#nothing too major but it flows much better now

[athina-blaine]

you can't carry it with you if you want to survive (Nimona 2023) - Chapter 2 (Preview #2) (New)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion)

Preview #1 (Updated 01/21/24)

Crouched beneath the desk, scanning the floor for one last stray budget document, a sudden, sharp chime rang from his pocket, startling him so badly he jumped and banged his head into the underside of the drawer. Eyes watering, he settled back onto his haunches, bringing his phone to his ear with one hand and rubbing the back of his throbbing head with the other. “This is Ambrosius,” he said, vaguely noting the late hour and the unfamiliar number, but primarily relieved that his words hadn't emerged as a slurred, incoherent mess. “Sir Goldenloin?”  At the unfamiliar woman’s voice, Ambrosius narrowed his eyes, confused. “Yes?”

At his reply, the woman's sharp sigh of relief crackled the receiver, her voice straining with tears. “Thank Gloreth. I am so, so sorry, sir, I know this isn’t exactly protocol and it’s late and I'm not technically supposed to have your cell but I didn’t know what else to do and I–”

“Hey, whoa–” Ambrosius’ eyebrows shot up in alarm as he hoisted himself to unsteady feet. “Who is this? Are you hurt?”

“No! No, sir, I’m just–” The woman’s voice hitched with a wet sniffle. “I’m sorry. This is Officer Laurel, sir, reporting from the Starcrest hotel over on Willowbrook. The patrolmen's guild has received reports of a disturbance, sir.”

His stomach lurched. It could be a coincidence—the Cynarian workers weren't scheduled to arrive at the Starcrest until next week, why would there be any trouble now? And yet, apprehension flooded him as fleeting images of the angry, fearful faces he'd seen in the crowd earlier that afternoon raced through his mind. 

“What kind of a disturbance?”

“Around 2100 hours, a group of five young men were witnessed breaking and entering the lobby of the hotel and have begun vandalizing the property. One witness believes she saw one carrying a bat. Sir, they—” Her voice wavered. “We suspect they’re a group of knight-cadets, sir.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, Ambrosius pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to keep his frustration from bleeding into his tone. “Where are you exactly? Are you in the lobby?”

Silence, followed by a sheepish sigh. “I’m in my squad car, sir. I’m– I gave them a stern warning, but I’m not a knight, sir, I'm just a meter maid! I’m not even authorized to carry a baton!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m pretty sure they’re inebriated, sir.”

Understanding surged through him with a jolt. “You’re alone? Where’s your backup?”

“I, um, am the backup, sir. Captain says we’re stretched real thin and–” She let out another shaky sigh. “He said the kingdom comes before a bunch of foreigners, sir.”

Ambrosius clenched his jaw as he grappled with his escalating anger towards the captain, the cadets, but most of all, himself. Of course. The patrolmen’s guild had been spread thin for months. He’d known that. He just hadn't thought to do anything about it until it had already been far too late to take any meaningful action.

He’d need to take care of this before it grew into something he couldn't handle. He could argue with the patrolmen’s captain and demand they send proper authorities to take care of this, but that could just make things worse. On top of wasting time, he might just receive a gaggle of meter maids and other ill-suited ilk, and Gloreth only knew how things would spiral from there.

The involvement of the knight-cadets ensured that news of this incident would be plastered everywhere by tomorrow morning. It could hand Ambrosius’ detractors even more fuel in their campaign against him, and that wasn’t even mentioning what Ambrosius would do if the Starcrest's belligerent executive officer, after receiving word of this, decided to rescind their agreement. He would have nowhere left in the whole damned kingdom willing to give the Cynarian workers a place to sleep.

It would unravel everything he's been building towards. Six months of late nights and skipping meals and suffering the unfathomable growing gulf between him and Bal, and he’d be right back to where he started.

No, this required a delicate touch; better to take the initiative and get as far ahead of the situation as he could than risk leaving it to someone less capable. It would grant him much more control over the fallout, and, besides, Ambrosius had never been very good at sitting back and watching someone else do his job for him.

Never.

“Let me take the lead, Director,” Todd had said, eyes glittering with malice. “I’ll make it hurt. I’ll make it–”

“I’ll do it.”

The words had spilled out before Ambrosius had a chance to consider them. Not that it would have made a difference. He knew, with a fierce, burning certainty, that there didn’t exist a world where he didn’t, at that moment, assume command. The agony of taking the lead himself paled in comparison to standing aside and allowing Todd, cruel, bloodthirsty Todd, take charge of Ballister's manhunt in his stead—even if the difference amounted to little more than having to choose between carving his heart out or just driving the knife clean through his chest.

No. Ambrosius had never been very good at sitting back and watching someone do his job for him. Not when he couldn't live with the consequences.

He could still hear the patrolwoman’s sniffles over the receiver.  “Officer?” 

She hiccupped. “Yessir.”

“Officer, I need you to call your captain and let him know what’s happening. Confirm there’s no other patrolmen or knights else available to assist.” He doubted it would manifest anything useful, but he still had to do things properly. “Keep me informed of any changes at the scene, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stay calm,” he said, reaching over to grab his messenger bag. “I’m on my way.”

A shuddering gasp broke the receiver’s pitch. “Thank you, sir. Really, sir, I don’t know what I would have– I’m sorry, I know this isn’t exactly standard procedure–”

“None of this is your fault.” If Ambrosius had a better handle as to the goings-on of his own damn kingdom, perhaps none of this would have come to pass in the first place. This was his mess, it was only fair he cleaned it up. “Stay where you are. I should be there in about 20 minutes. Maybe 30.” 

“Thank you so much, sir. I’ll keep you updated just like you said. Those boys won’t be able to sneeze without me letting you know, sir.”

Ambrosius chuckled. “Let’s not get carried away, Officer.”

“Yessir! I won’t let you down. Officer Laurel, out.”

He hung up the phone and brought it back to his ear just as quickly to phone a cab. With his car on the way, he grabbed the liquor bottle by its neck and shoved it into the back of the dark, dusty cabinet.

Glancing down at his phone again, he pulled up Ballister’s contact ID, thumbing the side of the screen. Taking a deep breath, he started typing.

Hey Bal

Something came up. Shouldn’t take more than an hour

I’m sor–

But he deleted that part. After the things said that night, Ballister deserved to hear any apology from his own lips, not from behind a screen.

Instead, he said,

I love you

The response didn’t take long.

Okay. Just keep me posted

I love you too

With a weary sigh, he pocketed his phone and slung his messenger bag over his shoulder. The cab wouldn’t arrive for another five minutes—just enough time to brew a hot, sobering cup of black coffee.

[zosanbrainrot]

PART 4!!

01 02 03 04 05 06

I stg I'm kicking yall in the shins one last time, we're ALMOST done with the angst!

Let me tell you I had this finished(!) twice(!), but no, I had to go back and change it lmao

In my first go the fight scene was much more rough, it was hard for me to draw from the beginning, I'm not really good at this sort of thing. So I took a little break from the comic and when I got back to drawing the last two panels (static ch close ups) they turned out so GOOD and CRISP! I just had to go back and redraw the previous ones. Didn't change the composition back then, just made the drawings less sketchy and fixed minor mistakes. This panel in particular went through bigger fixes, I couldn't get the pose right:

I emphasized the arch in Zoro's back so it's more clear he's hunched over, the head is lower, and the hand on his stomach wasn't looking good, so I switched its direction and I feel it looks more natural now. The whole pose is shifted to the side now, whereas in the previous ones it was more straight up, but I wasn't conveying perspective well.

So after that I had it all exported, loaded into drafts and as I scroll it on my phone I'm like... There should be one more panel where Zoro's getting kicked : | Imma need to change it AGAIN.......

It just didn't flow well. I work on the comic in chunks so I haven't put these panels together before, I always saw them side by side in my main file.

I just didn't like how you go from Zoro getting kicked to him being thrown, it just felt disjointed to me.

So first I looked through the three sole volumes of BNHA that I have at home to maybe understand drawing fight scenes just a little bit better. That's how I got to the new version of Zoro getting kicked so there's more lines showing movement etc. but most importantly you have the kick and Zoro's reaction separate. So now Zoro's face has a bigger closeup, you can see his open eye.

In the previous version it was more distant, the closeup wasn't as big and you couldn't see his expression well. With just the side view you could only see he's in pain but nothing more than that,whereas when you have a full view of his face you can get much more from that. You see where he's looking, you know he's looking at Sanji when he kicks him in the guts.

I guess that's why, in the first version, I was trying to still show his face where he's being thrown off of Sanji bcs I felt the side profile wasn't doing it's job, but at the same time it felt off, like there was less force in the kick bcs his head wasn't following the movement idk. Also he was def too big in the frame. So now Zoro's smaller to emphasize the perspective more, the head is down, the right arm is more to the side and there's more lines, the flame is more aggressive now and bursts into the sides when it comes in contact with Zoro's body to show the impact. I know they could be better still, but this is the best I can do right now and I'm happy with the result!! I'm glad I kept pushing it! These poses were VERY confusing to draw lol

Alsooo, it would make more sense if Sanji threw Zoro in the other direction, over his head like in karate/judo, but I wanted to keep my directions consistent. I had to have Sanji standing back to the carriage, so he doesn't notice the spear being thrown and Zoro facing the carriage so he can get hit from the front, right after he gets up. It's like..... did he not see it? Did he get hit on purpose? You decide lmao

Though I'm probably too rigid with my 'camera', in BNHA you see the action from any and every direction, i guess it adds to the dynamism of it all, also there's just many MANY more panels in manga lmao

Judge giving me major "isn't there somebody you forgot to ask" vibes at the end there lmao I hope you forgot he's even there and this comes as a surprise!

[thot4ellie]

new romantics

pairing: MODERN AU!college azriel x female reader

warnings: may be some triggering content including tampon is a douchbag at a party, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of sexual activity but nothing major, smut books mentioned (hehehe) a fight occurs but can you blame him? he’s just defending your honor ugh, two idiots in love who want nothing but each other and can’t admit it, no use of y/n, imagine her as you, because it is YOU! half editted… ill get to it later i promise

word count: 4.5k

summary: your new study partner is better than you first realize… and now you can’t stop thinking about him, but he can’t stop thinking of you either.

authors note: hi first time writing for acotor! been a fan of these books for a while and my baby azriel does something to me!!! so here’s something i spent the night writing it was 10 different things before it was this lol! pls like, reblog and comment! thank you everyone for reading! photo credit to pinterest, and please i strive to do better so any thoughts pls free feel to let me know! thank you for the support! this is the first time i’ve had the energy to write in months so pls dont go too hard

you met azriel in a greek mythology lecture that you both ended up in during the second semester of your sophomore year. getting partnered with an incredibly built and handsome man for a history report your teacher assigned was the least of your problems when you realized how fucking kind and beautiful azriel is on the inside and out.

the real problem came when you realized how hard you were falling for this man when you started hanging out casually, hitting the coffee stand before class or getting food after a long day. you learned so much about him in a matter of months and couldn’t get him out of your head.

you never spoke existence to your feelings for him, mainly because you didn’t want to ruin a very good potential friendship but partly because you didn’t think you were good enough for someone like him. you’ve heard little whispers about his other… activities and you couldn’t help the way it made you feel.

at the start of your junior year, you and azriel were practically best friends and it just felt so natural. the way you two were together. the way your conversations flowed and the way the silence was never deafening when you were together. you spent time cuddling on the couch in your living room watching movies and rating tv shows and going to visit parks around town and getting high as fuck. once time you had even gone crazy and took some acid and spent hours at the aquarium watching all the fish. you studied for classes together, the one you shared and the ones you both took on your own.

you and azriel were always testing out new recipes in his large kitchen. its wonderful that he lives alone. alone as in by himself but you cannot glance over the fact that the rhysand and feyre along with cassian and nesta live on the same floor of this apartment building close to campus. you luckly only live 2 floors down, a thing you realized when you managed to see him in the elevator about a week or two after you first started studying together.

you were debating all summer about confessing your feelings to him but could not gather the courage to bring yourself to admit it to him and face rejection. you couldn’t mess up the relationship between you already. he was your best friend and you really didn’t have too many besides him. you’ve met his family and have spend a lot of time with them, they’re all practically adopted you at the point, they welcomed you with smiles and open arms (besides amren but they told you she’s always like that.)

but a couple weeks into the semester, you and nesta were standing in a kitchen of a person you don’t know debating on what shitty cheap alcohol you’ll be indulging in tonight. it was the first big back to school party and it was still hot as hell out so you were dressed in dark denim shorts and nice tank top along with your black converse.

you and nesta instantly clicked when you met. bonding over smutty books and all the tv shows you managed to watch. she’s felt like your first real girl-friend ever, you guys got some comfortable together and every time you guys hung out, it felt like no time had passed. it was refreshing to have someone to talk to. she also happens to be the only one who knows about the feelings you harbor for your other best friend.

as you’re about to pour the tequila into your red solo cup, you hear someone call nesta’s name and she tells you she’ll be right back before scurrying off to whichever of her friends was calling her. leaving you there alone not knowing anyone at the party, nesta told you the rest of the group was going to meet you there but you have yet to see any of them as you turn your head around the room.

as you fill your cup and turn to put the bottle back down on the counter, you feel a hand glide around your waist and are suddenly aware of a man extremely too close your liking. “hey baby” he said as he slurred his words, clearly intoxicated, by the way he looked and smelled. it sent more warnings through your head even after he grabbed you like that. you had to leave, this couldn’t happen. thoughts are rushing through your head. you move your hand to push his arm off you as you turn around to be face to face with a tall blonde with long hair.

“what was that for?” he drags out as he tried to put his hand back on you. you instantly tried to move towards the way nesta went and told him, “please get off!” but he was too fast and held your upper arm in a death grip before he tugged you closer to his chest, his other hand back on your waist like the first time he did it. your eyes close in fear as he leans down to whisper something in your ear, but he’s gone in an instant.

it all happened so fast. all you see is a large, muscular, tattooed arm flying in front of you, hitting the man who was on you just seconds ago. you watched shocked as you finally lock in to the situation before you.

azriel beating the shit out of the man who had just laid his hands on you.

azriel swung his fist again towards him, hitting him square in the jaw, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he screamed at him, having another punch already landing with his other fist.

the man doesn’t respond before he swings back at azriel and managed to get a decent swing in, the hit landed to his lip but azriel doesn’t move at all. he’s standing still in the spot, continuing to tower over him.

azriel shoved the man back into the counter and landed a powerful hook right to his nose simultaneously. he cried out as it made contact, “fuck dude c’mon,” he reached up to grab it, blood pouring from his broken nose and busted lip. he steps closer as he removes his hand looking at the red liquid that has held onto his skin, ready to defend himself against the beautiful man that your eyes cannot stray from.

but azriel is faster and before he could even blink, managed to grab a hold of his shirt and pull him up to where his toes barely touched the floor. his hands fall at his sides and his eyes widen in fear as azriel gets closer to his face, leaning down to whisper something in his ear that you can’t hear over the loud music, people partying and the screaming and crying in your heart as you watched this all unfold.

suddenly azriel is tossing the man back into the counter and he barely managed to grab it and hold on, azriel suddenly grows larger, as if he could get any bigger, and leans to spit out the blood that had collected in his mouth behind him. and suddenly your attention is focused on the warmth now englufing your wrist. your eyes immediately register the sight of him standing in front of you, this was warm and right, his hands on you. it just felt so right.

his other hand reached out and gently lifts your chin to meet his gaze. the way the sense of safety coursed through you with his simple touch just confirmed, yet again, that this was going to be so hard for you to tell him.

“hey baby…” he spoke softly, his eyes darted between both yours. his attention solely on you. he let his finger rub against your cheek as he finished, “are you okay?” you can’t help the feeling the shoots through you at the use of the pet name and the look of shock that painted your face. not knowing if it came from, whether it was from what unfolded in front of you at this party or the fact he still holding your face and talking to you like this, so sweetly.

you blinked a couple times and the realization hit you that you’ve just been standing there, staring into his beautiful eyes. not paying attention to the group of people that crowded around as the fight was happening or the looks you guys are getting from other party goers that still surrounded you. the only thing you can stand to focus on his gaze.

azriel.

“i don’t know,” you almost whisper towards him, feeling his warmth covering you both. before you can talk again, he moves his scarred hand from your wrist, you feel almost… empty at the loss of contact but that doesn’t last long as he slipped his hand into yours and intertwined his fingers with yours as he guided you towards the front door.

you passed by so many people, you tried not to pay attention to all the looks you were getting. girls stared as they realized it wasn’t themselves in azriel’s grasp, but you. it was your hand he was holding. your heart beat at just the thought of it, your nerves were already shot as the events unfolded not even 10 minutes ago and this did not help one bit.

your eyes manage to catch nesta’s in the crowd, her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her, azriel holding your hand and leading you out of the party. oblivious to what actually happened to cause this, she gave you a huge smile and two thumbs up. you cant help but silently chuckle at your friend despite the other overwhelming feelings you have. you’ll explain the situation later when you text her but you were sure eventually she’d hear what happened.

he leads you out the front door and looks back at you with a small smile as you trail behind him. he walked you over, without a word and hands still intertwined and you finally notice your next to his old beat up mustang on the side of the street, the one that smells like him and the faint smell of weed that always lingers regardless of the last time he smoked in there.

he opened the car door for you and you released your hand from his and got into the passengers seat. once you were in, he reached over and buckled your seatbelt for you, giving it a tug to make sure it was connected before smiling down at you from outside the car. he shut the door satisfied and walked around the back of the car to open his own door and sat inside.

the silence is comfortable. it always has been, you pray that sometimes it’s awkward or uncomfortable but it never is. you sit in your seat, eyes staring down towards the hand he had been holding, almost in disbelief, that he defended you like that. you’ve never seen azriel angry like that either. he turns to face you, wanting you to meet his eyes.

azriel walked in the front door of the party, after having a pretty day. the customers at the restaurant he works truly sucked today. small tips and even shittier people. all he wanted to do was smoke off some steam and get drunk with cassian and rhys. he knew you were going to be here. cassian mentioned it in passing while talking about nesta so he was also on the look out for you. the girl who managed to catch his heart after having been partnered together. azriel couldn’t help the way he felt about you even though it almost felt wrong to him.

he didn’t want to take advantage of you, he knew you were shy and never really been in a relationship. he found that out when he walked into the kitchen of cassian and nesta’s apartment, and overheard nesta telling cass all about you after her and you hung out for the first time outside the group. so he just tried to ignore his feelings but regardless of that fact you were his bestfriend. he just couldn’t escape you.

and when he walked into that kitchen to see tamlin standing over you, your arm tight in his grip, the way your eyes were slammed shut trying to back away from him. he didn’t even think. he was there pulling him off you before he could even recognize what he was doing. throwing punches left and right towards the man who dared touched you. he barely even registered the hit he managed on no one but him can put his hands on you. he’s had that thought before but never brought life to it, but here? now?

all thoughts of guilt for feeling that way vanished. there was no way he was letting anyone touch you. but him. that’s all he wanted. he wanted you in a way he didn’t think was reciprocated. love was a funny thing to him, something he was never accustomed to until after he met rhysand and cassian.

his family never showed it, he lives with the constant knowledge of that every time he looks down at his hands. he thought about the way you never judged him of them, like it was nothing at all to you but that was everything to him.

the one sided crush he harbored on mor for a couple years was nothing in comparison to the way he felt about you. his few flings he had over the past couple years (after he realized it was pointless liking mor, also… because she slept with cassian) were mildly of convince and of urge but once he met you, he knew he was a goner.

he stopped the girls. the stopped the meaningless flirting and hooks up and took to just pleasuring himself to the thought as you, as shitty as it made him felt after. sometimes he just couldn’t look you in the eye the next time he saw you but you never said anything. you never commented on it and he silently thanked you in his head.

but right now, after he pulled you out of the party, scarred hand in yours, he needed you to look him in the eyes. but you still hadn’t and he couldn’t just keep staring at the face of the beautiful woman in front of him while it was coated with anxiety and exhaustion.

azriel lifted his distorted hand to your face meeting the soft warm skin that was your own. he gently brought your face to meet his gaze and as you locked eyes, the spark hit you yet again.

gods he was breathtaking. dark hair that covered to above his ears, the eyes that seemed to stare into yours every single time they met, the tattoos that covered him and his golden brown skin that you swore shined outright during different points in the day. your heart cannot handle this man.

“please,” he practically whispered you barely even registered that he said it before he continued, “are you okay, what can i do?” the sound in his voice felt desperate as his eyes bore into yours, the feel of his hand on her face, you couldn’t help but lean into his grasp and close your eyes, taking in the feel of him. you responded a moment later after letting out a sigh and looking at him again.

“can we just go home? i just want to sleep” you asked him with a pleading tone as you feel his thumb rub against your cheek for the second time that night. ugh the things this man does to you. all you wanted was for him to hold you, to feel the press of his body against yours. anything to get the feeling of someone else off you. “yeah baby, we can.” he said gently before he moved his hand down to yours and gave you a light squeeze before he turned the car on and shifted into gear, pulling off in the direction of home.

once you arrived back to the apartment building, he parked in the lot next to the front door and moved around the car to open your door, he gave you his hand as you stepped out. he went to put his hand at your lower back as he opened the door for you but decided against just in case that was a lot for you right now. he did not want to make it worse. he could see the fear in your eyes back there, no way would he subject you to that if you weren’t comfortable with it. so instead he just followed behind you, hitting the button to the elevator to take you up to your floor.

the elevator luckily isn’t taking forever today so when it opens, you and azriel step in and he goes to hit the floor for your apartment but your hand reaches out and stops him. “can we go to yours please?” your head moves up to meet his gaze but his eyes are focused on where your hand is on his wrist. a second later his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small nod and hits the button for the fifth floor. you remove your hand and lean against the wall right next to him, his hand reaches out and entangles his bumpy fingers with yours.

“is this okay?” he asks you. you can barely hold it in after that, the tears finally fall. he feels the sudden change in your body as he moves closer to you but removing his hand from yours in fear that you didn’t want to touch him. but in reality that’s all you want. you want him to touch you. you want him to love you. you want everything with him. its all just so overwhelming, everything that has happened.

he goes to speak but before he can get a word out, your body is on his engulfing him in a hug around his long torso, he instantly wraps his arms around your smaller frame. he can feel your body shake with tears and all he wants to do is make sure that no one ever makes you feel like this again. you deserve so much better, he only wishes he could be better for you too. you squeeze him tighter and he just holds you until the elevator door opens and you pull away from him. mascara and tears running down your face, you can see it on his shirt. he smiles at you before he pulls his hands to your face and wipes your cheeks off with his rough yet soft hands.

you cant help the laugh that escapes you as he wipes his hands on the t-shirt staining it even more with the leftover residue on your face. he gives you a chuckle before connected your hands yet again, walking with you out of the elevator to his one bedroom apartment. he fishes in his pocket with his other hand and pulls out his keys. he unlocked the door and held it open for you to walk in.

your senses are taken over by the smell of him. the smell of his candle lingered from the coffee table covered with textbooks in the large living room, he has a basket of blankets he keeps in the corner because he knows you get cold watching tv. he has a big L shaped couch which had a 60 inch tv across the room, with a boatload of dvds underneath. something you both agreed was a dying art. you and azriel swear physical media will make a comeback one day but you guys will never forget how they ruined it!

his space was a lot bigger since you have a two bedroom apartment. but it was perfect for him. azriel had loved the way he made his space his own, his bass guitars set up in the corner next to his collection of vinyl records and a record player that rhys and cassian got him when he turned 21… as well as a shit ton of booze. he had a bookshelf that held his favorites, as well as your own.

he bought a copy of almost every book you talked about so that he was in the loop with what you were reading. even the ones you didn’t talk about that he caught on your nightstand or in your reading nook. when he bought one of those and read it, his jaw dropped. he immediately thought of nesta and her smutty books but this sent something else though his body. he couldn’t help but keep reading… he wondered if you thought about him while reading these scenes of them ravishing each other, in every way imaginable. he sure did! his right hand hates him!

and you definitely did to… thought about him in ways that you shouldn’t. thinking about him doing all those things to you. the way you knew he would take care of you. the way you knew you could take care of him, despite how inexperienced you are. the thoughts drove you crazy. it was practically all day and every day at this point. thinking about the way his hands would feel running up your thighs or the way his lips would feel on yours.

now here you are, standing in his living room, just wanting all that and little did you know… he did too.

“hey az…” you uttered towards him. he was already next to you as you spoke, “can we lay down please?” your voice was barely a whisper.

he didn’t even need to speak, he just brought you to his room. he lead you to sit on the corner of the bed as he turned and riffled through his dresser, pulling out a large dark green shirt and handing it to you with a smile, “change into this, i’ll be right back.”

“can i take a shower?” you asked azriel shyly. “yes of course, one sec.” you watched as he walked out the room and shut the door behind him. you took your shoes off and placed them by the bedroom door next to azriel’s shoes. he came back in a second later with a fresh towel and a water bottle.

“here you go, you already know where the shower is,” he says with a small chuckle. you give him a grateful smile and a thank you as you took the items from his hands and gave him one last look before heading into his connecting bathroom.

you turned on the hot water and you stripped out of your clothes and threw them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the bathroom. you got in the shower and felt instantly better. the way the water followed hot you could feel the touch of the man from the party washing away, only to be replaced with thoughts of azriel touching you instead. you reviled in it.

you washed your hair and body with his shampoo, conditioner and body wash. silently thanking him for not using 3-in-1 (nesta found out that’s what cassian used and flipped shit) you finished your shower and dried off with the towel he gave you.

you put on his t-shirt that made its way down to your mid thigh when it was on completely. you loved when you were covered in him. you walked back out into the room and didn’t see azriel so you took your seat at the edge of the bed and waiting for him to come back. you sat there and picked at your nails, feeling so wore out you didn’t even want to cry anymore.

azriel came in two minutes later, dressed him long flannel pajama pants and you can see the band of his underwear peeking out as he gets closer to you. he changed after you went into the bathroom, and then went to the kitchen to make sure he was stocked up on the tea you liked and the snacks you guys enjoy together, just in case you got hungry.

he ran around his living room and cleaned random odds and ends. putting dishes in the sink, folding the blankets thrown on the couch and organizing his cd collection. anything to busy himself instead of thinking of you in his shower. anything to get his mind off the amazing woman just in the other room. he hears the shower turn off and waited a few more moments before heading back into the room.

he moved the covers down to make room for you as he said, “after you princess,” with a smile on his face. you returned it and stood up to make your way to the bed but not before turning to hug him again. his arms wrapped around you as you mumbled “thank you azriel,” into his chest. you hold on for a few moments before releasing him. he looks at you before motioning to the bed, “i would do anything for you, you know that.” you felt your cheeks grow red at the thought, at the knowledge that he would.

you climb into the bed and laid your head on the pillow, turning to look at azriel, you wondered why he was still standing. “az are you coming?” you said bashfully. he blinked and bent down to the bed to be eye level with you. “i’m gonna sleep on the couch tonight.” you could feel the way your face dropped in disappointment as you registered what he said. he saw it too and felt it deep in his chest.

he stood up and was about to say goodnight but you beat him to it, “azriel please i need you.”

you could feel how desperate you sounded but you didn’t care. you just needed him. next to you right now. he said nothing else as he moved the blankets again, but this time he was under them. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into his chest, your hand found it’s way over his fast beating heart and his tattooed arm wrapping around you. the warmth and scent of him took over everything in your body. you finally felt safe. your legs tangled together as you eventually fell asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

“i need you too.” he said to a room with no one awake but him to hear.

part 2??? i would love to write one! let me know what you think! i’d love to keep writing for acotor so yay! pls enjoy :) i’m on the edge of my seat writing this hehe

[hayakawalove]

Second Chance

Summary: After a battle with you, Suguru finds himself back at Jujutsu High with a major head injury. He doesn't remember any of the events that occurred over the past couple of years, including his defection. Will you be able to give him a second chance, or is it already too late?

A/N: Big shout out to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for discussing this with me. They are wonderful and their work is phenomenal, please check them out. I hope you all enjoy! The idea just seemed so interesting to me. How would reader act if they saw Suguru again, and he didn't remember anything? I'm sorry for the ending. I hope you'll forgive me! Comments are appreciated!

CW: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Amnesia, Flashbacks, Death, Friends to Lovers

W/C: 4,791

Credit to cafekitsune for the banner

Silky hair and chapped lips. 

You’ve seen this man before, but never like this. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here, hours you think. Shoko has come in with food twice, but you’ve turned her down both times. It’s hard to have an appetite like this. There’s an endless pit in your stomach, the anxiety clawing at your insides like a demon. 

He’s changed. His hair is a bit longer, muscles a bit bigger. You can’t see his eyes, but you think they’re probably more cynical than they were several years ago. You deduce by the lines on his face that he still smiles the same. That angers you. 

You feel like the clock in the room is too loud. When you look around, you notice there isn't a clock. It’s just your heartbeat in your ears. It hurts how loud it is. 

You were a bit surprised Suguru showed his face. He avoided everyone, and everyone avoided him. For a while you thought maybe that would make it hurt less. You’ve grown to learn there’s nothing you can do to make it hurt less. 

Suguru was hurt. More hurt than you’ve seen him in a while. It was weird seeing him injured, it was even more weird knowing you were the one who caused it. Suguru was stronger than you. He always has been. Because of this fact, you can’t help but think that maybe he let you win. 

It was a laughable assumption. You knew there wasn’t a world in which he would give up that easily to you. But you couldn’t shake the idea no matter how much you tried. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

When Suguru fell to his knees you had a split second to make a decision. You could finish it all. Kill him. It was exactly what he deserved. There was a small voice in the back of your brain though, telling you you couldn’t kill him. You didn’t know if that was true. You suppose it was, because you dragged his body back to the school despite everything in your body telling you not to. 

It took a lot of convincing to find a room fit enough to hold Suguru. The higher ups were afraid he may do something drastic, but you knew better. After everything he’s done, he’s never gone after other sorcerers. “Just for now.” They told you. He can stay here until they figure out what to do with him.

A finger twitch. 

Any exhaustion that you may have felt was eradicated instantly. You stare at his fingers, praying to yourself it was fake, praying to yourself it was real. 

Lashes flutter and you’re met with caramel eyes. 

Words get caught in your throat, so all you do is stare. He was awake. He was awake and looking at you. Suguru. Memories flash through your brain of the childhood you once shared, happiness and youth flowing through your veins. You may have seen him earlier during your fight, but you didn’t see him, not really anyway. Not like this. Not up close where you could see your own reflection in his eyes.

He stares back, widening his eyes to wake himself up even more. 

Who was going to speak first? 

What would you say? 

Would he-

“Jellybean.”

There’s no ticking anymore. You think your heart has stopped, the sound no longer driving your thoughts. 

That was the nickname he had for you before he left. You aren’t even sure how he came up with it, you don't even remember when he came up with it. The only thing you could remember was how it sounded when it flowed through his lips. Just like that. It sounded just like that. 

Your mouth is glued shut as you look at him. Something is different. Something is wrong. The air around him feels different compared to hours ago. It’s not as heavy. His eyes flick around, taking in all the details of the room. 

“Geto.” You murmur. 

You use his family name out of spite, deciding that he doesn’t deserve to hear you speak his given name. 

Suguru’s brows furrow for a moment, as if surprised to hear you call him that. His gaze trails down to the handcuffs binding him. You know he wants to ask why, but he doesn’t. 

“What happened?” 

He couldn’t remember? It was hard to believe. Memories from your fight were replaying in your mind for hours. 

“You’re joking, right?” You ask. 

“Why would I be joking?”

Fine. You may as well go along with it.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” 

Suguru attempts to sit up but he doesn’t get very far. Pain is etched in his face as he moves. 

“I remember watching the stars.” 

It was something the two of you did together. 

You hadn’t done it in years. 

The last time you star gazed together was a couple of weeks before he left. 

“What do you mean?” You press. 

“I’m guessing more time has passed, you don’t look the same.” He has a thoughtful expression on his face as he takes in your features. 

He’s right. You don’t look the same. You don’t feel the same, either. Where he had smile lines, you now had worry lines. Your lips were set in a permanent frown. 

“You would be correct.” 

“How much time has passed?” 

You don’t really know how to respond to him. You can’t tell him it’s been years. You’re sure that would hurt him. You don’t know why you care about his feelings, when he showed you he didn’t care about yours. 

“A while.” You try to reign in the edge of your voice, but it’s hard.

Emotions you hadn’t thought about in years were beginning to stir inside you. 

���Why am I bound?”

“Safety precaution.”

He thinks on your response before resting his head back. If he doesn’t remember the past several years, that means he doesn’t remember what he did. 

Was that even possible? Forgetting years of memories sounded far fetched. You wanted to believe he was lying, perhaps playing some cruel joke on you. But as you look at him, your heart tugs. He looks like the old Suguru. He feels like the old Suguru. 

“What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? He didn’t get to ask that. Not when he’s the one who put you in this mess. Not when you were unsure of what was even right. 

“You don’t get to ask that.” You bite back. 

He has the audacity to look hurt by the tone of your voice. 

The room grows quiet at your reply. He was done asking questions. Good, you think. You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take.

You call Shoko to assess him. When she arrives, she doesn’t tell you much more than you already know. He’s lost his memory, probably due to a head injury sustained in the fight. How he lost so many years, she couldn’t tell you. Shoko is stiff as she examines Suguru, even more quiet than she usually is. It’s hard to watch. It doesn’t go past Suguru, but then again nothing ever goes past him.

She waits for you outside the room, tired eyes following your figure as you close the door behind you. 

“Should I tell the higher ups?” She asks. 

“Probably. It’s not a secret that he’s here anyway.”

“And Gojo?” 

The mention of his name cuts you like a blade. You hadn’t even thought of him. Did that make you selfish? 

If anyone in the world should know about Suguru, it’s his other half. Gojo knows he’s here, but he doesn’t know the full extent of it. He doesn’t know that Suguru forgot everything. 

“Yeah- you should,” you downcast your gaze. “You should tell him.” 

What would his reaction be? You weren’t really sure. The man had become so detached from the events that had happened all those years ago. He never spoke about Suguru anymore, and would shut down the conversation anytime you tried to talk about it. 

“Alright, but” Shoko says your name and steps closer. “Keep an eye on him.” 

The way she says it sounds like a warning. Not like advice from one caring friend to another. 

“Why? You don’t believe him?” 

“I don’t know. It’s certainly possible. There’s also a chance his memory could come back. Who knows what would happen if that was the case. Just be careful.” 

You have to fight to swallow the rocks in your throat. She was right. Anything could happen. You should be scared. You know that. But there’s a deep part of you that had wanted this to occur. You wanted to have him back, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

He betrayed you. He hurt you. He was the villain in your story. 

Even still. Even still. 

He was your friend. Your best friend. 

You wave Shoko off before leaning against the door. You release a long sigh, trying to collect yourself before going back into the room. You were going to have to get through this one way or another. You just hoped it would be as painless as possible. 

~~~

“What’s wrong?” He asks once more. 

It’s been a week, and he’s been acting the same way the whole time. In the beginning, you almost thought it would be a ruse. Now, you were certain it wasn’t. 

No one could keep up this ignorant act for that long. Not even Suguru. 

“Nothing.” Your reply is curt. 

You were less angry now. Still hurt, but you were confused more than anything. There were two parts of you, playing tug of war with your heart. Your past and present, fighting for a chance to control you. Your past self wanted to pretend everything was okay, but your present self was screaming at the top of their lungs trying to warn you not to get too close.

Suguru’s lip twitches. It always used to do that. You hate that you remember all of his quirks still like the back of your hand. You tried to forget them, but it was a fruitless endeavor. 

They were a part of you, tattooed on your soul.

“Come on. You know you can’t lie to me.” 

He was right. As much as you were acquainted with his quirks, he was acquainted with yours. If you were being completely honest with yourself, he probably knew you better than you knew him. You never wanted to believe that, but you learned that it was the truth the hard way. 

“No, but I can try real hard.” 

You didn’t know what to tell him even if you wanted to. Where would you even begin? Suguru had turned into the very thing he had been fighting against for years. If you spoke the words into existence, they would become real. Suguru was a monster.

How could you possibly tell him that?

Suguru cracks a grin and you feel like you’re free falling. It was the same smile you grew up with. 

He always graced you with that grin when offering you a cold soda. When you begged him to hold your phone so you could run through the sprinklers. When you stayed up way past your bedtime just so you could talk a little bit longer. 

You hate it. You hate it. You hate it. 

You hate that he’s having this effect on you. Making you melt in his hands as if he hadn’t ripped your heart out. As if the last couple of years didn’t happen at all.

As you repeat the words to yourself you realize it’s a farce. It didn’t matter how much you told yourself you hated him and never wanted to see him again, it simply wasn’t true.

“I suppose so.” He sighs, resting against his hands.

You’re glad he’s dropped the matter. You were unsure how much longer of this you could take. Being in the room with him was suffocating, made even worse when he tried to prod at you. 

You quickly realized leaving his side was just as, if not more awful than being with him. You were constantly wondering how he was, if his memories had come back. It was terrible. 

~~~

Suguru was nearly all healed up. His memories still hadn’t come back, which put the Jujutsu society in shambles. The higher ups wanted to execute him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember what he’d done. But there were others who wanted him to become a sorcerer once more. 

If he didn’t have any past memories, they could mold him into a hero again. 

You think part of that pressure was a factor in why he left. A man gifted with powers that were out of this world. Neither him or Gojo had much of a say in how they operated before, being used like puppets in a game. Their entire high school career was like that, at least until Suguru forced open a new path.

You hated that the sorcerers thought that, that they wanted to use him like that. But you understood it. 

Suguru was an asset, you would have to be blind not to acknowledge that. 

Then there was Gojo. He didn’t have much of an opinion. Maybe he did, but he never said anything. Never spoke his mind one way or the other. On the outside it almost seemed he was impartial to the decision, but you knew that couldn’t be true. 

It must hurt for him just like it hurts for you. 

Although he has the added responsibility of being the executioner, the ax that will swing down if Suguru is decided to be irredeemable. 

You stride by Suguru, the two of you deciding to go on a walk this morning. His steps are small, walking slowly in order to remain at your pace. When you were in school he did the same thing. Never too fast, never too slow. 

The two of you weren’t even supposed to be out of the room he was placed in. Who knows what would happen if the higher ups found out you had been taking him on excursions? 

But you just couldn’t not bring him outside. The room he was being kept in was so small and suffocating. Everytime you mentioned doing something outside of it, you would catch a glint in his eye. He was envious. Of course he never said anything. That wasn’t in his nature. He would smile and nod, listen to your stories while pushing down his own desires to explore. 

You felt for him. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to be confined to a bed, awaiting your sentencing for a crime you didn’t even remember committing. So what if you snuck him out? It was only for a day. Nobody had to know.

The school grounds were relatively quiet, giving you the perfect opportunity to walk around. For how mad you initially were, you sure were crumbling fast. It was hard to maintain your disposition. Suguru was back, and that’s what you had wanted for years. 

“You hurt a lot of people.” You say, figuring you should finally clue him in.

The words taste bitter on your tongue. It feels like the understatement of the century. 

“How many?” He responds. 

You don’t say anything. You don’t say anything because you aren’t sure what to say. You had no idea how many people Suguru killed. And even if you did, you aren’t sure you would be able to tell him. 

Suguru picks up on your expression. 

“That many?” He murmurs.

You look away as if you’ve been caught in a lie. The clock (your heart) is back, and it won’t stop ticking. It’s hard to breathe under the heat of his gaze, under the pressure of reality. 

“That many.” 

You could tell that it was hard to believe for him. It was hard for you to believe, too. You wonder what’s going through his mind. The Suguru you once knew would never dream of hurting anyone.

“They want to kill you.” You go on. May as well lay it all on the table right now.

You assumed he probably already knew. You wanted to say the words anyway, to dispel any assumption that things would go back to normal once he was released. Then again, you weren’t really sure what normal meant anymore. 

“I see.” 

Suguru doesn’t argue back. He never does. Not like Gojo, who could argue until his face was red. Suguru doesn’t try to plead his case because he isn’t able to. What’s done was done. Even if he doesn’t remember it.

An unassuming man on death row. 

You tell yourself it wouldn’t hurt if he was being killed if he maintained his memories. That wasn’t the case, though. The man who was being put on trial for execution was your Suguru. 

The Suguru you grew up with. The Suguru who would fight for you. The Suguru you loved more than anything. The Suguru before he broke your heart. 

(You tell yourself they’re two different people, two different Suguru’s, the before and after. But you know that’s not true. Whether you liked it or not, it was the same man.)

“You didn’t like nonsorcerers.” You say. The wind brushes his hair from his face. “What do you think about them now? How do you feel about helping them?” 

His eyes flicker over the school. You wonder what he’s thinking. Is he remembering your childhood? For you, it had been years, but to him it felt like yesterday. You also were struck with memories of your childhood when you looked at the school, but they turned your stomach sour. 

“It makes me angry. I want to help them, they need it. But it hurts to see our friends die.” It was more than he had ever told you before. “What about you?” 

“I don’t mind.” You didn’t mind helping them in the same sense that you didn’t mind doing laundry. 

The task never ended. It was monotonous.

You had walked a full circle around the school, finally coming to a stop underneath a tree. It was the same tree you and Suguru had relaxed under many times before. It only made sense that your feet would carry you here. 

The two of you don’t share any more words, instead opting for a moment of silence. It was nice. Being under this tree with him. You needed it. As the wind kisses your skin you feel hopeful. Maybe he could be fixed. He just told you he wants to help. Maybe you could convince the higher ups he wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe you could save him. 

A form of repentance for your ignorance all those years ago.

~~~

The only sound coming from your room was the quiet lull of the TV. You had been up for hours, but you still weren’t tired.

Suguru was with you. He was clad in a large shirt with baggy pajama pants.

His presence was calming. Every night he made his way to your room to lay with you. 

It didn’t matter that neither of you slept for hours after he visited. You felt safe, and that was the important part. 

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” You ask, looking up at Suguru. 

You were laying on your bed, Suguru sitting at your side. He’s flicking through your TV, uninterested in everything that was playing at this hour. 

“Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll have Satoru with me.” 

Both boys were assigned on a top secret mission tomorrow. The only issue was that “top secret” hardly meant anything to Gojo. He blabbed about it the second he was excused from Yaga’s office. The two had to escort the star plasma vessel. An extremely vital task, an honor that wouldn’t have been bestowed upon just anybody. Of course the two special grades were assigned to do it. 

“And you’ll be there as well. You’re just as strong as him.” 

“For now.” 

You pout your lip out as you look at him. Suguru was always humble, but his humbleness was turning into self doubt these days. Of course it was hard to compare yourself to Gojo. He was almost a prophet. 

It didn’t help that all of the adults compared the two boys. Suguru was trying his hardest, wasn’t that all that mattered? 

“You’re stronger than me, if it’s any consolation.” You reply. 

It’s hard to know how to comfort him. He wasn’t wrong in thinking Gojo would surpass him, but you didn’t want him believing that meant he was less than. 

Suguru looks at you and grins, pinching your cheek. He chuckles softly at the way you cry, pushing his hand away. The TV was set on some childhood cartoon, a show you knew Suguru didn’t watch. Gojo did, though. You imagine it brought comfort to Suguru. He leaves it on in the background as he lays beside you. 

His body heat brings about more warmth than any blanket could conjure up. You use all of your willpower to not snuggle up to him. 

“Do you wanna do anything when I get back?” He questions.

The proposition almost sounds like a date. It could be one, you think. The feelings you share for each other is no secret, it’s as blatant as can be. Neither of you acted on them, though. It was almost like a game, it was fun. 

You thought you had all the time in the world. 

(Oh how wrong you were.)

One of you would make the first move, but for now you tiptoed the line between just being friends and something more.

“What would you want to do?” You close your eyes as you strain your ears to pick up on his voice. 

You don’t see it, but his gaze is set on you. Picking out the details on your face. 

“Anything.” 

You grin, your body beginning to feel weightless. It was always easier to sleep with him around. You begin to think about the adventures you could go on tomorrow, the options were limitless. He was right. You guys really could do anything. It didn’t matter, as long as he was by your side everything would be okay. 

Everything would be okay.

~~~

The higher ups had made their decision. Suguru was not going to live to see another day.

It stings when you hear the news. You don’t remember who told you, all you can remember is the way it made you feel. Like you’re drowning. 

Were you so naive as to think you could change the outcome of anything? 

That you could even save him?

The sun is shining when the day comes to execute Suguru. Birds are chirping, the temperature isn’t too hot and your world is falling apart once more. 

You thought you didn’t care about him anymore. 

Silly you. 

Maybe you would never stop caring for him. He was too intertwined with your soul. 

“You have one hour.” The news is delivered to you. 

Suguru hasn’t spoken a word to you all day. It’s not because he’s angry, no, he’s quite at peace with what's happening. 

He doesn't know everything he did, but he understands that this is what needs to happen. There can be no Suguru Geto, for the betterment of society. 

Regardless of what’s better for you.

It’s sick how depressed you feel. 

Your head is pounding and your stomach has been flipped upside down all morning. You don’t know why it’s such a shock to you. You knew this was coming. Deep down, you knew the odds of him making it out alive were slim. 

Maybe a part of you thought they would change their minds, and that you and Suguru could run into the sunset. 

What a fucking joke. 

“It’ll be okay.” Suguru murmurs in an effort to help you. 

He’s comforting you? He’s the one on death row yet he’s worried about your feelings? 

That was so like Suguru. 

Your Suguru. 

His wording is funny, too. He says “it will be okay” instead of “you will be okay”. He would never tell you how you’re going to feel, but he does know everything else would be okay. 

The world will keep spinning and the sun will keep shining once he’s dead and gone. No matter how much you wish it wouldn't. 

The world didn’t need Suguru, but you did. God, you did. 

You’ve survived this long without him, but at what cost? Your sanity? Your youth? You were a husk of a person since he left, but you at least knew he was out there somewhere. You wouldn't have such comfort anymore. 

“I don’t want it to be okay.” You reply. 

And you really didn’t. You wanted the world to crumble in his absence, just like you had. 

He smoothes his hand over yours, heat spreading throughout you. 

“I have to atone for my sins.” Suguru says your name like a prayer, watching as you shiver beside his bed. 

Suguru was right. You knew he was right. 

“What if you didn’t have to? What if I,” you begin. “What if we leave?” 

You snap your head up to look at him through bleary vision. There’s a small smile on his face as he watches you, like a parent placating a child. 

“And went where?” 

“Anywhere!” 

“No.” His response is curt. 

He reaches a hand up to cup your face. The tears have poured over your lash line now, and they won’t stop. 

It was happening all over again. He was leaving you again. 

“How can you do this to me?” You cry.

Suguru’s hand drops and his lips pull down a little. It must have stung when you said that. You don’t care that it hurts him. You’re hurting, and he could stop the pain if only he fought back. 

He scoots to the side of the bed to create room for you. He doesn't even have to tell you to get in before you’re hopping up, sliding down into his side. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You don’t want his sorry’s. You want him. 

Your hands curl up in the fabric of his shirt, tugging it as you cry beside him. There’s an hour left and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to compose yourself before then. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to compose yourself. 

Suguru’s hand runs through your hair as you release all of the pent up emotions. To mourn someone before they’re even dead is a difficult feat, and you’ve managed to do it twice for him. 

Will it be fast? Will it hurt? 

“You have to go, they’ll be here soon.” 

“I’m not- I’m not going anywhere.” You pull him closer. 

You would have to be dragged away. You were seeing this through to the end. He needed someone before he died. He needed someone now because he never had anyone before. 

Suguru releases a shaky breath and holds you against his frame. You memorize the way he feels beside you, the smell of his skin against yours. You never really forgot, but you wanted to indulge one last time. 

There’s foot fall outside the door and you bury your face in his chest, pleading for the universe to be kinder to you. 

“I love you, you know that right?” His voice cracks. 

“I love you, I love you Suguru, please don't let them take you,” 

You can hear his heart shatter, but it could just be a reflection of your own.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” He’s kissing your cheek, licking the salty remnants from his lips. 

Was he kidding? You wouldn't be able to take care of yourself, not like he could. Not like he did. 

The door creaks open and you slam your eyes shut. Not yet. You weren’t finished. You needed more time. 

Without taking a peek, you already know it’s Gojo who’s standing in the doorway. You don’t catch the somber gaze he shares with Suguru. 

At least it was going to be Gojo who did it. He would make it as painless as possible. 

You force Gojo to work around you. You intended to keep your promise. You weren’t going to leave Suguru, not until you had to. 

“I’ll be waiting.” Suguru murmurs in your ear. 

It’s over quicker than you were expecting. Suguru goes still in your arms, heavy hands loosening from your body.

You stay with him until he’s become stiff. Only leaving once you’re forcefully removed. 

There’s static in your ears as you’re dragged back to your room. It was finally over. The last page to a macabre book. 

You knew it hurt to lose him, you’ve done that before. 

But to really lose him? 

It’s a pain you will never get over.

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[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐂𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐱 3✯

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐰𝐚𝐩𝐆𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛

IN WHICH… Matt and Chris Sturniolo are just two inexperienced losers.

𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD! mentions of camming, blowjobs, spit, little bit of sub!matt. that's all i think of let me know if i forgot something.

MPT1, GPT1, MPT2, GPT2,

"Can’t wait to see you again, maybe this time you won’t be as shy and you will actually look at me 💕"

Matt has been staring at those word for what seems like days, but in reality was really 30 minutes. He didn't know if he wanted to jump in excitement, or crawl into a hole and never come out.

He knew she caught a glimpse of his face in the diner, however, he didn't think she would recognize him and choose him as the winner. Part of him was hoping that she got too many submissions and would miss his, finding someone better than him.

There had to have been someone better than him. After all, he was nothing but a virgin who kept his head in books and the occasional video game. He wasn't experienced in her extracurricular activities.

So why did she pick hi-Mika.

Mika must have been with Y/n when going through the submissions and noticed Matt, thus being the reason he was picked.

Mika probably thinks he's some kind of freak for watching her best friend's streams. They were probably laughing at him right now, Mika going on to tell Y/n all about how they had to teach him how to take a picture of his dick.

He's mortified.

His phone ringing pulls him out of his thoughts, he glances over and his heart drops seeing the contact name.

Mika

Is she calling to make fun of him? To call him a perv for entering in a contest to win a date with a cam girl?

He shakily answers the call and places it on speaker, his voice cracking.

"H-hello?''

"Matt we need your help!"

We?

"With wh-So I'm at my friend's place and her camera is acting stupid! I know you are majoring in film so I was wondering if you could come over and help?"

He debates on helping, not really wanting to face Mika and the sheer embarrassment that she knows about the contest. "I-I don't know Mika I'm pre-Please Matt? I really need my camera fixed."

An all too familiar voice flows through the phone making Matt tense.

The voice was a bit higher pitched, the words whiny, but also sultry.

Y/n

He swallows harshly as he begins to sweat, he wasn't expecting to hear her voice at all. "Please Matt? I'll pay you."

Her words have an underlying tone that makes Matt all the more nervous.

"I- Ok...Yeah, I'll come help." He looks at himself in the mirror and grimaces at his outfit and hair. He had just gotten out of the shower not too long ago, his hair still partially wet and his pajamas on.

"Perfect! I'll have Mika send you the address! bye, pretty boy!"

Matt feels his face warm at the nickname, loving how it made him feel.

His phone lights up with text stating the address and his eyes widen.

They live in the same apartment building.

How did he never notice they lived in the same building? he's on the third floor and she's on the fourth, he should have noticed. How have they never run into each other?

He chooses not to dwell too much on it, and rushes out of his apartment, heading right towards the elevator.

He arrives at the door and shakily raises his hand, knocking on the wooden frame. Not even a second later it swings open, Mika standing in front of him.

He quickly notices the girl behind her, dressed in a pair of skimpy blue shorts and a matching tube top. It’s something about the brown girl in blue that does something to him.

Y/n catches him staring and smirks to herself, purposely crossing her arms so her boobs are pushed up. “Matt?” He snaps out of his trance and looks back to Mika

"S-sorry, what did you say?"

Mika rolls her eyes and pulls him inside, slamming the door in the process. "OK so I have to run and grab the food we ordered, I shouldn't be long. You two get the camera fixed." Mika quickly exits the apartment, leaving the two alone.

Y/n smirks as Matt refuses to look at her, his finger twitching as he becomes antsy. She takes a few steps until she's right in front of him, "You ok Matt? You look a bit sick."

'I-I'm fine-" He clears his throat and finally looks up, making brief eye contact before looking around the apartment. "-where's the camera?" He completely ignores her question, just wanting to fix the camera. the quicker he finishes his job, the quicker he can leave and be able to breathe properly.

She motions toward the hallway, a mischievous glint in her eye,

"my bedroom."

His mouth runs dry as she grabs his hand, guiding him to the bedroom he's seen multiple times through a screen. Y/n looks back at him and giggles, "What you've never been in a girl's bedroom before?'' Her question makes him blush, his hair falling in his face as he looks down. He quickly walks over to the bed, grabbing the camera. He looks over it, trying to see exactly what the problem is. He doesn't find anything so he averts his gaze to Y/n who's already looking at him.

"Um, what exactly is wrong with it?"

"It's not focusing and every time we take a picture, it doesn't save." Her words are whiny, a sense of urgency in her voice. He hums and looks back at the camera, turning it on and trying to see what she's talking about. He raises it up and focuses on a random doll on her nightstand. As she watches Matt get distracted by the camera, she takes the time to look him up and down.

She figures he just got out of the shower, seeing that his hair is wet and dripping onto his pink shirt. His sweatpants hang low on his waist, showing the band of his boxers.

He looks good.

“Are you going to accept the date.”

Her words make Matt fumble with the camera and drop it on the bed. She giggles and takes a step closer to him, her sweet perfume making its way through his nostrils and invading his senses.

“W-what?”

“The date Matt, are you going to accept?”

He swallows harshly, wiping his sweaty palms on his sweatpants. “I-I don’t know.”

She frowns at his answer, she was expecting him to say yes. Matt notices the look on her face and begins to panic, “n-not that I don’t want to! You’re great! I-I’m just n-nervous…”

“About what?”

“You..”

Y/n tilts her head to the side.

He’s nervous about her?

“Me? Why are you nervous about me?” She watches as he looks everywhere but at her, even going as far as taking a step back. She smiles and takes a step towards him, watching as he swallows harshly.

She delicately trails her hand over his tattooed arm, allowing her nails to gently scratch over the black ink. "Are you nervous right now?" She looks up at him, enjoying the anxious look on his face.

"Y-Y no..." He lies softly. The girl hums and cocks her head to the side, "You sure? You seem really nervous. Maybe I could help you with that." She gently pushes him down on the bed, immediately dropping to her knees. Matt quickly adjusts his glasses and looks down at her with wide eyes.

If it wasn't already, his heart was definitely pounding out of his chest. He feels his mouth run dry as she places her hands on his thighs, rubbing over his sweatpants slowly. She chuckles under her breath as she watches the tent rise in front of her, "Someone excited."

She slowly inches her hands toward the tent, pulling it away at the last minute. "You know, I really enjoyed your video Matt."

"Y-you did?" He curses as his voice cracks, the tension in the room making him shake slightly.

"Mhm, I loved the setup you had, I loved the way you pulled your sweats down and started to tease yourself slowly, building up your release. I loved the way you moaned and whimpered my name, begging your mommy, to let you cum. I didn't take you as a mommy kink person."

Matt is breathing harshly at this point, nothing but dirty thoughts that have his face turning red intruding his mind. He doesn't understand how Y/n manages to look so innocent when she's on her knees in front of him and talking about him masturbating.

" But you want to know what I really loved?"

He sucks in a sharp breath when she finally lays her hand on his tent, palming him gently.

"How big you were. You should have seen how wet I got when I saw it. I imagined how it felt in me, the way it would slip in so easily. The thoughts became so intense I ended up playing with myself." she admits without a care in the world. She was a sucker for dirty talk, the erotic words always going straight to her core as her brain managed to develop the images as if she was in a dark room with a Polaroid.

She could tell the titillating words were getting to him as well, him now sitting there nonverbal and only breathing raggedly.

"Can I see?" She asks in faux innocence, her hand still moving against his tent at an agonizingly slow pace.

He wants to say yes so bad, he would be an absolute fucking dumbass not to, but he's worried about Mika walking through the door and catching them. Y/n notices the way his eyes frantically switch between her and the door, finding it amusing that he's worried about being caught.

"Don't worry about Mika. Let me help you relax," her hands go toward the knot on his sweats, taking her time untying them before pulling them down gently.

He's wearing a pair of blue boxers that happen to sheer against his growing bulge, a dark spot sitting where his tip lays from precum. She lays her head on his thigh, beginning to palm over him once again before circling the nail of her index finger against the covered tip. Matt bites his lip in trepidation, his skin getting hot as she teases him.

He whimpers as she plants feather-like kisses on his tip through the cotton material, her tongue darting out and licking a fat strip over the tent not long after.

She's going to be the death of him, he's sure of it.

Before he knows it, her fingers are hooked into the waistband of his boxers and they are being pulled down, his cock swinging up and hitting him in his abdomen.

Just like the other night, Y/n can feel her mouth watering and an ache forming in between her legs.

It's even more appealing in person.

She wraps her hand around the base and moves closer, planting a small kiss on his tip. She looks up at Matt and maintains eye-contact as she gathers a bunch of spit in her mouth, soon opening the orifice and sticking her tongue out.

Matt flinches as the warm saliva drips onto his tip, his fingers twitching at the sensation of it running down the side of his aching cock.

She uses the spit as a natural lube and begins to move her hand up and down, making sure to work him slowly so he won't cum fast. She plans on dragging this out as long as she could.

Matt's eyes flutter shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip harshly as he holds back a moan. This was a whole new experience for him, only having started masturbating a few months ago. He was used to his own hand, and setting his own pace, but this?

This was a feeling that he knew he would chase till the end of time.

Her hand feels completely different from his, the skin a bit softer as well as the touch. Her movements were fluid, yet staggered at the same time.

He wouldn't trade it for the world.

His eyes snap open feeling her lips suddenly engulf his tip. He lets a low groan escape his throat as her tongue swirls around the red mushroom top.

She hums, watching as the vibrations make him shiver. It's not long before she decides to take him fully in her mouth, hallowing out her cheeks. Matt lets out a choked gasp at the unfamiliar feeling.

"Oh fu-ck!" His hands have an iron grip on the pink duvet as she proceeds to bob her head up and down. He doesn't know what to focus on.

Does he focus on her mouth and hallowed out cheeks? Or does he focus on the way her tongue is gliding against the side of his dick?

He truly doesn't know considering his mind is all over the place, the only thing he can focus on being this newfound pleasure.

The lewd slurping sounds along with Matt's moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls drive Y/n even more. She keeps her eyes trained on Matt as she takes him all the way down her throat, watching him close his eyes and throw his head back. His moans go straight to her core, but she does nothing about it, her only goal as of right now is to give Matt the best head of his life.

And she's doing just that.

She speeds up her motion of bobbing, enjoying watching him crumble above her.

Matt feels like the soul is being sucked out of him, quite literally. His breathing speeds up and his knuckles remain a sickly white as his stomach begins to cave in on itself.

"Shit I'm close- Oh fuck please!" He begs, unintentionally bucking his hips further into her mouth.

She hums once again, making Matt damn near cry as the vibrations send him over the edge.

His head falls forward, his jaw dropping as his eyes close. Y/n keeps bobbing her head, moaning as she begins to taste the semi-salty liquid coating her taste buds.

Matt whimpers as she proceeds to suck him off, the overstimulation quickly becoming too much. His thighs begin to shake and he finally speaks, "s'too much!"

Y/n slowly stops bobbing her head and pulls away from him with a pop, a thin string of spit and cum attaching itself to his cock and her lips.

Matt swallows harshly and pants as he lifts his head, watching with hazy eyes as Y/n licks her lips.

"You look more relaxed now," she teases, a sly smile making its way on to her face as she manages to still look at him innocently.

Before either of them could say anything else, they hear the front door only a few feet away swing open.

"I'm back and I got Chinese food!"

Y/n quickly stands to her feet as Matt hastily grabs at his boxers and pants, the two trying to put themselves together quickly. Just as the two manage to look presentable, Mika walks into the room.

"Sorry it took me so long, they fucked up the original order and they had to remake it, but they let me keep the fucked up one so now we have double the food!" Y/n nods, trying to act completely normal.

"Matt why are you so red?" Mika asks looking at the boy who is in fact red in the face. "i-it's just hot..." He attempts to lie, hoping Mika will just drop it. Fortunately for him, the girl does in fact drop it, too hungry to care.

"Ok well lets eat. Matt you want to stay? We have more than enough food." Matt freezes at the offer.

He would like to stay, but he doesn't know if he physically could. He just got the blowjob of his life from the girl of his dreams, he doesn't know if he would be mentally able to sit and eat with her.

He would probably combust.

"yeah, Matt stay! " Y/n begs, that mischievous glint returning in her eyes.

"I-ok," he gives in easily, finding it hard to say no to the girl and her puppy dog eyes. She smiles and grabs his hand, leading him to the kitchen. They stop in front of her fridge and she swings the door open, bending over directly in front of him.

Matts eyes widen feeling her ass rub against him, "what do you want to drink?" She asks as if she's not teasing.

She's going to be the death of him.

alright, i finally gave yall pt 3😭 this was supposed to only be three parts but i feel bad for posting without @guccifrog so when pookie comes back imma give yall a pt 4💀 i hope yall enjoy

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d

special tags: @lovetriplets @summerssover @m0r94n @certifiednatelover @mattsturniololoverr @luvulots @nena1256

[inmyloveworld]

in a world of boys (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.5k

synposis: dating was hard. tiptoeing the line between casual and official always had you stumbling. and bradley, in spite of how good he made you feel, was no exception.

warnings: insecurity, allusions to anxiety (spiraling thoughts, disassociating, just a LOT of self-doubt and questioning)

a/n: i have cute fluff ideas i swear! but writing from experience always just gets the words flowing. here's to hoping we all find someone as emotionally mature and empathetic as bradley bradshaw.

bonus note: i looped slut by taylor swift writing a majority of this oops

The words had always come easy to you. Every conversation was effortless, no matter what the context. Quips and jokes flowed through you as the blood flowed through your veins. It never took careful thought or pondering. But pondering was consuming you as your fingers hovered over the letters at the bottom of your screen.

Bradley and you had been seeing each other for nearly two months. Late-night rides in his Bronco and one overnight at your apartment had filled the weeks since you had first bumped into him at the Hard Deck. His charm and humor lit up your days. His heart and warmth soothed you in moments of weakness. And for once, you had opened yourself to all of it; to all of him.

There was no limit to the dishonesty and complacency you'd been shown in your prior dating history. Bradley was neither of these things, as far as you were aware. Yet, the lack of clarity for what he felt was beginning to plant a sick feeling in your gut.

Things were going so well. Never had you felt more assured in someone's affection and interest in you. Never had you felt more cared for and adored. You loathed yourself to think of gambling that for the sake of your security.

Me: Hey.. not to ruin the mood, but I was just wo

Pathetic. Delete.

Me: Is this just a sex thing?

Abrasive. Delete.

You groaned to yourself in frustration. Judging by your history, this would only end one way. Still, you weren't sure how much longer you could bear the fluttering in your chest under the guise of nonchalance.

Me: I really like what's between us right now. But can I ask where you think this is going?

Here we go.

You hit the 'send' arrow before you could think through it for another second. God, why did this have to be so complicated? Were you the source of all the complications, with your need for control to figure out how everything had to go? Was this the reason no one would commit to you in the past? Or was the dating world simply reduced to nothing but souls too fearful to stick it out, for what could be lying ahead of them? Were you settling? Were you making him settle?

Two buzzes of your phone jolted you in your seat.

Flyboy: I think it'd be better to talk about this in person. You up for a drive?

Oh god.

You sent back an answer and ran your hands through your hair. Tears started to prick at your eyes already as a familiar sinking feeling settled in. Quickly, you were trying to soothe yourself with the small comforts of the situation.

His car always felt musty anyway.

You won't have to worry about accidental pregnancy!

It's face-to-face, at least. Maybe you'll get proper closure for once.

A dozen other weightless sentiments were stacked in your head by the time you heard the purr of a familiar engine outside. You drew in a deep breath, collected yourself as much as possible, and swiped up your keys.

Flyboy: Here!

You didn't even open the text thread, opting to keep your head bowed as you locked your front door. Goosebumps rose along your skin as it met the night air. With much effort, you inhaled deeply. Your feet were leaden as you trudged toward the Bronco.

All the darkness swirling in your head gave way to that bright smile Bradley held just for you. Something in your chest twisted sharply at the show of affection. Every moment of this adoration passing was the last, you reminded yourself. This drive would loop you right back to the somber state you were in before the greatest man you'd ever known walked into your life.

"Hey there, angel," he greeted. The rasp in his voice warmed you the same way a glass of whiskey would. Steadily, slowly, and then all at once.

"Hi," you called back as you hopped in the passenger side. You kept your gaze ahead, hands beginning a nervous pattern of threading fingers. Bradley raised a brow at the action but didn't call further attention to it. His eyes hooked to the road as he pulled the pair of you off into the night.

There was almost an ache in the absence of his hand on your thigh. Both of the worthy appendages anchored themselves to the wheel, no yield in their grip.

Safe driving; he's just practicing safe driving. It's a late night, dark even with the street lamps, and the Bronco's headlights didn't match the brightness of modern LEDs.

But perhaps it's the first thing to go. Bradley needed to take the first baby step away from this.. whatever it was. And he was having you take it with him.

Was there something you did? Maybe the night you spent together had been too soon. Or maybe you had been too forthcoming in your own intent, without clarity on his own.

You never let things simmer. You always had to know, that eternal impatience winning out against the chance of a simple slow burn. But maybe this wasn't meant to take that direction; maybe that's not what Bradley wanted.

Would anyone ever want that? Was it just that they didn't want it with you? What was so wrong with you? Were you so horribly broken to everyone else that no relationship could ever be fulfilled? What were you not seeing in yourself?

"Hey, earth to angel." An empty parking lot surrounded you. The sounds of crashing waves and the warm autumn breeze replaced the storm of neverending thoughts ringing in your ears. Bradley had his hand on your arm, the first touch he'd granted you the whole evening, the touch that broke your trance. His brows were furrowed again in concern as he scanned your sorrow-filled face. Not wanting to startle you further, he kept his voice soft. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"

You took a moment to compose yourself. Your eyes shut as you drew in another deep breath, letting it out with a drop of your shoulders. And then, you told him.

Each one of your fears and anxieties, a summation of how your heart and body were carelessly juggled in the past, how you found yourself at fault in every instance. How even in that moment, when everything seemed to be right with him, something had clearly gone wrong out of your view and it was all about to crash. But it wasn't on him, you insisted. It was on you.

The waves and breeze continued to sound long after your voice faded from the air. Tears pricked at your eyes slowly in sullen acceptance. You had nailed your own coffin shut with this whole conversation. You should have stayed silent. Being lost on your path was better than taking an exit, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Look at me." Bradley was an emotional man, you had come to learn. He wore his heart out on his sleeve the moment he felt safe enough. So, the absence of emotion from his voice churned your stomach worse than anything else. You met his eyes sheepishly, preparing for a more brutal "break-up" than you originally anticipated.

He sighed, the hand on your arm shifting up to cup your cheek. The touch warmed you and drew the tears from your eyes at once. Droplets rolled down your cheeks in single strands, yet you could not bother yourself with embarrassment. This would be the last he would see of you.

Bradley chuckled. "I did this all wrong, didn't I?"

What was there to laugh about? Had he meant to be more direct in his lack of intent, or in ending things-

"My mom's yelling at me from up there, I know it."

What?

Bewildered was the perfect word for your changed expression. And Bradley now knew better than to let you sit on coded messages.

He took your hands into his, rubbing soft circles along your knuckles as he told you, "I'm serious about this, angel. About us, you. I have been from the get-go."

A flurry of feelings coursed through you. Shock and relief mixed with the confusion still lingering behind in the wake of this confession. It was as if you didn't believe what you were hearing, because part of you really didn't. The part of you that had doubted a silver lining to your history of heartbreak was incapable of believing in a resolution.

You didn't know how to accept it or respond. Excitement was chomping at the bit to break your otherwise unsettled demeanor, but fear still held a tight grip on the reins. "Are.. are you sure?"

Bradley could've laughed again, the question ridiculous in his mind. Being with you was as clear as day to him. The ways in which you eased his soul, sparked life back up amidst his dreary routines, and made him picture a future ahead was something he knew he could not be without. He now realized his failure in communicating as such to the person needing to hear it most.

So he held back the laugh and held your hands instead. "I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you."

tags: @avengersfan25

[a-pastel-edgelord]

The Traveler

major spoilers for kny/demon slayer ending reader beware

Sanemi Shinazugawa is as close to content as he can be but he's learning the hard way that there is more to life than what's in front of him. The possibilities, on this summer morning, are endless. The sun is only just rising and the haze of noise from insects is already in full swing. He's traveling, he can't feel comfortable settling in one spot, not after years of going from one town to the next. Sanemi will stop when he feels at home, and he's perfectly fine with never finding it. For now, he has no destination.

A scream tears the peaceful lull apart, and Sanemi is moving before he can blink. His hand travels to where his sword should be at his hip (he long since returned it to the Ubuyashiki family). His heart is in his mouth before his brain finally catches up. There are no demons. The thought brings security—another scream—but it does not comfort him.

He goes careening around a bend in the dirt road, spotting a house on a hill through the trees. A normal person probably wouldn't have heard the screams based on the distance from whence he arrived but that's not important. Sanemi hasn't been able to give up total concentration breathing constant yet and he's glad of it at this moment.

The retired Wind Hashira pauses in the clearing. Should he go around back? A person crashes through the sliding paper doors. It's a man, probably thrice his age, with a fresh black eye blooming on his face.

"You bitch! I'll throw you out on your backside!"

"Try it then, you old bastard!" Comes the shrieking reply, "If you put your hands on him again, I'll gouge your eyes out!"

The first time Sanemi claps eyes on you, you look like a wreck. Your lips are bleeding and there are bruises splattered all over your visible skin. Your summer yukata is torn in a couple places and a size too small like you outgrew it a year ago. Chest heaving in exertion, you bare your teeth and there's a throbbing vein in your neck.

Sanemi is so entranced that he almost misses movement behind you. It's a child—children who all resemble one another and are visibly young. They inch forward, still in the shade of the house, as if stepping into direct sunlight is dangerous.

You take two steps forward, the light of the sunrise throwing your face into sharp relief. Your back is straight, your chin is high, and your eyes are cold as they look down your nose.

It might seem nearly inconceivable that you must have been the one who tossed this man through the shōji doors. But Sanemi knows better. You step down off the veranda into the grass. You move with intent, your shadow falls across the face of your prey. "Get out of my house."

"You don't order me around!" The man spits and reaches out to grab the collar of your clothes.

A scarred hand snatched up his wrist, and Sanemi isn't surprised to find it's his hand (missing fingers and all). "Get lost, old man." The words themselves aren't threatening, and neither is his tone. However, his grip tightens enough to cut off blood flow. He's sure the older man can feel the creak of bones under pressure.

"Ah! G-get offa me!" The man wrenches his arm free, back peddling before stumbling away from the house. "I'll be back—don't go thinking you're safe, you wretches!"

Sanemi watches the man run down the hill and out of sight, unmoving. When he decides the old bastard is gone, he turns to you, and you're already looking at him.

Evaluating and cautious you approach. The previous moment's emotions are still coursing through your body. Sanemi sees the way your hands shake, but your face betrays nothing. "Who are you?"

Your words are rude, but Sanemi can't bring himself to stand on propriety. "M' just a traveler. I heard a commotion, so I happened by."

You blink and remember proper manners. "Would—would you like a hot meal? We don't have much in the way of interesting fare but..."

"Don't think you owe me. That man was already runnin' scared by the time I did anything."

"I—" You glance back at the house, and Sanemi follows your gaze. Four children of a variety of ages stand at the end of the veranda, the youngest looking a little worse for wear. Their eyes are bright and curious. One of them nods. "We, would like to offer our thanks. Please eat with us."

Sanemi Shinazugawa is sure there's a future where he leaves. Where he never shares food with you and your siblings. There's a version of him who doesn't get to see you smile when he fixes the door in exchange for a place to sleep the next night.

But this isn't that future. "Pardon the intrusion." He nods and follows you back to the house.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War Pt II

Summary: Warlord!Rhys takes his mate back to his mountain camp and Tamlin's!sister!Reader has to decide the best way to try and escape

Content Warnings: Morally Grey!Rhys, talks of violence

Part I

--------------------

We ride for hours. The first two riders I’d seen join us after the first; they too have wings, tucked tight against their backs. Under different circumstances, I might be tempted to ask why they bothered with horses at all when they can simply fly, but thought better of it. The less I learn about them the better. All the easier to keep them in my mind as some faceless evil so I feel a little less guilty about putting an arrow in their eye when I escape. Rhysand has foolishly left me with my weapons, I'll put that mistake to good use when the time is right. 

By the third hour, we’ve left the bog and the forest behind, riding through what was once a sprawling plain but is now nothing but weeds. There is no magic left to keep this place fertile and thriving. Hybern’s Cauldron backed powers have stripped most of the land of its power, leaving ruin and famine behind in its wake. Little has managed to grow since, he’s been using the Cauldron to make sure a majority of the crops grow in his fields, where his slaves can tend them and ensure he gets the bulk of the harvest. There's nowhere to run out here.

Especially not when the rest of the riders regroup. There are twelve of them in total, all falling behind my captor as his great, midnight black stead takes the lead. 

I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, could not afford to keep one, but the ones that I had, back in my youth, had never been this graceful. Even with my added weight the horse gallops like it has wings, swift as the wind, its blue-black mane trailing gracefully behind it. I almost don’t mind the ride, minus the circumstance and company, as the sun begins to set ahead of us, the sky a symphony of purple, orange and pink.

Eventually, we come to a river, flowing with large chunks of ice from a not yet frozen ice flow further upstream, where they stop to water their mounts. 

My captor dismounts first, large, gloved hands gripping my waist to help me down. By the Mother, his hands are so large against my hips! I’m suddenly very aware of my own size. 

“Don’t try and run,” he warns.

I glance around to my lack of escape routes and roll my eyes. “Darn, I was planning on throwing myself into the river.”

One of the others, the male I’d spotted first I think, snorts beneath his hood. 

Rhysand grunts out a warning before leading his horse to drink and filling a canteen he had tucked in his saddle bag. His back is, foolishly to me, I could easily draw my knife and stab him right here, but a quick glance around tells me that really would end with me taking a trip down the river. All his men carry swords and knives and there’s one with a wicked looking dagger strapped to his thigh; I barely reach the chin of the shortest among them, and that doesn’t account for at least a hundred pounds of muscle difference between us. I know that I have thinned, my ribs poking out beneath the heavy, hole ridden sweater. Some days I feel… brittle. Today especially. I’m not winning any fights against one of them, let alone twelve.

No, I just need to be smart. Wait for an opening, steal a horse, and run as far away as possible. So far, whatever this monster thinks I’m supposed to be to him has saved me from harm, I don’t plan on sticking around to see how long that protects me. Even if I did believe in mates-- as if the Mother ever cared enough about me to give me a soul tie to anyone--I’ve seen the worst in people enough to know it didn’t mean much in the end. What’s a mate but someone obligated to be a breeding mare? What’s a bond if not a magically induced aphrodisiac? I have little doubt that I’m actually safe here; just alive and conscious because it’s too much of a hassle to try and drag my limp body around.

My scheming comes to a grinding halt as Rhysand returns with the canteen, water sloshing the edge as he holds it out for me. It hasn’t occurred to me just how dry my mouth is until I see that water. 

Of course, I’m not going to let him know that. “No thanks.”

“I’m not going to poison you,” he returns.

“Poison's the least of my concerns,” I retort.

He grabs my hand and pushes the canteen into it. “Drink.”

“Bite me,” I snarl.

His men chuckle at that, which must upset him because his wings twitch behind him. He draws a deep breath before saying, “Ask nicely, mate.”

I should dump the water directly on his head, and my hand twitches around the canteen as I debate it, but in the end I decide against it. This male murdered half my family in cold blood, whatever thin amount of protection I might have remains only as long as he doesn’t think I’m a threat. To escape, I need to be smart.

On that subject, does he even know who I am? Does he remember riding into our camp that night, sword drawn, slaughtering my people as they jumped from their mats? Or were we just another blurred face in the mass of lives he’s taken in the name of conquest? He’s as bad as Hybern. Even if he has forgotten, I won’t.

I twist the lid back on without drinking anything, ignoring the way my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he growls as he takes it back and slides it into his saddle bag. There’s a rolled up sleep mat, a blanket, and another sword all tied neatly to that bag. Nothing too heavy, meaning their encampment can’t be far. I need to find a way to get away before they reach it; there will be too many eyes there.

“Your bow,” he says, holding out his hand. 

My hand tightens instinctively around the belt across my chest, the leather worn and cracked from years of use. “No.”

“You can’t ride into camp with them.”

“Great, then you can just leave me here.”

It takes him two steps to be back beside me, and I’m embarrassed to admit how easy it is for him to snag the strap and yank it over my head, despite my best efforts to keep that from happening. 

“Give that back!” 

“The knife can stay, as long as you don’t do anything stupid,” he says like I’m a misbehaving child. 

He keeps his back to me as he ties my bow and quiver up next to his second sword, my stomach rolling at the sight of my things next to his. 

Rhysand orders his men to mount up as he turns back to me, and I get the impression he’s looking me over for more weapons beneath the hood. I still have no idea what he looks like. Ugly and scarred, like most warlords are, I imagine. I’d never gotten a good look at him that night, had only seen those three stars on his hood and that giant sword between his wings, dripping blood. 

“You won’t need any weapons,” he says, in what sounds like it’s an attempt to be gentle, but falls flat. “You’re safe with me.”

I’d have been safer with the kelpie. But I don’t say it, I don’t say anything at all as those large hands lift me back onto the horse, or when he swings into the saddle behind me. I don’t say anything when we cross the river, icy water biting through my thin pants, making my teeth chatter, or when the wind whips relentlessly at us as we leave the grassy plains and head into the mountains. The chill feels like a thousand needles being jammed into my skin, but I will bear it silently. He will not get the satisfaction of seeing me weak; will not be gratified by any sort of conversation for the duration of our journey.

Or at least, that was the plan. 

“You’re shaking,” he says, one hand gripping the reins as he uses the other to slide his cloak off his shoulders and over mine.

The material is thick, lined with fur inside, so startlingly warm between his own body heat and the fur that when it settles over me I give a little sigh of relief. The sleeves are too big, swallowing my hands as I try to pull it more fully over my body. “Thanks.” It slips out of me before I can stop myself.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” he replies as he settles around me again.

The smell of him, jasmine and citrus and the sea invades all my senses. I want, more than anything, to get it out of my nose, to keep the knowledge of him far, far away from me, but yet, despite my mind’s protests, my body burrows deeper into it. 

There’s still no encampment or settlement on the horizon, the horses moving deeper and deeper into the mountains as night falls around us. As long as we’re not stopping to make camp, I think I’ll survive. 

“And you haven’t told me yours.” If there must be a conversation, best I can do to buy myself time is steer all conversation away from me.

“I’ve had many names, but most call me Rhys.”

Most called him Death Incarnate amidst a number of things that would make a sailor blush, but I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone call him Rhys. That was entirely too normal. 

“Ok, Rhys,” it tastes like bile on my tongue, acknowledging him as anything other than the monster he has always been called back home. “Where are we going?”

The moon shines bright above us, illuminating the slender path we take through the mountains, a steep drop off on one side of us, nothing but sheer rock wall on the other. 

“Home,” he replies. 

I can’t help the scowl that escapes me, but at least he can’t see it. “And where is home exactly?”

“You’ll see soon,” he replies as he expertly guides his mount up a rocky path. There is no hesitation in his movements; he’s ridden this path many times.

I run a hand over my forehead. “I don’t remember coming this far out.” It slips out of me. If he knows this path then we’re close to the Illyrian borderlines, where his warband can make a semi-permanent encampment. These are grounds I’m not supposed to be anywhere near, nor did I think I was. 

“Where were you headed?” 

My brother’s made his claim through the Grasslands, the ground barely fertile to feed the livestock in the summer. With winter coming fast, he’d tried pushing his boundary lines into the forests near what had once been the Human Lands. I meant to go through the woods, skirting around Hybern’s slave camps and slip into the Uncharted Territories to find some game. I must have skirted too far past the slave camps when I’d lost my map running from those Highway Men.

“The Uncharted Lands,” I say because I honestly can’t come up with a lie that doesn’t make it look like I belong to Hybern or Amarantha. The boundaries between the warbands shift too often, encroaching too close. Sometimes I can barely tell who’s who and this is the only world I’ve ever known.

“Why?” He asks as we crest an incline and lead the men over a long, smooth plateau on the mountain’s western face. The wind is worse here, snapping at us like whips and before I can even burrow into my borrowed cloak, he’s drawing the hood of it over my head.

His arm tightens around my waist as he barks at his men to start riding single file. 

“Was looking for food.”

The horse’s hooves echo between the valley of rock beneath us as we press forward, the precariousness of our situation buying me time to figure out my lie. If I’m not hunting for my brother, what am I doing out here? It’s been a long day; a long week honestly. The rumbling of my stomach and the wind at my face and the warlord at my back seem to occupy the limited space in my quickly tiring mind. The hood of the cloak doesn’t help. It is embedded with some sort of magic, because even though it makes everything dark and warm, I can somehow see right through the fabric, right where that cluster of stars are, as if they’re eye slits. Magic items are rare these days, and expensive, I could probably buy out the Grassland’s market of deer jerky for this item alone.

Eventually the plateau dips, taking us down the other side of the mountain, into the misty canyon below. If I didn’t know where I was before, I really don’t now. Mountains are Illyrian territory, as forbidden and unwelcoming as the Imperial City Hybern had erected in The Middle centuries ago. I need to be paying attention so I know the way back; my eyes are sharp, sharper than most, I should be able to make out a deer path or trail easily, even in the dark, but my eyes are so heavy.

I give myself a little shake. Gotta be paying attention.

The swaying, even gate of the horse reminds me of being a small child, sitting in my mother’s rocking chair as she reads me to sleep. She and my father had always loved telling us stories, my father his made up theories and tales from the road, my mother her books and poems. I try to sit up and adjust my position in the saddle so I’m not slouching forward.

“You do not ride often,” Rhys says, his grip pulling me back more solidly against his chest, so I can feel all the hard planes of him. He’s got to be freezing without his cloak, even if he is still wearing long sleeves and gloves.

“No,” I bite back the rest of the story; how my people had suffered with the loss of my father. How Tam hadn’t been able to organize our survivors in the aftermath, how he’d been unable to store enough food for us that first winter and many of our rider’s had deserted. How he’d had to decide if keeping our stables full was worth the price of the lives hunger was stealing from us; how we’d been forced to eat and sell a few of them, my father’s prized war horse included. 

“We’ll change that,” he says, half to me, half to himself. “I think I like having my mate ride with me.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds. At least I’m awake now. 

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

The mist settles around us as we step into the valley, even as the path ahead becomes nearly invisible, he doesn’t slow or get down to walk the horse. He knows where he’s going, has done this so many times he could do it blind. A rare gift many of our traveling cities don’t receive. Envy swells in my chest. I have never had  a place secure enough to set up a permanent camp. The Grasslands are our borders sure, but we move through them daily in fear of an attack, keeping ourselves vigilant for whenever Hybern or Amarantha decide they want more than they’ve already taken from us. Always changing our paths, our camp layout, always moving. How come this monster gets this luxury and my people don’t? 

“You are so hesitant to give it,” he muses, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Do I know it already?”

Shit.

“No, that can’t be right. Our bond is too obvious, I would have remembered.”

He’s as clever as he is quick on his feet, unfortunately.

“So I will know you by association, is that it?”

I should just fling myself off the horse and try to lose myself in the mist. If I’m lucky, maybe one of his men will trample me by accident and this horrible nightmare will be over. At least, if I’m dead I will not have to explain my failure to Tam, or face the alternative of being this male’s breeding mare. Neither is a future I wish to meet.

It is only then that an alternative solution occurs to me.

Tam said I couldn’t come back without food; I’d made a nuisance of myself back home and had swiftly suffered the consequences of it, and with winter coming in fast, my brother has to know he sent me on a fool’s errand. Perhaps intending to keep me out of his way for a while; or to finally get me to bend the knee and submit to his authority as warlord. I hadn’t been of age to take father’s mark, and my allegiance had fallen through the cracks in the years after. Until I was integrated, Tam couldn’t marry me off, as I suspected he wanted to do often, and was probably using this opportunity to try and make me see reason. A future I also loathed to picture. Perhaps, if I played my cards right here, then I could find something more useful than a deer to bring back. If I played along with this little mates concept, what could Rhysand show me? Couldn’t I use any knowledge he gave to my advantage? Surely Tam would find other uses for me than marrying me off with this sort of leverage. My brother was known for his grudges, if I found a way to offer up his enemy on a silver platter, perhaps I’d never have to worry about being married off again.

My stomach twists as the plot plays out before my eyes: This fool taking me into the lands my people had never been able to access before, convincing him to let his guard down, to show me where his people were vulnerable. I could get my hands on camp movements or their supply lines; I could count the fighting men or the horses, make list after list to take back in the place of a few meals I know deep down I’d never be able to find before winter. 

My parents faces flash before my eyes. My mother, so gentle and…sad. She had been sad long before my birth, always missing a home she couldn’t go back to because of Hybern. But she had always tried to be there for me. To sing to me and hold me. She had been good and kind and if she knew where I sat now… what I thought I might do…

And my father. He was cruel and cold and I’d spent a long time wondering if he’d ever loved me at all, but he had been a good leader. He had inspired the men, even on days that had been bleak. He’d been willing to shed whatever blood was necessary to ensure the survival of my people. If this opportunity had been presented while he was alive, he would have tossed a collar around my neck and dragged me to Rhysand’s doorstep himself. 

As for Tamlin, well if he so much as saw Rhysand’s arm around my waist as it was now he would have torn him to shreds. He would hate it, but I think my brother was as calculating and ruthless as my father had been. His protective nature could be overruled by what he deemed necessary to keep us alive. 

I’d need to play my cards right, if I was to make this work. “Yes,” and I force my voice to a whisper, my shoulders hunching in feign defeat. I will have to find ways not to look so utterly revolted about this male touching me; will have to bury all my base instincts to run and claw and fight every time he calls me his mate. But I can do it.

I will do it. For vengeance. For my angel of a mother. For the survival my father died for. I’d damn myself a hundred times over for a chance Tam had never found. 

He rests his chin on my shoulder, thinking and it takes every inch of willpower I possess to not shrug him off. A few hours together and this prick thinks he can just touch me so casually? As if I have no say in the matter because he is my mate and therefore owed whatever affection he sees fit to grant me?

“You can tell me, I promise I won’t hold it against you,” his voice is… gentle. Far more gentle than a man in his position should be and I have no idea how to respond to it. 

“My name is Y/N,” I saw softly, like I’m scared the wind will hear me. “Tamlin is my older brother.”

He stiffens behind me and I find myself holding my breath. This is it.

“He never mentioned he had a sister,” he says more to himself than me.

I almost audibly let loose a massive sigh of relief. “Yeah, well he isn’t too fond of me at the moment.” Never mind I didn’t know that he and Tamlin had ever talked on a mutual basis. Sometimes, usually over a mutually beneficial wedding ceremony, did rival camps come together and exchange weapons, food and sometimes training. If I remember correctly, I think there might have been times when we’d done so with the Illyrians, but never did Tam mention that he knew Rhysand personally. Rhysand was always a name whispered like a curse, as if saying it too loud would bring death and destruction upon us. 

“He sent you out here? Alone?” That last bit comes out like a growl.

“Banished, is more of the term he used,” I say under my breath, hoping the tone conveys embarrassment. 

“For what?” He hisses, his tone promising violence. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Now what would convince Death Incarnate that I was something meek and fragile and in need of protection from my big, bad brother? If we really were mates, it would be in his nature to want to protect me, from both physical and emotional harm, but I needed to be careful. Too extreme a lie and I was likely to restart the war between our camps that had cost me my parents. I needed something to pack enough punch to convince him he needed to keep me close, to be looked after, but not so bad that it sparked a fight.

Perhaps my best bet was to appeal to the bond. “He wants me to take his mark,” I twist the sleeves of the cloak between my fingers as I speak. “So he can reap the benefits of marrying me off to one of Autumn’s commanders.”

Rhysand has gone still as death itself behind me and every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s on fire as whatever dark power lives within his skin comes to life. All my instincts scream at me to run, hide.

“But Eris is… cruel and I told Tam I couldn’t do it.” Eris was probably too old for Tam to try, but there had been talks, even when I was a girl, about how my father had wanted an alliance with Autumn, and Eris had his own history with the Illyrians. “He told me I needed to sort out my priorities and when I didn’t, he threw me out.”

“That’s just like him,” Rhysand snarls.

I bite down on my tongue to keep from snarling all the things I’d rather say in my brother’s defense. 

“How long have you been out here on your own?”

“About a week, I think,” I could say longer, but on the off-chance he has spies that could check that sort of thing--and I’m fairly certain the stories about Illyrians and their shadow agents are not far off--I’d rather play it safe. 

He brings his mount to a brief halt as two, looming carvings in the mountain’s face appear through the fog. The touring statues sporting the same great, talon tipped wings as Rhysand, stand guard over the pass ahead of us, their hewn sword held aloft. Sleeping wyverns lay at the base of each statue, their carefully carved eyes at eye level with us as the men fall in line behind us. The air is tinged with magic--overly sweet and oppressive-- as we approach, some sort of shield.

“From here,” he says softly in my ear, the mask still shielding the lower half of his face from the wind rough against my cheek. “You’ll never have to worry about being alone again.”

I’m going to be sick!  Play it safe. Play the game. For Tam. For Mom and Dad. I will myself to picture their faces again, to keep reminding myself what is at stake. 

Rhysand kicks the horse into motion again, passing through the shield with a flick of his gloved hand, soft ripples of magic parting for us like someone had pulled back a curtain. I’ve never seen anyone use magic so casually, so fluidly. Once all the riders have passed through, I feel the shield fall back into place behind us. No turning back now.

Ahead, the path begins to widen. At the far end of the path, still shrouded on either side by the mountains, sit two torches, the light guiding the way. When we reach them, the path dips dangerously into a valley, all filled with large, midnight black tents. More torches and bonfires light the cloth city, the sounds of drum beats and revelry beckoning from beneath us.

“I see the party started without us,” one of the men says from behind us.

“Devlon must have had a good run,” Rhysand muses as he takes us down into the valley. 

As the lights draw closer, I can start to make out the tribal markings and depictions sewn into the sides of the tents. There’s singing to go with the drum beats, all in a language that makes no sense to me, just like the markings. Something from the Mountains none of my people had ever been privy to. 

When we reach the outskirts of the city, we are greeted by two towering males, wearing little other than loose, dark paints and a smattering of blood red paint along their bare chests and faces. Each holds a spear, a dagger strapped to their muscled thighs. 

One barks something at Rhysand in Illyrian, his slate colored gaze fixed on me, still wearing the lord’s cloak. I’m grateful they cannot see my face, the fear I know will be clear in my eyes. It is hard enough to hide the trembling in my hands.

Rhysand dismounts to greet them, still speaking in Illyrian until they retreat into the maze of tents beyond. Despite the raucous laughter and music coming from the center, the rows of tents are organized into clear streets and sectors, some dancing bodies visible in between the rows, though most of the camp seems to be in its heart at the moment. 

He runs a gloved hand over the horses neck as he turns to face the men, their mounts dancing beneath them. “We will strategize in the morning.”

That is apparently dismissal enough, as his men bow their heads and kick their steads into motion around the outskirts of camp, soon disappearing into the darkness. My stomach drops as I realize I’m alone with my enemy for the first time all night. My anxiety only heightens as he takes the reins and guides the horse forward without a word of where we’re going.

I’m too scared to ask either.

Staying on the edge of camp means I cannot see any of what is happening within, though I glimpse bonfires and revelry often enough to guess. It is not unlike our own celebrations, even if the music is different.

Rhysand still doesn’t speak as we pass another group of sentries and head up a well worn path in the heart of the valley. The grass is lush here, would be up to his knees were it not for the cleared stretch lined by torches. It is quieter here, the music distant.

Overhead, the stars glitter like a million little diamonds, all the constellations I have memorized a stark contrast to the dark shadows of this hidden mountain world. We’re surrounded on all sides by mountains, shielded from view and harm by stone. It is so different to the rolling hills I am used to, it is nice to know that the stars, at least, have not changed.

The path leads to a secluded circle of larger tents, still black but stitched with stars not unlike the ones on the cloak I’m still wearing.

We pass yet another group of sentries as we approach, and only once we’re face to face with the largest tent in the circle does Rhysand finally stop.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

I should have run. Should have thrown myself into the river. Should have risked a quick death trying to fight my way out of this than subjecting myself to this.

Rhysand grabs my waist again and lifts me off the horse as if I weigh nothing. Compared to his size, I’m sure I do. In the torchlight, this is the first time I’ve managed to glimpse his face. I’d been drastically wrong about his appearance. The monster that haunted my nightmares was not some old, scarred thing as I had pictured, I wasn’t sure he was even older than Tam. A young lord, his features sharp, but clean cut. Some of his raven black hair fell loose around his sun kissed face, framing a set of violet eyes so bright they practically glittered like stars in his head, the rest was braided with strands of blue and purple thread. By far the most beautiful male I’d ever seen in my life and I think I hate him a little more for it. 

“You must be tired,” he says finally.

I don’t know what to do or say, so I just nod, which I think might be a mistake because now we’re heading inside the tent and all I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears because I have made a terrible mistake!

By some magic trick, torches flair to life as we enter, the soft orange glow cast in eerie patterns against the sleek black leather walls. On one side of the tent is a bed large enough to accommodate someone with such massive wings, piled with furs and pelts of various animals. On the other end, a table with some chairs and various weapons and books and trinkets scattered about the top of it. There’s chests piled in the corner, locked and dusty like they haven’t been opened since they’d been moved in. The floor is covered in a dozen different rugs, all overlapping in an attempt to make the place feel cozier but the patterns and colors are all so different that it looks like a whacky patchwork quilt. Clearly a layout chosen by a male.

“I apologize for the mess,” he begins as he takes off the scarf tied around the lower half of his face and places it over the back of a chair. “I… was not expecting to come across anybody out there, let alone bringing anyone back.”

“What were you doing out there?” My voice shakes too much for my liking and I’m convinced I asked that far too quickly to not be totally obvious, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“Scouting,” he says with no further explanation as he tosses his gloves onto a heap of more gloves on the edge of the table. 

My muscles stiffen as I watch him warily. If he starts undressing I might really change my mind and try to run for it.

I am prepared to do what is necessary for my people, but that is a line I cannot cross yet. Not tonight.  

He steps closer to where I stand dumbly in the center of the room, drowning in his cloak, and he nudges the hood off my face with his knuckles. 

I have to remind myself to stop biting my lip as the fabric slides off my head. Even fully clothed, standing this close to him, with those violet eyes drinking me in like that, I feel very exposed and vulnerable. 

“You’re shaking,” he says softly, his hand drifting down the side of my cheek.

I hate that I shiver under his touch. Hate that my eyes go to his full lips and how soft they look in this torchlight. I hate that I find him beautiful, hate that I do not pull away as he cups my cheek. I hate myself for putting myself in this position in the first place. 

“I…” this is not an act, I really don’t know what to do or say here. My chest aches with the way he’s looking at me, like maybe there really is some strange, mystical thread linking us together and it’s coming awake the more he has his hands on me. Yet my mind balks and screams all the same and I cannot tell which of them is supposed to help me do this. “This is a lot.”

“There’s no need to be afraid,” he assures, his voice low and husky, a tone I think might be better suited to the bedroom. “You are safe with me.”

Safe.

As if he could ever make me feel safe.

His thumb rubs circles in my cheek, the calluses along his palm from years of sword play scratching pleasantly across my skin. Violet eyes rove over me, studying the plains of my face like he’s cataloging every detail. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

I let loose a breath as he heads back to the tent flap, where his horse is still waiting.

“For now, it would be best if you stay here. Don’t go anywhere without me. At least, not until you take my mark.”

And then he’s gone, finally leaving me alone for the first time in hours, but even if I wanted to do some snooping, I can’t. All I can do is stand there as my stomach rises in my throat. 

His mark.

How the hell was I supposed to go home bearing Rhysand’s mark? 

I rub my temples with my fingertips. I need to find something useful to take back to Tamlin and get out of here fast, because if I don’t, I may never be allowed to go home again.

---------------------------

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[flawdchaos]

Spilled Drinks

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1,735

authors note : hello friends, i have never written anything like this before and posted it. i had some free time today and an idea and dreamt this up. it is far from perfect but i hope you enjoy it, nonetheless. thank you!

The muffled yelling of multiple voices was enough to drag Y/N out of the daze she had fallen into. Her workday had started early and ended late leaving her feet and head throbbing - a shower and her bed, more of a cot really, were calling her name. Her venture to the communal showers she shared with her fellow nursing staff was quickly interrupted as Violet and Helen crossed her path.

With a tilt of her head Violet spoke up. “And where do you think you are rushing off to?”

“To shower and get some sleep.” As soon as the final word fell from Y/N’s lips her two friends were quickly shaking their heads in protest.

“You promised! You always say a person is just as good as their word. It will just be for a drink or two and then you can come and get as much sleep as your heart desires. I swear to you.” Violet said, wagging her finger in front of Y/N, like a mother would do a troubled child.

After a brief glare between the two women, Y/N sighed, hung her in defeat, and turned back in the direction of her bunk.

“I don’t even know what to wear to an army base bar. Those men already don’t take us seriously and you think this is gonna make it any better?”

“The more you fight it, the worse it’s gonna be Y/N. Just for once stop living and breathing being a nurse and just be a girl surrounded by a bunch of good looking men.” Hazel spoke up for the first time that night before being met with another glare from Y/N’s direction.

Y/N knew both her friends had a solid point. In the ten months she had been working at Thorpe Abbotts she had never allowed herself a break. She did her best to maintain a positive reputation among the men she treated but her friends, and now even herself, had noticed that the weight of the job had begun to take its toll. A night away from the blood, cries, and medicine couldn’t be all too bad - for her sake.

The August heat was enough to force a light sweat upon the girls as they journeyed from their bunks to the bar. As they stepped inside the building, Hazel quickly pulled her powder from her purse and turned to Y/N blotting away at certain areas of her face.

“You have to talk to at least one man tonight. One. And not someone you’ve treated.” Violet stated and lightly shoved Y/N forward to the bar, shooing with her hand. “Get a drink, enjoy the night.’

“One cosmopolitan, please” Y/N stated after reaching the bar, flashing a smile. She hoped and prayed, as the guy poured away, that the alcohol would be enough to calm the nerves she felt bubbling in her stomach. They only increased as she looked around and spotted Colonels, Captains and Majors. Leaned against the other side of the bar were the now infamous friends, Buck and Bucky. Gale Cleven was nothing but kind and a gentleman but Y/N had overheard talk of a girlfriend back home and John Egan, well, he was John Egan. There was nothing else to say. A few months prior, during a training exercise he wound up hurt and sitting in front of her in the infirmary bay, clutching his elbow with a shit eating grin plastered to his face as she wrapped his arm. Conversation flowed easily with the major but Violet had urged her to speak to someone new.

The bartender brought her from her daze as he placed the drink in front of her and she quickly took a sip. As she pushed back from the bar, she ran directly into a tall frame that had tried to squeeze in beside her, red juice spilling on both of their newly starched clothes.

Before an apology could tumble from her mouth, the man was already grasping her arm to steady her and ushering for his friends to grab a towel from the bar.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t watching where I was going and I ju-” she cut his rambling off

“No, that was all my fault. I was lost in thought and then - oh my god” taking a quick glance down to the tan and brown jacket, her eyes shot open even wider, “your uniform. I can’t believe I got that all over your dress jacket.”

An arm reached between the two of them holding a towel that Y/N quickly grabbed and started dabbing along the man’s chest, steadying herself by grabbing onto his arm.

“This is the first night I ever came out and I just ruined someone’s jacket, oh my god.”

A large hand landed on top of hers, stopping her from continuing her attempts at cleaning up the mess she, well both of them, had made.

“I promise you, ma’am, it was my doing. Let me order you another drink. This ones on me.”

For the first time during this whole encounter, she looked up to the man she had lost her Cosmopolitan to. She was silent as she stood with his hand still over hers, quickly losing her will to deny the drink once her eyes locked with his blue ones, a small smile adorning his face. All she could do was nod. He took a step forward, placing his hand on the small of her back to turn her with him towards the bar.

“A cosmo, right?” he questioned and a small nod was directed his way. “Another cosmo for the lady and whisky, neat, for me please?” The bartender quickly got to work leaving the two strangers standing closely together in silence. The man quietly cleared his throat and stuck out his hand.

“Robert Rosenthal, but most of the guys call me Rosie.” Y/N took his outstretched hand and lightly shook it up and down.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Robert grabbed the drinks the bartender sat before him and motioned his head towards an empty table across the dance floor.

“Would you like to grab a seat? I think you owe me at least a conversation after this.” he said, looking down at the tan shirt that was now stained slightly pink. A small smile made its way across Y/N’s face.

“It’s the least I could do.”

Robert led the way to the table, nestled in the corner and sat the drinks down. In a swift motion he pulled a seat out and ushered Y/N to take it. As soon as he sat down, a wave of confidence overtook Y/N’s once anxious mind.

“So, Rosie, what is it that you do?” she asked, raising the glass to her lips. She had some worry that the appearance of a woman drinking alcohol would be ‘unladylike’ but all of her care went out the window when she realized with everything she had seen and done, it was the smallest token of appreciation.

“I’m a pilot. I’ve been flying for a while now.”

“Are you any good?” she teased.

“I sure hope. I have learned the hard way making impressions isn't all too easy here. I just embarrassed myself in front of those two majors.” He said, moving his head to the right.

“Buck and Bucky?” he answered with a small nod. “Don’t sweat it, Buck is too nice to make fun of you and Bucky will forget about it in about two hours when the whisky finally hits and his favorite song comes on.” Rosie cracked a smile at her, shaking his head at the thought of the once intimidating major belting out show tunes.

“Thank you, that makes me feel better.”

“Anytime.”

Rosie took a large gulp of his drink and leaned forward on his forearms.

“So, Miss Y/N, how did you wind up here in paradise?”

“I’m a nurse. I’ve been here almost a year. I still don’t know what I'm meant for.” She admitted, lifting her glass to her mouth to slightly hide her face.

“How do you mean?” he quipped.

She took an inhale, taking a moment to carefully collect her words.

“It’s not easy. A lot of these guys come here, make friends with their crewmates and drink and sleep their feelings away. I can’t really blame them. They’re fighting a war for Christ's sake. But, us women, see what comes back. The trauma, the injuries - all of it - and we get sideways looks for drinking a shitty cosmopolitan every once and a while.” she laughed sarcastically as she finished the rest of her drink. “I love helping people but it gets hard.” He nodded, looking down at his own drink and giving it a swirl.

“I never thought of it that way. You ladies get the best and worst of us.”

She sat for a moment, looking at her hands folded in her lap.

“Do you see those two girls over there?”

“By the bar?”

“Mhm. Those are my friends. They have spent the entire ten months we have been here urging me to come out, get away from the bubble I've made for myself and I fought against it until tonight. I thought it would be a disaster. Then I got here and got a drink and told myself it would be fine, only to spill it all over you.”

“Y/N, it's really no bother.”

“I know, because as crazy as it sounds - I am so glad that I did.”

A small crept across Rosie’s face as he sat back in his seat, downing the rest of his whisky.

“And why’s that?”

“Because, it gave me the perfect excuse to talk to you Mr. Rosenthal.” cheeks turning bright red as she directed her eye contact towards him.

“Well then, I’d be a fool not to ask for a dance Mrs. Y/L/N.” standing from his seat and outstretching a hand, which Y/N gladly took.

Together, hand in hand, they walked to the dance floor where Rosie pulled her close. Y/N settled her head on his chest, watching as their feet moved in harmony.

“Oh, and Y/N,” he spoke up with a small smile perched on his lips, leaving her to tilt her head up towards the pilot “, the next round is on you.”

[mamayan]

20, 92, 52, 99

Could you do this with Douma and a fem reader pretty please? Also very many congratulations!

Bang! … No bullet was shot—

Douma

“You’re pathetic, you know that right?” || Taste of Iron || Size || Praise/Worship

tw: NSFW • Biting (Blood play) • Rough Sex • Corruption K!nk • NONCON • Douma doesn’t stfu • Bondage

wc: 1086

“Ah~ really though, there’s nothing more wonderful than when you’re like this for me,” his voice was a soothing purr as he trails one cold hand up the smooth expanse of your thigh.

Luminescent rainbow eyes gazed down at your fragile figure tied and helpless. A pretty silk gag knotted and slotted into your mouth prevents any retorts.

“My most naughty little follower, are you enjoying this?” He wasn’t truly asking to hear your answer, more fixated on how much he was enjoying this. He could feel it, the blood and vitality rushing through your veins as adrenaline pumped and kept you acutely aware of every touch he placed on you. The fear and clarity in your gaze which the majority of his cult never figured out until it was far far too late.

You saw something you weren’t supposed to, and sadly, that meant you couldn’t be allowed to separate and mingle without him.

Tears flow down your cheeks as you struggle, bound and powerless under the beautiful male.

He was a fraud. A liar. A monster.

None of it mattered now, not when he’d sunken his claws too deeply into your family and friends to save them. You couldn’t even save yourself it seemed.

“Don’t cry sweet thing~ I’m not going to eat you~” yet, his smile was disarming, blatantly lying to your pretty face as he coos and hushes you.

“You’ve always been my favorite, you know? It makes me so sad to think about harming you, so we’ll do something else instead, okay~♡?” The cute way he spoke didn’t match Douma’s large body as he discarded his top, muscular unblemished figure on display.

He easily settled between your spread thighs, enjoying the view of your dripping pussy while you silently begged for mercy. “Such a shame I had to muffle your cute voice…” he laments to himself, nuzzling your soft inner thigh with his face and enjoying the texture of your skin. “I kind of want to hear you scream for me but, oh well,” he gives no warning before his sharp teeth are sinking into the flesh of your thigh, your pained squeal silenced by the fabric stuffed into your mouth. Douma delights in the blood and mark on your body, his mark, as he laps up the small rivers leaking from the puncture wounds he’d given. “Shh, no need to cry, I just wanted a taste,” he giggles, beautiful blonde hair falling into his eyes as he looks down at his handiwork. His large hands shift, moving to your exposed cunt where he uses two fingers to spread your folds and reveal your small wet hole.

“I just knew you’d like this~!” You flinch away from the image above you, his lips stained with your blood, sharp canines on display as he grins.

He pays no mind to your repulsion, soon you’d come to like the blood as he did, he just needed to show you why it all felt so good.

“Y/N, sorry, I’ll prepare you much better next time, but I want to see you bleed a little more me, yeah? You’ll be a good girl won’t you?” Douma ignores the shake of your head, the clear useless struggle you attempt against your bindings. Instead, he loosens his belt and allows his pants to drop past his upper thighs, releasing his hardened cock.

“I promise it’ll feel good after a bit, just be patient.” He assures, voice so calm and patient compared to your panic and trembling body. “Your pussy is so cute Y/N, tiny like you, it might hurt a bit.” You imagine it’s going to hurt more than a bit as he lines himself up with your quivering unprepared entrance. The thick blunt head pressed and kissing you, pre-cum leaking freely from his tip, the only lubricant he’s offering as he presses forward.

You jerk, unable to voice the pressure overwhelming you as he takes you, mind going hazy with the burn and sensations forced upon you.

“Oh my, hng,” his head goes back, muscles tensing and flexing as he moans. “This hole is pretty naughty too, hm?” He gasps, voice strained for the first time all evening, “You’re so tight, it’s like you're sucking me in.”

He laughs when he realizes you’re nearly passed out, sweet features languid and drool soaking through the gag as you whine deep in your throat. He doesn’t stop, thick cock spearing you open as he rocks and slicks himself up with your arousal and blood from his initial cruel entrance.

“My cute little follower, it’s almost like you’re worshiping my cock now right? Isn’t it a dream come true for you?” He’s gleeful as he begins dragging along inside of your walls, rocking you with how heavy each thrust is. He delights in your struggle to resist, but it’s clear you’re falling quickly to the feeling of fullness and pleasure as your passage becomes wetter with each slap of his pelvis against you.

“Good girl, you don’t need to do a thing, just feel good for me.” You don’t have a choice as he fucks you sensesless, eyes rolling back as you cum around him with a silent shout. His hips don’t stop, only his moans and nails digging into your hips increase while he works himself deep and hard into you, savoring the scent of iron in the air while blood smears on his lower half and cock.

“Ah, you came right? How cute,” he coos, loving your cock drunk appearance juxtaposed to your earlier fear and revulsion of him. “You’re pathetic, you know that right? Do you still want me to stop?” He chuckles, hand reaching up and untying the gag, pulling the dripping wad of fabric out of your mouth. “Answer me quickly, do you still want me to stop?” He asks, voice deepening as he rams the head of his cock against an area that has you wailing.

“L-Lord Do-Douma please—!” He twists one of your nipples harshly, loving the pretty arch your back makes as you clench and spasm around him again.

“That’s not an answer~” he coos, your pretty eyes unfocused as you drool and babble after your orgasm.

“Don’t—! Don’t stop! Fuck me! Please!” You’re quick to lose yourself, pleasure consuming you as he rocks you on his cock and thumbs your clit with a smug grin.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles, glad he doesn’t have to kill you earlier than he’d planned.

You are his favorite after all.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

@desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi

[weeeeeekly]

the inheritance – hybrid!ot5 txt x human gn!reader

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blurb !!! Your grandmother left behind her home to you in her will. As a recent college grad, you take on the responsibilities – you never expected to find 5 hybrids living in your new home

info !!! gender neutral pronouns for reader, no reader body shape mention, no use of y/n, non-idol au, hybrid au, strangers to lovers, ot5 txt x reader, kinda a/b/o, inspired by the monster’s bride webtoon, ppulbatu, & txt lore (please do not ask me about it bcuz I don’t know anyyyythingg)

WARNINGS !!! SFW but MDNI 18+ blog, swearing, not proofread just pure free flowing thought, wouldn’t recommend reading if you were close to your grandmother, she passed away, & are still grieving

wc 1.8k

author’s note !!! if you don’t like it – don’t read it!

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CHAPTER ONE

Your last semester at college had been a confusing time as your workload was light yet you couldn’t chill out. The stress of not knowing what your future would hold kept you up at night when you could have dreamt about what you could be doing right now.

Thank fuck, you had your shit together and got all your credits to graduate. Your graduation was nothing special – you sat with the rest of the graduates in your specific program who you knew none of them. A few faces were familiar from being in the same classes but never spoke a word to them. You faked a smile as you crossed the stage to accept the blank diploma cover and pose with the dean. One of your parents showed up to congratulate you afterwards but not without berating you for not doing better to win an award or something. You tuned the noise out as you could breathe a little better after finally completing a majority of your schooling.

Now, only grad school stood in the way between you and a good paying job. Which was your new source of stress.

It also didn’t help that you were the new owner of your late grandmother’s house.  

A house that just happened to be a fucking mansion. No one else – in your immediate or extended family – wanted the burden of having to care take of the massive property. And it’s had a hard time selling for years after your grandmother had to move back home after you started your freshman year.

The last time you were here was the day you graduated high school. You used to run around in the front yard and imagine you were a fairy. When you got older, your grandmother bought a stone bench that you sat and read on throughout middle school – where all of your favorite stories felt like the pinnacle of literature. Now the front yard is full of overgrown grass and weeds, the stone bench was swallowed up by a bush, and what once felt magical just fills you with dread.

Letting out a massive sigh, you open the backseat door to grab your suitcase and duffel bag then locking your car. Tonight, you would sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor and unpack your immediate necessities and tomorrow after work you would get the rest of your things from your parents’ house.

All you wanted to do right now was take a shower, wear your favorite sleep shirt and leggings, eat some fast food, and then go on your laptop for far too long that you’ll regret not going to sleep early in the morning. Honestly, it was your favorite routine.

Not too much overgrown grass and weeds covered the walkway from the driveway to the front door, so you were able to maneuver your way while carrying your bags. You fish the skeleton key from your pocket and unlock the door. You’re immediately hit with the smell of mildew and dust, causing you to sneeze. Turning on your handheld flashlight you step inside and close the door.

The should of footsteps makes you take a pause from walking farther into the empty foyer and toward the downstairs bathroom. The cartoony way you whip your head in the direction of where the noise may have come from is comical, and the way your body turns in the direction of the stairwell to go upstairs to your childhood room.

Dropping your suitcase and duffel to the floor, you open the door to see that your room was untouched with all of your items intact. You guess no one wanted to fight over owning a bunk bed that housed old twin mattresses, a beat-up white dresser covered in stickers, a full-length mirror that had a crack in it, and a plastic foldable table. You go to your closet to see if there were any bedding you could use but you’re greeted with emptiness.

You take it back – all of your childhood clothes, toys, and anything else that wasn’t furniture was gone. Probably dibbed by your family members to take if they weren’t already included in the will. You feel a wave of sadness that one of your parents didn’t try to keep any of your clothes or toys from when you were younger since the second you outgrew something they either sold it in a garage sale, sent it to one of your younger cousins, or stored them here.

What if you wanted to keep that tie dye shirt you wore on your first day of school for kindergarten, 1st, and 2nd grade or that one generic princess doll you carried around from 2 until 8 years old. Maybe you were sentimental or just selfish but as you unpacked your stuff to lay out on the dresser you just felt sad.

🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾

After begging the water company to turn back on the water, you took a long shower, changed into your sleeping clothes, and ate your cold fast food. You refill your reusable water bottle with the portable water cooler you brought. The sun has set an hour ago, so it was peak time to snuggle up in your makeshift bed and read or watch a movie on your laptop. As you’re exiting the kitchen, a bottle of cleaning spray falls to the ground, scaring you. A pair of mismatched eyes stare back at you.

“Oh my god. You scared me.” You hug your chest as the glowing eyes come closer and appear as a dark gray cat with three paws approaches you. Kneeling down to let the cat sniff your hand before petting them.

“Aww, pretty kitty.” You say as the cat purrs against your leg.

Another pair of glowing eyes appears from the entrance of the formal dining room beyond the kitchen, you continue petting the cat as a maltese walks over to you. You allow the dog to sniff your hand as it begins to nuzzle its nose against your outstretched hand.

They’re both well maintained, so they must have an owner within the neighborhood, but you have no idea how they got in. Maybe through the basement since you hadn’t checked down there yet, but all the windows on the outside were still fully intact. You could look around if there were any missing pet posters or online – the pair seemed comfortable around each other, so you think they came from the same home.

A third pair of glowing eyes gets your attention and as you’re extending a free hand to another lost cat or dog – a fennec fox appears freaking you out.

“Oh my god.”

You abruptly stand up which in turn causes the cat and dog to get scared and run off. You stare back at the fox who begins walking closer to you. You can’t deal with this. If this fox was owned by someone it probably wasn’t legal since this is an exotic animal. Then you would have to call animal control or wildlife trapping because you didn’t want to get in trouble. And you’re pretty sure this kind of fox is not native to North America, which is a whole other issue that you really don’t want to deal with right now.

But of course, you can’t have a moment of peace as a samoyed and golden retriever trot in with a shared toy in their mouths.

You’re laying on the floor inside your sleeping bag in your room as two big dogs share the bottom bunk and the small dog, cat, & fox are sharing the top bunk. It seems like they formed a little pack with each other for however long they’ve been staying in your grandmother’s home.

You tried to run upstairs to get away from the fox, but instead you were followed by the 5 creatures up to your room and made the bed theirs. You weren’t going to complain as you wouldn’t even sit on the old bed without changing the mattress first, so they could make it their home for the night.

Weirdly, you feel bad if you went on your laptop while they were sleeping despite them being animals. As you close your eyes to let sleep overtake you, you begin thinking of all the things you have added to your to do list.

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Waking up to something laying on you is alarming, especially when that something is a leg connected to a 6-foot-tall man and his pretty face is inches from yours. Scrambling out of your sleeping bag like a caterpillar into a butterfly, you shove his leg off of you and arm yourself with your metal water bottle and 9-1-1 dialed.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“A strange man broke into my house sleeping next to me.”

At the sound of my voice, the stranger wakes up and smiles at me. The voice of the dispatch fades as you see 2 more strange men asleep on the bottom bunk and the animals nowhere in sight. You quickly walk out of your room and the bathroom next door and lock yourself in.

“Actually, there’s THREE strange men inside my house sleeping near me.”

“Okay. What’s your address?”

“It’s 822 Mirage—”

The shower curtain is ripped from the rod and a pretty blonde tackles you to the ground making you drop the call.

You start screaming on the floor as shield your face from the strange man that might kill you as tries shushing you even having the audacity to put his large hand over your mouth.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I was sleeping in the tub but then I heard you calling 9-1-1 and we can’t have that so that was the best way to get your phone away and now I’m rambling, I’m really sorry!”

Tears stream down your faces as you’re forced to listen to him.

“Will you promise to not scream if I take my hand off your mouth?”

You feebly nod as he slowly removes his hand from you. You continue crying and sniffling as he stares at you. Both of your hands snap in the direction of the door when various pleads are coming through the other side of the door.

“Please let us explain!”

“We’re not going to hurt you!”

“Hyuka, did you make them cry?”

“It’s a long story, but we hope you’ll listen.”

You take the opportunity, while you both are frozen in place and he’s distracted, to knee him in the dick and escape out the window.

He kneels over whimpering as you’re using all your strength to pry open the window and climb out onto the roof. You manage to get 3/4 of your body out of the window when a hand grips your ankle, keeping you in place. Looking back, you see the creeper that was sleeping next to you holding you back as 4 other heads stare at you with the saddest expressions ever.

A new face you don’t recognize says your name, “This wasn’t how we wanted to formally meet you, but please come back inside so we can explain to you everything.”

masterlist | next

author’s note !!! my birthday gift to you! shocker… i wrote another txt fic. what can i say ??? i’m a moa first, human second. & i do believe that each of tubatu’s rep emojis embody them perfectly, but ppulbatu just came out & i couldn’t resist !!!

last thing, if the format looks fucked up i had to write this on my phone so pleaseee be kind to me

[kikyoupdates]

Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

previous | story masterlist | next

Once again, Xavier stands before you.

“Hi,” you greet, smiling awkwardly. “It’s nice to see you again. How are you doing?”

You’re not really sure why you keep bothering with the pleasantries, because it’ll probably end the same way every time. With him tilting his head at you and furrowing his brows in confusion.

You have to remember that for him, this is purely business. Maybe even less than that, actually.

He’s here to sate his appetite, and you are simply a means to an end.

“I’m fine,” Xavier replies, still frowning and no doubt wondering why you keep trying to make small talk with him. He then gestures towards one of the chairs. “Are you ready to get started?”

You nod and quickly sit down. Even though you came back here of your own volition, now that he’s about to drink your blood again, you can feel how fast your heart is beating in anticipation of the pain.

There’s no point in being scared. I need the money. I did it once, so I’m sure I can do it again.

“Whenever you want,” you tell him, white-knuckling the armrest of your chair. “I’m ready.”

Xavier takes a moment to settle beside you. He seems to be waiting just in case you refuse, and while you appreciate that he won’t do anything without your consent, the longer he takes to get started, the more nerve-wracking this whole thing is.

Finally, he bridges the distance, uses an arm to gently hold you in place, and presses his lips against your neck.

Just like last time, it fucking hurts. You can’t even pretend otherwise. There’s a reason why this program isn’t more sought-after. Not only do most humans live in fear of vampires, but the vast majority of people also aren’t desperate enough to sell their blood just to make ends meet. It’s a scary, painful experience, and it comes at a cost to your health, too.

This program was made deliberately for people like you—the hopeless and rundown.

You almost wonder what the other people who’ve signed up are like, but you decide it’s probably better not to meet them. Nothing good could possibly come of so many sad, pitiful souls gathering together in one place.

Anyways, what were you saying again? Oh, right.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

You tremble in place, doing your utmost not to grit your teeth and tense your muscles too much. The pain is one thing, but the sensation of having your blood drained—feeling it be directly siphoned from your body—is what’s truly horrifying. It feels wholly unnatural, and you’ll probably never be able to get used to it.

Still, you put on a brave face. You chose this, and right now, it’s the only option you have.

But apparently, you're not doing a very good job of being convincing.

Xavier pulls away and frowns. “You look like you’re suffering,” he remarks. There’s some blood on his lips, and you swallow at the sight, trying not to let it unnerve you.

“I’m fine,” you reassure. “This is no big deal.”

The last thing you want to do is scare him off. You need him to keep coming back. To you, the money you get from this is every bit as vital as the blood flowing through your veins.

Without it, you won’t survive.

Xavier narrows his eyes, and you fear that he’s starting to become rather annoyed with you. Perhaps he’d prefer someone else. Someone who isn’t such a baby and knows how to suffer through the pain without letting it show.

But instead of berating you, he does the exact opposite.

He apologizes.

“Sorry,” he sighs. “It’s been a long time since I drank someone’s blood like this. Up until I was admitted entry to the city, I lived off the government-issued blood packs, so I didn’t have to bite anyone. I suppose I should learn how to be a bit gentler.”

Uh... what?

You weren’t expecting this. You weren’t expecting this at all. Granted, he was very vocal about not wanting to force you into anything, but he never really struck you as the compassionate type. His expression is usually so stern, almost as frigid as his ice-cold hands.

But right now, he actually looks a bit sheepish.

You’re not sure if it’s the tenderness of his gaze, or the fact that someone’s actually treating you with empathy for a change, but either way, you find yourself blushing.

“I-It’s alright,” you say, glancing off to the side. Looking into those clear blue eyes of his is proving to be far too difficult a task right now. “I mean... it does hurt a bit, but I expected as much coming into this. I think I just need some more time to get used to it.”

“No. I’m sure it can’t be pleasant, so it’s up to me to do it in a way that isn’t quite so unbearable.” He lightly taps you on the hand, beckoning you to look at him again. “I’d like to try one more time,” he says. “With your permission, of course.”

Fuck. Here you are, selling your blood—which is quite possibly the least romantic thing in the world—but all of a sudden, you’ve got butterflies in your stomach.

It’s his fault for being so damn handsome. Or maybe you’re just not thinking clearly from all the blood loss.

Yeah. That must be it.

“Go ahead,” you reassure, adjusting your position and exposing your neck again. You take a deep breath, trying to relax, and you remind yourself that no matter how much it hurts, eventually, it will end.

Xavier’s fangs pierce your skin again, but even though you wince, you feel as though it’s slightly different from earlier. The way he’s drinking your blood is slower, more deliberate. It still hurts, no question about it, but you can tell that he’s now being conscious of how he does it.

Somehow, just the fact that he’s making an effort to hurt you less helps you cope a lot better than before.

“Huh? A different vampire has personally requested me?”

You blink, holding your phone against your ear. Just moments ago, someone from Plasma Inc. called to inform you that you’ve got another client. The news comes as a surprise, especially since you’re pretty sure Xavier is the only vampire you’ve ever met.

“Um... you guys don’t happen to show the clients files of the people who’ve signed up for the program and rank their blood in terms of tastiness, right?”

It’s a stupid question, if the sigh the employee lets out is anything to go off. You felt like asking it anyways, though.

“Of course not,” they reply. “This is actually a very peculiar case. We normally match clients and donors randomly, but this particular client apparently caught a glimpse of you in the building. Certain vampires are more perceptive than others and can sense when someone has appetizing blood. He was adamant about meeting with you, but naturally, the choice is yours. Rest assured that we will never disclose any of your personal information to him, so you’re welcome to refuse.”

As if you would ever refuse an opportunity to earn more money. These people are seriously underestimating just how desperate you are.

“I’ll meet with him,” you agree. “Just let me know when I should stop by.”

This is a good thing, right? Assuming he likes you—which, it sounds like he already does—you’ll be able to meet with two clients regularly instead of one.

Paying off your debt is finally starting to feel like more than just a dream.

Not much time has passed since you last saw Xavier, but once again, you find yourself walking down the pristine, glistening white hallways of Plasma Inc.

“Before you go meet with your new client,” the doctor begins, “I feel the need to mention that there are limits to how frequently you can come in. We can’t in good faith let you come back too often and give away your blood, otherwise it comes at a detriment to your health, and we are liable for it. So, please understand that we will monitor how often you come in and impose restrictions. We won’t allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.”

Damn. Well, that does make sense, and you suppose it’s a good thing, ethically speaking.

But financially speaking—for you, at least—it isn’t exactly ideal.

Still, you nod in agreement. “I understand. I won’t do anything to get you guys in trouble.”

The doctor smiles and ushers you along. Well, it’s fine. Even if you don’t do this all the time, they pay you quite generously, most likely to incentivize people into signing up in the first place. And now you have two clients instead of one, which means that you’re bound to get paid more often anyways.

Besides, this isn’t a permanent solution. It’s only to help keep you afloat until you pay off your debt to Johnny.

Once this nightmare is over, you’ll finally know what it’s like to live a normal life.

“Go right ahead,” the doctor gestures, and since you’re starting to get used to this whole process by now, you step inside the room without any hesitation.

Then, you lock eyes with your new client.

He’s tall. Really, really tall, as if being a vampire wasn’t already intimidating enough. His eyes are even more piercing than Xavier’s pale blue ones. They glisten like shards of topaz, bright and beguiling. You haven’t yet realized that your lips are parted open in awe, and all of this feels suspiciously like déjà vu. Like when you first laid eyes on Xavier.

It turns out that vampires really are ridiculously attractive.

“Yay, you’re finally here!” he exclaims. He runs up to you, and without warning, pulls you into his arms.

Naturally, you flinch at the sudden contact, and even though he’s going to be biting your neck later, you’re pretty sure that this isn’t exactly appropriate.

“U-Um,” you stammer. You try to push him away, but he’s a million times stronger than you, so you may as well be trying to move a wall.

He squeezes you and lets out a pleased sigh. “I knew it. You really do smell amazing. I can only imagine how sweet your blood will taste.”

Oh, boy. He’s sniffing you.

This already doesn’t bode well.

Mercifully, he pulls away quickly enough, stopping to flash you a sharp-toothed grin. “I’m Felix,” he introduces. “Man, you’re even prettier in person too! This day just keeps getting better. I really struck gold here.”

You can’t tell if he’s a big flirt, or a creep, or if he’s just really excited to drink your blood.

Regardless, you don’t make any motion to leave.

No way in hell are you leaving without your money.

“I’m [Name],” you say, nodding your head a bit. “It’s nice to meet you, Felix. I heard that you requested me specifically, so... hopefully I won’t let you down.”

His grin gets even wider. “There’s no way you will. I’m confident about this. I don’t think I’ve ever met a human who smells as good as you do.”

“Um... thanks.”

You’re not really sure what else to say. He’s a lot different from Xavier, though, that much is for sure. He’s infinitely more expressive and doesn’t seem too concerned with keeping things professional.

Regardless, he’s a client, and unless you give him what he wants, you’re not going to get paid.

“Should we start now?” you ask, already sitting down.

Felix nods eagerly. He’s practically vibrating, incapable of containing his excitement. You suppose it’s a bit endearing. It seems like he’s really been looking forward to this, and money aside, it’s nice to be able to make someone happy.

You adjust the top of your shirt to better expose your neck, and you swear that Felix gulps at the sight.

“Whenever you’re ready, just—”

The rest of the words don’t make it out in time. He grabs you by the shoulders, forcefully, then bites into your neck without even bothering to ease you through it.

A sharp cry escapes your lips, and you whimper, doing everything you can not to scream again.

This is bad. Unlike Xavier, he’s making no attempt to be gentle. He’s slurping from your neck greedily, and even though he’s already pierced your skin, his fangs dig deeper, in a relentless pursuit of everything you have to offer.

Tears blur your vision. Holy fuck, it hurts. You never imagined that it could hurt this much. It was already bad enough before. Will you... even be able to handle this?

You moan softly, and even though you’re doing your best to hold it together, a few tears end up spilling down your cheeks. You can feel how damp your skin is. Not just your face, but also the tender spot on your neck that Felix keeps burying his fangs into.

The pain makes you pass out for a few moments, but it’s better this way, because when you come to, Felix has finally stopped.

His lips and chin are completely stained with your blood, and he makes no attempt to wipe it off either, unlike Xavier.

To make matters even worse, he actually has the nerve to smile.

“Amazing,” he mumbles. He doesn’t seem awfully concerned with the fact that you’re only semi-conscious right now, and instead presses his body closer to yours. “[Name], you really are amazing. I’ve never had such delicious blood before. Most humans taste disgusting to me, and it’s a pain just finding something I can stomach. I don’t think you understand how much it means to me that I’ve finally met someone like you.”

Sure, it sounds like a crappy situation, but you’re having a hard time sympathizing with him after he basically just mauled your neck.

You wince and press a hand against the bite mark, and when you pull your fingers away, you’re horrified to find that they’re completely coated in blood.

Sh-Shit...

Felix leans into your line of sight, still grinning widely. “Hey. I have an offer for you. I’m sure they must have told you that there are restrictions to how often you can sell your blood, but if you’re here, it’s because you need the money, right? So, how about we also meet up outside of our scheduled appointments? That way, I can drink your blood as often as I want, and you can make more money. And by that, I mean that I’ll pay you double what you’re getting here. Hm? How does that sound?”

Double?

As in, two times as much?

You blink repeatedly, suddenly completely lucid. The pain is still there, clear as day, but what you’ve just heard has imbued you with a new sense of bravery.

Felix clearly doesn’t know the meaning of holding back. You doubt he cares about hurting you, which means it’ll be painful as all hell, every single time. Honestly, if you really wanted to, you could drop him as a client altogether. He seems like the type that’s difficult to keep in line, especially when there’s something he wants.

But it’s obvious that he really, really likes your blood, and apparently, he’s willing to pay a steep price for it.

With that kind of money, you’ll be able to pay Johnny back even faster. You’ll be able to treat yourself to a nice meal every now and then, to put your feet down from time to time and get a proper night’s sleep.

Forget just surviving, you want to know what it’s like to actually live.

“This is strictly between the two of us,” Felix continues. “It has to be done in private, without anyone finding out. The laws on this stuff are pretty stingy, and I’m sure neither of us wants to get in trouble. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Just a few moments ago, when you saw the bloody mess he made of your neck, you were actually considering never seeing him again. The pain was simply too much. You’ve suffered a lot, but even you have your limits.

Alas, in the face of money, you are nothing but a pathetic, subservient fool.

“Okay,” you mumble weakly. “Let’s do it.”

It’s probably a big mistake.

But you’re too desperate to care.

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[808airsoftbros]

A Part of Me Lives Inside Me (Kim Jiwon)

Author: Just a story that I came up in my head and the inspiration came from another creepypasta story I listened. If you want to check out more stories do go to my Masterlist

Author's POV

It was uneventful day for Kim Y/N as he was driving home after his long day of work in the office, he was looking forward to the comfort of his home and to see his wife.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me..." He muttered and groaned as he saw a large pack of cars backed up in an intersection.

He peered his head out of the car window to get a better look and there he saw multiple ambulances tending to a major accident.

Deeply sighing knowing that this will make him very late and will probably be midnight by the time he gets home as this will take a while for this to clear up.

When the accident was finally cleaned up, traffic was flowing once again but Y/N sped up a little to make up lost time.

Passing through yellow lights right before it turned red and breaking the speed limit without miraculously getting caught by the police.

However, this would soon turn consequential as suddenly he saw an incoming freight truck but it was too late for him to react...

*crash*

It was all in a blur, his car collided right into the truck, and the front bumper was bent and broken along with the truck but they weren't the most damaged...

That honor belonged to our dear friend, Kim Y/N, his blood was everywhere and he soon passed out from losing too much blood along with God knows what injuries.

Soon EMS arrived at the scene, the truck driver luckily made it out with a few scratches but Y/N had to be hauled to the hospital as soon as possible.

Jiwon on the other hand was at home worrying and wondering what could be holding up her husband this late and was about to call him until her phone rang.

When she realized it was the local hospital, she answered it and the nurse informed her of the accident and she was heartbroken and shocked.

Not wasting a moment further, she grabbed her keys and rushed to the hospital, by the time she arrived, Y/N was covered in bandages and plaster completely unconscious.

"Mister Kim is in a coma, we're not entirely sure when or if he'll wake up, he got himself into a nasty accident..." The doctor grimly informed her.

Though Jiwon didn't like it, she knew there was nothing more she could do for him but be there for him, day after day, night after night, she visited him.

As for Y/N, in his coma, he was having strange visions of an infant crying and voices but he couldn't make out what they were saying or what was going on.

One night, Y/N finally awoke he looked around to see he was alone in a hospital room and covered in bandages making him immobilized as his body was too injured to move at all.

"Uhhh... What happened...?" He muttered trying to gather his thoughts.

The room was dark, he looked through the small window at the door in the hallway but there was no one there and he started to feel a bit lonely.

He looked at the clock to see it was three in the morning and decided it was best to get some rest.

But Y/N's sleep was anything but peaceful as he had those bizarre dreams again and he saw a surgeon performing some kind of operation but he before he could see who he was operating on he woke up and gasped.

His spook startled Jiwon who happened to be in the room with him and her eyes widened in surprise.

"J-Jagi! You're awake!" She exclaimed with a big smile with a tear coming out of her eye.

"Y-Yeah... What happened...? Last thing I remember was a truck heading straight towards me and I just blacked out," He asked and she sighed.

"You got into an accident, the doctor was worried you wouldn't make it but you seem to be fine for now, how are you feeling? You've been out for two weeks," She checked.

"Fine I guess..." He replied and she raised an eyebrow.

"Is something wrong, my dear?" She asked me and Y/N sighed as he didn't know how to put it.

Y/N explained what he saw in his dreams as best as his ability and by the time he finished, she was dead silent and had a blank expression devoid of any emotion.

"Oh... Well, dreams are dreams, they don't mean anything... Maybe it's just a side effect of your coma," Jiwon tried to brush it off.

However, this didn't entirely convince him as he felt that his wife knew something that he didn't but he chose not to push it.

After that, the doctor checked on him and informed them that he would be released after few weeks for him to be transported onto a wheelchair.

Throughout that time, however, Y/N's time in the hospital made him uncomfortable and felt nothing but dread and a sense of emptiness and he wished he'd be discharged sooner.

One night, Y/N couldn't sleep, he was alone in the room once again but he felt like something or someone was watching him from the shadows of the room.

"W-Who's there?" He nervously called out but of course, there was no response.

Sighing as he once again thinks he was hallucinating and feeling too much on edge driving him to paranoia, he was about to go back to sleep when he spotted a shadow figure standing in the corner.

At first, Y/N rubbed his eyes making sure he wasn't seeing things but the figure was still there, standing there motionless, until suddenly, his vision blacked out and the figure was right by his bed.

"W-What are you doing here...? Who are you...?" He quivered in fear and as the figure was closer he got a better look at it and his jaw dropped.

The figure... The man standing before him... Looked exactly like him... But there was no face, just a hollow shell resembling a black hole, he noticed that parts of his body like his shoulder blade, spine, and some other parts were missing.

Y/N shivered and was too afraid to say anything, he didn't understand any of it or why the faceless man resembling him was just staring at him, not moving a single inch.

There was nothing he can do about it, he was stuck in that room, and eventually one response came to his mind.

"W-What are you...?" He nervously asked.

Although he wasn't sure he swore he heard a whisper in his ear, whatever it was... Seemed to be his answer.

"I'm sorry Misses and Mister Kim, but seeing that your son is in a dire state of need, I see no other option..."

"Are you mad?! How would you think my son would feel about this?! This whole thing is just barbaric!"

"Honey, listen to him... He's long gone and we can't lose another... Please, it's the only way..."

The whispers stopped, strangely, all of this felt familiar to him and a faint memory began to play in his head, he was in an operation room surrounded by a doctor and nurses.

He saw his passed mother and father with anxious faces and whispered to each other.

*Door opens*

Suddenly, the doors swung open, and the lights flickered on illuminating the room and temporarily blinding his vision but when his eyes adjusted to the light... The faceless man vanished without a trace like he was never there in the first place.

"Y/N! Are you okay?! We saw your heart monitor spiking!" The nurse asked urgently and checked my vitals.

I was sweating cats and dogs, I didn't know what to make of it... That strange twin and those whispers from my parents.

"I-I'm fine... Just a little paranoid is all..." Y/N assured but the nurse didn't seem entirely convinced as sleeping in a room shouldn't have been this impactful to his health.

The nurse reported this to the doctor by morning, and he grew very concerned telling the nurse to request Jiwon's presence as he had an urgent matter to speak about.

When Jiwon arrived to the hospital, the doctor explained the sudden spike in his heart rate last night and he suspected one thing...

"He's good enough to be discharged... But keep a close eye on him," The doctor instructed and Jiwon nodded.

"Yes, Appa, I will do so," Jiwon answered and promised to take time off her work.

After Y/N heard the news of his discharge, he was most relieved that he would be out of that God-forsaken room, even so, he could not stop thinking about those dreams and that faceless twin.

Y/N would often keep to himself since then, Jiwon would ask what happened that night but all he would tell was that it was a figment of his imagination.

But I wonder if Y/N is telling the truth... Don't you?

[liverspaghett]

What Exactly are we Studying?

nerd!jiseok x nerd!reader

w/c: 3300

Smut & Fluff

Liv's smut debut!

warnings: smut, mirror sex, fingering, unprotected sex, reader is afab

You huffed at the paper sitting before your face. You and Jiseok both loved physics, that's why you majored in it. A lot of your time together was spent studying already, but finals week was a whole different monster. You both had three days to cram for the exams. Jiseok glanced over to you with a smirk. You accidently glared back at him.

“Having a tough time?” he asks you. You rest your head on your hand and look at him, sighing in defeat.

“Yeah actually, I just don't get how to derive Maxwell's stupid equations.” you were stronger in understanding the concepts, while Jiseok was better at solving the math. You were especially bad at rearranging equations. It made you two a power team.

“Lemme see.” He leans over your shoulder from his seat and examines your paper. He starts to explain it, and you look at him, but you don't hear a word he's saying. You didn't even notice what you were doing until he stopped and smiled.

“Did you hear a thing I just said?” He asked. You feel your body tense in shock after returning from a trance. Jiseok was undeniably handsome, and despite knowing each other for twelve years with no issue, you began to fall in love with him over this past semester. Instinctively, you look down at his lips and back to his eyes, causing him to blush.

He liked you back and found it increasingly hard to sit idly and do nothing. He always desired you, and for some reason today, you looked a lot hotter than usual, causing him to feel a bit restless. The way your hair flowed and your glasses complimented your face. He tried to ignore the feeling between his legs. Now would be the worst time for a boner.

“Sorry, I zoned out…” You apologize. He sits down his pen and leans back in his swivel chair, turning it to face you.

“It is kinda hard to concentrate,” He admits. You couldn't agree more with that.

“How about we take a break?” He suggests. You look up at him, already feeling a bit less tired from the idea. You get up and plop on the bed behind you. Jiseok lies beside you. There’s been a couple of times when you both slept here, tonight would probably be one of those nights as well. He made sure to pack a good amount of his stuff as you stay together a lot during finals week.

“Have you ever thought about moving in?” you ask out of the blue. Jiseok doesn’t seem too caught off guard when he replies.

“Thought about it. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it though.” he states. You're not sure if it is a good idea. Don’t get me wrong, you love Jiseok- and well, that's the problem. You love Jiseok. Your feelings for him would only grow stronger if you got to see him all the time.

“I dunno, I haven't taken the time to actually consider it.”

“Maybe we could think about it.” he suggests and then it really crosses your mind how much fun living with him would be.You look over at his resting figure and smile at him. He returns the smile and his cuteness sends your heart in overdrive.

“Let’s finish our homework.” You get up and sit back down at the desk. The equations suddenly come to you as if laying beside Jiseok let some of his math ability seep into you. You finish the paper in ten minutes. It’s already late, one in the morning specifically, so you agreed to get ready for bed.

You take your pajamas and head for the bathroom. You quickly change, do your skincare, brush your teeth and brush your hair. When you get back to your room, you spot Jiseok putting his suitcase up. When he stands up, you get a full-figure view of him. He stands shirtless in nothing but a pair of pajama pants. You stop in your tracks and can’t help but stare. You didn’t know he was so nicely toned under his silly t-shirts with math puns on them.

He looks over to you, meeting your gaze with a smile, “Like what you see?” he arrogantly flexes. You’d be lying if you said no.

“Oh yeah, so sexy.” you say with a sarcastic tone. Little does he know, you’re not lying. He has to be the hottest guy you’ve ever crossed paths with. He giggles at your response and climbs in the bed. Though you’ve slept together many times before, you’ve never actually slept together. You haven’t done anything past sleeping. You turn off the light and lay down beside Jiseok.

“Hey, I’m cold.” he whines.

“Do you want another blanket?” You whisper back to him.

“No.”

“How am I supposed to help you then?”

“You could cuddle me.” You can't help but smile at his request. You're sure to fall even further in love with him, but how could you say no? You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest. He wraps his arm around your waist and hugs you. It appears he falls asleep quickly, but for you, it’s gonna be a challenge. You try to repress the feeling of his hand that gradually lowers until he’s holding your leg by the thigh. His hot breath caresses your neck. He eventually pulls your leg overtop of him, but still doesn’t let go of your thigh. You get more aroused with every second, every breath he takes. You’re sure that if you were to feel between your legs, you’d be soaked to the core. When you try to slip out of his grasp, he whines. He’s too cute to turn down, so you just accept the suffering. you hold him in your arms and run your fingers through his hair. In response, he snuggles into the crook of your neck. Though you’re painfully horny, your exhaustion takes over and Jiseok’s body heat finally soothes you to sleep.

The morning is bright, even through your closed curtains. You look over your friend’s shoulder to look at the clock. It’s nine in the morning. You need to be in class in an hour. Jiseok looks up at you, finally awake. You run your hand down his bare back and he smiles.

“Morning,” he says. His sleepy voice was raspy, reminding you of your soaked core from last night. You jump up, running to the bathroom. You hurriedly clean yourself up before returning to your room.

“JISEOK!” You squeal when you walk in. He didn’t close the door to change. You were left dumbfounded and staring at his completely naked body. You’re gonna have to go back to the bathroom.

“Shit- sorry, I guess I got used to being here.” he says nonchalantly while still getting dressed. He seemed unphased by you standing there seeing him unclothed. After he puts his pants on, he grabs a shirt from his suitcase and puts it on. It’s another one of his math pun tees that you’ve grown familiar with.

Without saying anything you go in and get your clothes for today and head back to the bathroom. You’ll certainly need a shower now. After getting ready, you get in his car and he drives you both to the science building. He apologizes to you in a quiet and serious tone.

“I really forgot I wasn’t home. Your place is more home to me than mine. I really should’ve been more mindful. I’m sorry.” You want to tell him not to apologize for honestly blessing your eyes and feeding your dirty fantasies.

“Don’t be sorry, I was just a little shocked.” You sat in silence for a moment before getting the courage to add to what you were saying.

“Not to mention, you’re some real eye candy, Seok.” He blushes at your comment.

“You think?” He looks at you with a shy smile. You didn’t know it, but he’s deeply in love with you. He could stay forever in your embrace like last night, and he plans on it too. He just isn’t sure how to yet. He gets out of the car and comes over to the passenger side to let you out. He closes the door and leans against the car.

“I'll pick you up after class?” he asks. You nod, excited to see your best friend again after class. He had to meet with his friends, maybe they could give him advice on how to confess to you.

___________

“y/n!” Jiseok yells from afar. He's waiting for you outside of his small, black car. You excitedly wave and he waves back at you. You speed up to a jog to get over to Jiseok a little faster and jump into his arms.

“So?” He asks. You already know he's wondering about the practice test you had today. The real exam isn't for another two days.

“I got a perfect score!” You happily shove the paper in his hands. He takes a look at it and smiles at you.

“Just as I expected!” He hands the paper back to you with a proud smile. He opens the car door and closes it when you sit down inside. He's always had great manners and took very good care of you. Your parents both wanted you to marry him, and while that wasn't on the table twelve years ago, you start to think of what a life married to Jiseok would be like.

The entire drive to your house is silent. Both of you are preoccupied by your own thoughts. Your mind wanders far into the possible future and Jiseok is thinking more short-term. His heart is racing beneath the calm look he wears.

Jiseok pulls into the driveway. He's never been this nervous. No amount of practice or foreknowledge could prepare him for this moment. Just in case you turn him down, he had already put his stuff in the trunk. But if you don't turn him down. . . who knows where this will go?

You get out of the car and Jiseok follows you to the front door. He stops you before you go in. His hand is nervously wrapped around your wrist, gripping it to possibly soothe him. He looks away from you, unable to make eye contact. Every possible scenario runs through his mind simultaneously. The mere anxiety causes tears to well up in his eyes.

“Seok?” You take the other hand he isn't holding and place it on his shoulder.

“I've got something I need to tell you.” His heart drops into his stomach.

“Cmon, let's go sit down so you can talk to me.” and here you two are, sitting on the couch. You sit facing him with one hand on his thigh.

“Y/n, I really like you, like romantically.” your face changes from one of sympathy to surprise. You're at loss for words.

“What's that look for?” He asks anxiously.

“I like you too, Jiseok!” You can see all of the tension immediately leave his body. He goes limp in the couch and breathes as if he's been holding it for two minutes. You lean toward him, taking I'm the new sight. Sure he's still Jiseok, but he's your boyfriend Jiseok.

“So that makes THE Kwak Jiseok MY boyfriend?” He blushes at your remark and laughs.

“Indeed it does,” He replies. You hover over him, the mutuality of your feelings allows you to stop holding back as much. And as if some magnetic force was pulling you two together, your lips crash into each other's. His lips are soft and delicate. He's gentle with you as he holds your face with his hand. Your eyes flutter open between kisses, catching glimpses of each other's pretty faces. You pull away to catch your breath.

By this point, you might as well have been straddling his lap. You get off of him and keep your distance. It's best if you spend this time preparing for your exam.

“I've gotta study.”

“But you already got a perfect score?”

“I'll be honest with you Seok, I guessed on two of the questions.”

“Well let me help you!” You invite him to join you and he follows you to your room. He sits comfortably in his chair, as he's more than familiar with your room.

“Ugh, I really don't wanna do this.” You say.

“Well how about instead of physics, we study anatomy?” You look over at him confusedly. You pick up on what he means when you see his mischievous grin. You'd thought of this moment for too long to turn him down.

“Sounds a little more interesting than kinematics,” you say nonchalantly. You two exchange consenting looks before he takes his opportunity. Before you know it, he's yanking you up out of your swivel chair and lays you on your bed. He prowls over you, glaring at your figure like it's his last meal. Despite the primal and animalistic needs of his, he takes his sweet time with you.

He starts off with gentle kisses beginning on the lips. He trails down to your jaw and eventually makes his way to your neck. Every time he moves from one place to the next, the previous spot feels a bit chilly as the air blows lightly on his trail of saliva. He finds a place in the crook of your neck to nibble at before he starts leaving love bites. Each one is slightly painful and leaves a red mark behind. He pulls back to see his work. The sight of you adorned in his markings is arousing for the both of you.

Jiseok smiles in adoration before reaching his hand out to you. He pulls you up and sits you in his lap. His hands travel to places they never have. Your thighs are like heaven to his senses, perfectly squishy in his grip. It takes all of his will power to not throw you into the bed and breed you, but he wants this to be special. He'll save the rough for another time.

His hands find their home on the waistband of your pants. His breath tickles your ear when he speaks.

“This alright baby?” You nod and he continues to remove your clothes. You take it upon yourself to turn around. You plan to strip Jiseok, but seeing you unclothed leaves him dumbfounded. You smirk at the tent that's poking through his pants and remove his shirt. The rest of his clothes follow.

He gets off of the bed and takes your hand, pulling you toward him. He guides you over to your full length mirror and stands you in front of him.

“Today we're gonna review body systems. You know most of them pretty well already, I just thought it'd be best to study the reproductive system a little deeper.” His breath tickles your neck as he whispers and you feel your heart rate skyrocket. His emphasis on the word deeper has your mind a couple steps ahead of where you were. You'd just begun and you already have to hold back from begging in tears for him to bury his cock in you.

Instead, you stand still and let him work. He gets a feel of your entire body, lastly trailing down your hips and between your legs. He runs his fingers through your folds once and brings them to his lips.

“You're soaked hun,” He says before sucking your arousal off of his fingers and pulling them out with a popping sound.

“And very delicious, just as I anticipated.” His voice sounds eloquent, like a man of great power who is about to enjoy fine dining. He feels on top of the world having your body all to himself. He'd take this over the world's finest caviar any day. His fingers find their way back to you, moving around slowly and intentionally as he explores your body. He's a scientist. His curiosity is deadly and his observant nature takes the stage now that he finally has his hands on you.

His every sense is overloaded and cloudy with lust. Your body was perfect in every sense, he could touch you for hours without getting bored. You start to get restless, writhing under his slow touches. You're growing eager and he starts to sense it from you.

Without much warning, he presses his middle finger just past your entrance. Your cunt is warm and wet around his finger. He starts moving slowly, noting your every reaction. When he presses a certain spot, your body tenses. He does it again, same reaction. You lean your head back into his shoulder and peer into his eyes. They're loving and intimate. He looks to the mirror, using his eyes to gesture for you to look too.

You take in the sight. Jiseok holding you up with one arm. His hand has a lethal grip on you. With his other arm, one finger is buried inside of you. He pulls out, to which you whine. However he replaces it with two fingers. His pace this time is a lot quicker and rougher. You depend on him to hold you up, the feeling of him thrusting his fingers into you is weakening. The view you have in your mirror is utterly vulgar. You'd never seen yourself so pathetic. He pulls out again, leaving you disappointed and needy for more. A string of arousal stretched between his fingertips and your entrance. He laps it up with his fingers and brings it to his mouth, savoring every bit of your taste.

He gently pushes down on your shoulders, helping ease you to the ground. You sit on your knees, facing the mirror. Jiseok lowers himself behind you and leans you forward on all fours. He positions himself to mount you before slowly sliding his hard cock deep inside of you. He caresses your back with his hand, letting you adjust to the new feeling. After he feels you start to grow restless, he starts moving slowly in and out of you. He holds your shoulders for stability as he finds a decent pace. You lower your arms to the ground, no longer able to hold yourself up. You've been on edge for twenty minutes now, Jiseok just isn't ready for you to cum yet.

He moves his hands from your shoulders to your waist, guiding your movement as he thrusts into you. The feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him has him on edge, ready to cum at any moment. He moves at a relentless pace. His own high starts building. He looks into the mirror, seeing your fucked out face hazes his mind. His breath gets ragged and your moans intertwine. He grows increasingly whiny as he gets closer to cumming.

He leans over you, bringing his fingers to your clit and rubbing furiously. You finally break, your entire body tenses under Jiseok. Your walls clench around him, bringing him to his orgasm as well. He tries to maintain the rhythm, but his body involuntarily jerks as he cums deep inside you. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to him as you both finish. When the tension seeps away and you're left limp, he pulls out of you and picks you up.

Jiseok runs a warm bath for you and sets you inside. You take his hands and bring him in with you. He lays on top of you, nearly falling asleep. You run your fingers through his wet hair.

“We've gotta get cleaned up before we take a nap,” you say to your pouty boyfriend. You smile and push him into a sitting position. You stand up and get the shower running before you stand Jiseok up and wash him down. After you finish, he returns the favor. Once you're both clean, you get into some comfy clothes and head for your bed to take a nap.

“Is that my math shirt you're wearing?” He asks.

“Not anymore” you whisper, and he's more than ok with it. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest protectively for you both to sleep.

[esamastation]

Part fifty of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine

-

There hadn't been all that many duels in PIDW. There was Sha Hualing's invasion, sure, but Shen Qingqiu barely even needed to fight there, he'd just let his sword fly and do all the talking, and that was fine. There'd been other fights, of course, serious fights against demons and beasts, but not that many formal duels.

Most of the fighting Shen Qingqiu had done had been sparring - and a great majority of that against his students. He was primarily a teacher, after all, not a frontline combatant, and he enjoyed sparring with his cute little disciples. There was nothing greater than seeing your student realise they were improving.

It, probably, left him with some bad habits, when it comes to duelling. He can't quite turn off the censorious eye of a master, looking for flaws in his opponent's stances, looking where they have room left to improve.

Deng Yuto is technically very good, his form is solid and his blows precise, he's clearly been taught by a good teacher. But he's very stiff and formal and puts too much emphasis on the transitions - something that can become a habit when you learn your forms in big groups.

If he was one of Shen Qingqiu's students, he'd be praising him for his efforts and telling him to let loose, to set aside the lessons and really go with the flow! He clearly has the techniques down - now is the time to learn how to apply them freely!

But Deng Yuto isn't Shen Qingqiu's student.

He's Sephiroth's opponent. And Sephiroth is probably supposed to kill him.

Blocking another technically perfect but very stiff attack with Masamune, Sephiroth considers his options. Angeal is standing somewhere behind him, radiating concern and worry and fear. Reno is hiding in the woods nearby and probably recording everything, if not on video - because cameras here are still huge and hard to lug around, thankfully - then in writing. And across from Sephiroth, behind his opponent, stands a squad of Wutai warriors, cheering for their captain and nervously waiting for the outcome.

Sephiroth wishes he had time to analyse their character design. It's delightfully mixed. Sleeveless tangzhuang shirts with more Japanese armour - what is it with this world and their disdain for sleeves, anyway? SOLDIER with their sleeveless turtlenecks, and now this. What, is everyone living for their next chance to flex their biceps or something? Don't they get cold? Tch!

Sadly, it probably means he can't find a proper Xianxia style hanfu in Wutai. Shame.

Deng Yuto steps back, swinging his spear decisively. "Fight me seriously!" he demands, and Sephiroth realises he'd fallen into a teacher's mindset after all, stepping back and letting his opponent lead.

"Ah," Sephiroth sighs. He's being insulting to his opponent. "Very well. If that's what you want."

His opponent braces himself, pale but determined. Behind him his men fall quiet, watching with expectant horror. It's painfully clear what they expect.

Aiyah, guess he better make it quick and impressive for them!

Sephiroth salutes his opponent with the Masamune - and then slices Deng Yutos gunspear into four pieces and finishes with the edge of his blade at the man's throat.

"You're finished," Sephiroth says to the man left holding the remains of his spear shaft. "Yield."

Judging by the look the man gives him, he might've as well told him to dance a jig. "What?"

Your life, man! Take it! "Yield."

Deng Yuto's hands shake and he drops his spear. "I do not," he says. "I challenged you for my men's lives - I will not yield them."

What? "I don't want your men's lives," Sephiroth says, exasperated. "And I don't want to take yours. Yield and leave."

The silence is deafening.

Then, "... Maybe the butchers at Shinra have finally given the Demon a full lobotomy?" someone in the Wutai group suggests, in Mandarin. 

Which is kind of confusing for Sephiroth's brain because he kind of hadn't realised they weren't speaking Mandarin before? Uh…

"It must be some kind of trick."

"He's lost his mind…"

"Hasn't he always been insane?"

"We can't trust him - the Demon is a monster, he has no honour. They let us go and follow us to kill the lord -"

Sephiroth looks at them over Deng Yuto's shoulder, blinking slowly. For a moment he thinks of doing or saying nothing… but his drama-loving heart couldn't bear letting this go. "What thick faces Wutai warriors have, to say such things right in front of the one they're insulting."

The captain stiffens and the Wutai warriors all go very quiet. "Oh, great," Angeal mutters behind Sephiroth. "Now what?"

"Who taught you to speak our tongue?" Deng Yuto asks warily.

"No one. This one simply learned," Sephiroth answers and arches a brow. "Is this Sephiroth not allowed? Is the language sacred?"

"... Your mode of speech is archaic," Deng Yuto comments, looking confused.

Ah, well. Probably! That's what happens when you end up as a highly respectable Peak Lord in a Xianxia stallion novel for years! Though he doesn't have that big of a sample yet, the way the Wutai soldiers speak the language sounds a little rude to him. So informal! 

With a scoff, Sephiroth draws his sword away and sheathes it. Behind him, Angeal breathes out a sigh of relief.

"You are letting us go?" Deng Yuto asks, unsure.

"Does Captain Yuto wish to die?" Sephiroth asks plainly and tries to be haughty. Think, big bad. "This Sephiroth will oblige, should Captain Yuto make it necessary. But as of now, this one has no interest in death."

There's a confused murmur going through the Wutai warriors, though nothing distinct enough to make out. Deng Yuto motions them to be quiet and looks at Sephiroth levelly. "Then what is… Sephiroth's interest here? Why has he come to this place?"

Sephiroth considers his answer and then decides, fuck it. It's not like he's going to fight this war, anyway! "This one is seeking seclusion and an opportunity to better himself."

There's an incredulous wheeze coming from the group of Wutai warriors. "He expects us to believe that?!"

Sephiroth says nothing to that, arching his brows at Deng Yuto. After a moment, the Wutai Captain takes off his helmet, to reveal a man in his thirties with a serious but handsome face and long black hair in a tail. He puts his helmet under his arm and for a moment looks at Sephiroth, clearly trying to figure him out and just as clearly failing.

Ah, he must be really OOC right now. It's surprisingly gratifying! Life without a System is truly great.

"Sephiroth is not here to fight?" Deng Yuto finally asks, slow and incredulous.

Ah, well. "This one can't deny he has orders," Sephiroth admits. "But as things stand, no. This Sephiroth is in seclusion and would rather concentrate on his personal cultivation."

Judging by the reaction that gets, they not only understand the word, but they also get what he means by it. There's shock, some incredulity and what's clearly intrigue in Deng Yuto's face. He looks at Sephiroth like he's seeing something new and strange.

Not that strange, though, it turns out! Whether it's based on Taoism, Buddhism, or something else, it seems like this world has some form of cultivation, after all.

Isn't that an interesting turn of events?

-

👀

[smok3r7]

They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader 

Explicit, 18+ 

Butterflies & Broken Glass

 Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

Chapter Summary: Moving on isn’t always the easiest and honestly takes a long time. But does it ever get better when old wounds get ripped open? 

Word count: 3k

—

 “So,” your mom starts “Are you ready to talk ‘bout, you know, it?” 

   The sound of her knife hitting the cutting board after slicing through a carrot pierces your ears. You don’t answer her, you continue to peel the batch of potatoes and carrots that sit in this metal strainer under a running tap. She also says nothing and continues to chop the vegetables you pass to her as if you’re on an assembly line. 

   You’re not sure if you are, but you’ve avoided it as long as you could. It’s weird that it feels like years ago and, simultaneously, feels like hours ago. But it’s been three months, going on four next week. The reality of the break up, however, hit you the second week you came home, and it was brutal. 

   And since then, you haven’t been the same. 

   Bella and Kelly have tried everything to help you; consistent phone calls from Kels since she’s still in DC, and Bella coming over whenever she can - which is all the time. But you just can’t shake the utter pain and heartbreak that pours out of your skin, and the only person who can help you through this, is your mom. 

   She’s been through most, if not all, of the hardest and toughest things you’ve been dealt with. She’s your real ride or die bestie. So even though you're not ready to discuss it, evidently you have to - for your own sake. If you’re going to move on with your life, move on from Aaron Hotchner, you have to talk about it. 

   “Not much to talk about, really.” You lie one more time. You’re not sure why you do - you chalk it up to your subconscious mind not being ready to properly handle this or that your mom will drop it. 

   The sound of your moms chopping stops and you hear her sigh. She’s not gonna leave it alone. The cold water flows through your fingers, causing them to go numb and start to sting when there are no vegetables left to rinse. So you know you’re stuck listening to what she has to say, so you figure you might as well just take it. 

   “Well, I’m tired of you sittin’ on your ass ‘n mopin’ around all fuckin’ day for the past few months. That’s not the daughter I raised.” By the loudness of her words you can tell she’s now facing you, but you’re too afraid to turn around. Too embarrassed. Too ashamed of yourself. 

   She barks your name and orders you to turn the water off and look at her, which you do, but not before you grab a sheet of paper towel to dry your stinging hands. You do this very slowly, to the point where you feel like it’s in slow motion. You know she’s not going to do anything but just try to understand where your head is at, and maybe scold you just a bit because of your actions - or lack of, for that matter - but you know she means well and she just wants to make sure her little girl is okay. 

   Looking into her eyes, you break. The bubble in your throat finally bursts. As you lunge forward, your moms arms open and welcome you with love and affection as she wraps her arms tightly around your shoulders. 

   You cry and cry, until no tears are left. 

—

   Your senses are overwhelmed; the smells of plants and people from the park overpower you, the sight of the masses of people panics you just a little, and the sound of music playing in one ear and screams of small children on the playground in the other keeps you alert. Your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest, while your lungs work overtime to keep you going - the cool morning weather making it harder to catch your breath. 

   The white gazebo is now within sight as you jog past the large playground that’s packed with children of all ages with their families. Saturdays during the summer are the busiest days at Richmond park, so you always take that into account when you go on your daily run. 

   But this morning is different. Instead of going to your usual civil court office, like you have for the past eleven years, you’re waiting on an important email from Erin Strauss. The section chief of the BAU in Quantico, the very job you’ve been working so hard for. Your second interview was three days ago and it went pretty well considering how judgmental and difficult Strauss was. 

   You honestly weren’t sure if you were going to get the job because Strauss was picking apart every tiny thing about you; where and how you grew up, what college you attended, what’s so important about joining the BAU, and whether you can hold your own when it comes to a career with something like the FBI. You felt like you were being stabbed with each one of her questions, but you figured that she’s just like that, with a job requiring a brutal sort of honesty.

   Catching your breath, you raise your arms above your head and fold them over so the air can flow freely through your body. Standing on the steps of the gazebo, you step in a small circle to get a bearing on your surroundings, making sure to note anything that seems out of the ordinary. Too many women have been getting assaulted or mugged recently, so you’re always scanning your environment. To add another element of security, you own a black 9mm, which is currently in your car in the parking lot just a few feet away. You have your carry permit, but it doesn’t do much good when you’re in leggings and a sports bra. 

   Your mom was extremely concerned about you living by yourself and forty-five miles away from her, so she and Anthony convinced you to go to the gun range to become familiar. Then, after about four months of that, you decided you felt comfortable and educated enough to own a gun, for your safety. 

   While doing one last spin, you lower your arms and reach for your phone in your side pocket. Your breathing is now steady and regulated, so you can focus more on yourself and your surroundings. 

   Pausing your music and taking out your one earbud, you notice an email from Strauss and you instantly feel proud. You really did it, you really made it to your dream job. It felt almost impossible; after eleven years, you were about to give up hope about this job. But your inner child put up a huge fight against it and ultimately won. There was no way in hell that you would give up on this dream of yours. It was going to happen one way or another. 

   You open the email as you start walking to your car, but before you can read past the names copied in the email, you freeze. 

   Your stomach drops to the cement below your sneakers, your heart rate increases rapidly, and your mind somehow is silent but screaming at the same time. There’s no way this is possible, you never thought this would happen. 

   Hotchner, Aaron

   —

   “You haven’t even seen him since graduation right?” 

   “Kels…yes! I never thought I’d ever see him again, let alone have to work with him, under him even!” 

   “Under him, hehe,” Bella murmurs to herself into her glass of wine as she takes a sip. 

   You glance to your right and she diverts her eyes to her feet, away from your judgy eyes.

   Immediately after you received the email and got back into your car to head back to your house, you called the girls over for a wine and bitch night. Something the three of you started once Kelly ended things with Jason six years ago and moved five minutes away from you and Bella, who lives only four houses apart. 

   Kelly has her own law firm and has done extremely well for herself. However, you do feel bad about how Jason and her ended things. Long story short, she caught him bringing random women back to their home constantly. But what makes it even worse is they have a seven year old daughter. A newborn at the time she kicked him out and never wanted to see him again, Jason hasn’t seen his daughter since then either. 

   You have no idea how Kelly is still able to be this bubbly person, but she is. You and Bella help Kelly whenever she needs it, especially when it comes to her daughter Lilly; babysitting, picking up or dropping off from school, picking up dinner some nights, and anything else. 

   You’ll be damned if anything else happens to Kelly and Lilly, they are least deserving of any treatment like that from Jason. 

   “So, have you replied to her email?” Bella questions as she takes a bite of stringy pizza, wiping the corners of her mouth after. 

   “She told me I didn’t have to. Just to make sure I read it before I go in on Wednesday, which I thought was a weird day to start but what do I know?” 

   “So, like… how are you feelin’ about all this?” Bella chimes in again, but with a tone that lets you know she is trying to be sincere. 

   Your right hand instinctively raises to your necklace and you start to fidget with it … the heart necklace from Aaron. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. You really don’t know how to feel about this, especially when you erased him from your memory almost completely so you could figure out how to move on. 

   After so long, the thought of Aaron became less and less, even though you still wear the one piece of jewelry from him. It’s been the one thing that you haven’t been able to let go of and you haven’t had a reason to understand why, but now it almost seems like this was meant to happen. The universe never wanted you to forget about him, but you also wonder if he’s ever stopped thinking about you. 

   He had to have noticed your name, just like you did his. But what does that mean? You wonder if he had any say in hiring you or if this is all Strauss’s work, because those two things have very different meanings behind them and those two people have very different motives. 

   “Do you think you’ll be okay?” Bella sits up and rests her hand on your bare thigh, shaking you back to reality. 

   You raise your eyes to her and give the best fake smile you can show and lightly nod your head, I’m gonna try. 

—

   You have an excellent first day baby, call me when you’re home. Love you! 

   Standing in the elevator, you read your moms text message with a warm smile. You didn't tell her about Aaron being your boss, that’ll be a deep conversation for later. 

   Thank you, love you mama! 

   The elevator dings, stops and the metal door slides open before a gorgeous, black haired woman walks in, and you both give a slight smile to each other as you move to give her some room. She goes to press the number six, for the BAU, but she notices you already have it pressed. 

   “Oh, you must be the new girl that Hotch was telling everyone about,” she confidently tells you. “Emily Prentiss.” She reaches her hand out, which you confidently take and introduce yourself to her. 

   So he does remember me…what did he tell them? 

   “Welcome to the world of horrible things people are capable of, you’ll come to learn a lot!” She shakes her head slightly, “But it seems like you can stomach it, I mean, you made it into the BAU which is huge in itself.” 

   The same time you chuckle, the metal doors open again and you’re met with a small hallway with glass doors that have the Seal of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s logo on them. It’s busy with agents walking from one hallway to the other, all on a mission (or at least that’s what it looks like). You can finally release that breath that’s been sitting in your chest since you woke up this morning. 

   “Well, let’s go introduce you to the team,” Emily announces as she slightly nudges your lower back, “I got you, girl, don’t worry.” 

   Turning your body to the side so she can lead the way, you smile, “Thank you.” 

   Now, past the glass doors, you’re met with an open layout office with desks together to make squares. Emily walks past the first couple and heads to the next set, where a group of four gather around one’s desk. Your nerves build just a little bit, but you shove them down for your first impressions. You’re not going to allow Aaron the satisfaction of knowing he’s messing with your head. 

   “Listen up, kids!” Emily announces, catching everyone’s attention but you see how all their eyes move to you and then back to Emily. She steps to the side, almost showcasing you off to them as she tells them your name and that you’re officially joining the team. 

   With your leather brown purse hanging from your shoulder, a large confident smile comes across your face as you wave to them with your right hand, hi guys! 

   “I was just asking J.J when you were coming in, I’m Penelope Garcia!” This vibrant colored blonde reaches her bejeweled wrist out to greet you, which you happily take. 

   “My official first day!” You cheer, “So excited to be a part of your team!” 

   Over the next ten minutes you learn a whole lot about the team. And you overall, love them all already. They’re all just full of character and personality, which you’re always looking for in a work environment.

   J.J, the original liaison turned official Supervisory Special Agent and mom of two healthy boys. Spencer Reid, the impossibly smart guy, you have no clue that anyone could be as smart as him. Derek Morgan, the player and muscle of the team for sure, this man is flirtatious but in a fun way - he’s not rude or arrogant in the slightest. David Rossi, one of the original FBI agents and the old Italian man that reminds you a lot of what your mom described of her grandfather. Penelope Garcia, the technical genius and the brightest and most animated woman you have ever seen. Emily Prentiss, the pure badass and smartass of the team, is almost a mixture of the team all around. 

   Jokes and history are being shared amongst everyone, but there’s a huge elephant in the room. Even with the laughs from the team, the tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. Where is he? 

   “Dad’s here!” 

   You hear Derek whisper, trying to not make a scene…which doesn’t work because everyone turns their head. Everyone except you. You’re caught staring at J.J, who sits in her office chair with her blonde eyebrows raised, and her lips purse as she slowly spins to face her desk. 

   Morning. 

   There it is. The voice you’ve ached to be able to hear again, but will deny if ever asked. From the one and only man you’ve ever longed for and have loved since you met him over a lifetime ago. The man you’ve lost sleep over from just wishing you could redo it all over so you and him didn’t go separate ways. The voice that distracts you from work when you’re alone in your office and you’re not sure why. The memories of you and him on date nights flourish your brain when you’re with friends, even though you thought you and him were done completely. The voice you thought you had erased from your memory, but just like that, the memories and feelings come right back like you’re in college again. 

   Aaron. 

   Just like that, he stops dead in his tracks. His back now to you about a desk away, his broad shoulders tense under his black suit. You watch the way his back stiffens and he takes a deep breath in and stands for a moment, but he doesn’t turn around. You’re not sure why you said his name just now, it’s almost scary how natural his name spewed out of your mouth. There was just no way that you couldn’t not say anything to him right now, it just didn’t seem right. 

   My office is all he says with the most monotone voice you have ever heard from him. You’re almost speechless, almost. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you push your tongue into the side of your left cheek - what in the fuck? If he’s going to make this into a thing that it doesn’t need to be, you’re going to lose your shit because you know he can be an adult when it’s needed. 

   “Uh oh, trouble in paradise…” Derek mumbles with a smile that goes from ear to ear. Garcia hits his arm and tells him to shut up, but you can’t help but laugh at him. 

   “Little do you know, pretty boy.” You crack back at him with a wink as you start your way towards the small set of steps that lead to his office. A small giggle fest starts behind you and you can’t help but feel incredible, you’re fitting in so well already and you’re honestly not even worried about what Aaron will do or say. 

   You already know this job is going to be tough. 

   But so worth it.