sam, and therefore absolutely the least helpful.

LS!Dean is in the middle. that is to say, on a scale of 0 to rip the building apart brick by brick ("hey, stop it kiddo, he's not in the fucking walls." "shut up, old man!") he's a 7. a Missing Sam is a Missing Sam, okay? you could bring any dean (even squirrel dean) in and tell him this, and that's a category five disaster. and this sam is small!!!! and alone in the world!!!!!!! he's calling local hospitals and jails, before widening the search. he's probably even on "foot" patrol (patrolling motels and town with Baby) which he drags ES!Dean into, because that poor kid's fourteen seconds away from having three concurrent heart attacks.

LS!Sam checks ES!Sam's search history. he promises to do a more thorough up-and-down of the bunker, including investigating if any of their artifacts that they've got spilling out of old boxes in almost every room, have the power to transport people. but then, he sees the laptop in ES!Sam's room (kid has a FASCINATION, and LS!Sam cringes to think of a time before laptops were widely available). and okay, yeah. let's check his search history. after 'curious college twink gets ass ate large hunky man hunk bearded middle aged' and oh. okay. ES!Sam found internet porn. cool. (LS!Sam does not notice that the 'hunky man hunk bearded middle aged' has light brown hair and a strong jaw and does not remember the website and thumbnail. because that would be weird!) LS!Sam sees the bookshop.

he calls LS!Dean, and he comes back so they can all hop the town over to go collect him.

they find him immediately under "dean plant" at a motel on the edge of town closest to lebanon.

he's groggy because it's five in the morning. the storm from the night before has barely cleared, and the smell of wet concrete hits him before he's even full awake as the door slams open.

he's got three guns pointed at him (two identical ones, one significantly less scratched than the other; and the third is very familiar) and an ES!Dean that immediately falls upon him like a regency woman reuniting with her long-estranged husband returned after years of war.

LS!Sam keeps trying to calm the situation down with calm words and an annoyed glance at ES!Sam but mostly calm. and LS!Dean is just pissed.

"where'd you go? why'd you go? why are you here? the storm? yeah i guess it was kind of bad. but that's no excuse! oh they closed the bridge because of the flooding. well you could have called! no phone. hm. well. you can't go disappearing like that, kid."

and ES!Sam is kind of equally pleased and annoyed. because honestly, he didn't think they would really notice. he didn't think he was an integral part of this machine that they occupy. he thought he was the weakest link, but they chased him down (even if it was only twelve miles) and—

(and ES!Sam tries not to think it, but it reminds him of a sermon at the church he visited once a month with brady, before brady stopped going to church (the church that made sam's feet tingle as in his shoes as soon as he stepped on hallowed ground); about the shepherd chasing down the wandering lamb, and how fucked is it that sam's thinking, in part, about himself? some bigger, stronger, wiser version of himself bringing him back into the fold? it makes sam shudder a little, bc sam didn't even question the part about dean being god, just himself.)

and later that night is when ES!Sam gets his first "we"--LS!Sam pulls him aside after dinner, and says quietly,

"we can't disappear on dean, okay?" he's quick to continue, because he can see the beginning of ES!Sam's indignant protest. "it was an accident. and they shouldn't've freaked out like that. but we go through...a lot. and he needs us. even in 2006. and he's glad we're here."

ES!Sam shrugs him off, but later that night, when he says goodbye to ES!Dean, he says "goodnight jerk," and dean relaxes against the doorframe. and sam thinks, maybe this isn't the worst thing that's happened to them. not as long as they're all in it together.

every time i say "oh this ran away from me" and UGH! every time it's TRUE! flagstaff pt 2: electric boogaloo would end with a lot less tears and anguish on all parts involved, i think. but like any good sequel, it would increase the stakes (TWO deans losing their minds + a bonus sam!).

thanks for this ask, anon! my brain really took to it, lol!

-lizzy <3

[cafeacademia]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When your mother, an influential and corrupt politician organises a suitor party for you without telling you, Spencer, your bodyguard takes matters into his own hands... Only there's a little more to the arrangement than you first expected.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Mentions of organised crime, trafficking (only mentioned and not said which type but it is implied), Reader's mother is a dick, fear, mentions of being "hurt" by Reader's mother but no details are given - interpret that as you wish but intended as emotional hurt, tears and upset Reader, nudity (showering together, no sex just very tender and a little heated), a little bit of 18+ content but not any explicit details (even so, minors DNI please), happy ending!! UNEDITED SORRY

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.3k

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello!! Sorry it's been a while since I've posted something. Here is a WIP I've rewritten so many times, but I'm really happy with how it came out. This is for @mattmurdocksscars celebration!! I hope you enjoy it!

"Please tell me you're okay."

He'd found you outside, dry tears on your cheeks, marked by the smudged makeup, fresh tears welling up in your eyes as your lip wobbled. The gardens were dimly lit. There was something about the perfect care of the gardens, contrasted with the hurt in your eyes that turned Spencer’s stomach like nothing else had in a long time.

There had been a man with you, he was drunk and far too pushy with you.

He wouldn't stop. He wouldn't shut up. His voice droning, touch burning your skin, stare boring into your eyes making you feel so vulnerable and small.

So Spencer had done what he did best and protected you.

"I couldn't find you." You sniffled, reaching out for him. He came to you, hands gripping yours and you finally felt warmth surge through you under his touch.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. They tried to keep me out of the way, I couldn't get to you fast enough." He breathed the words out and while it was all very urgent, his voice soothed you. He was right though, they had separated you when you got to the party and as soon as you were swept into the main hall, you had completely lost sight of Spencer.

"Please just take me home, I want to leave." You cried, fresh tears coming now. You would do anything not to go back into your mother's estate, back into the bustling crowd of suitors and elite middle aged nothings.

"Sweetheart,"

"I don't care if it's against orders, I don't want to marry any of those tight collar fucks in there and my mother can shove it up her arse if she-."

"Sweetheart, shh. Come here. You don't have to do anything." Spencer pulled you into his arms and it felt so good to be held. You were crying now, sobs interrupting you every time you parted your lips.

It felt good to be touched by someone who cared. It was soft and gentle and you felt like you could melt against him and never leave his embrace.

His leather gloves creaked against your skin as his grip on you tightened, holding you against his chest, allowing you to sob into his shirt.

"Shh, I'm here. Let me take care of you. I'll get us out, just hold onto me sweetheart and don't let go."

You did as you were told. You clung to him, tears still coming but the sobs growing silent as the nerves crept in. He held you, grip firm and reassuring as he walked you around the building, keeping away from spots where you might be easily seen.

Spencer was glad he'd parked the car in a spot away from your mother's security detail. They'd never notice it was you leaving either, not when he'd used a rental for the night instead of one of the cars in the garage.

Your mother had hosted a suitor event without telling you the reason for your presence.

She wanted to marry you off. But all you wanted to do was run away and hide and let Spencer tell you what to do and keep you safe. That's what he had always done since he'd been assigned as your bodyguard. He was with you all the time, bar from your most vulnerable moments, but even then, he was always near.

But maybe sometime along the way, you had stopped just being his client.

There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel dizzy and crave looking into his eyes. His touch was just as dizzying, strong and firm but so comforting. He always knew what to say too.

Spencer was far too good for you. You were just some rich elite woman's daughter, locked up in her empty estate with nothing to do but read books and reluctantly attend parties to save face and put on a show of good relations.

And Spencer was a bodyguard. Strong, effortlessly handsome, tall and so kind and good. You wished your relationship with him was not just a working relationship and that it was more…

Just more.

Spencer got you into the car and let you get comfortable while he got into the driver's seat. He started the engine, watching as you slid down in your seat, anxiety setting in as he pulled out of the parking space. You heard the thunk of the car doors lock as he drove by the front of the house and you let out a breath that had lodged itself in your chest. You were tense as he drove in front of the house and turned down the driveway. It was tempting to look out of the window, to see what the security at the front doors were doing when they saw your car leaving, but you resisted and stayed low in your seat, pulling the stupid silken shawl you’d been given to wear around you, wishing it would give you some comfort.

“We’re out.” Spencer broke the silence, hand coming to rest on your knee. He glanced over at you, watching as you opened your eyes. You had squeezed them shut on your way towards the cast iron gates, afraid you might be stopped and made to return to the event. But nobody came to stop you. “Spencer,” You breathed out, sitting up in your seat and reaching out to push the air vent away from you, the cool air sending a prickling chill through you. “We can’t go home.” “She’ll come looking for you and she’ll be angry.” Spencer sighed, knowing exactly why you couldn’t return. “She might fire you, Spencer.” The thought brought tears to you again and you let out a heavy sob. “Sweetheart, you could manage without me. You’re strong.” He tried to lighten the mood, but you only cried, shaking your head. “No, you make this bearable. She’ll decide you’re too lenient, she’ll hire some ugly brute with no charisma or charm and no pretty face.” You cried and Spencer let out a soft chuckle. “You like me because of my charisma and charm and pretty face?” He asked with a lopsided grin. “Obviously.” You sighed. “And other things.” “I guess you’ll tell me the other things later.” He said, raising a brow as he checked the mirrors, just to make sure no one was following.

“Sweetheart, listen to me very clearly, alright?” You turned to look at him, his tone serious now as he drove through the city streets. “You’re going to check the mirrors, watch every car that you see. Make sure it’s not tailing us.” He instructed. “What are you doing?” You asked quietly. “What I always should have done.” He replied. “Is there anything you need from home?” Spencer asked, not directly answering your question. “Um,” You thought about it for a second. The clothes didn’t matter, they were more your mother’s chosen style for you than your own. None of your expensive perfumes or items really mattered to you, except maybe the books you hid under your bed and the stuffie that Spencer had once given to you. “Only a couple of things.” You told him truthfully. “Right. We’re going to go home, you’re going to collect those things into a bag. No questions in the house, it might be wired. Understood?” “Understood.” You confirmed, heart pounding when you realised exactly what was happening.

What I always should have done. Had Spencer always thought of doing this? How long had this thought been on his mind? Either way, you trusted him with your life and your secrets.

You watched the mirrors the whole way home. There weren’t many cars on the way back. It was too late at night for many people to be around. Nothing tailed you on the way home.

“Ten minutes in the house maximum. I’ll come up with you, we need to stay together.” Spencer told you as he pulled into the driveway. “Alright.” You nodded, waiting until the car stopped and he gave you his okay after checking the surroundings before you got out and walked towards the house. He checked his phone for the house security. It was empty, so he let you in and locked the door before he followed you up the stairs to your room. “Spencer, do you have a jumper?” You asked. “I have plenty.” You nodded. “Can I use one?” “Of course. Do this first.” He said, referring to your packing.

You pulled your books out from under the bed, packing them onto a duffel bag that Spencer had given you and quickly piled in your only stuffies and a few other sentimental items. The rest of it was all things you’d rather leave behind. Spencer gave you a jumper and you dressed quickly into some workout leggings and his jumper while he packed his jumpers and prized comfort clothing into a duffel bag.

Spencer couldn’t deny how cute you looked in his jumper. It was a fairisle jumper, cosy and wintery and it seemed to bring out the warmth in your features more than any of your clothing did. “Wear this. It’ll get cold.” Spencer said, wrapping a thick, warm, wool coat around you and doing it up for you. It made you feel small and cared for and you wanted nothing more than for him to just keep doing that. But there was little time now for the soft touches and sweet glances.

The silence between you lingered. It was tense, but you were comforted by the way that Spencer held you. He kept his arm around you as he took you out of the back entrance of the house. Down at the end of the garden, over the wall was his surveillance car. He’d brought it with him off the record and was sure that it was the safest way for you to travel. Your mother likely knew nothing about it, making it much less easy to track. “Give me your phone, sweetheart.” You did as you were told without question as you approached the car. He opened the back, put both of the bags in and took your phone when you handed it to him. He pulled the sim card out and turned your phone off. “I’ll buy you a new one.” Spencer promised, doing the same with his phone before he disposed of the sim cards.

“Let’s go, get in sweetheart.” Spencer instructed. The car felt new. It even smelled quite new too. The seatbelt on his side was pre-buckled and you wondered why, but you had no mind for questions right now. Your heart raced as he started the car and locked the doors. You both buckled in and you took one last look at the house that you had spent your entire life in, locked up, kept away from everyone and the world, only to be called upon when you needed to make an appearance.

The silence loomed, though this time it was more comfortable. Spencer turned the heat up, put some classical music on and began to drive. “Do I need to check the mirrors?” You asked. “No, sweetheart. I’ll keep us safe.” Spencer reassured you. “Where are we going?” “Out of state to a safehouse.” “Doesn’t my mother know about safehouses?” You asked. “Not if they are owned by the FBI, sweetheart.” He replied. FBI? What did the FBI have to do with a private security detail?

“What are you talking about?” You asked, sitting up in your seat now. “I’m an FBI agent, sweetheart. I wasn’t just sent to be your bodyguard, it was under suspicion for a long time that your mother was partaking in illegal activities, including trafficking.” “Trafficking… As in-.” “Yeah, sweetheart.” He interrupted. He knew you knew what your mother was pulling behind the scenes and he had more than enough evidence now. “That’s why- oh my god, how did I never put two and two together?” You sat back in your seat, overtaken by how much information that was to process. “You’re really FBI?” He chuckled softly, motioning at the glovebox. “Open that and you’ll find your answer, sweetheart.” You opened the glovebox and inside was an envelope. Inside was his badge and identification. “Oh my god. You’ve been undercover all this time? Is your name even Spencer? What about your actual life? Don’t you have a family you’re away from?” You let off the string of questions.

“Sweetheart, I never lied to you, only kept my real job from you for obvious reasons. I’m exactly who you know me to be, I promise.” His voice was sincere, eyes meeting yours for a moment, soft and warm and you knew he was telling you the truth. He was the same Spencer he’d always been. Single, hot and kind but instead of a bodyguard, he was an FBI agent.

“Wait.” You breathed out, gaze finding his badge in your hands, fingers trailing over it. “When this is over, this all ends.” He knew what you meant. That it wasn’t just a case for him to work, that when your mother was caught and you were free from her confines that Spencer would return to work like it was another day at the office and you’d end up somewhere else, alone. “No, sweetheart. Not unless you want it to.” Spencer shook his head. “I’ve been with you for nearly every second for the last two years, I am not throwing that all away just because the case will end.” “Promise?” Your voice was soft and small and shaky and it broke his heart. Spencer reached over as he drove down the motorway, hand resting on your knee, fingers reaching for yours. “I promise, sweetheart.”

The car journey went on for a long time, but Spencer was good company. It was easy to relax when you knew you were safe with someone you trusted and you dozed in and out of a hazy nap that seemed to make chunks of the hours pass by like seconds. And before you knew it, you realised it was light outside and you’d driven all through the night and into midway through the next morning. “Almost there sweetheart.” Spencer informed you, reaching over to pat you awake. You had been in and out of a nap when he spoke and was coherent enough to register his words. “Where are we?” You asked through a yawn. “In Virginia.” Sitting up properly and taking a big stretch, you looked out of the window to see the changing colours of autumn in mottled oranges and reds.

It wasn’t long before Spencer took you off onto a bumpy side road, travelling all the way up the trail towards a small house in a wooded clearing. “Is this the place?” You asked. “Yep. Once we get indoors, I’m going to talk to my team. But I promise I’ll stay with you through everything okay? Every step of this, you’ve got me.”

The house was warm and cosy. The inside was simple but it had everything you needed to be off the grid for a while. Spencer went to put the car in the garage so it was out of sight and he made several security checks and sweeps just in case before he even attempted to make contact with his team. You, on the other hand, were just happy to find that the safe house had a little woodburner and a cosy spot with a bookshelf full of books you’d never read before.

You heard Spencer talking in the other room. You heard him discussing plans and going over what needed to be done and the evidence he’d sent over to them.

But your mind wanted to rest, it wanted to focus on something else and you found yourself things to make a fresh cup of hot coffee and dug a blanket out of the linen closet in the hallway.

“They’re taking care of everything, sweetheart. We just have to stay here for a day or two until the raids are finished.” Spencer said as he walked back into the main room, watching as you poured out hot coffee into two mugs and piled a few biscuits out onto a plate for you to share. “She’s finally being put away.” You breathed out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but your relief and comfort in knowing that someone who had hurt you for so long was going to be put away for good was enough to make him feel at ease for a while.

“We can relax now, sweetheart. Don’t worry about a thing.” “Spence, where do I go after this?” You asked quietly, picking up your mug and bringing it over to the coffee table and sitting down on the sofa. “What happens to me?” “Well, where do you want to be when this is over?” Spencer asked. You paused for a moment, taking a slow sip of your coffee and curling up into the corner of the sofa. You looked so small, so vulnerable as you thought about his question. You couldn’t or wouldn’t meet his eyes as you parted your lips to speak.

“With you.” It came out in a whisper, but you were sure of your answer and so was Spencer. “Baby girl.” His words made you melt, they flustered you and you couldn’t look up as he walked over with his mug, setting it down on the table and sitting beside you. “You want to come with me?” He asked softly. He was sincere, but there was something about the way he spoke to you. He was comforting and  warm and good and you wanted to hold onto that. You only nodded, but it was enough of an answer for Spencer. “Come here.” And he opened his arms for you, letting you fall against his chest, enveloped in his embrace, safe and comfortable and relaxed. “When this is over, you can come with me, if that’s what you want.” He whispered against your hair, pressing a kiss against your temple like he was sealing a promise.

No other words were exchanged for a while. The silence was comforting between you, only touch needed to be heard and understood. All of the unsaid feelings floated to the surface now, quiet and unspoken, but louder than they had ever been.

The night drew in faster than you had expected. And you found yourself with Spencer, warm water running in the shower as he undressed you, fingers soft and gentle as he took you in. He kissed you breathless, lips hot against yours, eager but not urgent. You whimpered, kiss tugging you further into a safe, hazy comfort. There was nothing rushed about it as you stepped into the shower. It was innocent, washing each other, touch speaking more than words could, illustrating the thoughts you’d had for the last two years. You were certain you had fallen for Spencer not long after you met him and you probably had a crush on him since the second you saw him for the first time.

“I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I think I always have been.” Spencer spoke against your lips, his moving against yours, languid and passionate as he soothed lathered, warm soap over your delicate skin. You didn’t have the words to respond, love was not enough to explain how you felt. There was something deeper in your connection. He had done more than love you. He had protected you with his life. And you had spent every second of every day with him for two years, allowing him to see you in your vulnerable moments. He’d seen you cry, he’d seen you in your underwear, he’d accompanied you to try on clothes - granted, he never looked but you always had fantasised that maybe one day he would take you right there, while you were nude right behind him.

It was more than physical attraction. He was smart, you could listen to him ramble all day, listen to him talk about physics and biology and technology and anything that took his interest. He was the only person you could talk to about books that wouldn’t judge you. Spencer was perfect and you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to share the warmth within you with him and no one else.

It was why you had cried that night outside of the party while that man tried to touch you and talk his way into your bed. You hated him, you could’ve done anything, but you wished and hoped and pleaded with no one in particular that Spencer would find you and stop him and take you himself. That he would make you feel pretty and good and like the best girl in the world. You craved the words good girl that fell from his lips, you craved to hear him laugh at your jokes and your attempts to flirt. You craved him.

“I love you. I love you so much, I need you Spencer.” The words tumbled without a second of hesitation, his low, soft laugh rumbled beneath your hands that rested against his chest. “You need me, baby girl?” You nodded, kissing him when his lips found yours again. “I’m yours, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world.” He whispered. And Spencer was right. For once you did have time. He’d taken you out of the world that had locked you away in a stupid old money estate like some kind of forbidden princess, only allowed out when you needed to remind the city you still existed. But now you were blossoming, flowering into something unique and entirely your own, all because of Spencer.

You didn’t love him because he saved you. You loved him because he made you feel like no other person had ever made you feel. You were properly seen for the first time by him. He saw the depths of your person, the facets of your personality that nobody ever stopped long enough to notice. And he loved you.

It was all a haze as you fell into bed, clothed in clean pyjamas several sizes too big, but it was the most comfortable you had felt in a long time. “Stay with me, please?” You asked. And you only had to ask, because without question, Spencer slipped into bed next to you and pulled the covers over you both.

“Tell me about the other things.” Spencer broke the silence after a moment of laying next to each other in the quiet. You smiled in the dark, cheeks heating with slight embarrassment. “I already know you think I’m pretty, charming and charismatic.” He reminded you. “Your knowledge is very,” You paused, feeling yourself flush with the thought. “Sexy.” You finished, listening to Spencer hum in thought at your words. “I love listening to your rambles. I like your thoughts, I want to know what you think about everything.” You went on. “And what else?” He asked. “Oh, your voice.” You breathed in. “I love your voice. It’s soothing and-.” You cut yourself off. God, you couldn’t just go around revealing all of your random turn ons like this. “And?” He pressed, genuinely curious. “I think you know.” You whispered softly and Spencer let out a breathy laugh next to you. “I think I have an idea.” He said, leaning over to pull you into his arms. “You make me feel like I’m enough. Like I can be who I am and not what my mother wants everyone to see.” You continued, an air of vulnerability to your words, but Spencer just pulled you closer, arms tightening around you. “You are always enough, my sweet girl.” He whispered. “Always.”

The days passed quickly. It was comforting being with Spencer with no one to watch over you, breathing down your neck and demanding things of you. You could be yourself and open up bit by bit to him. You weren’t as afraid and you felt like there were things your mother had done over the years that you could finally say aloud, slowly but surely.

It was only a matter of days before it was all over and when Spencer got the call that your mother and her associates had been successfully incarcerated, he had you both pack up your things and slowly head to his home in Quantico.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get home, sweetheart?” Spencer asked as he entered the city, driving through the streets towards his apartment. “A bit of clothes shopping would be good, I didn’t bring much with me.” You replied. “Mm and maybe we should stop for pastries and coffee.” He added. “Can we go to build a bear?” He laughed, but nodded and a smile grew on his lips so wide that you couldn’t help but mirror it. “Yeah, of course we can. Anything else?” “Can I meet that team of yours to thank them?” You asked. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, it’s our job, baby.” “I’d like to say thank you.” You insisted and it didn’t take much for him to fold. He thought it was cute, not to mention, he couldn’t deny you when you looked at him with such sweet doe eyes. “Alright, we’ll stop by the office before we go shopping. But let’s stop at home first, I can’t wait to show you.” He smiled.

There was so much you wanted to do, so much you wanted to say to Spencer, but you had a lifetime to do it now. Nothing stood in the way anymore. And as you got out of the car in front of his apartment building, the pretty old architecture making you take a gasp of excitement, Spencer took your hand in his. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” He kissed you, slow and soft, capturing you in a warmth you had craved since the beginning. This was home. Spencer was your home.

And you were in love.

@reidsbookclub @russian-potatoes @hallecarey1 @deanhisbaby @alexxavicry @guridoodles @liltimmyst @f-me-reid

[v3nusxsky]

Right I need a good hurt/comfort fic cause my parental issues are kicking my ass atm. If you don't mind could you please write a Larissa weems x non-binary reader where r is a student (of legal age of course) where r and Larissa are in an established relationship but haven't taken the next step in their relationship yet. During parents weekend both of r's parents end up coming despite them being separated since r was a little kid so typically they take turns. This is the first time Larissa has properly gotten to meet them both and together so when r's dad shows up drunk and their mum's deadnaming them, larissa is concerned to say the least. Throughout the weekend it gets worse and they are both constantly and very loudly fighting about anything and everything while using r as their mediator. Larissa notices how different r is from their parents since r is very reserved and logical to the point of coming off as cold to people who don't know them well but before Larissa can think too hard about that r comes bursting into her office and immediately starts to kiss and undress her. Larissa is happy r wants to finally take the next step but is very confused at why now and why r is letting their emotions get the best of them so forces r to stop and talk to her. This leads to r breakdown in Larissa's arms (something she's never seen before) and explains that they can't handle their parents anymore and they just need Larissa to make r forget about them. Feel free to end it however you like, thank you!

Make me forget| h&c slight 18+

*Authors note~this fic has been haunting my brain bc I want to do it justice and I hope I have now that it's really ready to post.*

Trigger warnings~ non binary r family issues sexualising one's self, sex as a coping mechanism meltdowns drunk dad separated parents dead naming

Prompt~see ask^^^^

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Parent's weekend was something you'd been anxious for now for the past week, your parents would attend for your youngest sibling Dahlia while having no idea that you taught here. Not only that but that you go by your chosen name not your dead name. They also weren't privy to the knowledge that you happened to be dating the principal. Larissa Weems loved you for what you are on the inside, not the name you were born with or what gender you resonate with. You are you, and that's why she loved you. Together you both knew what it felt like to be misunderstood for what you are and that's why you would always try to prevent these things occurring in Nevermore Academy.

Larissa knew of your sister, but your sister had yet to stumble across you, you'd actively been dodging her since her arrival. So we one safe kiss of reassurance you both headed down to begin parents weekend. Your mother was first to arrive, as emotionless as she always was until she laid eyes on Dahlia, only when she caught sight of you did her eyes darken in anger and she muttered, "Lia? Who's that thing over there?" Ouch, but before she could even turn to see you, your dad came stumbling through the gates, three sheets to the wind. Truly nothing had changed here.

As a child you spent every week bouncing from house to house and parent to parent but neither provided you with the love and care you deserved. Your dad was always drunk or hungover, there's no middle here. Your mother took things hard when you came out, refusing your new name, "I named you for a reason, that's your name! Not whatever monstrosity you came up with" her words stung, you spent ages souring the internet for the perfect name. And she didn't even hear what you choose, just dismissed you straight away.

Right away your parents are way to busy arguing to notice you approaching them until your sister screams you're new name and runs into your arms. "I missed you Lia bug" you murmured into her ear before whispering, "I work here now bug" which caused your sister to beam back at you. "What are you doing here?" Your mother almost snarled at you. Of course she dead named you. Your dad chirped in about how a creature like you shouldn't be working in schools where you influence children. After all he blamed your mother and she blamed him. You and Lia were always caught in the crossfire, just how it always has been.

By the end of the evening you'd had enough so you set off in search for your girlfriend. Barging in through her the mahogany doors and immediately stormed over to your unsuspecting love. You immediately gabbed the lapels of her blazer and smashed your lips to hers in a hurry, hands tugging at her clothing and your own in a desperate blind need to feel something, anything.

At first Larissa reciprocated the desire until she realised this felt wrong, you'd both spoke about how the first time together would go and this wasn't it so the fact you were trying to rip her dress from her body, you'd removed your own shirt before Larissa managed to brace her hands on your shoulders, "hey hey hey love, slow down darling slow down. Talk to me" she murmured as you attempted to avoid her gaze. Those words was all it took for you to start sobbing, "I'm sorry I'm sorry so so sorry I'm god sorry" over and over again as you collapsed.

As Larissa came to hold you after wrapping her blazer around you she began to realise just how much you were the opposite of your parents. You had never broken down like this before so whatever they did was clearly bothering you and it hurt her heart to see. "Can't do this they just Ris help make me feel. Please need to feel good please Ris make their words go away make it all better please." You mumbled over and over as you sobbed into her shoulder. A soothing hand rubbing circles on your back as you cried it out. Larissa promised herself here and now that she would never let your parents hurt you ever again. For the rest of the evening Larissa doted on, drew you a bath and got a some snacks, just held you and showered you in love and comforting words.

Word count~ 1085

[collaredattachment]

Lost

Character: 13th Doctor  Word count: 3,571 Warnings: Mild violence, Big insects Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: T

Description: The sky is darkening. Around you the trees only seem to grow taller as their oppressive shadows stretch over frost-covered grass. The forest is as silent as can be when a storm is coming: animals looking for holes to crawl back to, branches brushing against each other in the wind, and your own stuttering breath as the air thickens with the promise of rain.

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No Doctor and no TARDIS, you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere with nothing and no one to turn to. Pray the Doctor finds you in time.

A/N: This was originally posted on my DW blog a few years ago so I gave it a new coat of paint and here we are!

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There are three things, the Doctor had said, that you ought to remember about Paroxus V. One: the food isn’t fit for a human. You eat it, you die. Hands to yourself. Two: it is infinitely easy to get lost. Stay together. Three: at night, it gets very, very cold.

The sky is darkening. Around you the trees only seem to grow taller as their oppressive shadows stretch over frost-covered grass. The forest is as silent as can be when a storm is coming: animals looking for holes to crawl back to, branches brushing against each other in the wind, and your own stuttering breath as the air thickens with the promise of rain.

Cold sneaks through your light jacket and you shiver. The tree you huddle up against is thick enough to pass for shelter; at least when you drag your knees to your chest and curl up into a ball. It’s better than nothing. You flex your trembling fingers and the skin over your knuckles breaks, revealing tiny beads of blood. You blow into your palms and rub them together. The relief is brief, and is immediately taken away by a chilling gust of wind.

It’s been hours now. Seconds of gasping, frightened breaths had stretched into minutes, into hours, and now the sky was turning black. No sign of the Doctor, no wheezing groan from the TARDIS, nothing. Not even a peep. She might be terrible at parking but this is pushing it.

Admittedly, it was you who had let go of her hand, you who ran off in a panic, you who had wandered further into the dark and brooding trees because you swore you’d seen her coat in the distance. Explicit instruction, as it turns out, means very little when your amygdala is screaming at you to run.

Something cracks in the distance.

You force yourself to stay very, very still, and turn your head to peek past the tree sheltering you. Something stirs the tall grass and the trampled wildflowers a good ten feet away from you. An acrid stench floats in your direction, and nearly sends you into a violent coughing fit. You gag at the sharp, acidic stench, and swiftly wipe your watering eyes. The wind carries heavy, skittering footsteps to your ears, like dozens of legs crawling in the foliage.

A long, arching back, covered in faintly glimmering plating, rises from the grass and stretches into its full height. Hundreds of feet line the body on both sides. On top of its head are two antennae, both the size of your arm.

Your stomach lurches, and acid rises into the back of your mouth. Your hands, placed on the trunk for stability, claw into the bark hard enough to leave small crescent-shaped dents. That thing is massive, big enough to eat you whole.

What would the Doctor do?

Be benevolent. Be kind. Things she keeps telling you and the unfortunate souls you run into; both easier said after a frightening adventure, instead of right now, deep into the hunting grounds of a monstrous centipede.

But in the end it doesn’t matter, because you’re not the Doctor. You’re a human, average in most aspects, equipped with one human heart and one human brain, both of which are on their knees, pleading at you to run or hide.

So far, that’s just instinct. Paleolithic age knowledge overriding your brain to keep you safe. The centipede has made no move to hurt you. It might not even be carnivorous, for all you know.

Out of your view, scampering steps pound against hard dirt, and something emerges from the long grass. A furry animal, quite like a rabbit, shoots into view. The centipede flies into action. It rises further up and arches forward, spewing a foul, pulpy mucus that coats the rabbit, trapping it where it stands. It shrieks in pain, but the sound is drowned out by hundreds of feet approaching, a whine when the centipede throws the rabbit into the air, and a revolting crunch of bones cracking as it finishes its meal. It only takes a moment; ten, fifteen seconds at most.

Bile burns your throat, and you fear you’ll retch; sounds and motions you cannot afford right now. You sneak back behind the tree and you breathe, in and out, silent and slow as you can. Your eyes keep watering but you don’t dare even blink.

Grass shudders, and the centipede crawls to your right. Your heart seizes in your chest, and vivid images of your arms being torn from your person attack your vision.

The sound recedes. Further and further, until you can barely hear it anymore. You look up, and catch a glimpse of the first stars of the night through criss-crossing tree branches.

You count to twenty, savor each number like one of them might magic you away from here, and stop on your favorite one for a good long while. Maybe it has some luck left in it, who knows.

Silence.

You sigh in relief, and the sound is unsteady, jittery, like a butterfly struggling to take flight. It jerks in your chest, a persistent hiccup that threatens to transform into panicked hyperventilation, but you don’t have the time. You squeeze your eyes shut and wipe the tears that come falling. One long, grounding breath, and then you finally dare to take a peek past the tree.

Empty, as far as the eye can see. Night has finally fallen, and everything past fifteen feet turns into a dark, dangerous jumble of unidentifiable, vaguely threatening shapes. You crane your neck to look past the long grass, in the direction of the centipede, but you can’t see anything. The creature could be hiding, biding its time until you make a run for it to gobble you up like a sausage puff, but you have to take that chance. It’s now or never.

You bite into your own cheek hard enough to draw blood, and take your first step. You wait; a moment of anticipatory stillness as your shoe settles firmly into the dirt.

The woods remain silent.

You take another step, and another, each one heavier and more hurried than the last, until you settle into a jog; light enough to hopefully keep you unheard, but quick enough to get you the hell out of here. Branches snag on your clothes, your hair, as if the forest is trying to keep you in its clutches.

Fifteen minutes you trudge through the dark until the eerie silence finally breaks. You freeze, eyes darting over your surroundings in search of a rock, a tree, anything to hide behind. Before you can find any such thing, though, the sound repeats itself.

A voice. This far away, you can’t recognize the owner, but god, it doesn’t matter; there’s someone out here beside you and you’d rather die than let that miracle go. You stand on your toes and strain your ears, praying silently for that someone to wait, to please just wait; you’re here, right here, and they can’t be too far off, if they’d only just—

There it is again. Faint, but growing closer. You laugh, unable to entirely contain the sound and keep it under your breath. The call comes one more time, and you turn to its direction: off the path and even deeper into the woods.

You step over the bushes and push your way past the thicket, ripping handfuls of leaves off their branches in your desperation to move, move, move. Your feet pound against the ground as you finally let yourself run. The trees grow thicker the further you go, but even they can’t muffle the sound: a woman, calling for... for you?

With every step the call gets closer, gets clearer, and it is your name; they’ve finally found you, she’s found you, the Doctor is here and if you could just move faster in this blasted forest, you might catch her before she thinks you’re gone, and then you’re really, properly dead.

You want to call her name, scream for help, but the image of the rabbit disappearing down the centipede’s throat keeps your mouth firmly shut. You can’t risk it. If only there was a faster way to get to—

Your foot doesn’t bounce off the ground. It plunges into the foliage and you follow suit. You roll down the hill face first, sharp stones tearing your clothes and biting into skin, the smaller ones lodging themselves into your flesh. The landing is hard; the grass covering the ground offers very little in the sense of cushioning. When the world stops spinning, your hands fly to your knee to ease the sharp pain crackling there. Sand glitters in the wound right under your kneecap, and sticky, fresh blood lingers on your fingers when you pry them away.

You gently try to move your leg, but cry out, tears stinging your eyes. There’s no way you’re going anywhere like this. You try to even your breath, ears strained again as you try to listen past your heart hammering in your chest.

The voice has gone quiet, but in its stead the earth groans above you. You hear crawling; hundreds of little feet carrying a thick, armored body across frosty grass that crackles and snaps like clacking teeth. The tall grass shifts above you and antennae peek through, followed by a head, and you finally get a glimpse at the centipede’s open maw.

Rows of miniscule, needle-sharp teeth ring its circular mouth as deep as you can see. It’s like the creature has several round jaws that all open and close in their own perplexing rhythm. It’s almost hypnotizing.

Dirt and grass rain down as the centipede crawls down the hill and stops right at your feet. You heave panicked breaths as it rises to its full height and shrieks; a high-pitched, serrated sound, followed by dark spittle that splashes in all directions. You throw your arms in front of your face and howl as it burns through your jacket, your shirt, and leaves a sizzling patch of scorched skin. You gasp and struggle to wrap your head around the feeling of dead nerves and bubbling, weeping skin.

The centipede crawls closer, draws itself further up, and you know what’s coming. A heave, a brief moment of flight, and your flesh torn and rended between thousands of little teeth.

You sink further into the ground, a last ditch effort to hide, to disappear and turn up back home, on asphalt and a city too well-populated and polluted to house anything like the creature in front of you. You look up; one final glimpse of the stars that lured the lot of you on this planet in the first place, and sure enough, you see them. Constellations the local children could name in their sleep, lone planets shining brighter than the rest, and satellites lazily circling the planet on their calculated courses. It’s shocking how little empty space there is on this foreign sky.

You close your eyes.

A high-pitched mechanical whine; a screwdriver pushed past its limit. Panicked voices. Shouting. The centipede’s screech, and a long, heavy body escaping into the thicket. Hurried boots on loose dirt.

A light shines over your face, and you wince. Too bright. Someone tries to pull your arms away from your face but you cry out, and the touch is swiftly withdrawn.

“Christ,” someone whispers, further away.

A hand caresses your cheek and a soft line is drawn across your cheekbone.

“It’s all right.” Northern accent. “The Mexvogel is gone. Off to find easier prey. You’re safe.”

You pry your eyes open. Golden hair, hazel eyes, and a brow drawn in worry; there’s that crease between them, the one Yaz always teases her about. The Doctor’s whole face sheens with sweat and dirt, and her clothes are speckled with grime.

Your gaze is drawn to movement in your periphery: Yaz, Graham and Ryan, all rushing towards you.

“Did you see the size of that thing?” Graham asks. “I’ve only ever seen one in my mate’s flat, in Bristol. It were the size of my finger, though. Not my whole house.”

“Can you sit?” The Doctor offers you her hand as she speaks. You try to take it, but moving only elicits a shock of pain, universally felt. The Doctor’s fingers press against your cheek, and when she draws back, they’re stained with blood.

 “Took a nasty fall, you did. I could’a sworn Mexvogel were extinct by now, especially after the hunt in 3319, but I guess there’s still stragglers. Nasty buggers.”

She takes something from her pocket: a small flashlight, clicked awake to shine directly into your eyes. You try to look away, but the Doctor holds your jaw tightly in her hand. No escape.

“Looks alright,” she mutters, and to your relief, puts the light back in her pocket. “Say something.”

It takes a moment to make sense of the words, the sentences, to parse each one from the next and assign bouncing, meaningless letters meaning; your thoughts are simultaneously scattered in the wind and one big, coagulated jumble.

The Doctor’s face falls.

“Could be concussion,” she says. “Best get you to the TARDIS. Try to stand, if you can.”

You lean forwards and try to shift weight into your legs, but the second you put pressure on your knee you yelp and fall back to the ground. The Doctor frowns, and shares a concerned look with Yaz. They crouch beside you, and your arms are carefully placed over their shoulders.

“Ready?” The Doctor asks, and there’s a small smile on her face, a wrinkle at the corner of her eye; you will be okay. She’ll take care of it. It’s what she does. They heave you to your feet, hands pressed against your back, support to take weight away from your arms. You take a small step, barely move your foot at all, but grind your teeth like whetstone all the same.

“I…” you start, but the words are too far, too much of a mess.

“Shit,” Yaz says under her breath. “What do we do?”

The Doctor looks at you quietly for a moment, and then turns to Yaz. “Let go.” Yaz’s brow shoots to her hairline, but the look the Doctor gives keeps her from questioning orders.

“Alright, alright,” Yaz says, and delicately lets you lean fully against the Doctor. She bends down, puts one arm behind your knees and slides the other around your back.

“On three,” she mutters, and takes a breath. “One, two—“

You wail when she lifts you off your feet, every scrape, burn and bruise begging you to stop, to lie down and die so they can find peace.

The Doctor waits for a moment, and eventually your breath calms, a tear rolls down your cheek, and your head lolls against her chest. The beat of her hearts is fast but steady, their b-bmp b-bmp a sturdy enough anchor to keep you in this world for a small while yet.

“This won’t be entirely painless,” she warns you. “I’ll be jostling you around a bit. But the TARDIS isn’t parked far. You ready?”

She looks you in the eyes, watches for a moment, and there’s that wrinkle again; right between her eyebrows, deep like a crevasse, and probably with just as many worries buried inside.

You nod.

Logically, the trek can’t have been more than a few hundred feet at most, but god, if it doesn’t feel like hours, days of aching muscles and lacerated skin. The Doctor holds you close to her chest, and you take solace in her warmth, try to focus on her heart, her breath, anything to take you away from the misery of your body.

By the time you see the TARDIS, more worn than the time you’d left — her paint chipped and her wood scratched — you’re barely conscious anymore. The dots in your vision grow into a dark expanse that encompasses most of your vision, and Ryan and Yaz sound like they’re bickering beyond a thick, padded wall.

The moment The Doctor crosses the threshold, you’re out.

You wake up to a great, throbbing headache. Your eyelids feel like they’re stuffed with cotton as you open them to the soft lamplight of your bedroom. You’re stuffed under every blanket in the house, built up to an impressive stack. Music is playing, though you don’t recognize the song.

You take a deep breath, and try to move. A groan and a wave of nausea warn you against making a second attempt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You slowly turn your head despite the soft ache beneath your temples and find the Doctor sitting by your bedside in your rickety yellow chair, the one with the torn cushion. She’s cross-legged and in her hands are a cup of tea and a book you haven’t seen before. She’s frowning.

“Sorry,” you say, and try to catch her eye. She is determined to only stare at the yellowed, worn down page.

“You’re lucky, you know,” she says. There’s an edge in her voice, a silent anger she seems reluctant to voice. She takes a sip, and turns the page. “Most people end up in shreds if they run into a Mexvogel.”

Your lip curls. “I didn’t exactly intend for this to happen, thanks.”

The Doctor’s grip around the cup tightens. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Your mouth drops open, and you scoff. “You could at least look at me if you’re going to say something like that.”

The Doctor takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and sighs. She snaps the book shut and drops it on the floor next to her. The thud is soft against your ragged carpet.

This time she looks you deep in the eye, unblinking and unflinching as she says, “You could have died.”

“I didn’t,” you say, and find your eye-contact slipping despite your best efforts. The Doctor’s face thunders with the storm gathering inside her, and you’re on a direct course into the middle.

“You have no idea,” The Doctor says, her voice growing tighter, louder. “We got back to the TARDIS and you were gone, couldn’t find you anywhere. We asked everyone, ran around for hours, and finally some kids had seen you stumble into the bloody woods.”

Tears threaten to blur your vision, and you can’t even lift your arms enough to wipe them away.

“Thank the stars I have your biopattern saved in the TARDIS’s memory or we would’ve never found you in there.” Her voice thickens and wavers. “Why would you go in there?”

You unclench your jaw and sniff. “Thought I saw you.” “Where?” she asks, and rests her forehead against her palms.

“Just… There. Running. Do you think I’d just wander in there for the sake of it? See the sights?”

It’s the Doctor’s turn to go quiet, to look away and rub her temples as she grimaces. “No, I—“

“You’re an arse,” you say. The Doctor breathes for a few quiet moments and looks out the window. A group of teens is passing by, horribly drunk. One of them stumbles, and almost falls over, but her friend catches her by the waist. “I’m sorry,” the Doctor whispers. “You don’t deserve this, I— I was so worried. You humans can be so unpredictable; centuries I’ve spent on this planet and I still can’t figure out what the lot of you are thinking, sometimes.” “I’m here,” you say. “I’m safe.” “You could’ve—“ “I didn’t.” She watches you, curiously. Her eyes are red-rimmed and the bags underneath are so purple they look painted on. She heaves a sigh, and places her hand by your cheek on the pillow. “May I—“ “Yes,” you whisper, and she cradles your face in her palm. Her hand is warm where it held the teacup, and you smile softly into it. “How long until I get to leave the bed?” “If it were up to me? A week.” The Doctor sighs. “But you’re too stubborn. Three days.” You groan. “Minimum. No strenuous activity of any kind, you hear me? Yaz will stay here with you.” Sadness pinches your heart. “Are you going somewhere?”

The Doctor looks exhausted. The way her eyes are half-closed, her mouth drawn into a tight line, she should be stuck in bed just as much as you.

“I have to,” she says, her voice crackling as if she’d just woken. “It’s personal.”

You wish she didn’t do this. The secrets, the vague destinations, the places she’s not ready to show you yet. This is the anxious Doctor, the one that needs to keep her heart to herself.

“You’ll come visit me, at least?” you ask her, hopeful. “If I have to be stuck here, at least come show your face a few times. Make it worth it.”

She smiles, and her eyes glow in the soft light, their color shifting into a luscious light brown as she leans forward, her hair casting a shadow over her face. “’Course,” she murmurs and picks up the book. This time you get a good look at the cover: two women embracing, topless, on a ship. One of them is wearing a big, poofy gown, and the other is dressed in gaudy pirate apparel. “What’s that you’re reading?” you ask her, and she lights up like an industrial grade flashlight. “Now this,” she says, and lifts the book up so you can see properly, “is the height of Delos VI literature. Top seller round their galaxy. Can’t go anywhere without seeing at least one.” “What’s it about?” The Doctor stops, her mouth slightly open. She bites her tongue and scans the room with excessive detail, eyes flitting from corner to lamp to desk to corner. “It’s, uh.” She drums her fingers on the cover. “Yeah?” “See, I’m not sure you’ll appreciate it the way you’re supposed to,” she starts, “because erotica with telekinetic themes and multiple realities isn’t a thing on Earth yet, and you’ll get there, I know, but see, it’s not happening right now, so you don’t have the perspective of a multiversal encounter to really give it the depth that—“ “It’s porn?” “Well, technically yes, but—“ “Read it for me?” She stops, entirely, down to the tips of her fidgety fingers. Her eyes slowly drift to you. “You want me to read it?” “I do,” you croak, too worn out to speak anymore. She gives you a look, the kind that suspicious dog owners have if their beloved pets have something in their mouths. “Alright then,” she says, and cracks the book open. “In the previous chapter…” You try to listen. You really, really do, but the Doctor narrates so softly, and the beginning paragraph is so abysmally bad you automatically tune her out. The last thing you remember before nodding off is her hand reaching under the blankets to take yours, her thumb running over your bruised knuckles slowly, taking in every ridge and bump of bone. You wonder how you ever got this lucky.

[candyquokka]

: ̗̀➛together | poly! minho x reader x hyunjin

pairing: lee minho x reader x hwang hyunjin

word count: 1.2k

genre: college au, humor, eventual smut, slight angst, best friend!lee know and hyunjin, best friends to lovers, first time writing a poly but lets see how this goes lol

MINORS DNI. WARNINGS UNDER CUT

Series summary:

Y/n, Minho and Hyunjin have been best friends for most of their life. But throw in college, complex and new emotions and a rowdy friendgroup- things are bound to take a turn.

(this is going to be a series, and I'll try to update frequently if i have motivation haha. Please give me feedback and comment on the post to be added to a taglist!)

PROLOGUE -> PART 1

chapter summary: just a view of their life before college

warnings: none

It had always been Hyunjin, Y/n, and Minho. The holy trio, never separated. They had been neighbors since birth, so it was only natural they would run into each other. Y/n had been playing in the sandpit when she was five, and a bully had come over and kicked her. Minho and Hyunjin, playing somewhere else, had seen this happen, and rushed to protect Y/n from the bully. And so developed the beautiful happening we call friendship.

Middle school was the generic nightmare: awkward phases, new complex feelings, bitchy teachers. High school wasn't better, but they could manage. Currently the three of them were hanging out at a cafe afterschool.

"Gosh, Hyunjin, you didn't have to be so harsh with her. Its the last day of the school year for goodness sake, you could've politely declined."

"She shoved a chocolate box in my face! What was I supposed to do, not smack a foreign object that could possibly poke my eye out?"

Minho grinned as he watched the banter between them, too entertained to intervene.

"Uh, yeah? Poor girl was shaking, you dumbass."

"What the- I'm the dumbass? I- yah, you're the one who almost fell on your ass when you backed away like an animal from that one guy who confessed to you like a week ag-mmmf-" Hyunjin was interrupted by a bundle of tissues in his mouth, fighting against Y/n.

"Someone confessed to your sorry ass?" Minho flat out shrieked, and Y/n lunged across the table to possibly shove tissues into his mouth too and-

"Welcome to cafe Miroh, what can I get for you guys today?"

A disgruntled Y/n sat back in her seat as Minho and Hyunjin both snickered. Minho ordered everything for them, and they settled back in their seats.

"So are you guys ready to get your summer glow ups?" Y/n said after taking a sip of her milkshake. "Nah, I'm already pretty. You two definitely need one though." Hyunjin mumbles, wincing as Y/n slaps his head and Minho kicks his leg from under the table. 

Minho chuckles. "Not gonna lie, Y/n, you're gonna need to ditch the whole nerd look and try something called 'being a little more social and having more than two friends'. Next years our last year, you can't be a loser."

Y/n gasps. "Why are the two of you attacking me, huh? You guys are just salty. I'm going to Paris for like the whole 2 months of summer holidays and you're not." She sticks out her tongue, and Minho takes this as an opportunity to steal a fry off her plate.

"Yeah, but that means we can't have our annual sleepover on the night before school!" Hyunjin whines and flops on his seat dramatically.

"Oh hush you dramatic baby." Y/n flicks his forehead before patting his head, and Hyunjin nuzzles into Y/n's neck, and earns judgemental stares from Minho.

"You two are disgusting, you know that?" Minho scrunches his face in disgust.

Y/n flips him off and throws a fry at him while Hyunjin blows him a kiss before leaning over the table to hold his hands. "We both know you secretly enjoy cuddles too, Minnie."

"YAH GET YOUR ZESTY HANDS OFF ME."

Breathless. That was one word to describe what Minho and Hyunjin were feeling as they waited outside her house, watching her wave at them before walking and hugging both of them. The strong grip around their necks broke them out of their stupor, and she pulled away. 

“Oh my god, I missed you guys so much! How have you both been?” Y/n giggled. Minho shook his head before flicking her forehead. “Y/nnie, did you shapeshift or something? You look even uglier!” Y/n’s face dropped as she shoved Minho away, locking arms with Hyunjin and speed walking. “Fine, I’ll just stay with Jinnie here and you can be a loner the whole year.” 

Hyunjin places a hand over his chest. “Woah, Y/nnie, how could I imagine being graced with such beauty!” Y/n smiles and rolls her eyes, Minho ruffling her hair as she mutters. “Gosh, did you two take supplements or something? Why are you two suddenly so much taller?”

Y/n’s apparently late ‘face and body developments’ did not go ignored in the school. Walking in the hallways, Y/n was oblivious to the many double takes people were doing to her. As the three entered their classroom, they saw two empty desks, one behind the other near the back. “Dibs the back desk!” Minho and Hyunjin both shouted, rushing to the back and leaving a surprised Y/n near the entrance. She sent them an annoyed glare before sitting on the desk in front of them. 

Minho leans forward and taps her shoulder. “Guess you’re the loner again, Y/n.” He dodges the flick aimed for his forehead and leans back in his seat, Hyunjin giggling at the exchange. But his face slowly turns into a look of confusion as another guy with dark-blue dyed hair enters the room, his unfamiliar face turning heads as he slowly makes his way to the only empty seat in the classroom: next to Y/n.

“H-hey, could I um- could i sit here? It's the only empty seat-” Y/n smiles and nods, turning around to meet Minho’s eyes and flick her long black hair in a victorious gesture over her shoulder. “Are you new? I’m Y/n.”

The boy stammers, clearly being anxious. “Uh, I-I’m Jisung, H-Han Jisung. Yeah, I’m uh, I’m new. It's nice to meet you, umm, Y/n.” He cautiously smiles. Y/n grins and turns around. “This is Hyunjin, he’s a drama queen and you don’t need to bother with him. This is Minho. He acts like he’s got a stick up his ass half the time. You don’t need to bother with him either. Do you wanna sit with us for lunch?” 

Halfway into the year and Y/n had already rejected a dozen confessions. “These boys may not be it, but damn these chocolates taste fucking delicious.” Hyunjin groans as he bites into one, falling back against his bed as the four of them hung out at Hyunjin’s house. Han Jisung was someone who warmed up quite quickly to the three of them, and constantly broke into their personal space, even Minhos. Currently he was clinging onto Minho like a kuala, whose legs were sprawled over Y/n's lap on the bed.

“S’not my fault I don’t like them. Ugh, I feel so bad rejecting them. Should I just accept one and see where it goes?”

“NO!” The three boys cry out, shocking Y/n. “I need to get new friends, you’re all gonna keep me bitchless.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Better bitchless than a broken heart.” Hyunjin voice is muffled from chocolate.

“Shut up you fatass”

“I’m not a fatass Dicksung”

“...”

“DID YOU CALL ME A FUCKING DICKSUNG?? WHAT THE FUCK IS A DICKSUNG YOU FUCKING DRAMATIC BITCH.”

 Jisung’s outburst shocks everyone as he lunges at Hyunjin, Y/n and Minho grabbing each other from laughing so much. Suddenly the door slams open as Yeji, Hyunjin’s scary younger sister, stands in the doorway, breathing heavily. Y/n has the shame to smile apologetically as Minho is still wheezing on the bed, and Jisung slowly looks up at Yeji, before quietly getting off Hyunjin and cautiously hides behind Minho. Yeji smiles at Y/n before leaving the room.

“Your sister is so scary, Jinnie. Shes way cooler than you”

“Shut the fuck up Minho.”