#not only is he overtaking him he's turning around to make DIRECT EYE CONTACT

[rhythmmortis]

this is one of my favourite scenes in bbs because i always forget vanitas doesn't have a keyblade glider. this is the equivalent of going the speed limit on the highway and you look to the side and there's some motherfucker on foot next to you keeping pace. and he overtakes you

[greywritesthings]

Weeks

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings - (fic based from Tobias Hankel episode) Drug use, torture, mentions of seizures / convulsions, drug use, panic attack, rage, crying, death by GSW, withdrawal

A/N - This is a vague enemies to lovers ig, I really do like it even if it doesn't deal with the nicest of topics, comments, reblogs and likes appreciated <33

Spencer Reid masterlist

Masterlist

“Can you just leave me to do my thing for ten minutes Reid!” You near enough yell at him but he still doesn't move, he hasn't said anything for the last half an hour, he's just been sitting a foot away from you watching what you were doing and it was driving you insane. “I haven't done anything y/n. I’m just thinking about what you're doing is all.” he shrugs at you. You just huff and spin around from the board deciding to step out for coffee. You stop in your tracks as Hotch enters the room and gives you a look before turning to Reid and doing the same. “You two need to get some air, go and interview Tobias Hankel, Garcia's sending you the address. Reid is driving there, Y/n you will drive back unless you come to an agreement without an argument, do I make myself clear?”  His tone leaves zero room for argument so you just walk off to the SUV with Spencer in tow. 

After a tension-filled drive to the address Garcia had sent you and Spencer to, you get to clamber out of the SUV and find yourself at the wooden cabin where Tobias Hankel apparently lived. Reid decides to split off to the barn he had seen while you went up to the main door and knocked where it took you less than two minutes to decide he was suspicious enough to bring in. When you tried to arrest him however he ran out the back before you got the chance. You take a chance and head out into the corn fields where you found Reid unconscious on the floor, head bloody but you noted he was still breathing as you spun on your heel. “You son of a bitch! What the fuck are you doing!” you yell. You reach down for your second weapon at your ankle, cursing yourself for leaving your first one in the SUV by accident but Tobias lunges at you from behind catching you off balance. It's a struggle when you hit the floor but he gets the upper hand with a piece of wood and darkness quickly overtakes your vision. 

“Y/n, wake up, cmon” you hear someone whispering to you, not entirely sure who yet, the only thing you were sure of was that your head hurt like a motherfucker. You groan as you open your eyes. “y/n. I know you're probably concussed given the gash on your head but you have to focus sweets, with me, eyes open.” It's Spencer, he's calling you sweets? Well you must either be dead or pretty damn close. “He's taken us to a second location and shaken the police tail, he asked for directions and went the opposite way, we have to figure a way out of here sweetheart and I need your brains with me to do that okay?” you finally make eye contact with him, focused on him, he looks exhausted, you figure he's been through other things while youve been unconscious. Anything you were going to say was cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching and the look of pure fear coursing through Reid's eyes.  

By the time that Tobias’s father was done with you it had broken spencer, his own torture was bad but hearing your own cries felt worse. You tried reciting bible scriptures you remembered to no avail, the beating just continued. He wanted a confession of sin and wouldn't stop till he got it. 

Then he did, Tobias getting to take over and Spencer had to listen and watch as you begged him not to give you the dilaudid and then lose yourself to the high as it took hold. It pained him to watch, if he could have he would have thrown up. Somehow it all got worse, Spencer watched as you were forced to choose a person to kill, he hoped you were too high to remember it but really he could tell you were mentally present and it made his heart twist. 

When the team managed to cut off the videos you were Charles's target, much to Spencer's dismay. He hadn't been through much in comparison to you at this point and he knew your body couldn't take another beating. He watches on with tears streaming down his face as Charles continuously hits you before shoving your chair backwards, forcing the chair to fall to the floor. He's forced to watch, unable to tear his eyes away as you convulse and eventually go limp, flatlining with Tobias trying to revive you. He has a small glimpse of relief when he is finally successful knowing you're still alive but it's replaced with dread at the fact that now you will be put through even more.  

You were praying to every god you didn't believe in that Hotch got the message, you didn't have an eidetic memory but you knew the bible and you hoped that hotch would understand the misquote of genesis. You were so high at this point your brain felt like cotton and Spencer was forced to just watch on. You knew eventually Charles would have enough of you and end you in one way or another and you were right. He dragged you out to dig your own grave, threatening to bury you alive. He left Spencer in the cabin for now, you guessed he would deal with him later so it was up to you to save at least him if not the both of you if the team didn't get to you in time. 

You saw the glint of flashlights before Charles did and managed to trick him even if you were high as ever, pulling his own gun on him managing to get a shot as Spencer, Emily and Hotch round the corner towards you. “Y/N!” Spencer cried out, you realised he thought you were the one shot. The three flashlights land on you looking like a deer in headlights as you knelt over Tobias's body. “Sup guys, kinda chilly out isn't it?” you let out a dry laugh, desperately trying to remove the horrified look from their faces. Spencer was the first to move towards you. “Come here sweet girl, come here, god i'm so sorry” He wraps himself around you. You know hes been taking the brunt of the mental torture the last however long so you let him, He practically holds you up as you lean against him. “You're going to be okay, we are going to be okay, I promise.” he whispers before he lets himself be slightly separated from you. Emily loops an arm around your waist as Spencer does the same so they can guide you to the ambulance waiting nearby. 

–

It had been three weeks since you spent those five days of hell with Tobias Hankle and so far you were struggling, nightmares plagued your sleep and cravings plagued you when you were awake. You had managed to keep the bottles of dilaudid from Tobias's body. You knew sooner or later someone would catch on and you would be out of a job, your friends and with them your family. You would lose everything and everyone you loved if you didn't get a handle on it. Luckily you had another four weeks to kick the habit before you were back in the BAU, for now it was light paperwork at home when you could and the occasional conference call with the team so you weren’t isolated.

You were sitting in the bathroom with a new needle and a vial ready when three loud knocks sounded at your door, breaking you out of your trance. You practically fall over getting to your front door, withdrawals hitting hard from timing out the doses longer and longer. You knew you didn't look good and anyone would put you as an addict in withdrawal, you were biting at your nails, your pupils were blown out of proportion and you just overall looked a mess. 

You manage to unlock your door after looking through the peephole and seeing it was only spencer. “Hey spence, what do you need?” You ask, hoping and praying it was just to borrow a book or a case file so you could get on with your task. He looks you up and down with a look of concern. “I need you to let me in, pack a bag and come stay at my house while you detox.” His eyes still show concern but his tone gives you no room for argument, but you try anyway. “I don't know what you mean Spence, detoxing from what exactly?” You try and meet his gaze but you're so antsy it's impossible. He places a hand on the door and pushes in past you and closes the door behind him, still gentle. “Honey, i know you took the dilaudid from Tobias okay and I know you’re addicted to it, you can't go into a rehab centre without losing your post permanently so your staying with me for the foreseeable, we have an extra four weeks off from Hotch so we have eight weeks to get you to functioning again. This is a non optional, so, tell me where it is before i go through your apartment myself. Please, let me help you.” He keeps a hard but caring tone and it forces you to give in, you know he's right. “Bathroom, Cupboard above the washer and in the copy of sherlock holmes with the orange cover” you look to the floor in pure shame. “Sweets, you don't need to be ashamed, it's not your fault, you didn't choose to be addicted, okay? It was given to you against your will, I don't blame you okay? I just want you back okay” He says as he tips your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He still doesn't look angry or disappointed, just caring. “You're going to be okay, you just have to let me help you. Go pack a bag while I clear out and we will go to mine okay? I turned the office into a guest bedroom for you.” and with that he turns away, walking into your kitchen. You take a second before your feet start to move on their own, moving towards the bedroom so you can do as he asked and pack a bag of things you would need to live at his for the next however long. 

—

It had been two weeks and you felt slightly better. Your heart wasn't beating at a million miles a minute, your pupils were regular and you weren't sweating all the time and you finally had an appetite but emotionally you were still strung out. The cravings were still hard to deal with and it made you an emotional mess, one second you were fine then seeing red angry and that quickly turned into floods of tears but Spencer didn't once react to you. He just gave you coping mechanisms and comfort. He held you as you cried for hours on end every night till you fell asleep, if he left you he tucked you under a weighted blanket and left lamps on through the apartment so you could find his room should you need him in the night. 

—

The team knew you were staying with Spencer, they didnt know why but they knew you were struggling, they assumed it was from the kidnapping, not the fact you had spent weeks addicted to drugs and so they assumed that you would appreciate them coming over to hang out, something that was a semi regular occurrence prior to the kidnapping. 

Three knocks pull you and Spencer pulls from your activities, he was reading and you were tucked into his side drawing a mandala on a small art pad he had given you. “Were you expecting anyone?” you ask. “No honey and I'm guessing you weren't so I have no clue.” he says, the nickname easily slipping in place of your name now. You uncurl yourself as he stands up from the couch, going over to the door and looking through the peephole. “It's the team, you want to change?” he asks knowing that while you didn't really care how the team saw you you probably would mind them seeing you in just Spencer's sweater vest and a pair of boxers. You nod quickly and slip into your room as he unlocks the door greeting the others. 

By the time you come out they’re all stood in the living room chatting between themselves seemingly waiting for something and you realise they're waiting on you. You feel their eyes on you as you walk in and then they all start moving and talking at the same time. Multiple forms of how are you and we miss you's getting fired your way. Before you can realise you're pulled into one pair of arms and then another as a third ruffles your hair. It's overwhelming and it makes your skin crawl. Your peace and quiet, the sanctuary that you had gotten used to in Spencer's apartment had been interrupted and you couldn't deal with it. You pry yourself out of the arms that had you trapped and bolt towards the nearest door, spencers room, directly down the hall, and slam the door behind you as the tears start to fall down your cheeks, sobs wracking through your chest as your mind races and the cravings come back full force again. 

“Darling, I need you to let me in, they’re gone okay? Open the door for me.” Spencer asks quietly so as not to spook you, he was nervous for your reaction to the team and had tried to emphasise the point of not to overwhelm you but he knew they would get over excited and were used to you being very touchy so your reaction like this was out of the ordinary. You moved out of the way of the door and pulled Spencer's sweater over your shirt and curled up under his covers. Spencer decided to try the door and his heart melted at the sight, you looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the panicked look he saw in your eye earlier, similar to what he saw when you were with Tobias, it had hurt and he had nearly snapped at the team to get them out but Hotch and Rossi had ushered them out before he could, Hotch saying that you and spencer could take more time if you needed, the brass had already approved it alongside working from home for the pair of you.  He crept over to the bed and got in, wrapping his arms around you as you nestled further into his chest, relaxing against him. 

—

It had been twelve weeks since you moved into Spencer's apartment and you were over the worst of the cravings, the mood swings and irritability were almost non-existent but you now dealt with the anxiety of being asked to move out every night. You had gone back to work a week ago now and you and Spencer were on desk duty for another week for formality reasons. It was nice living with another person and it was even better that person being Spencer. Now you were getting better you had started cooking for him, often making dinner while he made you breakfast. You both went about your days naturally, you divided up chores without question and Spencer started buying your favourite snacks regularly when he went grocery shopping, something he refused to let you do when he found out that the fluorescent lights bothered you. You thought your fears were coming true when one night he called for you from the living room to talk.  

“So, look I’ve been thinking about something and-” You cut him off before he finishes his sentence. “You want me to move back into my own place again? I can do that, I mean it's not like i can live here forever is it, this was just while i was in recovery and getting over the worst of the withdrawals, I can pack up over the weekend and be out by monday dont worry.” You rush over the sentence, tears filling your eyes as you stare at the couch. Over the weeks you had been living with Spencer you had realised that you had started liking him. You knew he wouldn't do the same, given the things he had seen in the last three months it was fair enough but being told to leave hurt nonetheless. 

“This is the one fault about you, jumping to conclusions, now will you allow me to finish with words or can I just show you?” His words cause you to look him in the face with confusion. You don't get any more thoughts or words as Spencer's hands reach over to cut either side of your face and his lips are on yours, soft and vaguely unsure until you relax and push back, reaching to tangle your hands in his hair. After a minute you both pull away, “I don't want you to move out, the opposite actually, I want you to move in permanently” He says with a smile. All you do is nod, going in for another kiss with a smile. 

Taglist: @reidstheyfriend , @oosnapitskat, @lover-of-books-and-tea

Join it here!

[lightwise]

Be There - Parts 1 & 2

Note: As I like to do (aka my brain holds me hostage until it is satisfied), I had to fill in a couple of moments that we didn’t get in S3 E4 - A Different Approach. I am approaching Tech and Echo’s absence as each character is aware of it so far—so whether he is dead or simply gone, mentions of Tech are not meant to imply that he is physically present in these scenes. 

Enjoy. 

Read both parts together here on AO3.

SPOILERS for season 3 of TBB ahead.

Part 1: Our mission isn’t over yet. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Wrecker stared unblinking at the yellow transmission light as it lit up for the third time. Hunter had stepped away from the console for a brief minute to rest his eyes. This wasn’t standard procedure. When Echo or Rex or Phee needed to reach them, they usually used their wrist comms or the portable holo. The inbuilt console had been…Tech’s domain. 

“Uh, Hunter…you might wanna see this.”

A gruff sigh came from the pilot’s seat. “See what, Wreck?” 

The last beep finally entered Hunter’s consciousness as he tried to brush off the weariness that threatened to overtake him. So far they were only a third of the way around the sector found in the data from Setron. More time had been lost taking the cadets all the way out to Pabu too (not that he regretted the stop). His mind couldn’t shut off, wouldn’t stop thinking through the next place they could look every time a planet turned up empty, but he could feel his ligaments starting to fray at the edges in protest. 

Wrecker would have pointed out that he had been falling apart at more than the edges for awhile now. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered until they brought her home. He just needed to keep it together until then. 

“I…I don’t remember what the codes mean but…isn’t that…does this…”

Hunter rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to get them to focus enough to read the sharp white letters that had appeared on the dashboard. Two innocuous lines, in an old coding sequence that Tech had set up before…he blinked that thought away. 

OM.P53.NMR.2SR. BT.

Plan 53 (all comms silent for a stealth rendezvous). Nearest moon of Ryloth. 2 standard rotations. Be there. 

But it was the first letters in the sequence that caused his heart to stop in his chest. 

“I shall make it so that the first two letters of each of our names signify who is sending the message. They should always be the first letters in the sequence.” A tilt of the head and a push of the goggles up his nose had accompanied Tech giving a very pointed look in Wrecker’s direction. “That should be easier to remember than full code names, I hope.”

OM. Omega. It couldn’t be. It had to be. Nobody outside of the Batch knew this frequency—or code.

“It’s HER.” 

He gripped the edge of the console in a daze. How?? She had escaped? She had somehow found a way to contact them. She…she was alive.

“But…how do we know for sure?” Wrecker’s eyebrows pinched together in concern. “After all the luck we’ve been having…what if this is a trap, Hunter?”

The words Hunter had said before their failed mission to Eriadu haunted him now, thrown back in his face like a taunt. He knew Wrecker didn’t mean it that way, though.

“I don’t think it’s a trap. I really don’t think so. But either way…we have to try it.” He glanced at the chronometer on the dash and pulled up the coordinates to Ryloth. “Especially this location…only Omega would have picked here, where she met Hera for the first time. She knows it will be off the radar but easy to get to. We can just make it if we get going now.” He had barely swung the pilot’s seat back around before furiously punching in the coordinates. 

The Marauder’s engines picked up from their lull as they launched forward into hyperspace. Wrecker slumped into the seat beside him, staring out the flickering blue around them for a long moment. He had picked up Lula from her perch on Omega’s blanket at some point, and was passing her tenderly back and forth in his hands. 

“I really hope you’re right.”

They cautiously exchanged glances as the shock and adrenaline of the last few minutes wore off. For the first time in a very, very, long time, Hunter felt the faintest flicker of something he could call hope. But he didn’t dare let it burst into full flame. Not yet. 

Wrecker suddenly chuckled and clapped his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Ya know, we’re a mess. We really should clean up before we get there.” His voice lowered a bit as he added, “no reason making her worry any more than she probably already is at how rough we look.” 

Hunter scowled and pinched his brow. His brother was right. The lack of sleep and hygiene had caught up with them at this point, and they smelled worse than they looked. Omega would be able to see the wear and tear on their armor eventually, but at least they could be presentable to welcome her home. 

“Fine, I’ll go shower,” he huffed, giving Wrecker a strained grin that turned into a groan as he tore his limbs out of the seat. 

The view in the mirror only confirmed his disheveled state, and he groaned again as he tugged the bandana off his forehead and slumped against the fresher wall.

Please, please let this be real. I don’t know if I can bear another false lead.

They had crossed the galaxy five times at this point. He would a hundred more if that’s what it took. They didn’t leave their own behind.

Most of the time. 

His ears began ringing. The unbidden thought that had been slowly poking its way through his subconscious finally breached the surface. What if…what if Omega had been taken to the same facility as Crosshair. What if they had found each other? What if…she wasn’t alone?

Deke’s words had been painfully etching their way deeper and deeper into his heart since the boy had carelessly uttered them.

“At least you’re loyal.” 

If only he knew. Once Hunter had claimed those words proudly. It was the ethos he had lived by. Still wanted to live by. But…he wasn’t sure he deserved that label anymore. Too many mistakes had been made. He had failed too many times. 

Echo had told him once that their unbeatable streak on missions during the war wasn’t necessarily a good thing. And every time Hunter thought he was making the right decision, he ended up proving him right. He wasn’t prepared for the weight of failure. For the ways everything kept slipping through his clenched fists. For watching his brother point a rifle in his face and walk away. For not having the right words to bring him back. For all the ways he had to choose when there was no good choice to be had. For watching his entire world fall away. For picking shattered goggles up off the ground. For the dark and empty gunners mount that had been staring him in the face for five and a half months. 

Silver hair and a toothpick between thin lips suddenly floated in front of his eyes, sneering at him. Every choice you’ve made has been wrong. We’re all lost because of you. And then it shifted, the silver hair morphing into a scarred head and terrified, wide eyes that glistened with tears. Begging, pleading. Why weren’t you weren’t loyal to me?

No, no, no, NO. Hunter dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying desperately to stop the vortex spinning out of control inside his head. A sob escaped his lips as he collapsed onto the floor. He could never repair any of this. He didn’t know how. 

He sucked in a breath as he felt the faint pressure of a hand on his shoulder that couldn’t possibly be there. A clipped voice suddenly echoed through his mind. I have found that repairs, while daunting at first, simply take repeated effort and inclination in order to achieve them. It’s like a puzzle. The pieces are there, you just have to pay attention and take the time to put them back together. Steady hands. No Hunter, try moving it this way. See? I knew you could do it. 

If only he was here. Hunter wiped the traces of tears from his eyes as his hitched breathing slowly evened out. Whatever—whoever was waiting for them on that moon—he would have to face them. Whether it was a waking dream or another nightmare. He had crossed the galaxy five times in as many months. But he still hadn’t been able to outrun the pain. Hadn’t been able to outrun himself.  

It was time to try a different approach.   

Maybe not everything had to be lost. 

-----------

Part 2: You don’t know if they’re still alive.  

“They’ll be there.”

She had cut him off adamantly. The full force of her hope (her naïveté, he had called it just a few hours prior), pushing firmly against his gentle attempt at reason. 

Crosshair knew he wasn’t just trying to prepare Omega for the possibility that Hunter and Wrecker might not be waiting for them. For them? No, they would only be waiting for her. They had stopped waiting for him a long time ago.

No, his words were more an attempt at quelling his own twisted anxiety at the prospect of facing his brothers again. It had been…a year? More? Since he had stayed behind on that blasted platform. It felt like ten lifetimes ago now. So much had changed. He had changed. Or had he? 

 A staccato thud flung them out of hyperspace, the stolen freighter now drifting quietly past the two giant orange moons that guarded Omega’s choice of rendezvous. 

Still standing behind the copilot chair, his trained eye spotted the tiny speck of light coming from the open ramp of the Marauder. So they were alive. Of course. The tiniest twitch spasmed in Crosshair’s chest at the sight. 

That open door was for her, he reminded himself again. Not him. 

The girl stood unmoving as they touched down. Her spine straight, shoulders pulling down and back, and he could see the faintest reflection in the viewport of tears welling up in her eyes. 

The ramp began to lower and she suddenly came to life, arms and legs almost flailing in her haste to reach the ground. Though he could no longer see her face, as she paused at the last step Crosshair could tell that a weight had lifted from her shoulders. The weight of taking care of herself, taking care of him, getting them both to safety. 

She had accomplished her mission. 

He had to admit, he was impressed by her. Maybe he was starting to understand a little of how quickly Hunter’s loyalty had transferred to her, how she must have driven them all crazy at first with her bright-eyed optimism and inability to take no for an answer.

She really was the best of them. 

He sighed as her words echoed in his mind—“I’m not giving up, Crosshair! I won’t let you either.” Her stubbornness was certainly the family trait, and perhaps surpassed his own.  

Those words had somehow burrowed into his chest and wouldn’t leave. But they hadn’t shocked him. He expected her to say them to anyone. They fit perfectly within the love and loyalty she showed everyone around her.     

What had shocked him were the ones she said later, after he had tried every tactic he could think of to get her focus off of him and onto her own safety. He had long since accepted what the rest of his accelerated lifespan might be—serving as a test tube and punching bag for the Empire he had once sought glory from. How fitting, really. It was his penance, for everything he had done. Everything he had failed to do. 

Why should he have a chance to live when...he sighed again and pushed away the memories threatening to engulf him. Long brown hair and a beard blurred white with snow. Round, yellow-tinted lenses blinking pointedly in his direction. The remnants of a skull chalked onto the back wall of a bunk—just enough dust left to stain his fingers. 

“None of us belong here.”

The Empire changed people. For the worse. But after all those months of isolation, all his attempts to drive her away, to keep his distance so she would stay safe—he never expected for those wide eyes to practically beam sunlight at him in that force-forsaken, grey haze of a prison. She had seen him, then. Truly seen him for who he was—and still believed in him. In all of them.  

She had tried to give him the same outstretched hand many times before—during their desperate attempts to flee the sinking facilities of Kamino; on the sun-soaked platform after. In that makeshift holding cell after Kaller, where all of this had started. 

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—that she had offered it one more time, or that he was finally willing to try and accept it. 

Batcher whined from her corner of the cockpit, tilting her head hesitantly at Crosshair as he remained fixated, unable to move from the viewport. His musings faded as he saw a shift in the light; Wrecker’s large form had suddenly darkened the doorway of the Marauder. 

Crosshair dug his spine into the door frame behind him, waiting. 

He didn’t have Hunter’s hearing, but he didn’t need it. He could imagine just how loud the shout of joy was that Wrecker let out as he ran to meet his little—their little sister. A faint smirk threatened to tilt his lips as the giant of a man lifted Omega high above his head and spun her around, wiping tears unashamedly from his eyes. Crosshair expected nothing less. He was sure there were matching tears streaming down Omega’s face as she clung desperately to her—their brother.

But where was…Crosshair’s eyes narrowed as they caught movement inside the Marauder. Was he truly prepared to see the etched face of his former leader, brother—friend—once again? A now familiar yet terrifyingly unwelcome spasm in his hand told him he was not.  

Hunter emerged from the shadows, stopping before the overhead light could illuminate his face. 

He must have said something, before practically leaping down the Marauder’s ramp as Omega catapulted herself forward again. Crosshair’s eyes softened as he watched his stoic, touch-averse brother cradle the girl in his arms, his eyes closed, his hands shifting over her back as though he would never let her go. 

Could he blame him?

But the atmosphere shifted abruptly as Hunter pulled back, his warm smile and affectionate gaze at Omega turning into a wide-eyed, disbelieving gape as he lifted his eyes toward the freighter behind her. There was no way he could see him through the tint of the cockpit, but his other senses were more than adequate at that distance. Hunter had finally realized that Omega had not escaped alone.

Crosshair felt panic wash over him. His gaze shifted to the pilot’s controls. It would be so easy to take the wheel and disappear, leave them all behind once again. Omega was safe. That was all that mattered, right? He could ditch the ship and find work on some backwater planet, do his best to keep off the Empire’s radar.

Batcher slowly shook herself and stood up from where she had been napping the last few hours, her eyes never leaving his. His lips tightened into a thin line as they stared each other down.  

He finally let out a disgruntled sigh, shaking his head and crouching down until he could rest his hand on the curve of her head. 

“I know, I know.”

She growled a little and then licked his hand, pointedly ignoring the scowl he gave in return. 

“I’m done running. Promise.” 

He achingly stood back to his full height and turned toward the back of the ship. He could almost feel Hunter’s shocked gaze still on him. Whatever message Omega had sent them, they clearly hadn’t been expecting him to walk down that ramp after her. After all the wrong choices—how could this one possibly go any better?

The tremor took over his hand again. But he suddenly, faintly, felt the pressure of a familiar, slender hand on his shoulder. And another, firmer grip cradling his trembling fingers, easing the shattered nerves. A pulse he thought he would never hear again thrummed next to his own for the briefest of seconds. 

He had nothing left to lose. 

It was time to try living again. 

Divider by the lovely @dystopicjumpsuit ✨

[dorkydilf-l0ver]

“Pretty little flower~”

Oberyn Martell fic

Word count: 824

A/N: hihihi my lord I have been inactive on this account. My apologies, but I’ve been lacking motivation and ideas… well, until now. So, hope you enjoy :) also, let me know if you would like a part two as the ending is a little suggestive ;}

The party was dull.

You never thought, after accepting an invite to the Head of House Martells party in the Kingdom of Dorne, that you’d be stuck listening to some old crone ramble on about his riches. You feel your eyes begin to droop, yet they snap right open after they make contact with the reason you came to this party in the first place. Standing across the room, gorgeous face lit with expression as he recalls some amusing anecdote to the guests crowed around him, looking as divine as the rumours warned you.

Prince Oberyn Martell.

The Red Viper.

The handsomest man in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

He does a double take as your eyes meet again, and smiles wide, unintentionally showing off his perfect royal teeth. Then he winks, sending a flock of butterflies flying to your stomach. You feel yourself blush ferociously as you smile back, shyly, at the prince.

You declare some stupid excuse to the old man you’re talking to, muttering that you are too warm and need a minute outside. You leave the room and enter a beautiful garden, find a bench and sit down. Exhaling deeply, you need a minute to collect your thoughts. The pretty prince had muddled them up, making you think only about him, his gorgeous face lit up, his dark brown eyes that you could get lost in, and you find yourself imagining what his beautifully toned body would look like under that golden robe that makes him look like a god.

Good lord.

You realise how down bad you are for a man you’ve never even met, only heard about in stories from people glowing with admiration.

“Well, whatever are you doing out here? Sitting in the garden like a little flower while everyone else is at the party?”

You jump, swivel your head to come face to face with the owner of this smooth, attractive, playful, slightly accented voice.

As soon as you make eye contact you leap off the bench in a hurry.

Oberyn Martell. The Prince of Dorne. The Red Viper. Had just caught you sitting by yourself outside a royal party.

This is not the first impression you wanted to make.

“I’m so sorry, your highness. I was just- uhm- I was only- no offence to your brothers party- I just needed some- erm- air.” You stumble pathetically with your words, praying that you aren’t offending the prince with your unwillingness to be present at the royal celebration, your eye contact with him faltering.

He chuckled, smiling at your attempts, and the sound invited back that pesky flock of butterflies back to your stomach.

“Oh my, little flower, are you shy? Is that why you are out here?” He asks, tone not mocking, but playful, like you’re sharing an inside joke as old friends.

“You’re certainly a pretty little flower aren’t you.” The prince moved forward, face now suddenly more serious, inquiring, seeming interested in taking all of you in as his eyes trail from your head to your toes.

Your face glows red at his words, the blush that so easily overtakes you when an attractive person looks in your general direction, made ten times worse as the most attractive man you have ever seen compliments you. “Thank you, sir.” You say. “I must say, you are even more handsome then the rumours let on”

“Rumours?” He asks, eyebrow cocked. “And tell me, what do these rumours say?”

“Only that you are the most handsome man in all of Dorne.” You shrug, gaining confidence as you converse. Oberyn Martell has turned out to be a very easy person to talk to. “However, I believe these rumours are wrong. You have proven to be the most gorgeous person in all of the Seven Kingdoms.”

His eyes widened in surprise and he smirked at your flirting. “Is that so?” He began to move closer, closing the distance between you, the butterflies moving at max speed in your tummy as he placed a hand on your waist. “Well, it appears that the rumours are wrong.” He leans in, lips to your ear as he whispers. “You, little flower, are the most gorgeous person I have ever seen.”

You gasp at his bold statement, giggling slightly in disbelief. He notices your doubt, cupping your face in his hand. “Seriously, it as if the god’s sculptured you in a way that would make you perfect to me…” He breaks off, lost in a thought. “Tell me, how long are you intending on staying at this party?”

“Well, before you came out here, I was planning on requesting a carriage to take me to my lodgings, but now I believe I will be staying a little longer.” You declare, as your eyes involuntarily flit down to his lips.

He notices you staring, smiles, and moves closer, your lips nearly touching, and it takes all your free will to not close the gap. His hands move up your body as he asks:

“Pretty little flower, would you perhaps~ stay the night?”

[rubyreduji]

[minors dni]

"w-what are you doing?" chan asks as you lift up his covers and crawl into his bed next to him

"it's cold in my room and you know that i don't handle the cold well" you say as you scoot over to tuck yourself into chan's side. despite his annoyance he still allows you to bury yourself into the space under his arm

"just use a heater"

"it doesn't work the same and your body runs warm. chan please im already here. do you want me to freeze alone and die?"

chan grumbles to himself but doesn't tell you to leave again and you grin as you wrap your limbs around your roommate, trapping his body agaist yours

"ugh this isn't comfortable" chan gripes and pushes you away only to shift your positions and pull you back into him

you're now wrapped up in chan's arms as he spoons you from behind, his arm thrown over your torso and your legs tangled together to maximize body contact so you can steal as much of his warmth as you want. you reach down to slip your hand over chan's, lacing your fingers together as they rest over your stomach

chan tucks his chin over your shoulder and you hum as warmth spreads through your body. you two lay like that for a while until you feel your limbs starting to tingle with numbness and you shift around. you keep shifting, trying to break free from chan's grip until he grabs your hips tightly

"stop moving around" he grunts out

"i'm just trying to get more comfortable, give me a second" you wiggle a bit more but chan hisses and you stop "what is wrong with you?"

you turn your head to look at him but he's not looking at you, instead staring at the wall, his face flushed and the tips of his ears red

then like a lightbulb moment you understand what's happening, your eyes flicking down to his covered crotch and back up to his face. you giggle a big before turning your whole body around so you can face chan directly

"you got a little problem channie? i can help you out. it will help me out too, you know, help me get all warm" you coo as you run your fingertips up his shirt to brush his abs

"y-y/n" chan gasps at the contact of your cold fingers to his stomach

"that is...only if you want help. i get if you don't wan-"

you go to pull your hand out from under chan's shirt but he grabs onto your wrist and forces your hand to stay "i-i want to"

despite being the one to initate the offer, chan's response still has your mouth going dry. the tension between you and your rooommate has reached borderline unbearable as you two do your best to skirt around each other's (very obvious) attraction towards one another

you lean in and press your lips against chan's and he hungrily accepts your kiss, pulling your body close to his as his lips overtake yours. you can feel chan's hard-on rub up against you as you two continue to make out

chan pushes himself up to hover over you, pressing your body into the mattress. he slips one of his hands up your shirt, his warm hand trailing across your bare skin. his pushes it up higher and freezes a second when his fingers brush the curve of your breasts

"you're not wearing a bra" it's not a question, rather an observation

"n-no, i uh came in here right from my bed, i wanted to be comfortable"

"you're just a little tease aren't you? did you want this to happen?" chan pushes his hand up to fully cup your breast in his palm and you gasp a bit

"n-no, but im not mad that it is" chan's thumb brushes over your nipple and you arch your back into his touch

"so pretty like this, what a good girl" chan murmurs as he presses his lips to your neck softly. he nibbles at the skin as his fingers continue to squeeze the supple flesh of your chest

you can feel your body starting to really heat up and your panties start to dampen as chan works at you

"can i take this off?" chan's fingers tug at your shirt and you nod

"only if you take yours off too"

you and chan both move to undress yourselves and despite the bite in the air you now have direct access to chan's bare skin, his body heat nearly radiating off of him and into the space shared between you

you take a moment to appreciate chan's toned body, the way you can see the definition in his muscles. you reach up and run your hands over his pecs before pulling him back down into another kiss

you two take your time exploring each other's mouths as your hands roam over each other's bodies. you let out a small whimper when chan's knee finds its way between your legs and presses right up against your crotch. without meaning to you grind down onto his leg and chan chuckles at you

"look at you, so needy"

"like you aren't" you retort back "getting hard just from some cuddling" you reach in between your bodies to grab chan between his legs, stroking him through his pants, it's now his turn to gasp out, his resolve breaking a bit as he buckles under your touch

you chuckle at chan's reaction only to stop when you feel his dick twitch in your hand

"hey chan?"

"what?"

"please fuck me"

chan's face is bright red now but that doesn't stop him from scrambling to shuck off the rest of his clothes. you giggle and start to strip yourself as well

you glance over at chan's naked form and bite your lip slightly to keep you from smirking. you're not surprised that your roommate looks absolutely delectable when naked, his solid frame flushed and his cock hard against his stomach

you reach down to grab his cock in your hand and you pump a few times before running your thumb over the tip, causing chan to moan low

"there's condoms in the top drawer" chan gasps out while he points at his bed side table

you quickly move to grab on and hand it to chan and he wastes no time rolling it on before he's back on top of you

"god y/n you're so pretty like this" he whispers. his hands trail down your body before he presses his fingertips against your clit and rubs at you slowly. your hips buck up into his hand and you whimper the slightest amount

chan smirks down at you "god you're so wet already, do i really have you that worked up?"

"y-yes chan, please. please fuck me"

"no baby, not yet, i need to prep you first"

"i'm ready chan please, i'm so fucking wet, i promise it'll fit"

"god you're so needy, fine" chan says, but there's no real malice behind it

chan spreads your legs open and lines his cock up to your entrance before gently pushing into you. you both groan as he easily slides through your folds and into your desperate pussy. you're about to tell chan that you told him so but before the words can even leave your lips he's pulling out only to slam his hips right back into yours

"c-chan!" you gasp

"god y/n you feel so good" chan mutters as he starts to find his rhythm, you can't respond because of how good he feels inside of you

chan's mouth finds yours again as he captures you in a kiss. your lips clash together as chan continues to pound into you, one hand on your hip with the other braces his weight

your brain is fogged with nothing but chan as he continously ruts into you. you can taste his tongue in your mouth, smell his cologne filling your nostrils, hear his soft grunts, feel his hands on you and the drag of his cock inside of you. it's nothing but chan, but you don't mind

your own hands grip at chan's back and shoulder muscles, digging your nails into the flesh just so you can ground yourself

even as chan keeps a steady, quick pace fucking into you, you think about how you wouldn't mind just laying here cockwarming him as your bodies press against one another's. you file that idea away for later

you and chan break away from the kiss in a panting mess before chan leans down to rest his forehead on your shoulder. he moves his hand down between you two so he can rub circles into your clit again

your breath is shaky as you feel yourself reaching your climax. you've never cum so fast but you can't help it with chan's incessant digging on your g-spot

all it takes it for chan to lean down and press a kiss to one of your nipples to have you cumming hard on his cock. you moan loudly as you do, your fingers pulling at chan's hair as you do

chan's hips continue to rut into you until he's groaning and relasing his own load while he mouths at your tits

when you've both calmed down form your highs chan pulls out of you gently and disposes of the condom before flopping down on the bed next to you. you roll over so you can face him and you cover his lips with yours. this kiss is softer, sweeter, now that you two aren't wildly desperate for one another

chan's warm hands rub up and down your side in a calming fashion and you press yourself into a little harder. you two continue to exchange soft kisses until chan finally pulls away

"so...were you able to warm up?"

you snort at him a bit before pressing a kiss to his check "hmm...i don't know...maybe we should do that again just to be safe"

and well, you don't have to tell chan twice

[beifongnation]

The Push & Pull: An Excerpt

Description: I received a question a couple days ago on my other blog about my HC for Lin and Tenzin getting together and realized I hadn't ever gotten around to publishing that part of P&P and then I realized I haven't updated P&P in almost 8 (?) years. So consider this little excerpt my way of starting to make amends for that.

I'll update P&P eventually I swear lol

Excerpt:

Lin’s thumb absently brushed the condensation from the glass in her left hand. She swiped it once, then twice, before she chanced a look at the dance floor. A slow, romantic tune was winding down and she hardly managed to contain the roll of her eyes at some of the couples hanging on one another like idiots.

She took a sip, catching Tenzin’s eye over the edge of her glass as she did. He was looking at her with ill-disguised adoration and just a dose of apprehension. It was a sweet expression, a mix of emotions only Tenzin could wear with some measure of dignity. A smile escaped her when she thought of him, but she gave it to the empty dance floor, reluctant to meet his eyes again. She wasn’t quite sure where her own reluctance stemmed from, only that it was growing old- even to her mind. 

The band struck up a new tune- languid and romantic, bowing horns that released infatuated sighs.   

Tenzin caught her eye again. 

“I like this song,” he commented, looking out toward the floor. 

“It’s nice,” Lin agreed, following his line of sight, hoping to avoid any direct eye contact. She could feel her skin flush, a rush of nerves that she could only relate to the feeling of looking over the edge of a cliff before diving into the waters far below. Her ears warmed when they picked up the sound of Tenzin clearing his throat. 

“Do you...” he began, motioning toward the dance floor, “I mean, would you like to dance?” 

Lin swallowed, looking back at their families just one table away, before turning back to him. The acerbic comment wouldn’t come. She nearly choked on his guileless expression- studying his anxious eyes as they sparkled in the low light,  scanning hers for a response.   

Without a word she put her hand in his own and after a brief moment of shock, his long fingers closed around hers. They stood together, making their way to the edge of the floor. 

They both moved into the leading position, laughing nervously as they readjusted themselves. Tenzin’s hand found the curve of her waist, guiding her sway gently. 

Standing together like this, Lin could just barely see over his shoulder. She regretting looking in that direction immediately as she met her mother’s sightless eyes and suddenly felt very self-conscious. They turned again and she breathed out a careful release of breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Tenzin looked down at her, “You okay?” 

She thought he’d never looked more adorable than from this angle, with his narrow nose pointing like an arrow to full lips she desired to kiss. She swallowed, “I’m fine. You?” 

As soon as she volleyed his question, she knew he would answer her honestly and she fought the cringe that threatened to overtake her face. 

“Actually....” he began, “I, um, I was thinking...” he took a deep breath, “I was thinking we should talk about us, you know? What we’re doing...” 

He waited for her to respond, “or not.” 

“Tenzin,” Lin sighed, leaning her head against his chest, “we’re together. What is there to talk about?” 

And that was it- the words she couldn’t bring herself to say all this time; the vulnerability she’d been running from, the acceptance of the most wonderfully unavoidable feeling she’d been lying to herself about since she was twelve years old- a euphoric bandage, torn right off. Her admission was outside her body, resting on his chest. 

“When you say together....?” Tenzin wondered tentatively. She could feel his heart hammering away inside his ribs and she smiled at the sensation before looking up. 

“If you want to be,” she led. 

“Of course I do. Do you?” 

“Yes, I just said so,” Lin insisted quickly. 

“Well, okay then,” Tenzin agreed. 

“Okay,” Lin confirmed. 

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, before Lin’s head found its way to his shoulder once again. They swayed back and forth, moving with the music before she felt him rest his cheek lightly on her head. 

They danced in silence as the band continued their sentimental waltz. She felt Tenzin take a breath, “Lin?”

“Hmm?” 

“I wish our parents weren’t over there staring at us.” 

[gaysindistress]

As Good a Reason - one

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: when Brock Rumlow picks a fight he can’t win with the White Wolf, he drags his Snake back. Six years after she ran away, Y/N Rumlow is faced with a choice to make; do as she’s told and kill the White Wolf or overtake her father instead because spite’s as good a reason to take his power?

warnings: mob!Bucky is most definitely not a good person this time around, cursing, mentions of gangs/crime & their activities, death, violence, weapons/guns

word count: 2.5k

a/n: I read your white wolf by @witchywithwhiskey a while ago and that version of Bucky has stuck in my head ever since. This Bucky is 110% inspired by him so go read it after reading this one.

Tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @vonalyn

series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is for anyone to see themselves in her.

Six years earlier 

“Does someone want to tell me who poisoned my whiskey?”

The question hangs in the air as the dinner guests stare at each other, waiting for someone to come forward but no one does. The Rumlow Triplets roll their eyes at their father’s obvious display for dominance while Mrs. Rumlow nervously shifts in her chair. Her daughter looks her up and down in confusion but her father’s voice drags her attention away. “Who was stupid enough to try and poison me?” he demands, slamming his hand on the table and causing the cutlery next to him to jump in fear.

“Was it you?” he points to the eldest triplet, Victoria and when she shakes her head, he directs the question to the second, Niklaus. He finally settles on the youngest, Y/N, “surely it wasn’t you?”

Y/N glances at her mother, a mistake Brock catches too quickly and he motions for his men who were standing next to him to flock Mrs. Rumlow. 

“Or was it my dear wife?” he mocks her as his men crowd her in her chair, “Hm? Was it you Jasmine? Did you try to kill me, your loving husband?”

Jasmine clears her throat and straightens her back before meeting his murderous gaze and answering, “Yes.”

Brock lets out an obnoxious laugh and sits back into his chair. The sound rings out and causes everyone to shutter. That laugh means one thing and one thing only; shit is about to go down. 

And it does. 

He takes the poisoned glass into his hand, turns it as he inspects it and then throws it as hard as he can at Jasmine. She ducks in time for it to shatter against her chair instead of her face. Angry that she dodged him, Brock grabs any and all items that would hurt her and throws him like a crazed man at her. His men grab her by the shoulders to stop her from getting up or otherwise protecting herself. Each new weapon lands around and on her much to the horror of her daughter while the other two sink into their chairs, hoping to find from their father’s rage. 

“After everything that I’ve done for you? This is how you repay me? By poisoning me? You fucking bitch!” he screams when there is nothing left in his reach to throw. Instead of stopping, the man jumps onto the table and marches his way to stand in front of Jasmine, crushing everything in his path. 

Niklaus and Victoria make eye contact before he gestures to Y/N as a silent way to say “we need to get her out. Now.” Victoria nods and silently slips out of her chair as Niklaus does the same. In the meantime, Brock is screaming more and more vulgar things at Jasmine and spares no hurtful detail as he does what he can to mentally beat her down. The siblings grab Y/N and put a finger to their lips, telling her to be quiet as they sneak out of the room. 

“What about my mom?” Y/N whispers to Niklaus who pulls her into his side as Victoria closes the dining room door. 

A gunshot rings out and answers her question for him. Her eyes widen in shock and she tries to turn, fighting against them as she does so. Niklaus scoops her onto his shoulder and takes off running towards the front door as Victoria pulls her gun from her thigh, running behind them. 

“Go, go, go!” she yells at Niklaus when they hear Brock’s monstrous yell rip through the hall after them. More shots ring out and the triplets drop for a moment before picking up their pace again. Y/N cries against her brother’s back but doesn’t fight anymore. 

There’s no point. 

Brock won. 

Feeling that she’s stopped failing, Nikalus drops her to her feet and grabs her hand to drag her along. Without missing a step, Y/N keeps up with the other two Rumlow children and kicks off her shoes in the process. Victoria fires back behind her as they stop at the front door. Niklaus shoves it open and ushers the two girls out, leaving the door wide open as he sprints after them. 

“Walker! Close the gates!” Brock shouts and fires towards his children who are running for their lives towards the security car kept out front. 

Victoria returns fire while her brother practically throws Y/N into the passenger’s seat. To her left sits a familiar brunette. 

Maria Hill. 

Victoria’s aunt. 

Maria revs the engine and Niklaus slams the door shut much to his sister's dismay. 

“What are you doing? Get in! He’s going to kill you!” she shouts at him but he just smiles at her and nods to Maria. Victoria takes her brother’s hand and together they wish their sister goodbye before turning their attention to their father at the top of the stairs. Even though she can’t quite see his face, she knows that he is full of rage and is ready to murder anyone he sees fit. 

Maria peels out of the driveway, leaving a trail of dust and rocks in her wake as she speeds Y/N to safety. The 17 year old stares at the rearview mirror as she abandons her family behind. She tears her gaze away when she sees Brock march down the stairs, gunshot in hand and pointed at Niklaus and Victoria. 

Maria grabs her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

“They’ll be okay. He won’t kill them. They’re too valuable,” she tells Y/N however it does nothing to ease her nerves. 

“Yeah but he can make them wish they were dead,” Y/N says with her eyes staring straight forward. 

Brock will make them wish they were dead, give them a break so they think they’re safe and then he’ll do it all over again.

She can only hope that Niklaus and Victoria are strong enough to hold on until she can figure out how to get them out. 

Present 

Six years can change a lot. 

The entire US Senate potentially turns over in that time. 

Jupiter goes from one side of the sun to the other. 

A person can mature from a teenager to an adult. 

Y/N Rumlow shed her skin as the Rumlow Snake and became Y/N Juárez to hide any connection to her family. Actually she became Jasmine Juárez for a short period of time but it hurt too much to hear her mom’s name so she went back to Y/N. Maria thought it was stupid to keep her real first name but Y/N refused to change it to anything else. Stubborn 17 year olds will do that; refuse to do something just because they were asked to. It took Maria nearly two years to get her to trust her even though they’d known each other for years. But that’s what happens when Brock is in the picture; he takes a person and breaks them over and over again until they become his perfect playthings. He’d done that to Victoria’s mom, LeeAnn, and Niklaus’ mom, Elena, before he’d done it to Jasmine. It was his favorite hobby and something he loved to do to his children, the Triplets as they were lovingly called for being only a year apart each. 

Regardless, Y/N is now 23 and has been safely hidden from her father for six years in Arizona. Her last name allowed her to blend in enough that if he did try to find her, he would have a hell of a time searching through thousands of Y/N Juárezs. Not to mention that he hated leaving his fortress in the lower east side so the chances of him showing up in Phoenix were slim to none or they had been until recently. 

Her apartment always feels neutral and calm when she walks in after work. She always makes sure to turn all of the lights off, set the alarms, and put the essential oil diffuser on a timer so that when she walks through the door, she would be surrounded by peace and lavender. Today, though, something cuts through that carefully planned serenity. 

It’s sharp and metallic with a hint of cleaning chemicals. 

Y/N pauses at her door as she takes a deeper whiff; the air smells of copper. Metal that slides together time and time again. Her body goes still for a moment when she smells the signature smell of gun smoke. 

Reaching into her purse, she produces the small protection gun Maria bought her when she first escaped. The training takes over and she holds it in front of her like a good little soldier as she scans the room before entering. She does full scans with her eyes and gun as she walks further into her apartment in search of the reason behind the smell. 

A light is on in her bedroom. 

She creeps towards the door. Seeing that it’s cracked open, she presses her body against the wall next to it and slowly peeks her head in to quickly scan for anyone, anything.

Sitting on the edge of her bed is Victoria and standing against a window that overlooks the road is Niklaus, both casually lounging as if they owned the place. Y/N nudges the door open with her gun and allows gravity to let it swing as she stands still in the frame, gun pointed at her sister. 

Victoria is the first to look and a wide grin breaks across her face when she sees her long lost sister. 

“Y/N!” she shrieks and Niklaus scolds her with his eyes before sharing the same bright grin.  

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks, ignoring their joy. 

“We wanted to see you,” Victoria lies poorly. 

Niklaus rolls his eyes before correcting her, “He needs you. Well not you but the Snake, he needs the Snake.”

“No.”

“We have strict orders.”

“I don’t care. Get out.”

“Come on. Don’t be like that,” Victoria butts in. 

“I don’t care. Get out,” Y/N repeats, cocking the hammer of her revolver to emphasize her point. 

“Your neighbors will call the cops if you shoot me.” 

“It’s Phoenix. There’s always gunshots going on.”

Niklaus chuckles and pushes off the wall, taking in the room around him. It’s bare, minimalist to the core with nothing to show that a human with close relationships lives there. He finds one picture in a white clay frame on the nightstand and in it is Maria with Y/N and a dog. 

“See you got in a few good years before she died?”

Y/N’s nose flairs at the obvious jab, “I’ll give you a five second head start.”

“Oh so generous,” he mocks and rolls his eyes again before turning serious, “The White Wolf is after us. Brock needs you to take him out before he can get to us.”

“Not my problem. You have three seconds now.”

Victoria, growing impatient and not wanting to be shot, speaks up, “He’s how we found you.”

Y/N looks at her with confusion before she clarifies that the White Wolf had sent their father a letter with her address and surveillance pictures. 

“That’s not possible.”

Victoria pulls out one of the pictures from her jacket pocket and tosses it on the bed. 

“Clearly it is.”

Y/N snatches up the picture and it does show her in this very room getting ready for bed. She turns the picture over and writes on the back is “ONE MISTAKE AND SHE’S DEAD.”

Tossing the picture back, she re-trains her gun on Victoria and says, “Brock wants me dead anyways so why would he care what happens to me?”

“Like I said, he needs the Snake. He’s made it very clear that he could care less about you, Y/N, but he needs the weapon that he made you into if he wants any chance at surviving this.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“Freedom.” 

“I had that.”

“No you didn’t,” Niklaus says, “You thought you did but with the White Wolf dead, you could actually have it and not have to worry about anyone coming after you.”

Y/N snorts in disbelief, “it’ll never be over.” 

Victoria pipes up again, “Kill Brock too then.” Niklaus and Y/N look at her like she’s lost her mind. 

“What? We’ve all thought about it but she’s the only one who would be able to do it,” she shrugs off their disapproving looks. 

Y/N thinks it over for a moment before lowering her gun and moving towards her closet. It’s Victoria’s turn to exchange confused looks with Niklaus while the other triplet packs her stuff into a backpack. She emerges from the closet to toss the backpack on the bed and sits on the edge to lace up her boots. 

Sensing that she has eyes burning holes into her back, she straightens up and answers their question, “I’ll do it but I’m killing Brock too and you can either help me or stay out of my way.”

The White Wolf sits in a chair, swirling his bourbon around as the ice ball hits the inside of the crystal glass. He watches the flames lick up the walls of the home and revels in the way that the ashes fall on the grass around him. The flames reach higher and higher until they devour the second story of the house. The inhabitants, rats in his own family, scream and bang against the windows as the fire reaches the room they are locked in. 

He wiggles his fingers at them as a sadistic wave and tosses his head back to swallow the rest of the bourbon. Throwing the glass at the fire, the White Wolf stands and motions for his men to follow him to their cars. His right hand man, Sam Wilson, whispers something into his ear and he smiles that wolfish grin. 

“They’re enroute,” Sam confirms when they climb into the car. 

The White Wolf nods, “Looks like I’ll get to meet Rumlow’s famed Snake after all. How long until they’re here.”

“Five, six hours max.”

“Send Steve to his house in five hours then. Have him wait there until he gets eyes on the Triplets. I need visual confirmation that they are all in the city.”

Sam nods and calls Steve to relay the message. The car pulls out of the driveway as the house becomes completely engulfed in flames. 

“Oh and tell the fire department to wait until tonight to respond,” he adds and Sam nods once again. 

The White Wolf settles back into his seat, closing his eyes as he allows the comfort of the leather seats to surround him. Relaxation is rare for him but he takes it when he can get it and with Brock acting a fool lately, it’s seeming like those moments are going to become increasingly more rare. 

Until relaxation can return to his everyday life, he’ll settle for choosing chaos everywhere he goes.  

It’s what he does best. 

[bicyclepainting]

First Meetings

Angel works hard, Caelum works harder.

AKA

The documentation of the run-ins Angel and David have before he decides to confront them about their "stalking habits."

CW: implied alcohol consumption (bar setting)

1.9k words

also on ao3!

I.

It was a warm day in Dahlia. Hot, dry wind swept through Angel’s hair as they walked down the street. Their favorite coffee shop was only a short distance from the office building they worked in, and getting to stretch their legs was a nice treat. It was a little hotter than they would have preferred, but their office ran cold anyways and the sun felt nice on their skin.

There were lots of cars passing by, but not many people. Down the sidewalk, they could see a large man, both incredibly tall and incredibly muscular. His face was set into a scowl as he stared straight ahead. He was wearing jeans and his clothes were all black, even though it was hot out. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes and his mouth was set into a frown. By all means, he was an intimidating man. But Angel was nearly speechless. He was strikingly handsome. Even behind the dark sunglasses, they could see it. 

They tried not to gawk, tried not to drool even at the man making his way toward them. If he saw them at all, he didn’t show it and didn’t even look at them. Not so far as Angel noticed, at least. 

When he walked past them, they caught a smell of fresh laundry. It’s not like they were smelling him on purpose, but the sidewalk was narrow and if a very attractive man happened to smell good, it wasn’t going to be something that Angel ignored. It was a very strong smell, which made Angel wonder what kind of detergent he used. They took the smell as a green flag in his favor. Wearing clean clothes is important.

They almost couldn’t help but turn to look at him after they walked by each other. God, his back was broad. They can’t remember a time they’d ever felt this flustered by the mere appearance of a stranger.

They think about him even still as they walk back to their office. They send a text to their friend about the encounter, dubbing him as “Laundry Guy,” and that was that.

II.

Angel sighed and sipped at their iced latte. Occasionally, they were able to sneak away from the office to work on editing copy in the coffee shop instead of at their desk. Today was such a day, and usually it helped Angel focus. A change in location, the ambient cafe sounds, and having a nice drink all aided in Angel’s editing goals. “Usually” was the key word here, and Angel was having no such luck. They just couldn’t seem to focus, even opting for wearing headphones instead of enjoying the sounds of the shop, it still didn’t help. They kept catching themselves zoning out and wondering when they even looked away from their laptop in the first place.

Eventually, they see Laundry Guy walk into the store. They take out their headphones and look around, although not entirely sure what they were looking for. Maybe to see if other people saw him too. He didn’t even spare a glance in their direction as he walked toward the counter to order.

They found it even harder to focus now. Their attention kept drifting to him, although they don’t think even the most interesting parts of their work could have kept their attention at that point. 

After he sits down, he pulls a newspaper out of his leather jacket.

Angel all but gawked. An actual physical newspaper. How old was this guy? He didn’t seem much older than them. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen a real newspaper. Did they even deliver those anymore? Where had he gotten it?

The man suddenly looks up from his newspaper, scowling and making direct eye contact with them.

They quickly shift their focus back to their laptop and desperately try to keep a sheepish smile from overtaking their face.

Fuck.

He’d definitely seen them staring. There was no way he didn’t, and no way he hadn’t seen the less-than-neutral expression on their face. It wasn’t quite a glare, but Angel was puzzling over the newspaper and they weren’t exactly great at concealing their thoughts from coming across their face. They felt an incredible warmth come over their face and neck and hoped he wasn’t still looking at them as they pretended to type on their laptop, doing anything to look natural.

Luckily for them, the barista called out an order for “David” and he left his seat to get the drink.

David.

Angel thought the name suited him.

III.

It was Friday and Angel had somehow been persuaded to go out with their coworkers for drinks. Not that they didn’t like getting drinks, but more so that going out with their coworkers wasn’t something they were particularly interested in. But their favorite coworker, Geordi, had specifically asked them to come and it’d been a good week for them so why the hell not?

The bar was dimly lit and very crowded. Geordi and Angel stood across from each other, a bit pulled away from their other coworkers. It was not uncommon for the pair to be slightly secluded from the rest of the team. And with the crowd of strangers around them, they could people-watch and gossip about strangers as much as they pleased. That is, before Angel spots a familiar person across the room.

David.

They interrupt themselves to point him out to Geordi.

“That’s Laundry Guy?”

“His name is David apparently, but yes.”

“He’s drinking by himself,” Geordi remarks.

“He’s broody,” they shrug.

“He is hot, I’ll definitely give you that.” David sat over the bar, arms crossed in front of him and shirt sleeves stretched around his biceps. He was glowering at nothing in particular. “But he kind of looks mean.”

Angel takes a break from their ogling to give Geordi a deadpan look. “You know that’s exactly my type. Maybe he looks mean, but he would definitely treat me right.” 

“Angel,” Geordi says pointedly. “That’s exactly how you got with Michael, and we all know how well that worked out.” Angel rolls their eyes and waves away his concerns with a hand.

“That was Michael! You don’t know, this guy could be different.”

“You don’t know that either, Angel.” Geordi takes a sip of his drink.

Angel turns their attention back to David to find another man standing next to him, all smiles and arm slung around his shoulder. The new guy was motioning out to the dance floor, presumably to convince David to join him.

Angel nudges Geordi to watch the two men interact.

“I guess he’s not drinking alone after all,” he comments. “That’s a good sign.”

“I don’t think his friend is having much luck over there.” David shook his head, scowl never leaving his face but his friend was persistent. “I bet I could get him to dance with me.”

Geordi looks back at Angel to see a mischievous grin on their face and a wild look in their eyes. He laughs, “I bet you could! Go over there and find out.”

The pair look back over to the spot at the bar where David was sitting only to find the spot empty. Angel couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

IV.

Angel curses as they desperately grip the items piled in their arms. When they were walking into the store, they decided they wouldn’t need a cart because they weren’t there to get that many things. They should have known better.

Now, they had various items tucked under their arms, in the crooks of their elbows, and gripped between knuckles. They were good at carrying stuff like this, but they weren’t all-powerful. The stash was piled high enough that they had to tilt their head at an awkward angle in order to see well enough to walk forward. They walked cautiously through the aisle but still tried to walk as quickly as they could, they could feel some items slipping through their grasp.

They weren’t careful enough however, as they ran straight into a tall, unmoving object. They watched as their items fell and spread wide across the aisle from the collision. They assumed it was a pole they crashed into until they found themselves looking directly at David, Laundry Guy himself.

God, did every interaction they had with him not only have to catch them off guard, but also embarrass them?

They get over their shock as quickly as they can and bend down to start gathering their items again. 

“I am so sorry!” they say.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he replies gruffly. His tone was clipped, which Angel felt bad about, but it’s not like they bumped into him on purpose.

He walks a distance away and starts picking up the items that caught a bit more air than the others. Before Angel could say anything, he starts loading the items into his own cart and says, “You can have my cart.”

Angel is shocked speechless once again. They manage to say, “No, I couldn’t possibly-”

“You can and will.” Angel is flustered by his assertiveness. “I really don’t even know why I got the damn thing in the first place. I only needed one thing.”

“I said the same thing when I walked in! You might want to keep the cart after all,” they joked.

He scoffs in indignation. “I’m only here for one thing, I won’t get anything else.”

“I guess I can take the cart then,” Angel laughs lightly.

“Good.”

They stand there for a beat, assessing one another before David says, “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“No, no. Not at all,” they assure. “Did I hurt you?”

That made David crack a real smile.

“No, you did not hurt me.”

“Good.”

They said their awkward goodbyes and as David walked away, Angel cursed themselves for not formally getting his name or even his number for that matter. They promised themselves that the next time they saw him, they would not embarrass themself and they would also fluster the hell out of him. It was their specialty after all.

V.

As David drove away from his lunch with Angel, he didn’t quite know what to think of them. He was definitely attracted to them, but he hadn’t been interested in anyone in a long time. Let alone an unempowered person. There was a lot to consider in shifter relationships, especially seeing as he was the alpha of his pack, and if this was to become something serious like he thought it could be, there would be a lot to consider.

That aside, he was very interested in them. He was already thinking about what he would text them now that he had their number. And even though their forwardness was a tad annoying at first, it was almost comforting how flirtatious they were. He certainly had no doubts about their interests or intentions when it came to him.

And they didn’t seem to mind his rough exterior. David knew that he could be mean and not very friendly to most people. He was intimidating, and not for nothing; he had an image to maintain after all. They didn’t seem to mind, almost taking it as a challenge. And they certainly did challenge him. He can’t think of anyone else he’s met who had made him so flustered. Flustered. He’d never admit it aloud, and certainly never to Angel, but they truly did fluster him. 

And he wanted more.

[thatoneoverlyhornybitch]

Sheet Music

Regulus Black x Fem! Muggle! Pianist! Reader

Warnings: none rlly but kinda short, swearing, poor writing

It was a freezing cold morning, snow coming down heavily onto the streets of London. A very rare sight really, beautiful as well, but I didn't have time to appreciate its beauty. Instead I was angry, angry because I couldn't drive to the venue for my piano recital, and was stuck walking all the way in the snow.

It was approximately 4 miles away, and I had to be there in 30 minutes. I was fucked. Beyond fucked really. I tightened my bulky scarf around my neck, my teeth chattering loudly. "I fucking hate the snow..." I grumbled under my breath, my speed walking turning into full on running.

I lowered my sight to the barely visible sidewalk as I ran, not paying much attention to my surroundings. That was a huge mistake, as I incidentally ran into someone. Not one of those cheesy, I ran into their chest moments. No. This individual must have had their head lowered, as our heads collided into eachother with a loud smack.

"Ow ow ow ow, wait, shit, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed immediately, backing away as I held my cheek which was definitely going to bruise. I met the grey eyes of a clearly annoyed man with pretty dark curls falling gently over his face.

He sighed, also holding his face as he stood up. "Watch where you're going." He made to walk away, but I yelled out.

"Wait a moment, do I, know you from somewhere?" I asked, feeling like I'd seen him before. He stopped and looked back at me, a clear face of confusion overtaking the annoyance.

"No? Why would I know someone like you?" He asked in a mocking tone, but he glanced about before saying it. Maybe someone he knew was around. I sighed, and shrugged my shoulders.

"Anyways I'm really sorry sir, I can buy you a coffee if you'd like, to apologize I mean." He stared at me, glanced around again, then nodded. "It will have to be quick but I could use a coffee, it'd warm me up some for sure."

"Oh yeah, same here, I'm in a hurry to my piano recital." He perked up a bit at that, as we began to walk in the direction of a coffee shop.

"You play?"

"Yepyep! Have since I was like, shit, 6? Maybe younger, I don't know, it's as long as I can remember." I scratched my head, cocking my head to the side as I looked at him.

"I've... I've always wanted to play, but my parents aren't the er, 'nicest'. Grades and blood status have always been a big deal to them."

"Blood status? What are you like, nobility or something?" He looked down, but gave a small nod.

"Something like that."

That explained the expensive outfit. "Well thats interesting, but because you now know I play piano, whats something you like to do? We should make conversation while we get coffee, I'd rather it not be too awkward."

He smiled shyly, avoiding eye contact. "I, like reading, and playing chess. Although I really wish I could play piano, I suppose I'll learn one day."

"I mean, I know we're strangers and all, but I'd be willing to teach you. Only if you want." His eyes widened, and a light flush went over his skin.

"W-would you? Are you sure? You don't have to, but I... I'd love that." A wide smile was now on his face, and hes somehow absolutely ethereal when hes happy.

"Of course, also what kind of coffee do you want?" I asked as we had already made our way to the shop.

"Um, the sweetest one available." I quirked a brow, and chuckled internally, kinda cute. We got our coffee and sat down at a table, discussing me teaching him.

"Oh yeah, I might as well skip out on my recital for today. I'd be late if I left now anyways." I murmured sipping from my coffee, he nodded absentmindedly seeming to have spaced out. "Oh yeah I forgot to introduce myself, I'm (Y/n) (L/n). Aspiring Pianist." I added the last bit with a chuckle.

His attention was back to me, and he gave a cute smile. "Regulus. Regulus Black."

-

I will be writing more parts! I wanted to make this one longer, but I have other drafts I'm working on right now. Hope you liked it<3

[ransprang]

Singapore Formula 1 Grand Prix 2023 Fanfic

As y/n stood there behind the bush, blocked by the barricades she looked at the track with yearning eyes. Unbeknownst to them, a burly shadow arrived behind and grabbed her elbow harshly “Come back to IMH, please.” Y/n looked back with malice in their eyes “No! He’s coming.” As the big man who had long white hair retorted “you crazy fool. Stay here then, suffer.” As he left. Y/n returned her gaze to the empty race track. “Where are you?” She muttered under her breath, her eyes glistening with tears.

The security gave y/n a nasty look, as she looked at her phone, the countdown to the race. Her heart increased in pace, as the numbers reduces. When the counter hit zero, she felt a surge of wind as twenty cars went past her but that wasn’t what she was looking for. Her eyes kept searching the track till she finally spotted…him.

Four Thick corded limbs, scaly skin and sturdy tail. The love of her life appeared slowly pitter pattering across the track towards her, tongue wagging out. She screamed “Komodoooo” as it turned towards her and contorted its face as to what seemed like a smile. It waggled its way to the Redbull paddock which was near by, making hard eye contact with Christian Horner.

They stared at each other to what may seem like eternity to a passerby, intense eye lock, no expression. Suddenly, Christian nodded his head and signaled to a pit crew member, as he immediately marched out.

Suddenly Sergio Perez’s car rolled into the Redbull pit area. There was a sudden flurry of activity as the pit crew team rushed to change tyres about as they did that they also pulled out an immobile Sergio out of the car. Your eyes were stuck on Komodo and they widened in horror when you saw your favorite lizard get put into the dreaded second seat at Redbull. You couldn’t stop fate. Komodo was a driver now. As y/n was processing the happenings before her a hand grabbed her arm from behind and began pulling y/n away in an unknown direction “Hey what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The man was wearing a Redbull shirt and was tall dark and handsome.

After a few minutes walk he brought y/n to the paddock viewing where Kelly was sipping her Champagne calmly giving y/n a side eye and then rolling her eyes with a scoff. As the Redbull man left, he sighed “Mr Komodo requested you to have the best seats y/n” it felt like he told that simply out of obligation. Y/n looked at the tracks with tears in her eyes, she felt thankful but had a dreadful feeling in her stomach knowing Komi was now in the car. Sergio had left the car in p20 but you had faith in your lizard fiancée. You accepted the champagne glass the staff offered but it remained forgotten at your side for the next hour as you saw Komodo pull the greatest recovery drive in the history of f1.

Komi swerved his car in and out, overtaking the entire grid and every time his Redbull came close to another car you winced. But Komi still made it through and you knew it was because he was thinking of you. Finally it was just Max and Komi, competing for first place as only 6 laps remained in the race. Everything seemed so hopeful, you heart was racing faster than Komi’s car. Kelly was biting her lip in nervousness knowing Komodo was no second driver, he had the spirit of the first. Just as you gasped, your heart dropped to your stomach. The world became so still around you, the noises suddenly went silent. The drones dipped from the sky closer to the track, it was over.

Alonso had hit Komodo’s car, his body under the Aston Martin. This didn’t happen very frequently in the F1 history, but when it did the world came to a stop. The FIA red flagged the race immediately as the medics descended upon Komodo and Alonso. Tears poured from your eyes like a waterfall, mixing with the untouched champagne which you had told yourself would only touch you lips when Komodo was in your arms again. There was such a throng of people around you that you couldn’t even see Komi’s body. You just sat there shell shocked till you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Christian Horner.

“Y/n we need a second Redbull driver. The race is too close to the finish and the crowd want to see a fight for the championship. Komodo’s last wish was for you to be that second driver.” “Me? Wait what do you mean his last wish?” You began wailing in despair and collapsed to the floor. “You have five minutes to get ready, we are counting on you.” Horner said before turning away to tend to Max. As you sat in the car, you realised something, but you decided to continue on after taking a deep breath “For you Komi”.

You left the pitstop and back onto the track, fought for the championship and got the podium you always deserved. Once you brought back the trophy to your paddock room, Komodo slithered out of the Redbull car. He was hiding between your legs in the car all along. You smiled at him, he smiled back at you. He knew midway you had to go to the after party with him, and the only way was to get you in that car. He took out his tongue and hissed at you as you wiggled with a love surge. You accepted his love surge with glee and carried him on the podium with you. The world cheered as you stood on the top step of that podium but all that mattered to you was the soft reptilian smile on Komi’s face.

your komodos,

admins san & sav

[taintedtort]

prompt ✧ jealousy

character ✧ heizou

warnings ✧ afab!reader, smut with plot, degrading, teasing, pet names (baby, slut), you flirt with thoma, kind of modern!au, fingering, semi public? (parking lot), car sex

authors note ✧ took me forever to write this

you lazily scanned the room from your lonely chair you sat in. it was full of people you didn’t know, and didn’t feel like knowing. you just wanted to go home. but your boyfriend seemed to make it his mission to prolong this gathering as long as possible.

he left you alone in this room full of strangers. sure you could see him from where you were sitting, but his back was to you. he couldn’t see how miserable you were.

you pressed your face into your hands, tiredness overtaking you. it was getting to the point where you were ready to leave without heizou.

you sighed and glanced back up at him, he was speaking to a group of people. four guys and a girl, but one of the guys was weird looking. he had white hair and red horns.

you continued to examine him until someone else caught your eye. a man with blond hair and gorgeous green eyes. the second you two made eye contact, you instantly thought of heizou. his eyes were a prettier green, and the matching moles underneath them made them even more stunning.

you suddenly straighten your back out when the man started walking over to you. a smile was on his face by the time he reached you.

“hey, i don’t think i’ve seen you before.” he sat in the empty chair next to yours. he was close enough to where your knees touched, or maybe he was just that tall.

“oh uh— yeah i’m just here with…” you finished your sentence with a wave of your hand in heizou’s direction. the man looked over to where you gestured, but with the crowd of people, you doubted he knew who you meant.

he chuckled a bit, “well, i’m thoma.” his head nodded in a greeting manner. you thought maybe he could tell how uncomfortable you were and that’s why he decided not to shake your hand. or maybe he thought it was too business like. archons your head was a mess.

you fiddled with your clothing, suddenly getting a bit nervous that your boyfriend was watching this exchange. you swept your gaze across the crowd again, trying to be swift and discrete. when you glanced past the group heizou was talking to, he had now moved to where he was facing you. you saw his eyes looking directly at you, an annoyed expression on his face.

you let out a quiet breath before turning back to thoma and telling him your name with a smile. if you’re really stuck at this party, might as well make a friend, right?

“why are you over here by yourself? your friend left you?” his head tilted slightly to the side, his hand reaching up to place itself on the back of your chair.

“my— my friend, yeah. they ran off.” you stumbled over your words. you were going to correct him, but suddenly got an idea. if heizou was still watching, maybe he’d finally take you home. he just needed a push.

you pressed your leg further against his, your lips turning up into a small smirk. you saw his eyebrows slightly raise before feeling his hand touch your shoulder.

“do you have a boyfriend?” his voice was quiet and careful.

“yes.” you heard from behind you.

you flinched and whipped your head around, only to be met with a pissed off heizou.

“i’m her boyfriend, so go away.” his eyebrows were knitted together. his hand swiped thoma’s off your shoulder and replaced it with his own.

thoma didn’t say anything, just nodded and left. heizou’s grip on your shoulder tightened before he leaned down close to your ear.

“we’re leaving, get up.” he told you. instantly rising from your chair, you let him lead you to the door. you were glad to be leaving, but nervous about what your boyfriends reaction would be when you’re both alone.

his grip on your hand was tight, practically pulling you through the party and out the door. you saw thoma right before leaving and sent him a smile with a wave, to which he returned. heizou noticed and tugged you harder, walking even faster.

“stupid slut, you can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you?” your stomach lurched at his words. when you didn’t answer him he stopped in his tracks, making you stumble behind him. he swiftly turned his body around to face you. his nose was almost touching yours as he stared at you expectantly.

“hm?” his eyebrows raised in a mocking manner. your face burned in embarrassment, wide eyes staring back at his. a short shake of your head and a mutter of ‘no’ left your lips.

he let go of your hand and resumed walking to his car. you stood unmoving, watching him walk away. did he want you to follow him? why did he let go of your hand? was he going to leave you here? why—

your thoughts were cut short when he opened his passenger side door and turned back to you. your body perked up as you quickly made you way over to his car. he scoffed as you climbed in.

when he reached his side he turned to you.

“what were you trying to do?” his tone wasn’t angry or annoyed anymore, it was flat.

“make you jealous so you’d notice me.” your answer was quick. “those other people were taking up all of your attention, just wanted you to myself.” you continued.

“well it worked, you have all my attention now, baby. what do you want me to do?” your answer seemed to completely change his mood. he now wore a smirk instead of a scowl.

your thighs rubbed together at his question. his keen eyes instantly noticed and darted down to them, then back up at your face.

“cmon, tell me.” he encouraged.

“want you to touch me.” you mumbled, your entire body was flushed in embarrassment.

a short laugh came from him and to your ears, it sounded mocking. you brought both your hands down to press in between your legs at the sound.

“yeah? where do you want me to touch you?” you averted your eyes at his lustful stare, suddenly getting nervous. he reached his hand over and gripped your jaw.

“look at me when i’m talking to you. didn’t i teach you manners?” his smirk widened, “do you need another lesson?” your head shook in his hold.

“no— i remember my manners, promise.” you mumbled out the best you could.

“do you? because it’s good manners to answer someone’s question the first time. i don’t like repeating myself.” his grip got tighter, causing you to whimper.

“i know, i know! please— please touch my pussy.” you whined out, your stomach was full of butterflies. each passing second you got more and more wet. you couldn’t take it.

he released your jaw, “well since you asked so nicely.”

his hand started to glide down your body. “how bad do you want it?”

“please… it hurts. want it so bad.” your cunt was aching in anticipation.

he snickered before skipping over your breasts and going straight for the hem of your dress. you raised your hips up a little so he could pull it up high enough to have full access.

his fingers pulled your panties aside before he slowly swiped a finger across your clit, your cunt clenched in anticipation.

“be good for me, kay?” he smiled, almost sweetly. you gave him an eager nod, just wanting him to touch you properly already.

you let out a quiet gasp as his fingers suddenly started rubbing on your clit. one of your hands gripped onto the door, the other landed on your boyfriends thigh.

“aw, can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” he cooed. a quiet ‘uh-uh’ left your mouth at his probably rhetorical comment.

“just like you couldn’t keep them to yourself around thoma?” his tone dropped slightly, but his face stayed the same, eyes glaring at your pussy.

your head whipped around to look him in the eye, but he didn’t waver. his fingers dipped inside your cunt causing your breath to hitch.

“only want you, fuck— ‘m yours.” you murmured, feeling a bit bad for flirting with his friend to get his attention.

he let out a dry chuckle, “yeah? all mine?” your head quickly bobbed up and down.

“mine to ruin too?” his brows raised in wonder as his eyes finally met yours.

“you can do whatever you want, just wanna feel you.” you said quietly.

his fingers pulled out of you, “hop in the back then.”

you quickly scrambled to the backseat, sitting in the seat behind yours. when heizou followed, he barely bothered sitting down. instead his lips crashed onto yours, hands coming up to rest on your face. it was an unusual sweet kiss in the moment, but you accepted it gratefully.

when he pulled away, his hands moved down to your thighs. he hooked his fingers behind your legs and pulled you further towards him, the unexpectedness caused you to lay on your back.

you watched as he undid his belt and pulled his dress pants down to his mid thigh. his cock strained against his boxers, causing a visible tent to form.

“please heizou…” you lightly pleaded. his eyes met yours once again and a smile graced his features.

“you’re seriously beautiful, no wonder thoma flirted with you.” he wore a goofy grin as he continued to admire you under him.

“i only want you to flirt with me.” you informed, a smile coming to your face as well.

“how about fucking you? because i can go get thoma.” he teased, your brows furrowed at his silly nature.

“stop it.” you huffed, getting impatient.

“you sure? because he’s right there.” his eyes moved to the window behind you.

you gasped and sat up, holding your weight up with your arms. you twisted your body around to look out the window, and sure enough, thoma was walking out of the party and into the parking lot. to your horror, he started walking towards the car you and heizou were currently in.

“he’s coming over here!” you turned to your boyfriend with dread covering your face, only to be met with a playful look back.

“pretty sure his car is three or four over from ours.”

“he’ll walk right by us!” you shrieked, “what if he sees what we’re doing?”

he shrugged and put a hand on your shoulder, urging you to lay back down, his other hand pulling his boxers down to free his aching cock.

“if you lay down he won’t see you at all.” he said matter of factly.

“but—“ you cut yourself off with a high pitched gasp as he sunk into you.

he slowly pulled out of you before seething back in with a low groan. your hands scrambled to find something to ground yourself. you heard a huffy laugh from above before heizou intertwined your hands.

his free hand moved down to rub slow circles on your clit. as his pace quickened, your moans got louder. whimpers of his name and gasps of pleasure filled the quiet space of the car.

“if you don’t shut up he’ll hear you.” one of your hands instantly came up to cover your mouth at his words.

his thrusts sped up and you struggled to keep your noises to a minimum. you weren’t sure where thoma was in the parking lot at the moment, you hoped he wasn’t nearby.

heizou reached up and removed your hand from over your mouth, moving his face down to kiss your lips. you pulled your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.

he pulled away before whispering, “forget about thoma, let me hear you, baby.” you bit your lip to suppress a whimper at his words.

he pulled away from your face and gripped onto your thighs, pushing his cock deeper into your abused cunt.

pleasured cries left your lips at his new pace, your eyes screwing shut. heizou mumbled praises to you as you got closer and closer to the edge.

“fuck— gonna cum.” you gasped out. his fingers moved to toy with your clit, rubbing and pinching at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

your back arched, mouth falling open, and hand grabbing at his wrist. a string of curses left your lips as your orgasm crashed over you. your boyfriend groaned above you as your pussy squeezed around his cock.

heizou slowed his thrusts to help you ride it out, before speeding up once more. overstimulated whimpers and sobs consumed you as he chased his own orgasm.

“‘m so close, just a bit more, baby.” he mumbled gently. “you’re so good for me.”

your legs hooked around his waist once he threw his head back, his adams’s apple bobbing up and down. a higher pitched moan came from him as he released inside your spent cunt.

he stilled inside of you as you both caught your breath.

“use your good manners, what do you say?” he chuckled out.

“thank you, sir.”

[miemiew1st]

<clueless>

cw: megumixgn reader, virgin megumi, oral giving, spit, drooling, gagging, cum swallowing.

"What?! You've never been given a blowjob?" Your question came out more offensive than you expected it to. Which is why it made Megumi turn his gaze away from you in embarrassment.

The way he scoffed and furrowed his eyebrows in frustration was enough of an answer for you. The fact itself turned you on incredibly, and you couldn't do anything but imagine all the nasty things you wanted to teach him.

Slowly, you slide down and off the sofa you were both sitting on, positioning yourself in front of his closed legs. Megumi's eyes widened and he reached to your hands, but before he could grab them and question your actions, you spread his thighs apart by his knees.

You smiled to yourself when you saw the prominent bulge straining against the fabric of his dark jeans. Oh, so you do have an affect on him. You looked up at him with doe eyes "May I be the first one who does it for you, then?"

Fuck. Oh fuck, the way your lips moved gently with every word and your eyes were shining with the arousal overtaking you made his cock throb once again. He's always seen you as beautiful, mesmerizing and.. Absolutely wreckful.

Oh the things he would do to you, if only he had the chance. He wanted to ruin you, claim you his to play with. And now here he was, with you having your face impossibly close to his hard dick. Slowly but surely, he nodded.

And so your hands were on his belt, undoing it, pulling the zipper down, practically begging to let his cock free and have it in front of your eyes. And finally, there it was. Standing painfully hard and wet with lots of precum.

You surely expected it to be pretty, with the way his looks were absolutely breathtaking. The colour of it, it's size, his juicy balls, even his neatly trimmed pubes - all of it was perfect.

Not wanting to wait for yet another second, you reached for it, grabbing his shaft and squeezing lightly around it.

Meanwhile, megumi didn't know how to react and what to say, and clearly he couldn't comprehend his thoughts and wishes as he thought he would.

He felt himself heat up, his cheeks burning and his eyes getting watery with arousal. Looking up at his dazed and flushed face, you bit your lip, trying to control your urge to devour him whole, and started stroking it up and down, stopping at his pink tip each time to give it a few rubs.

"It's so pretty, megumi" You whined out, making eye contact with him and sticking your tongue out, slapping his cockhead on your tongue, wet sounds sloppily filling up the room.

The action made him groan, bucking his hips up and into the tunnel your hand created. Continuous streams of pre were coming out wildly, soaking your fingers and making lewd sounds.

Tugging his cock towards your mouth, you gave his tip a few licks before engulfing it fully with your mouth. It felt so wet and hot, megumi thought he'd go crazy. He knew he wasn't the one in control now, and it was both arousing him and messing with his head. And so, suddenly something inside of him switched.

Sure, you were doing great, but the thought in the back of his mind telling him you're teasing him the way you want to definitely did it's job. He wanted more, he needed to know what your limits were. After all, you'd do anything for him, right? You had no other choice.

Gripping onto your hair with his large hands, megumi detached your mouth from his cock, watching the way it glistened with your spit and how some of it gathered at his base.

Of course, he didn't miss the look of confusion and frustration on your pretty face as he stood up, one hand keeping your head in place by your hair and the other one holding tightly onto his cock.

Hissing slightly, megumi gave it a few long pumps and directed it towards your lips. "You've had your fun, I guess it's my turn now" With his tip, he smudged the essence of his precum and your drool gathered together onto your lips, rubbing in circles before forcefully pushing into your mouth.

"Take a deep breath, I won't be holding back" With this last warning, his second hand was at the back of your head, holding on tightly as he started rocking his hips back and forth, reaching the back of your throat and teasing your gag reflex.

The grunts and groans flooding from his mouth were worth the discomfort in your throat and the tears pricking at your waterline. Never have you imagined that megumi being rough would be so arousing, yet here he was, fucking your mouth with nothing but need and lust.

Holding onto his thigh for support, you reached for his balls with your other hand, gropling and squeezing them gently, hoping to make him feel even better. And oh was the moan he let out enough of an answer for you "Fuck."

Quickly, he took your hand away and placed it back on his leg. Giving you a moment to rest, he pulled out and swiped away the tears on your cheek with his thumb. Unlike the way he was destroying your throat a second ago, his action seemed gentle and filled with care.

Before you could take note of this, Megumi thrusted back in again and increased his pace rapidly, filling your mouth full of his cock and scent.

Your fingers digged into the muscles of his thighs, leaving crescent marks on them with your nails while his balls were now slapping against your chin repeatedly, leaving a pool of saliva and mess afterwards.

Trying to tell him it was too much was to no success, instead of words, numerous whimpers and cut off sounds left your mouth, along with the gushy sound of him thrusting in and out.

It only prompted him to go harder, faster on you. "Sh-shit, I'm going to.." His orgasm was creeping up on him, balls tightening up and getting stiff, ready to stuff you full of his cum. "Cummin, f-fuck"

Pushing in until your nose squeesed against his pelvis, he didn't let go of you until he was sure you swallowed each drop of his cum. When you couldn't take anymore, you gripped tighlty onto the wrist holding you still.

When he was done, he let go off you, pulling his softening dick out and catching his breath. Meanwhile you were coughing and spluttering out gulps of air and your spit, trying to calm down.

"Hey, it's fine now" Megumi assured you, tapping your back slightly and petting your hair. "I'm going to bring you some water" He said, quickly doing as he told you and cleaning you up afterwards.

Laying on the couch in silence while you were pressed to his chest, he was playing with your hair and placing small ocasional pecs onto the top of your head.

"I'm sorry if I was too rough.. " He started, catching your attention "I've just wanted you for so long that I couldn't help myself." You smiled to yourself, sighing before looking to him "well, at least now you know how it feels to be given a blowjob huh?"

"Shut up"

[inochinoyomikata]

Inochi no Tabekata 2 ch 1-3 Tranlation

1-3 Otogiri Tobi– In the Blue Spring, We

Sixth hour was about to end, but Ryuuko still hadn’t returned.

So it didn’t matter what had happened. She was not coming back. Tobi only thought so. Afternoon classes would be over soon. So he wondered if she wouldn’t come back until the end. Was it that bad? He had constantly gone back and forth, and in a way, she seemed fine.

While doing so, the chime rang, and the sixth hour was over. Involuntarily, Tobi groaned “ugh–”

“Are you worried about O-Ryuu?”

He couldn’t answer Baku’s question openly. Tobi mouthed “It’s nothing,” and Baku twisted himself slightly and replied “Ohh, seriously! Of course you’re worried. You’re such a cold-hearted bastard. You lost sight of it, Tobi. You’re no longer qualified to be my partner.”

It seemed like a lot of words. Also, he wanted him to stop making so much noise because nobody else could hear him but Tobi.

Ryuuko was not in the classroom, so only Tobi could hear Baku’s voice.

It should be that way.

“Well, I don’t mind.”

While speaking in a low voice that only Baku could hear, Tobi looked back just in case.

Was it a coincidence? He made eye-contact with the transfer student.

Before long the homeroom teacher, Harimoto-sensei, entered the classroom. Harimoto gave the second year third class students a few messages and also mentioned Ryuuko. According to the school nurse, Ryuuko was not feeling well and was still resting in the infirmary.

When homeroom ended, Tobi immediately grabbed Baku and tried to leave the classroom.

“Otogiri.”

He was stopped by Asamiya Shinobu. Tobi paused and turned to face Asamiya. Asamiya lowered his head and averted his eyes.

“No… it’s nothing.”

What was he in a hurry for? Tobi got a little annoyed. So he just nodded lightly without saying anything and left the classroom. Suddenly, Tobi saw a sign saying “Don’t run in the hallway!” That’s it. He was not running, he was just walking like he was running.

“Don’t panic, Tobi. O-Ryuu is in the infirmary, right?”

That was pointless to say, Baku. I’m not in a hurry. Let’s walk instead of running. He wasn’t running originally. Tobi slowed down. He was still faster than the other students walking down the corridor, but it couldn’t be helped. This was normal for Tobi. He didn’t like to walk around. Especially when he was alone. If there was someone next to him, he’d try to match them as much as possible.

“Ughh…”

He heard a voice behind him.

“You, you’re walking too fast.”

“---Huh?”

He didn’t stop. Tobi turned around, still moving his legs. The transfer student seemed rather grumpy. At the same time, her gait was surprisingly light. Without swinging her arms, she rhythmically kicked the floor with her left and right feet, pushing her body forward. With that way of walking, she followed Tobi.

“What? Eh?”

“Eh? What?”

“Wh-What are you talking about?”

“Good question.”

“Wh– Good, but—”

He wondered if it was good.

Tobi shook his head.

“...What?”

“It’s a roundabout way.”

He was laughed at by the transfer student.

Better yet, he should run away. That seemed wrong too. Generally, why did Asahi Monika come along? He wondered if she was following him. They may have just been heading in the same direction. Was that it? It wasn’t. She had told him he was walking too fast.

As the nurse’s office was just around the corner, Asahi suddenly accelerated her steps and tried to overtake him. It would be nice if she overtook him, but Tobi ended up being tense. Although she was close, It was Tobi who opened the door to the infirmary.

There was no school nurse. A glasses-wearing girl was sitting in the school nurse's chair spinning a pen.

“Ah, if it isn’t Tobi-Tobi.”

Shizukudani Rukana called out to Tobi in a strange way, and then looked at Asahi behind him.

“Is that person the rumored transfer student?”

Asahi answered with a brief “yeah” and quickly moved her gaze to survey the entire infirmary.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Shizukudani Rukana, who is enrolled in class 2-3 and is attending school in the infirmary~. Nice to meet you. Umm…”

“Asahi Monika.”

“Well then—”

Shizukudani stopped spinning her pen and smiled.

“Moni-Moni?”

Asahi twitched her eyebrow and her mouth. Was that Asahi’s way of laughing?

“It’s so disgusting and gross.”

“Gross.”

Shizukudani began to spin her pen again. She looked like she was having a lot of fun.

“Moni-moni, the best.”

Baku, who was carried on Tobi’s back, shuddered as if to say something. Tobi also wanted to say something, but he didn’t really know what to say. Shizukudani and Asahi smiled at each other. But was she in a friendly mood? It felt very different.

In one corner of the ceiling, the four-legged zingai was crouching, which was also strange. To Tobi, zingai were not uncommon. That being said, Shizukudani’s four-legged zingai was rather large and although he was somewhat human-like, he had four eyes. Somewhat peculiar, and, to be honest, a little creepy. Of course, even if such a zingai was nearby, it wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t see it.

Ren glanced at the transfer student. If she can’t see them, it’d be like nothing exists.

“...Mmm.”

Suddenly, he heard another voice, neither the transfer student nor Shizukudani. There was a bed with the curtain closed. There was a flurry of sounds on the other side, and the curtains were pulled open immediately.

“Waahh, I was sleeping…!”

Thanks to her buns, her hair was not messy. However, her entire face was flushed.

Ryuuko must have jumped out of the bed and tried to put on her shoes immediately. However, both of her feet were not properly wearing them.

“Heyy, To-To, why, Tobi, ehhm Asahi-san too, why…”

Tobi wanted to know too. Why did Asahi come to the infirmary? Tobi had no intention of doing so, but Asahi was clearly competing. What would he have done if Asahi had arrived at the infirmary first?

“Shiratama-dango, are you okay now?”

When Shizukudani asked, Ryuuko made a strange “huh?” with her voice and pointed at herself.

“Ah, yes. Maybe it’s because I slept so long, I’m completely fine.”

“That’s good.”

Asahi said very quickly. So, why Asahi? When Tobi started to want to question her, the person herself, Asahi, asked “right?” for his agreement.

“Ah…yeah.”

He nodded instantly.

“Ummm…?

Ryuuko didn’t seem to understand. She held Chinuraasha’s pochette tightly against her chest and tilted her neck more than 45 degrees. 

“I was worried.”

Asahi said lightly, as if it were only natural.

“Right?”

And why did she look at Tobi?

“...Yeah.”

Tobi was Tobi. It was not ‘yeah,’ he thought, but he was actually worried about Ryuuko.

If that’s the case, was this really okay?

“For someone like me, to go out of your way…”

Ryuuko’s already blushing face was dyed bright red, and her eyes water even more. She was as emotional as a painting. Ryuuko bowed with such force that her head hit the floor.

“It’s an honor, thank you very much…! As for Asahi-san, it’s your first day at your new school, so I haven’t been able to say hello to you yet…!”

“Speaking of which, is that so?”

Asahi scratched her.

“But I know you.”

“Huhhh?!?”

Ryuuko bent her waist and lifted her head. It was a really weird pose. Asahi held her mouth with her hand. She may be about to burst out laughing.

“You’re more unique than I thought, Ryuuko.”

“Unique… do you mean me? Ryuuko…”

“Are you offended?”

“N-No, not at all. Not at all.”

“...Um, how long will you be in that position?”

When Tobi couldn’t keep quiet and pointed it out, Ryuuko muttered “--Is it okay?” She finally sat up and covered her with both hands. She seemed to be very embarrassed.

“...I totally forgot. I was pretty sure I hadn’t. In this case, I was careless….”

“Totally Careless-san.”

Asahi sat on a bench and crossed her legs.

“As for me, Monika is fine, even if you call me Asahi, it’s hard to react.”

Ryuuko peered at Asahi from between her fingers.

“...Mo-Monika-san right?”

“No need for titles, I’m not your boss or anything.”

“Monika…”

“That’s it, everyone.”

Asahi Monika looked at Tobi and Shizukudani.

“We’re in the same grade, isn’t it okay that we’re all even?”

“I think so.”

Shizukudani pecked her own chin with the tip of her pen.

“I think it’s good. I like it quite a bit. A girl is easygoing like Moni-Moni.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Asahi seemed to be looking at Shizukudani, and her line of sight was slightly off. Before he knew it, a four-legged zingai had moved from a corner on the ceiling to above Shizukudani. Perhaps the four-legged zingai was in Asahi’s field of view. In the end, if Monika could see zingai, then.

“...That’s it.”

Baku muttered. It was right after. Asahi called out to Tobi, “Hey.”

“School is over, isn’t it? Shall we go home soon?”

“Ah, I have to get my bag from the classroom!”

As soon as Ryuuko started walking, she almost fell down and said, “ugh…” It was because she was not wearing her shoes properly.

Asahi stood up from the bench. Shizukudani was trying to pack up her things. Would she return? Well, she’ll be back. Even Tobi has to go home. It was after school time.

But in this way?

Together?

Why…?

+++ + ++++

Shizukudani Rukana came out of the staff entrance accompanied by the four-legged zingai.

“Yeah. Let’s wait—”

“Then, let’s go!” 

Ryuuko’s cheery shouts signaled the group to depart.

Haizaki, who was watering the flower beds in the front courtyard, opened his eyes wide and his mouth fluttered. He didn’t know why Haizaki was so stunned, but Tobi wondered what was going on. Why was this happening?

Ryuuko and Asahi were roughly side-by-side, followed by Tobi, carry Baku, and Shizukudani and the four-legged zingai.

The group was strange. Or was it not so because most humans cannot see four-legged human zingai? He didn’t think so. Even without the four-legged zingai, it was probably a strange combination.

“Well. It’s been a while since Luka-chin has been able to go home with someone. It feels youthful. Don’t you think so, Tobi-Tobi?”

“...Shizukudani, why don’t you stop calling that Tobi-Tobi?”

“Isn’t it human nature to not want to quit when you’re told to quit?”

“Well then, don’t stop it.”

“Okayy~ I won’t stop~.”

“What is this person?”

“She’s a very well spoken woman, isn’t she?”

“Umm, Monika, where did you go before you transferred…?”

“West side.”

“Oh! Kansai?”

“Something like that.”

“I see. That’s a little surprising.”

“Why?”

“Your words are not in the Kansai dialect. Especially the intonation.”

“I’ve been moving around the country.”

“Is that because of your parents work or something?”

“Well, I guess so. Work convenience.”

“I see. That’s cool.”

“How?”

“I’ve never transferred to another school before. That’s something I actually look up to. If you actually transfer, you’ll have to say goodbye to people you’re close to, and it’ll be tough.”

“You gotta get used to it.”

“Speaking of which, Shiratama-dango—”

“Ah, yes, what is it, Shizukudani-san?”

“Are you really feeling better now?”

“Yeah. I’m fine! I think I could run a half-marathon.”

“Even if it's half, you’d still have to do over twenty kilometers, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t that be impossible even if you were in peak physical condition?”

“I said too much. It’s impossible. I can’t say that my motor skills and physical strength are above average.”

“The marathon itself is a mystery. If you abuse your body like that, it will only shorten your lifespan.”

“There may be value in challenging the impossible…”

“There are so many people who finish the race, so it's not impossible, is it?”

“Huh. Probably…”

There was no end to the conversation. Someone was talking. Ryuuko, Asahi, and Shizukudani changed their positions at a dizzying pace depending on who they were talking to. Tobi was walking in unison with the three of them.

Did he want to leave quickly? He couldn’t help thinking about that. It was not painful, but he definitely felt out of place.

In the end, Tobi preferred being alone.

He had Baku, so he was not even alone.

“Tobi.”

When he noticed, Asahi was walking next to him on his right.

“...What?”

“Trying saying my name.”

“Asahi.”

“Monika.”

“...Asahi, Monika.”

“That’s why you should just call me Monika.”

“Eh…”

“Tobi-Tobi~.”

Shizukudani, who was standing next to Ryuuko in front, jumped up and moved to his left.

“Is there some reason why you don’t want to call Moni-Moni Monika?”

“No, there’s no reason…”

Tobi looked down. Baku meaningfully laughed, “Fuheheh.” Why was he laughing?

It was because of the backpack. Even though it was Baku.

“Didn’t you call Shiratama-dango Ryuuko before you even knew her?”

“That’s–”

“No, no, Moni-Moni is a transfer student and we’ve known each other for too short a time, so I can’t suddenly call her ‘Monika.’ Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed. Right? Right?”

“Well…”

“Or is it something about calling Moni-Moni Monika in front of Shiratama-Dango, who you’re calling Ryuuko?”

“Hmm…”

Tobi didn’t give it much thought. But if you asked him, he definitely had a resistance to calling Asahi ‘Monika.’ It wasn’t like he absolutely did not want to call her that no matter what, but why should he do his best to call her that when he can’t say that easily?

When he looked up and looked forward, he could see Ryuuko’s back. She glanced back. In addition, she flickered. After Ryuuko glanced back at Tobi four more times, she said “Mo.”

“Mo?”

“Mo-Monika, in other words, it’s a very good name…I think.” 

“Thank you.”

Asahi said quietly. Her eyes were down and the corners of her mouth were lifted. She didn’t look happy.

“L-Likewise.”

Ryuuko quickly lowered her head.

“...Likewise? I guess it’s a little different. A-Anyway, there must be a reason why Monika wants to be called Monika, and it’s important to respect a person’s wishes.”

“Do you want me to call her Monika too?”

It was a curt voice. It was not like Tobi did it consciously. Such a voice came out of its own accord.

 “C-call her.”

Ryuuko shook her head quite forcefully.

“I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t say something like that. However, if Monika wants that, it’s a proposal…”

“All right.”

Tobi turned his face to Asahi Monika, who was next to him on his right.

“Monika. Is that okay?”

“That is my name.”

Monika shrugged her shoulders.

“It feels better than being called by another name.”

“Oh, really! I think it’s a nice name! It’s international!” 

Ryuuko’s footsteps were sluggish. Her language was also somewhat rough.

“...O-Ryuu, aren’t you mad?”

Baku said softly.

“H—”

Had Ryuko tried to reply? She seemed to have stopped at the last minute.

“Do you know why youth is written with both green and spring?”

Shizukudani was grinning openly.

“In China, there’s the idea of the five elements. It’s said that all things are made up of the elements of wood, fire, earth, metal, and water. The color green and the season of spring are both trees.”

“This woman, what can she say?”

He didn’t think she answered Baku, but Shizukudani started skipping while saying something like, “It’s youth.” The four-legged zingai chased Shizukudani while jumping.

“What is youth…”

Tobi muttered involuntarily as if vomiting. 

“It must be youth!”

Did he hear? Shizukudani yelled and skipped forward. In the blink of an eye, they were separated by about ten meters. It didn’t look like she was coming back. Shizukudani turned at the crossroads and was finally out of sight.

“Youth—” He turned around as Ryuuko suddenly stopped.

“What is it?”

“...I don’t know.”

That’s all she could say to Tobi.

“Because the fourteen year old flower.”

Was Monika affirming or denying it? What was it?

Ryuuko said “Ah!” and pointed at Monika.

“There’s ‘flower’ in Monika(1). The flower is fourteen years old. I agree.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, but…”

Hanukkah sighed, “well, okay,” and turned her gaze around Tobi, Ryuuko, and the other middle school students on their way home from school.

“Really, school is a strange place. Your school is especially strange.”

Even a school misfit like Tobi didn’t feel so good when this apparently weird transfer student calls it weird. It was especially weird.

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

Monika probably didn’t want to answer. Then she shouldn't say anything strange to begin with.

“You’re a transfer student with strong habits.”

Baku laughed, “Heh.”

“I mean, it is a habit.”

“See you.”

Monika said and pretended to tap Ryuuko on the shoulder. She didn’t touch it. But after that, she lightly touched Tobi, or rather, Baku, who was on Tobi’s back. Was the direction of home different for her? Monika left Tobi and Ryuuko behind and headed back the way she came.

“Ah, see you tomorrow…!”

When Ryuuko waved her hand, Monika turned her back and raised her hand.

“Of course, you’ve realized right, Tobi?”

Asked by Baku, Tobi nodded “Yeah,” and Ryuuko continued to wave her hand and tilted her head “Huh?”

“What do you mean ‘realized’? Huh. Monika, why did she make a U-turn…?”

“That strange transfer student, she can hear my voice?”

“Baku’s voice? Ehh!?”

“She can see zingai.”

Tobi narrowed his eyes slightly.

Monika was about to leave the sidewalk and enter the roadway. A car? A large silver one-box-square was parked on the side of the road. Monika opened the sliding door of the car and got in the back seat. It started driving.

“I’m sure she’s the same as us.”

---

 (1)「花」meaning flower, makes up the “ka” of Monika.

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 15 - Somebody else.

Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn’t help but notice how familiar he was.

 18+ | 2kish Words | Third-person omniscient | Dark?fic/Angst | AU/AT |

Warnings: Heavy language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma, the effects of this in adulthood, smut mention, drunk sex mention, established relationship, maybe some typos, fighting, everyone's triggered af in this one

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list 

"You're lost, but I couldn't tell Fooled me and you did it well Thought you were somebody else" -"Somebody else." by Bad Omens

When Jake woke up, he felt exhausted, as always, but in a different way. Not only did it feel like he hadn't gotten enough sleep, but he was drained like he had worked out just hours before.

"We must go, Jake!" Khonshu's voice boomed. The bird was over by the fish tank with more shit for him to do. Jake lifted a hand in his direction and whispered his response, 

"Got it, relax." 

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, Jake noticed someone in bed next to him. He wasn't used to company, but once he got a good look at the sleeping face and form, it became clear who it was-

Simone from Chicago. When did this happen?

Trying not to disturb her, he got up from the bed carefully and dressed, cursing Khonshu for making him leave the woman here after what he could only assume was a spectacular night, judging from his lack of energy. 

I hate to dine 'n' dash, doll. perdóneme. He thought to himself, feeling atrocious for picking up like this in the middle of the night. As he buttoned his pants, he heard shifting in the sheets behind him, followed by a sleepy feminine voice,

"Marc?" She said, seemingly asking for someone else. She had called him that once before, and she was mistaken once again. 

Damn, she's got a boyfriend, that's right. 

Jake turned around on his heels, "You really gotta stop calling me that, Chi-town." He said. 

Simone recognized the voice immediately, not as Marc or Steven, but as the taxi driver she had dismissed all week. 

I was right. I was fuckin' right. What the fuck! She thought, feeling panic overtake her. She felt exposed by the tight ribbed tank top she wore and adjusted it, pulling it further up to cover her breasts more, and swallowed thickly before doing the only thing she could think to do at that moment: lie out of her ass and avoid eye contact.

"Right, sorry." She responded. It occurred to her that Jake waking up next to her probably gave him the impression that they slept together, and she had no better explanation prepared to argue otherwise. After all, he only knew her as the lady he drove around not long ago. "Must've had too much to drink." She fibbed. 

Jake was fastening his belt and walking toward the closet as he chuckled at her reply. "I'm guessin' you don't remember a damn thing either, then." He started before grabbing his brown coat off of a hanger. 

Damn shame I don't remember. Jake thought as the pale light from the moon and stars outside brightened her chocolate eyes. He did everything he could to not stare too hard, but if not her eyes, he would risk drifting to the bumps her nipples made through her shirt. She really is somethin' else. 

Simone shook her head without giving a verbal reply, still unsure how to feel about what was happening. Once Jake's coat was draped over his shoulders, he gestured behind him awkwardly with an extended thumb, "I got some stuff I gotta do." He said. It would have been easier if she was still asleep, and he knew he very well couldn't just tell her what he was up to.

"No worries," She replied, voice barely lifting above a soft squeak. Jake took a few steps in the direction of the door before he stopped in his tracks,

Don't just be rude and leave, Lockley. He thought to himself before he turned back around and circled to the side of the bed that Simone was on. He bent down to her level and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. He knew the lips would be too formal and the cheek too familial, so he aimed right for the middle. 

The stubble around his lips tickled Simone's mouth and caused it to twitch, but she didn't flinch away from the gesture, though she found it as uncomfortable and strange as this situation. She watched as he pulled back slowly and let a slight smirk peek from the right corner of his mug. "We should do this again sometime. Buenas noches, hermosa." 

"Adiós." She replied flatly as Jake proceeded to exit the flat casually like he owned the place. 

Simone couldn't tell how long she sat staring at the entrance. She wasn't sure what time it was when she woke up, but it felt like an eternity between that time and when she got up from where she sat in bed. She pondered how this happened, wondering how Marc and Steven let this kind of thing slip past her. 

The fact that this wasn't the first time she's concluded that she wasn't making things up in her head played her nerves like an instrument. She thought she imagined it and convinced herself that Jake the Taximan didn't even so much as look like Marc. It was what she was trained to do, after all.

Simone was beyond upset. The whole time sitting and questioning the sticky substance left between her thighs hours before, the product of unprotected, trustful sex with a partner she felt she knew like the back of her hand. How she could break her own rules and put so much faith into someone who could be doing whatever with whoever under a different guise. 

It's not his fault. How could he have known?

That doesn't matter. 

She ended up leaving their flat that she had been in so many times she could have moved in, and it would seem natural. 

She felt like a stranger there now, returning to hers for an hour before deciding she wanted to face them. She returned to the spot she woke up in, lay down, and waited. She thought of what she wanted to say and how it would go, knowing no matter what was said-

This is a breach of my trust.

When Jake returned, Simone peered through half-open eyes to find him completely decked out in all white with a hood and a cape before the getup disappeared to his regular clothes. Nothing was said or done as he stripped. All he did was put the ankle restraint back on, and back to sleep he went. She wished she could do the same.

An hour before Simone was due to be up for work, she showered, brushed her teeth, dressed, and gathered any items she kept in her best boys' flat until she stopped when she spotted the jacket that Jake had on. It was a brown leather bomber that, funnily enough, looked like one she used to have.

All through the night and morning, her rage never died. She could only sit in their office chair and stare until her alarm went off, signaling Steven to wake up.

She waited to turn it off until his painfully adorable yawning face noticed her in the chair. As soon as he smiled at her in his groggy state, she forgot everything she planned to say. 

"Morning, love. You beat me to it, haven't you?" He said, propping himself on his elbows. Right then, he noticed her folded clothes and bottle of shampoo she kept there perfectly stacked at the foot of the bed next to where she sat. 

Marc noticed simultaneously and was faster to take over and speak. "What's happening here, Moni?" 

"How long have you been losing time?" She asked, nearly cutting him off. She meant to start by asking if they knew it was happening, but it was clear. Marc's eyes didn't look confused: they looked apologetic, drifting into his lap. 

"A while." He said, leaning forward to remove the ankle restraint. He had a feeling shit was about to hit the fan. "What happened?"

Simone's eyes got cloudy with tears, but she tilted her head back to stop them, keeping her focus on the popcorn ceiling until they dried enough to look at him again. "You didn't think that was something I should know?" She asked, completely ignoring his previous question. He stood once the restraint was off and grabbed a pair of sweats from the floor. 

"I couldn't, bab-"

"Bullshit! Any opportunity would have been better than meeting Jake first." She bit with a sarcastic laugh. 

"Jake?" Steven popped in instantly, clearly not familiar with the name. Marc, on the other hand, knew the name and came back to ask another question. "Jake Lockley?" 

"I guess," She huffed. "I don't know his last name."

"Jake Lockley was a name I used to use. Are you sure?"

This made zero sense to Simone, granted Steven was based on his childhood movie hero. She was curious about what prompted Jake's existence but didn't have time to ask. She was tired, still needed to work, and got a headache. More than that, she questioned why she didn't prepare for this. 

Some fucking psychiatrist you are. She thought as she gathered herself to her feet.

"Son of a bitch, Spector. What kind of shit are you into?" Simone said with a heavy exhale. She scooped up her clothes from the foot of the bed, intending to leave right there, having heard enough before Marc rushed in front of her and stopped her, bare feet padding against the floor and each step sounding like pounding in her ears.

"Moni, bab-"

"My name is Simone!" She snapped. She never had a problem with the nickname he coined for her before, but it seemed insulting now. Only Moni would let this pass. Moni's gone. 

Marc took a step back as rage filled her eyes. He wasn't scared of her but knew what she could do if prompted. He needed to tread carefully but couldn't find anything to say yet. Simone took over, circling around his body to get by. "Look, I don't know what this guy's got going on or why, but this is fucking weird. Came back here in a damn cape last night like a superhero or something."

Simone continued to truck for the door, trying to go to work and get her brain off this situation, until Marc snatched her wrist quickly, not painfully but enough to prompt her to stop. "A... cape?" He asked. She nodded,

"Looked like he stepped out of goddamn Assassin's Creed, hood and all." 

Steven came forward right away, "Shit! He's working with Khonshu!" He exclaimed, seeming to suddenly be riddled with panic. Simone remembered the story they told her, and though she believed what happened in Cairo, she didn't expect this to be any bigger than a mystery alter. She was underqualified for this level of nuts. She threw her head back,

"Great, the deity has a hand in this too?" She asked, rolling her neck and letting it snap and pop to relieve the tension in it. Marc realized Khonshu pulled a fast one on him. He thought his next avatar would be his ex-wife and even agreed with the vulture to leave Steven and him alone. They didn't account for this, and Khonshu was counting on that. 

"You gotta help us, baby." Marc pleaded, returning to Simone after his pacing, reaching for her hand for comfort and reassurance. 

Of course, she'll help. Even if she's mad at us, she does this for a living. It's her passion.

She saw it in his eyes: regret, fear, desperation. It was clear to her that Marc expected her to be able to handle this but didn't expect her to snatch her hand away and bring it to her chest, gripping her clothes tightly to herself like a hug. 

"No." She replied, shaking her head and backing up. Marc thought his heart would fall out of place, out of his ass, and onto the floor below.

"What do you mean?"

"I need some time, Marc," Simone said, still backing up. Her eyes were glossy and red again. It was just like after she had hit him all those years ago, slowly backing up, full of hysteria. It was clear to Marc that she was upset with him, leaving him, and he couldn't take it. 

He retreated. 

"Darling, I know it's a lot, but let's discuss this, yeah?" Steven said, realizing he was in the driver's seat and unsure what to do. Simone felt the cool, hard door hit her back as she ran into it, struggling to find the knob,

"I gotta get to work." She said, dismissing the idea of debating this further. She needed to think, or not think, whatever came first.

Steven stood and watched her exit, feet glued to the floor. 

Simone got to her car, dug through the center console for her pack of cigarettes, and quickly placed one between her lips with shaky hands, lighting it with the purple lighter she stashed away. She went for a long drag but was immediately met with a harsh, venomous burning in her throat and her tongue covered in dry tobacco. 

She coughed and removed the dart to find she had lit the wrong end. In her frustration with the error and anguish of her situation, she screamed into the empty vehicle at the top of her lungs and crushed the cigarette in her hand before she pulled out of her parking spot to go to the office, peeling the already scabbed skin around her fingernails. 

It's not that big of a deal, Simone. Stop overreacting. Her brain told her. 

"But I know how I feel." She responded aloud. 

The day's first patient was already in the waiting room, which was a relief. She transitioned to Dr. Fredrick seamlessly, fitting a smile to the lower half of her face and unlocking her office to invite the patient in. Due to her own tardiness, she didn't start the clock just yet but made friendly conversation as she started her pot of coffee and eyeballed the red circle on the calendar-

Three more weeks? Fuck, time flies.

[atozphantomsquadron]

XX - Shaman

(cw: breastfeeding)

The time Kitty spent raging through the corridors of the Patriot were dark ones for the ship, spent in hours and hours of sonar tracking, trying to re-establish contact with either Cyrus or Pak’s sub.  The pitching of the decks, coupled with the frantic activity all through the vessel, granted me a newfound respect for the rigors of submarine duty.  Despite having his clock cleaned by Kitty, MacEwan retained a professional demeanor in the bridge.  Perhaps because of the blow, he was far more respectful of the three of us now.

In due time, fortune found us.  A weak signal that appeared at the communications post got much stronger, especially once the intended recipients of the message listened to it.  Cyrus, with the help of the deep-cover agent in Pak’s crew, had transmitted a magic message to us through the radio, one which came out as utter gibberish to anyone other than those it was directed toward.  It took all three of us listening, in one set of headphones, to figure out what Cyrus was saying, because it was also coded so that a single listener would only hear a word, then skip two words.

Once we wrote down all of what we had heard individually, the message became clear:

-Safe aboard Pak’s vessel.  Deep cover agent Ahma has allowed me radio use.  Pak’s target not Diego.  Needs me to power.  Must have immense magic generation to engage his plan.  Approaching Persian Gulf, heading 204, speed 20 knots, will reach Gulf in three days.

We looked up at each other.  Cole was first to speak.  “So he’s … a battery for a magic weapon?”

Kitty stroked her chin.  “Looks like it.”

“We need to catch up to them, then.”  I turned around to MacEwan.  “Captain, what’s the ship’s top speed?”

MacEwan had joined us and read the message we had pieced together.  “If we push the reactor, we can get it up to about 28 knots.  We might be able to overtake them, but the question is where they are and how much of a head start they have.”

Cole nodded.  “It’s a risk we might have to take, captain.  Would you be willing to do it?”

MacEwan sighed and nodded.  “Your daddy has the first one, Sharpe, so I’m naming my second ulcer after you.”  He turned and left the map post, returning to the conn.  “Helm, make your heading two-zero-four, all ahead full.  Dive control, ten degree down bubble on the bow planes, come to depth …”

In the cacophony of order confirmations, we continued our strategy session.  I looked over at Cole.  “We still don’t know what we’re going to do once we confront Pak, let alone what this weapon is.”

Cole nodded.  “Yeah, and I hate to go into a combat situation with only a third of the information I need.  Unfortunately, right now we have no choice.  This is the only intel we have.”

“Then let’s hit ‘em hard,” Kitty growled.  “Hit ‘em before they can react.  Hit ‘em before they can attach Cyrus to their goddamn weapon.”

Cole nodded.  “Sounds like a sound enough plan.  If we do this, we do it strong.  Battle ready, full-on.”

My eyes widened.  I hadn’t heard anyone use that expression since the last time Ken had used it, on the rooftop in Austria.  Cole seemed so much like his father now, it was amazing … and it was only making me love him more, despite the desperate and dangerous circumstances we found ourselves in.

After a few days, the Patriot did indeed overtake Pak’s submarine, just before it entered the mouth of the Persian Gulf.  As we approached, when the sonar pings started getting louder, we prepared for combat.  Kitty in particular did the most to get ready, having checked and rechecked her weapons obsessively during the dark period after Cyrus’s capture.  Prepared for anything, we climbed out of the conning tower hatch, ready to confront whatever Pak had waiting.  This was the first time I had grown into the dragon on a pitching submarine, and balance was sketchy at best, but eventually I had Cole and Kitty on my shoulders and we were flying off to find Pak’s sub.

When we did find it, the sight of it was a shock.  Out of one of the missile hatches, a tall tower stood, looking like a repurposed ICBM, at the top of which was a crossbar and a satellite dish.  I felt Kitty clutch to me as we spotted the weapon, as well as what was on the crossbar, the crucified form of Cyrus, shirtless, head slack, hanging by his wrists, with electrodes attached to several points on his body.

Kitty whimpered softly.  “No … Cyrus, not you…”

“Let’s go, people!  Ariel, bring us down!”

“Hang on!”

I brought myself into a gentle descent, alighting and landing at the opposite end of the ship from the antenna weapon.  A horde of shabbily dressed men—Pak’s forces—came scrambling up on deck to fight us.  Cole and Kitty made quick work of them while I attempted to free Cyrus from his predicament, but I was unable to because of a field around the weapon, which I found out was being generated by Cyrus himself.  Apparently, the wires connected to him were tapped directly into his power, feeding it through the weapon and creating magic effects.

Pak eventually came up to join the fight himself, in traditional garb and face paint, with two swords drawn and swinging.  His voice had an otherworldly echo as he spoke.  “You will not destroy my weapon.  The West ends now!”

He did a sword dance toward the weapon, which surprisingly was effective: it glowed around Cyrus, forcing his eyes open, bright red-orange.  A beam erupted from the satellite dish, into the cloudy day, illuminating the clouds with a fiery tinge.  I had been flying a close holding pattern, and it knocked me backward and into the water, where I quickly shrunk back into my human form and swam back to the ship’s deck: I was unsure how dousing in water would affect my flight capabilities as the dragon, and didn’t want to make this particular time the one to find out.

When I got back on the ship’s deck, the fight was in full force.  The Guardsman kept parrying the furious sword swings of Pak, using Japanese-style katanas to force the armor-clad knight toward the water.  It seemed that Pak’s strategy was to drown the Guardsman by forcing him overboard, one I wasn’t sure would be effective.  Kitty, meanwhile, had climbed the sub’s conning tower, rifle in hand, and was now aiming toward the antenna, trying to shoot it out from under Cyrus, but her bullets only bounced off harmlessly.  I even tried firecasting at the base of the antenna, but no purchase could be made in it.

Finally, Cyrus directed his eyes toward us, knowing what we wanted to do.  His voice was extremely strained, as his body started to shrink from the excessive energy being drawn from him.  “You … must … kill me …”

Kitty exchanged worried looks with me.  She turned back toward Cyrus as we heard the clangs of swords clashing below.  “I can’t do it, Cyrus!  I just can’t do it!”

“You … must!”

I grabbed Kitty’s shoulder.  “We made a promise, Kitty.  We have to do it.  There’s no other way!”

Kitty’s eyes were shimmering with her emotions.  She looked back at Cyrus, then back at me, then down toward where the Guardsman was close to being pinned down by Pak.  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then raised and aimed her rifle. 

“I’m sorry, Cyrus.”  She clicked the safety off.  “I love you.”  She pulled the trigger.  The shot was accurate, though I would learn later that Kitty had not been able to watch as she sighted it in and fired with her eyes closed.  A single bullet cracked through Cyrus’s skull, allowing his body to hang fully slack as his life drained out of him.  The weapon powered down: without the wizard to act as its power source, it had no fuel left for its hellish intentions.  The shot distracted Pak, down below, as well.  He looked up toward the antenna and spotted the dead sorcerer, then screamed.  He raised his arms over his head with his rage, opening himself up enough for the Guardsman to cut him in half with a wide swing of the Sword.  A shocked expression appeared on Pak’s face as his top half collapsed to the deck, then dissolved into dust: the entity which held sway over the shaman’s actions had fully engulfed him.

We barely noticed the dust forming as I grew into the dragon for my somber duty, removing Cyrus’s body from the antenna.  I climbed down and gently laid him down before Kitty, who wailed loudly as she collected him into her arms.  Once back down on the deck, I shrank down into my human form and had to run into Cole’s arms, overcome with emotion and weeping at Cyrus’s fate.  This state of sadness lasted for a brief time, until Kitty acquired a thousand-mile stare and a slack face.  We were unsure what was going on, so I had to ask.

“Kitty, are you okay?”

She looked up at me and nodded vacantly.

“Do you know what’s going on?  What you’re doing?”

She sighed.  “I think so.”  And she proceeded to unzip and open her shirt, allowing her breasts to hang free.  Cole and I watched with a combination of confusion and fascination as she pressed the wizard’s mouth to one of her nipples.

She held him there for a long time.  We were unaware at the time, but apparently this was another aspect of her immortality powers: she could give her own life to someone else through what she later termed as “tiger’s milk,” which would heal all wounds and restore life to the dead.  This was the only time she ever did it, however.  I believe to this day that the only thing that could trigger this reaction in her was to save the life of someone she loved dearly.  Her love for Cyrus was apparent as me and Cole witnessed the act, so forceful in fact that we found ourselves unconsciously holding hands and cuddling, wanting to share the love with the two of them, as Kitty nursed Cyrus back to life.

When she had given him a great deal of tiger’s milk, we heard him gently sputter and breathe against Kitty’s furry flesh once again.  He seemed embarrassed by his compromised state and being out in the open with a topless Kitty, but all the same it seemed amusing to us.  Kitty, for her part, finally let her emotions out, clutching the small wizard to her and weeping with her joy that he was alive once more.

(Transcriber’s note: In doing some research, I was able to find a reference in some Russian newspaper archives of a decommissioned Soviet sub coming up missing, only to be returned seven days later after being located by what was being called “a multinational fleet.”  When I called a friend in Moscow who had worked on the story, she was able to tell me that a number of the details that went unreported were the modifications that had been made to the vessel, and that evidence of electrical arcing, fire, and gunshots were present on the outside of the ship’s upper hull, which tends to corroborate with Ariel’s story about Pak.  As far as news references to Pak, he was reported to have been killed during the same news cycle that the submarine was found.  Coincidence?  Probably not.—DAM)

[valaruakars]

Send Nudes 💌

Viktor x f!Reader || 2.2k || NSFW

As the titles says. You slip Viktor your nudes and let the chaos unfold. 

♥ One 👏 day 👏 project 👏 Might edit it on Saturday. Probs not tho.

warnings: voyeurism, masturbation, lil bit of blowjob, idk it’s really not that bad 

Viktor expects a morning much like every other in the lab, and in many ways, it is.

He arrives just before Jayce, with enough time to get the heat running, make coffee and peck at a muffin you’ve sent with him, settling nicely into the day. His partner enters with the usual ‘good morning,’ and today it’s a spirited greeting accented with an eager smile. Jayce immediately jumps into routine, gathering what he needs to set himself up for another day of progress.

As Viktor takes up residence at his desk, hefting his bag onto the as of yet uncluttered surface, Jayce approaches with an easy request.

“Oh hey, before you get started, can I borrow your notes on the resonance equation?”

“Of course,” he nods, rummaging through his bag without a second thought, “Let me— Ah, here.”

Jayce takes the tattered brown book into his hands, cracking it open as he turns on his heel to go. “Thanks, I’ll get it back to you—” He manages one step before he slams it shut and whirls around, shoving it back at Viktor with bizarre urgency, his voice strangled when he says, “Now. Right now.”

Bewildered, he looks down at the notebook now clutched to his chest, then back to his partner, who is red-faced to the tips of his ears. “Jayce, what—” he tries, but is cut off by the heavy clap of Jayce’s hand on his shoulder.

“Wow man, I’m… so happy for you. Just uh, forget I saw anything, okay?” he insists, pointedly avoiding eye contact, “I’ll work on something else today.”

At a total loss for how to respond, Viktor weakly echos “Okay…” to his hastily retreating back.

It takes only the span of two heartbeats before curiosity overtakes him and Viktor is scrambling to see what the hell could have shaken his friend so thoroughly, and oh.

Oh.

Stuck between the pages, rendered in black and white, is you. Several iterations of you, evidently, but the one on top, the one Jayce saw… His face burns. You, lips parted, chest bared, letting your sheer little robe slip down the arms cradling your naked breasts. The worst—maybe best?—part is this: your neck, proudly exposed, is absolutely ravaged with a dark mosaic of marks only he could have left there. It dawns on him, the way your hair is mused and your distant stare glassy, that you undoubtedly took this after he fucked you thoroughly and left.

You are an unsubtle thing, at times ruthless in your pursuit of his affections. And this is so unmistakably you, to turn your lust into something so temptingly beautiful, for if your body is fine art then he is a connoisseur.

And there’s more.

But Viktor quickly, carefully as not to damage them, shuffles your pictures into his vest pocket where they can rest heavy near his riotous heart. You are thoughtful. You are wicked.

It’s going to be a very long day.

And true to form, the hours until evening move at a glacial pace. Little work of the collaborative sort can be accomplished when his partner will hardly look in his direction. It leaves him to simmer on high somewhere between embarrassment that Jayce might think him an absolute pervert and jealously that the wrong man saw your brazen gifts first. Well, at least one of them.

At regular intervals, his fingers itch to pull them out and glance for the briefest moment at how else you’ve posed yourself for his viewing pleasure. But his mind tuts disapprovingly that things like this are meant to be savored and there is work to be done that doesn’t involve a frivolous boner.

Regardless, hardly anything gets done before the bulk of the day has passed at a snail’s pace.

He waits fifteen excruciating minutes past seven and then finally excuses himself to dinner like it’s simply an afterthought, but the tap of his cane blatantly announces his hurried, eager pace. Jayce waves over his shoulder and says nothing, hardly looks up from his writing, and thank the gods for it.

You’ve beaten him back to your apartment. Of course you have, since this was so clearly a trap. You’re not trying to hide it, smiling at him in the mirror like you’ve triumphed as you languidly brush out your hair. Wearing that slinky, nearly translucent slip and the very same robe from your picture, spilling off one shoulder suggestively.

“I was starting to think you didn’t quite get the message,” your reflection says without preamble, setting down the brush amongst your clutter of bottles and baubles.

“(Y/N),” he sighs, sliding his coat from his shoulders, “Will you never just… tell me what you want?”

“A little credit please, I can definitely be blunt. But there’s not much romance in that. Besides, if I had said this morning ‘please come home early and fuck me’ you would have forgotten by now.”

“Write me a note next time,” he quips all too carelessly.

“You’d prefer a note?” Your face blanches like you’ve been struck, curdling swiftly into anger as you pivot in your chair to look at him directly, “Seriously?”

“No, no—” he says, quick to amend the implication that he didn’t like what he saw, “That was, ah, very thoughtful. But do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I think I do,” you simper, dragging your eyes shamelessly down to stare at the outline of his cock, “I’m sure it was awfully hard to get any work done today. Did you try thinking with the head on your shoulders, hm?” But you can’t ever take yourself too seriously, snickering at your own little joke.

“I did,” he says dryly, “That was not the issue.” The delicate arch of your brow is prompt enough. “We had collaborative work planned for today, but Jayce could hardly speak to me.”

“Why…?”

“I lent him my notebook.”

“That notebook?”

“Yes.”

“But you took the pictures out first, right?” He doesn’t respond neither immediately nor affirmatively, and your voice pitches up an octave. “Right?”

“How could I have, (Y/N)? I hadn’t seen them yet.”

“Oh. Oh, oops—” you snort, much less mortified than you ought to be, your shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, “Embarrassing, but at least I had the good sense to put the tamest one on top.”

“That was… tame?”

“Um, yes?” you scoff, canting your head curiously, “I think that’s pretty obvious. Unless… Did you not see all of them?”

“There was no good time to look,” he says softly, finally moving in closer to pet your pretty hair, “And I hoped you might show me instead.” His hand migrates to your shoulder, brushing down the thin strap of your slip as he presses his lips to your temple, whispering, “Why would I need pictures when I can have the real thing?”

When you are bold enough to touch his cheek, turning your head to catch his lips, he obliges you one long, thorough kiss. He seizes the opportunity to slide that paper-thin garment off your shoulders entirely, letting it gather around your waist. Exposed and at the mercy of his cold, calloused hands, you flinch beneath his frigid touch as he moves to cradle the softness of your breast. Whether from the chill or the sweet sensation, you shiver beneath him as his thumb brushes over your nipple; once, twice, until you finally make a lovely, breathy sound for him.

It’s quite flattering the way your body chases his lips when he pulls away, wanting more so involuntarily.

He offers you a hand as you rise to your feet, sending you off in the direction of the too empty bed. You have an awfully confused look on your rosy face, an adorable crinkle to your brow, when he drags the chair you’d been occupying to the end of the bed. How sad, that it pales and you look so stricken when he moves to sit, laying his cane on the floor.

“I—I didn’t think you meant… that.”

“Is this a problem?” he asks thickly, a trace of humor on his tongue. Moving to unfasten his pants, he baits you skillfully, “Are you suddenly shy, lyubov?”

“No,” you mutter, an indignant sound, slinking onto the bed with a huff. You seem mad, but fuck, he can’t help noticing the delicious sway of your breasts as you settle in on your knees. “It just feels like you’re punishing me.”

“I’m not punishing you,” he soothes, drawing out his cock and letting you watch, open-mouthed and entranced, that first stroke of his hand, “Is this not what you hoped for?”

“When I’m not around, sure,” you pout, torn between staring at his hand and his lust-blown eyes, “But I’m here and very willing to put my mouth on you.”

“No, thank you,” he hums, and regrets it slightly for the dry friction he has relegated himself to. A deeply obscene voice in his mind whispers to make you lean over and spit on his cock, but he’s lucid enough to believe that might cross a line into degrading when you already seem cagey. “I would prefer to see the content of your next picture now.”

“Asshole,” he hears you grumble beneath your breath, whispering for you to be nice, my darling in return.

He strokes himself languidly, letting his legs fall wider apart despite the faint protest in his hip. An appreciative little groan falls unbidden from his lips as you arrange yourself, revealing your salacious lack of panties. Your pose isn’t quite as lewd as expected; rather, it’s teasingly sensual as you curl onto your side, knees pulled toward your chest, toes pointed just so, to allow him a complete view of your perfect ass. The peek of your cunt, already wet and wanting, is only a bonus. He wonders distantly if you’re replicating the expression too, your teeth sunk into your lip, a curious stare cast over your shoulder. “That’s two of four,” you remind him helpfully, wiggling your strong thighs temptingly, “Let me know when you get tired of your hand.”

“Mmhm. Next, please,” he says dismissively, loosening his tie where it feels tight around his flushed neck.

You shift up onto your knees once again, pulling the slip entirely off your body. This. This is what he was anticipating. You spread your hips wide and sink into a deep spread, leaning back just slightly to show off your swollen lips and ruefully untouched clit. Your hands reach up to cradle the back of your head, tangling into your hair, and the stretch of your breasts is an exquisite sight. You hum a laugh as you bounce yourself for embellishment, evidently loosening up under his watchful eye. “Oh wow,” you snicker from above him, “You look close.”

“I do not,” he scoffs, but his body is beginning to tell him otherwise, if he listens.

“Consider that I’ve seen what your face looks like when you cum,” you whisper with the dulcet voice of a complete smart-ass. At least you don’t need to be told to take up the last position.

You do that of your own accord, turning onto your hands and knees. But it gets so much worse. You bow your body to the headboard, pressing your cheek down into the mattress, and spread your thighs before him so that, unimpeded, he can see everything. Your hand snakes between your legs, coming to grip the skin right where your thighs and soaking cunt meet, but going no further. Of course, it would ruin the view. But he’s well past that now.

The cord in him is drawn very, very tight. He’s always had an embarrassingly easy time getting off just thinking about you, never mind looking straight at the compromising bend of your body, how devastatingly wet you get for him.

“Come here,” he rasps, voice dangerously close to cracking.

“No, you come here,” you demand, finally dragging your fingers down the drenched expanse of your folds with a sigh.

“(Y/N), pozhaluysta—” he pleads, trying to impart upon you the gravity of the situation, “—I can’t.”

And whether that means he’s too close, literally can’t get up, or just can’t fuck you like that today, it doesn’t matter. You get it. You get it to the point that you scramble off the bed and practically throw yourself to the floor at his feet, hands gripping his thighs reassuringly as you search his face for instruction.

“Your mouth,” he hisses through gritted teeth, and there’s barely time before he’s spilling in thick rivulets across your tongue and down your throat. He is struck by the realization that you’re not just making pleased little sounds around his cock for the hell of it. No, you’ve got a hand cradled between your legs and you’re writhing on your knees against it, coming completely undone alongside him.

“Enough,” he breathes, coaxing your mouth off him. Your heavy head falls against his thigh as the last tremors of your orgasm wrack your body, and he pets your hair, soothes your cheek through it.

Your voice is small, your breathing still ragged when you whisper, “You’re going back, aren’t you?”

“I have to,” he sighs, tucking himself away, “But not yet. After dinner.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice a tight, hesitant thing, “So… am I dinner?”

“No, I was being literal,” he laughs, a soft, resonant sound, “But you’ve been good to me, lyubov. You could be dessert.”