#please ignore the hand. I had it in a different place originally but when I moved it I was to lazy to draw a new hand to fit well on Merls..

[fabreezescentedpiano]

“Can’t we find a way out of this without getting in a fight?”

“No, Merlin.. Without Marcille here to use her magic, we don’t have any alternatives than this.”

“..Ah…”

[starcrossedmusings]

Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Whether in the solitude of his room or surrounded by family, all Azriel can think about is you. He would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst, Mourning, mention of suicide

Word Count: 3652

Notes: I don't even know where this came from. I was listening to sweet music by hozier and thought "what if I gave Azriel more trauma". The idea popped into my head and it basically wrote itself. I can't believe I have to say this but with this fandom I'm not risking it: this wasn't written to hate on Elain (or any other character) or incite anyone else to do so. Keep your stupid fights off my post, please and thank you. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2

Another family dinner at the river house meant another night of watching everyone around him happy and in love. Azriel didn't think of himself as egotistical, would never think the love his brothers are experiencing is undeserved either, but it reminds him of a time where he was the only one in the Inner Circle with a partner, of when his brothers were the ones confessing to him how jealous they were of how he had found someone that loved him so much, of a time he never thought would have an end. It reminds him of you.

He looks himself in the mirror as he buttons up the navy shirt, trying to ignore the vacant room behind him. If you were here with him you would have been making jokes about his insistence on keeping the blue theme going in his clothes even though he swears he doesn't think too much about what to wear or his appearance in general.

On a good day, you'd be helping him with the small buttons right now, with shadows swirling around your legs and looking up at him the way you knew would take his breath away every time. On an even better day, he'd have your back pressed against his chest, his fingers inside your familiar heat, the other hand wrapped around your throat so you could watch him play with your body, panting his name and clawing at his arm, pleading with him to keep going, to let you touch him. He'd be late for an entirely different reason, not for getting held up talking to his spies, and then getting lost in his memories.

Sensing his thoughts, his meddling shadows move to his desk, filtering into the drawer they knew held a small velvet box. The dark wisps carefully picked it up and set it on top of the dark wood. Leaving it there and moving back to their original places around the darkened room, letting him decide for himself if he wanted to open it or not.

It had been a while since the last time he touched it, busy as he was these days. There were times he would sit and look at it every day, sometimes without even daring to open it and look inside. But there were also times where even the sight of the navy velvet would suddenly suffocate him with the reminder of your sweet scent, one he would never be able to smell again. It would make him hide the box at the back of his drawer, the back of his mind.

Over the last few years, his reactions to it had gotten milder, an unwilling acceptance of the fact that he would never see you again allowed him to reminisce on the happy memories you had together, even the sad ones, every little fight you had seemed so inconsequential now, he'd give anything to be able to have any moment with you back, to hear you say his name one more time.

He walks to the desk, only hesitating for a beat before grabbing and opening the box. His heart throbs as he stares at the ring sitting inside, thumbing at the empty space left behind by it on his finger instinctively. He had never liked rings, didn't like anything that brought attention to his hands or rubbed against the rough skin but the moment you slid the silver ring into his finger it felt right, he had never wanted to take it off. Azriel would wear a ring on each finger if it showed the world he was yours.

He wore the ring for an entire decade after you died, even after all hope that you could still be alive had left him, he couldn't bring himself to let go of it, to let go of you. His mother had been the one to tell him he needed to stop wearing it, that holding onto it, onto the past would only bring him more heartache. He could still hear her begging him with tears in her eyes, not bearing to see her son in such a state, but he had only actually taken it off when Rhys was taken by Amarantha.

He had thrown the ring into the Sidra that night. He's not sure if it had been anger, frustration or simply hopelessness that drove him to it in that moment. He was tired of not being able to protect anyone, tired of losing his people, the people he never thought he would even find when he was just a boy sitting in a dark humid cell. It must have been that boy's pain, still inside him, that drove him to act like that. If it hadn't been for his shadows immediately flying after it he would have lost it, wouldn't have this reminder of a happy time sitting in front of him right now, it had helped him ground himself more than once during the years following that night. His shadows had saved him from himself once again.

He closes the box gently, rubbing at the smooth texture of the velvet, trying not to let himself get lost in your memory and the bitterness that followed at the injustice of it all. Your marriage had only lasted a little over a decade, he's had to live with your ghost for much longer than that now. Still, he knows he won't forget that time no matter how many more years he lives, and, even if it's another five centuries, he knows he'll still wish he had had the chance to spend them all with you.

Some of the pain has dulled, most days at least, but the guilt still eats at him. He should have known something was going to happen, should have reached you sooner, should have told someone to go with you, should have gone himself, should have been the one to die in your place. The millions of possibilities will likely invade his brain until his last breath, after which he'll finally be able to see you again. That was another thought that had consumed him far too often in the beginning. If it wasn't for his mother, his brothers and Mor, if it weren't for the pain it would cause them, he would have taken Truth Teller to his neck just for the chance to see you one more time.

Azriel? His wings go rigid and he tightens his hold on the box at the sudden intrusion. He tries to push his thoughts as far back into his mind as he can before lowering his mental shields, almost letting out a sigh of relief at finding them in place, hoping his brother couldn't get a glimpse of his thoughts. He hands the box to his shadows so they can safely place it back inside his drawer. Are you still coming, brother?

Yes. He moves back to the mirror and finishes buttoning his shirt while trying to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible. However, the hesitation on the other side tells him Rhys sensed exactly what was holding him up in his room, he knows him better than anyone after all.

Hurry then. We're all waiting for you. Azriel closes his walls as soon as he feels his brother's absence in his mind. He knows they miss you too. They had welcomed you with open arms and considered you part of the family after their marriage. Everyone in the Inner Circle took a big hit when you went missing. He will never forget Cassian's face when he arrived to see Azriel kneeling down in a pool of your blood, with no body to be found. His brother wore his heart on his sleeve and it had shattered that night. There were countless sleepless nights for everyone following that moment.

They all threw themselves at finding you in any way they could. There was enough blood on the floor to tell them you had died but none of them wanted to believe it. Azriel talked to every single one of his spies multiple times, ordering them to track every movement in their respective areas. Rhys sent letters to every ally he had and then joined Cassian and Mor in searching every corner of Prythian personally. Even Amren, ever the logical emotionless one, searched for you with every means she could, contacting friends the spymaster didn't even know existed. But, one by one, they all had to accept the truth, Azriel ending up being the most hesitant to.

He had long since killed the attackers, putting them through as much pain as possible for as long as he could keep them alive, making them regret ever touching you. But that didn't help with the gaping hole in his chest, nothing helped. They didn't know how to find your body either. Rhys looked through every corner of their minds and only found them leaving you behind, bleeding on the cold ground.

Rhys refused to show him the memory, no matter how much he begged him to let him see you one more time. Now he knows his brother was just trying to protect him, not wanting that to be Azriel's last memory of you, with the amount of blood left behind he knew you couldn't have been in good shape, but at the time he lashed out at his brother like he had never done before, probably would have killed him in blind rage if it hadn't been for Cassian trying to hold him back and if Rhys wasn't Rhys. Thinking back he should have thanked him instead, for holding onto such a painful memory and keeping it to himself so no one else had to suffer from it.

Even if he couldn't see you again, he still wishes that he had your body to bury at least. Azriel doesn't know how the Mother could be so cruel as to not only let you die so soon, so painfully without at least letting him find your body so he could put you to rest next to your parents' graves. It would also give him a place to talk to you, to feel as close to you as possible.

The pain almost came back in full when Rhysand first told him about Feyre. Jealousy had reared its ugly head at the fondness in his brother's gaze, the slight tint to his cheeks at just saying her name. He was happy for Rhys, especially after everything he'd been through, but that happiness couldn't hold a candle to the pain he felt. He remembers the night he confided in his brothers about the lovely female he had met, how she had told him she loved him, it had been much like that one.

To make matters worse, the first thing he remembered when Rhys told him about his mate was a stupid bet the two of you had made - you had been adamant that Cassian, as sweet as he is, would be the next to get married, Azriel had voted for Rhys, one of his many conquests were bound to work out one day. He won and yet he didn't feel victorious at all. He couldn't even tell you of your loss, see how pouty you get when it happens, ever the sore loser. Didn't even remember the prize but there was no way for you to give it to him now either way. What hurt the most was that he couldn't even tell you his brother had found his mate. These were the best news in over a century and he just wanted to share them with you, wanted to share everything with you.

He takes another look at the mirror with a small sigh, straightening his wings and making sure his face doesn't give anything away before calling to his shadows. He feels them wrap around him slowly, giving him some comfort before taking him directly to the river house.

“Almost thought you weren't coming.” He was still half covered in shadows when he heard Cassian's voice. Everyone was standing around talking to each other, waiting on him. The guilt was tugging at his heart strings again. Why would he ever feel like he needed more than a family that loved him? Who was he to think this wasn't enough for him? It was something he could only dream of when he was younger.

“He's here now. That's all that matters,” the smile Feyre gave him was warmer than usual and her hand lingered on his shoulder for a second too long. Azriel looks over to Rhys, finding him already looking at him, studying his face. He had told his mate of whatever he sensed in his mind then. He hoped neither of them brought it up at least, now or later. What good would admit he misses his dead wife do? No one can bring you back to him.

“Finally. I'm starving.” Cassian clapped his shoulder as he passed by him on the way to the already set table, sitting down immediately. Everyone followed in his footsteps, greeting Azriel and finding their seats. Seems he really had kept them waiting.

Conversation picked back up naturally and he let himself fall into the usual rhythm of these dinners, letting his body relax around his family, forgetting about his old life for the moment. He walked over to the already set table and took his seat next to Elain, as it usually was these days. The seating arrangements had moved around a bit over the last years to accommodate not only the new additions to their little circle but also the relationships in them. He used to always sit next to Cassian but now had given the seat up to his beautiful mate. It left him next to Elain most times since they were the only single fae at the table.

Elain gave him a soft smile as he sat down and he nodded at her with a smile of his own. They had been getting closer ever since she was turned to fae and started living in Velaris. Her quiet nature quickly drew him to her, feeling at ease almost immediately with the middle Archeron sister. But he had to have been blind not to see the way she looked at him, not to notice the enamored smile she gave him.

Sometimes he let himself wonder if things could work between them. She had a mate but it was clearer with each passing day that she didn't feel anything for the male tied to her. It was also obvious how well Azriel and Elain got along, fitting into each other's lives almost seamlessly. He didn't love her but couldn't say seeing himself fall for the lovely female was such a far-fetched idea. She was a beautiful and kind fae, loving her would probably be as easy as breathing.

When everyone had been made aware of the mating bonds, he had even considered if the Mother had made a mistake. His two brothers had ended up with two of the sisters after all. Now he can see he was just desperate for a bond like theirs. In truth, he wouldn't even know what he would have done if Elain had truly been his mate. Would he finally put you behind him? Would he have thrown the ring away again, for good this time? He knows he couldn't bring himself to even with the power of a mating bond. You were etched deep into his skin just like the bargain marks inked into his shoulders.

As the dinner moved on and they made their way to the sofas in the sitting room, his family was already more than lively. Mor had busted out one of Rhysand's old wine bottles, setting the mood for the rest of the night. Azriel had completely relaxed by then, letting himself enjoy their company, his shadows retreating almost completely around the room. Finally having some reprieve from the particularly insistent thoughts that were plaguing his mind today.

Cassian was telling a story he had heard a thousand times now but he still laughed along with everyone else. Listening to Cass tell the story so many times wouldn't make the fact that he had flown straight into a river any less funny. Azriel even remembered the following part, the one Cass doesn't include in the story which was after they pulled him out and he had gotten sick for a week, making him miss practice and lose every spar with him and Rhys for the next months.

Even old stories had a new life with new people around, it was the first time the sisters heard this one, judging by the slight tint to Nesta's cheeks as she laughed at her mate and how hard Feyre was clutching at Rhys' arm to ground herself. Even Elain was laughing hard enough that her body was shaking. Her laugh was soft and melodic, a lovely sound really, but it suddenly opened a familiar pit in his stomach. It reminded him of you. She wasn't quite as loud and her eyes didn't immediately water like yours but the way she raised her hand to her face was similar. And just like that the illusion of happiness he had created shattered.

She was nothing like you but he still found you in every thing she did, in everything anyone did. He couldn't go to half of the city's bakeries and shops without thinking of you and every moment you spent there. He had even changed rooms in every one of Rhysand's houses, not bearing to sleep in the same bed you had held him in. Everyone in the Inner Circle had learned to avoid certain topics, certain stories in fear they would remind him of you. Even your name was rarely mentioned unless he did so first or strictly necessary. Every thought of getting over you was nothing more than wishful thinking. It was like his entire soul was begging him to go to you, but you weren't anywhere in this world.

This had to be one of the worst parts of his routine lately, having to take extra care to school his features when spending time with his brothers and their mates. If his face showed any sign of how much he missed you, how much he wished he could hug you to him just like they can do with them, they would immediately look at him with pain in their eyes, pain for what he lost and will never get back.

It had taken too long to get used to how differently they treated him after what happened. He had to start a fight to get them to stop treating him like he could break at any second when it was the truth. They knew it as well as he did, but they also knew that they had to let Azriel mourn in his own way, that there was nothing they could do besides stay by his side.

You weren't mates - maybe the pain he feels would never compare to what his brothers would go through if their mates ever met the same fate as you - but that had never mattered to him. His soul sang for you the same way he sang for his shadows, you were written into his very being just like they were. And, most importantly, there wasn't a single fiber in his body that wanted to live without you.

Even a mate could never erase you from his memory, even if you had been alive. He doubts if a mating bond had snapped between you two at the time, you would have gotten any deeper into him than you already were. He can't imagine loving you, wanting you more than he already did was possible.

He felt his shadows move to him, almost sending them away thinking they were coming to comfort him again, hiding him from the world as usual. Their urgency gave them away, and by the way Rhysand's body tensed across from him he also had noticed something amiss.

“What happened?” The High Lord's voice cut through the atmosphere immediately, everyone looked to him for an explanation and got ready for any possibility. His entire body stood still when his shadows told him they felt someone winnowing into the townhouse.

“Someone's in the townhouse,” he stood up as he spoke, sending some of his shadows out to find out as much as they could and the rest around Velaris to check if there were any other disturbances.

“Who could get past the wards?” He felt a shield around them, Rhys had likely set it up around his house. Cassian's siphons were flickering red as they all prepared for what could come next. Velaris was more than well protected, especially after the attacks before the war, but the High Lord's homes were nearly impossible to get into uninvited, Azriel himself had helped make sure of it.

“I don't know,” he held onto Truth Teller as he waited for his shadows or his High Lord and Lady to find something. His shadows were being strangely lax about the whole situation, maybe this was someone who knew of a way to go around his gift, keep them distracted.

It took longer than usual to receive a response from them, making him and everyone around him more concerned by the second. By now everyone was donning a sword or weapon of some sort, only waiting on more information before splitting up to keep Velaris safe and find the intruders.

When his shadows finally appeared they wasted no time rushing to his ear, at last sensing his urgency in the matter. Their answer was one nothing could have prepared him for, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

His shadows came back carrying a once familiar tune. They came back singing your name.

[murdrdocs]

WHERE YOU ARE. luke castellan

description. almost a year after you and luke breakup, you find yourself in his embrace once more to scratch an itch you can't reach yourself.

includes. SMUT 18+, exes hooking up, fem!coded reader, unprotected p n v, outdoor sex, both r and luke have major attitudes, r is claimed but not specified, a little angsty (they're exes cmon what did u expect), takes place during tlt but no major plot points mentioned; title and inspiration from sunshine by steve lacy

wc: 4.2k+

a/n: as mr steve lacy said, "still will give you dick anytime you need!". ao3 link

There is an itch you can’t scratch.

It’s been there for almost exactly a year, persistent and reminding you of what you’ve been lacking since last summer. You’ve attended to it time and time again, digging into it with all of your might, only to be left semi-satisfied. Never left with lazy eyes, relaxed limbs, and a far away want to do it all over again once you recovered. 

The blame for your lack of satisfaction is placed on your chosen partners. 

Humans, all either far too eager to please or not eager enough. Either too cocky and overconfident, or lacking any and all confidence at all. 

They got between your legs, did the job, but never well enough. They never did it like he did. 

And for the past year, specifically the past few months, you’ve been trying to ignore it. Day by day, when you were forced to coexist with your ex, you attempted to push the feeling to the side. You instead focused on the heat on your skin and the gravity pushing large droplets of uncomfortable sticky sweat down your body, ignoring the way sweat made his skin shine. You buried yourself in work, taking up chores offhandedly mentioned by Mr. D, especially if they would get you away from group settings. 

But then, in the solitude of mindless duties, you had nothing to do except think about Luke Castellan. 

His dark curly hair. His even darker eyes. The way his rounded face had become more chiseled since last summer. The sound of his laughter and the smell of his shampoo. The feeling of his hands on your hips and your waist and your ass and especially between your thighs. 

At the end of the night, you would always fall back and spend a little extra time in the showers, bringing yourself to orgasm after orgasm with hopes that eventually one would give even half of the amount of satisfaction a single orgasm from Luke would. 

Clearly, with the way you’re watching him from across the dining hall with wide eyes, it hasn’t been working. 

“You’re staring.” The pointed voice of your sister next to you breaks you out of your stupor. 

You’re quick to avert your eyes to your plate instead, finding that your food had been picked over, conformed from its original shape and placed in a few different spots so your plate appears as if it’s overflowing instead of losing its contents. 

You don’t bother saying anything in response, instead shoveling a fork full of brisket into your mouth. 

“Just two more days. You can last until then,” she reassures you. 

You’re not sure if you could. 

ㅤ

Only a few minutes later were you sliding almost all of your food into the fire, completely ignoring the rumbling in your stomach. 

Please. 

The rest of your brisket glides into the fire. 

Just give me one more time. 

Your cheese and bread join it. 

That’s all I ask for. 

In goes the fruit and then your plate is empty. 

Someone steps up beside you and you’re about to leave anyway, so you pay them no mind. Not until they speak to you. 

“Hey.” 

Gods, it’s almost pathetic how the simple greeting makes you feel. 

Suddenly, the waving flames of the fire in front of you is the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Hey.” 

“What’d you give up?”

Has his voice always sounded like that? Suddenly it’s … deeper. Granted, the last time you spoke to him alone was a year ago. Both of you have matured since then, but in some ways you’re still stuck in your old nature. 

“Fruit. Bread. Brisket. The usual.” 

Even though the conversation is extremely lackluster, you find yourself wanting it to continue. You want to speak to him more. 

Luke hums and it’s only then that you look at him. 

He’s turned to face you now, holding an empty plate in his hand and you wonder: when had he given his offering up? Surely you should have seen it since the fire was all you could focus on during the last minute. Really, you just weren’t taking in any information at all save for the addicting sound of Luke’s voice. 

“And what did you ask for?” His eyebrows lift, his tongue darts out to glide over his lips for a split second. A brief memory of how nice it’d been to kiss him comes back before you can prevent it.  

“You know I can’t tell you that.” You take a step closer to him as you easily fall into this old routine. Tease and tease and throw in a flirtatious tone to beat around the large bush that held a ‘please fuck me’ sign. 

“Telling you my prayer is like telling you my birthday wish.” 

Luke tilts his head, letting his eyes wander to the side for a second before finding you again. The fire reflects in them, adding a warmth to his eyes you haven’t seen all summer. 

He’d been off the past few months, holding a tension in his shoulders and having a clipped-ness to his voice at times. You might be imagining things when you feel as if he’s different—good different—with you. 

“Which you used to do all the time.” 

You shrug. “It was always things you could do for me. I just wanted my wishes to come true.” 

“Oh yeah, like do your chores. All that time I spent scrubbing the bathroom floors for you.” 

A grin finds your lips. “It was a good lesson in responsibility. Right, Luke?” 

When he rolls his eyes, you notice how there’s no malice behind the action. It’s almost too easy for both of you to fall back into your old pattern. 

“Yeah. Sure.” He takes a small step closer to you and if you weren’t so in tune with every detail about him, you wouldn’t have noticed it. “So you gonna tell me what you asked for or not?” 

There’s no point in him knowing, other than to intrude on your life. Unfortunately, you don’t mind the intrusion. 

You stare at him a little while longer, your eyes flickering back and forth between his. Every so often, you let your gaze fall to his lips, only to bring it back up to his eyes like nothing ever happened. 

For a second, you pretend to think about it, falsely balancing his proposal before deciding. 

“I’m good. See you around, Luke.” 

When you return to your table and sit next to your sister, she has the kindness to not say anything about your prolonged absence for only a few moments. 

Then, “Am I covering for you?” 

You delude yourself into believing she won’t have to for a few seconds. And then you catch Luke’s eye from across the dining hall and you sigh.

“Yeah.” 

ㅤ

“Knew you weren’t over me.” 

You stop walking at his words, shoes thudding against the grass. The thunderous roar of the waterfall covers any other possible sound you could’ve created, but Luke never needed to hear you to know when you were approaching. It was a weird intuition thing you never understood.  

“Hello to you too, Luke.”

He turns around to face you, and as expected, he’s wearing a smirk. His arms are crossed over his chest, he’s no longer sporting his camp tee, having replaced the bright orange material with a deep blue hoodie instead. Practically everything about him screams relaxed, his gray sweatpants adding to the ambience that his aura creates—one that says he knew you were going to meet him tonight. 

“We’re way past formal greetings at this point, don’t you think?” He turns back to face the waterfall in front of him when you join his side. “You never used to greet me before.”

“Things change.”

“Yet you’re still out here. That could only be for one reason.” 

You shrug, folding your own arms over your chest. You have nothing to do with your hands yet, and you’ve been flexing them impatiently with anticipation. 

“Maybe I wanted to stargaze. Who knows.” 

Luke doesn’t say anything. 

In your peripheral vision, you can see him staring up at the sky, presumably stargazing like you falsely claimed you were doing. You try to do the same, picking out a few easily recognizable constellations you knew. But it’s only a minute later that you’re caving. 

“Okay.” 

You turn to face Luke. 

He does the same. 

He’s brought a lantern out here and it sits on the ground in front of you both, bright enough to illuminate the side of his face with an orange-yellow glow. 

“Okay?” he asks for clarification. 

Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip for a second as you mull over your words. After tonight, there’s only one more night of camp left, and then you won’t be seeing Luke for another year. There’s almost no repercussions for laying it all out now, dropping your poorly built guard to get what you’ve been craving for a year now. 

“I’m not out here to fucking stargaze.” You sound exasperated as you admit it. 

Luke paints a picture of faux shock on his face. He gasps, splaying a hand out over his chest as his eyes widen. “Really? I never would’ve guessed.” 

Really, his attitude is starting to get on your nerves. 

Your temper flares and you suddenly understand the rage and frustration Clarisse always inhabits. 

“Don’t be a dick.” You try to manifest the negative feelings taking over your mind when you speak, but your tone betrays you. The command comes out too soft to change anything. Too gentle to be real. 

“Thought you liked it when I was a dick?” 

Something you’d told him in confidence last year. Confidence and drunken delusion. The shameless way you were grabbing at his clothes at the time clearly showed your inebriation. 

“Gods, Luke, would you just stop talking and kiss me already?” You take the step closer to him, finally entering his space to get what you want. What you’ve literally been dreaming about for the past year. 

He stops for a second, his eyes flitting to your lips once, twice, and just when you think he’s about to kiss you, his lips part for a different reason. 

“You also liked it when I ta–” 

You do it yourself. 

You expect him to hesitate before giving in, but his response is quick. 

Hands at your hips pulling you closer to him. His head tilting to the side so he can deepen the kiss just enough. His tongue wastes no time entering your mouth, pressing against your own tongue which allows you to taste the slightly off flavor of the root beer he’d had earlier in the night. 

Just like everything else had gone tonight, you two found the rhythm easily. 

You let Luke lead, pressing your chest into his, arching your back when his palm rests right above your ass. 

He kisses you like he wants more, a little over eager as the tip of his nose presses into your cheek with a little too much pressure. And he could take more, you’re offering it to him with the way your hands slide under his sweatshirt and press against his bare abdomen, fingers tracing his abdominal muscles. Luke just refuses to take it. He refuses to go the extra step. 

You huff against his lips, eyebrows furrowing in vexation. 

Luke pulls back from you first. He stares down at you, unmoving, not saying anything and when your brain is clouded like this, you don’t have it in you to try and decipher the storm in his dark eyes. 

When your brain is clouded like this, all you can think to do is speak.

“And for what it’s worth, I’m over you. I’m just not over…” you trail off, not really feeling like a conclusion is necessary to communicate exactly what you’re missing. 

Luke’s laugh is more like a sharp inhale. He cups your cheek with one hand. “And that’s a part of me, angel.” The pet name sounds almost villainous coming from his lips now. It’s too heavily dipped in confidence, dripping with sour arrogance. 

If you weren’t so horny, you would be turned off at the sound of it. At least, that’s what you convince yourself. But there’s very little that Luke could do to turn you off. 

Instead of dwelling on it, you lean back up and press your lips to Luke’s again. 

This time, Luke kisses you how you expected. 

He’s rough, lacking politeness and a little bit of coordination. His hands grip at your ass, pinching the fabric of your pajama bottoms and the fabric of your panties between them. There’s lots of tongue and even more spit, a few moments where your teeth knock into each other’s.

Now that he’s participating how you want him to, there’s not much anticipation. 

Your long sleeve tee is thrown over your head and placed at your feet, the same treatment goes for Luke’s sweatshirt. Your hands glide along each other’s bodies yearningly. You can’t help but start to feel satisfied with what you’re getting, even though it’s close to nothing. 

You’d been wanting to even be in Luke’s vicinity with intentions other than solely platonic—almost professionally—for so long now, so just feeling the weighted heat of his hands on your bare skin is enough to make you sigh. 

It doesn’t take long for both of you to end up on the ground, and after a small dispute about who gets to be on top, you end up on your hands and knees, hips wiggling impatiently as you wait for Luke to make the final move. The one to start the end of the beginning. 

There’s a few prolonged moments where nothing happens. You’re trying to be patient, busying yourself with chewing on your bottom lip and listening to the soothing sounds of water falling, but you’ve been so empty for so long and you really don’t think you can last any longer. 

You look over your shoulder to see Luke sitting on his haunches behind you. Just staring. 

He seems to be stuck in a trance, and just when you start to get a little insecure, Luke spits into his hand and runs his fingers down your cunt, reaching back up to probe two fingers into your entrance to the first knuckle. 

It’s slightly too much of a stretch all at once, and you wince a little, fingers gripping the strands of grass beneath you. 

You think you hear a small apology from him but you can’t tell. Either way, he corrects himself and slowly sinks one finger into your cunt. Already, you’re letting out a drawn out sigh. It comes out more guttural than intended, as if Luke pulled it directly from deep within you as he draws his finger back out, only to plunge it back in. 

His fingers scratch along places you haven’t been able to reach on your own. The tip of his digit strokes along a spot you’d been searching for for months, only having found twice on your own. (Both occurrences can be attributed to pure luck … and sheer desperation)

You don’t have to ask for more. Luke pulls the singular digit out and when he pushes back in, you feel the same stretch from before. This time, it’s more expected. 

You know to let yourself relax to allow him to continue. 

He enters you easily, and he starts to set a pace that hints at his intentions. He isn’t fingering you to prep you anymore, at least that’s not what it feels like he’s doing. His fingers are caressing parts that he only reaches when he wants you to cum. His pace isn’t one of careful leisure. Instead it’s goal searching. 

“Luke,” you start without even knowing if there’s a finish intended. 

He hums distractedly. 

“Fuck me. Please.” 

You aren’t above begging at this point. It’s all a means to an end for you. 

But you don’t know if it’s the same for Luke. 

His free hand comes to your ass and he caresses the flesh in a surprisingly tender way. You watch him lean up, and you watch him pepper kisses along your lower back. 

“I’ll get there, angel, promise.” 

And it suddenly occurs to you that Luke is taking his time with you. He’s savoring it all. 

For a second, the carnal desire melts away to reveal something more raw. The urge you used to feel to just talk to him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. The way your insides would flutter when he smiled, or the way everything seemed a little darker when he was down. 

Every emotion you’ve been working to get over for the past few months comes back tenfold in this small moment. 

And then Luke hooks his fingers and you’re brought back to the more debauched side of your circumstances. 

His pace speeds up a little. He introduces his other hand along your clit, singling out two fingers and rubbing wide and slow circles around the bud. 

During your nostalgia filled moment, your body had gotten closer to orgasm. Luke only has to pump his digits a few more times and tighten the circles just enough and you’re digging your hands into the dirt, pushing your hips back into his touch, and arching your back as your muscles tense up and you announce your orgasm, only to let go a few moments later. 

It’s a little more than pathetic how hard you cum. But you haven’t felt the touch from someone other than yourself in a long time. And you haven’t felt the touch of someone adequate enough to satisfyingly please you in an even longer time. 

Your hips twitch back and forth, the muscles in your thighs tense until you ache to relax them, only to repeat the action as waves cascade through your body. Luke is there through it all, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you as he coos gentle words from behind you. 

Your head hands low between your shoulders, but you still hear him coaxing you through it. 

“That’s it … just let it happen. ‘S it’s a big one. You really did miss me, hm?” 

He still sounds smug, but it comes off more affectionately this time. At least, a little less annoyingly. 

You’ve barely let yourself calm down from your orgasm before you’re reaching between your thighs blindly, swatting Luke’s hands away and searching for something else entirely. 

He chuckles, mumbles something under his breath that is definitely snarky, and you’re immediately swearing. 

“Luke, I swear to the fucking Gods, if you don’t fuck me right now I’ll..” 

It’s embarrassing how the meeting of his head and your entrance instantly shuts you up. It’s like a pacifier nestling between your lips, not fully settling into your cavern without a few teasing strokes up and down the plane of your cunt first. 

But the teasing makes it all so much more worth it. Just the first inch makes your eyes roll back. 

It’s so familiar, but in a slightly foreign way. You haven’t had it in so long, but you remember everything you loved about it. 

The way his head stretches you out first, and then comes the rest of him, only a few moments of reprieve before you get to the thickest part of him. The way his fingers press into your skin as he sinks in, exercising as much restraint as he could. The way his tip parts you open, scratching parts of you that have been itching for a while now. 

He’s bare within you, and if you hone in your senses enough you can feel everything. Every ridge and mountain plane and every vein. The way he’s warm and heavy within you, filling you so well you don’t know how you’ve been empty this long. 

It’s like an insatiable hunger has finally been filled. 

You don’t know how you’ll ever go back to being without this. Without Luke. 

By the time Luke has bottomed out, you’re already attempting to fuck yourself back on him. Luke takes over quick enough, digging his hands into the fat at your hips as he drives into you. 

You can feel your ass rippling with each thrust, and you think there’s clapping, too. 

Luke is harsh with it, any tender moments you two had during the night are gone, replaced with fierce thrusts, his cock pistoning in and out of you with an intensity that tells you he wants to cum as badly as you do. 

You have the sudden urge to see his face, to watch his eyebrows pinch together as he cums. You look over your shoulder once more, and sure enough his thick eyebrows are pushed together. His lips glisten in the ambient lighting, pink and plump and parted as he focuses. His eyes don’t leave your ass, trained on where the two of you connect. 

Only a few moments later does he notice you’re watching him, and he casts a look up to meet your eyes. His expression doesn’t change, still as concentrated as it was before. 

Then he tells you, “turn over”. 

You’re quick to comply, barely even having to mourn the brief emptiness before you’re on your back (on the ground but it doesn’t matter at this point) with your legs spread, Luke quickly entering you and resuming his pace. 

He leans down, holding your thigh for leverage with one hand and holding himself up beside your head with the other. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes close and yours do too. 

“‘M close,” he tells you. 

Your hand slinks up to dig into his curls, and like this, you’re allowed to reminisce once more. 

Not one specific memory finds you, but the position is so well known. It’s so intimate, only becoming more so whenever Luke presses his lips to yours. 

It doesn’t cross your mind to tell Luke to pull out. But you don’t want him to. 

You need to feel him, all of him, just one more time. 

So when Luke spills warm cum inside of you, it’s the highest form of pleasure. 

He fucks it into you a little more, a few punctuated thrusts ensuring none of him leaks out, and then the hand on your hip comes between your thighs again. He pulls out, waits, and when you feel something trickle out of you he catches it with two fingers and drags it up to your bud. 

“Can you cum for me one more time?” he asks, voice sweet and gentle. 

Even if you couldn’t, if you were physically unable to, you would still give it a try if he talked to you like that. 

You nod, keeping your eyes pinched shut and licking over your now unoccupied lips. 

“Look at me,” Luke commands. “I wanna see you.” 

Your eyes peel open. You stare up at Luke. And with two more flicks, you cum. 

“Heard you’ve been calling me your ex.” 

You shrug as you pull your bottoms over your hips. Your shirt is already on, but you shake it out a little, trying to get rid of dirt remains that somehow found their way into it. 

“Yeah. That’s what you are.” 

Luke pulls his sweatshirt back over his head before responding. “We both know I’m more than that.” 

“You were more than that. Things change, Luke.” 

When he meets your eyes, there’s something in his gaze. Maybe remorse? 

He licks his lips, shrugs. “They don’t have to. We could go back to how things were before.” 

It’s such a tempting proposition, one you laid with for weeks. Watching the sun set and then watching it rise all in one wake, wondering where things went wrong, trying to fix them in your head so you could get it all back. You treated your breakup with Luke like a mission gone wrong, and that’s where you went wrong. 

You shake your head a little and start to walk away. 

“Goodnight, Luke.” 

His hand catches you around the wrist. He stares down at you, gaze hard and serious. 

“Hey, anytime you need that. Anytime you need me to give you that, you come find me. Okay?” 

Satisfaction flares in your chest as you nod. 

ㅤ

By the time the sun has made itself comfortable in the sky, you’re the last one out of bed. 

You shower quickly, paying extra attention to your knees to scrub the remnants of dirt off of them, and then you’re at the dining hall for breakfast, sliding up next to your sister with striking bags under your eyes and an alluring glow added to your aura. 

She doesn’t say anything for a while and neither do you. Both of you tend to your hunger, slowly setting food into your mouth and savoring the sweetness of the strawberry pancakes. 

Only when nothing is left on your plates but your offerings does she speak. 

“Covering for you tonight again?”

You don’t hesitate at all when you say, “Yep.” 

“You owe me.” She’s trying to come off a little demanding, maybe a little mean. But she looks a little amused. Maybe even happy for you. 

Your eyes leave hers to look across the dining hall, finding Luke already looking at you. 

When you grin in response, sickly sweet and triumphant, you don’t know if it’s towards her or Luke. 

Either way, your reply is the same. 

“I love you.” 

[plutolovesyou]

heh.. okay, so you asked for different.. rubs hands together villaniously as i materialize from the bottomless shadows..

sub!vampire!ellie biting/bloodsucking denial.. reminding her how much of a good girl she needs to be even when your wrist is practically just brushing past her lips to cradle her face.. or when the weakest bead of blood is pricked from your finger.. flaunting it.. teasing.. goddess bless throw in whatever else you see fit freakmaster

TEMPTATION WAITS

before you read! ▪︎ my masterlist ☆: co-president...this is absolutely divine...shoulda seen the way i dropped everything for this im literally #TWEAKING. new fav thing i've ever written methinks. title song. (vibes aren't there but the title was too good.) ps: if you spot any typos i wrote this with one hand. KIDDING...or am i? divider creds—cafekitsune. ◇: not outright smut, but still suggestive!! and nsfw is described. fluffy end bc i think she earned it, lore sprinkled in because why nawt it's interesting, finger sucking (e! receiving), this is maybe a lil ooc idrc, she's described as looking quite ill in her vampiric form + begs like her century long life depends on it fr, (but also has a bit of an attitude, it issss ellie after all), mean!r, talk of blood/previous bite wounds. ++ 3.3k wc. doesn't need to be that long but atp? take it or leave it LOLL. filing under "oneshots" bc it's way more than usual reqs hehe.

“Please, baby. Just one taste. I'll do anything.” Desperate, shaky pleas spilled from Ellie, her voice noticeably tired from the effort. She's been at this for what felt like forever now, and you were getting tired of ignoring her. Or rather, a little bored.

She was kneeling on the wooden floor by your bed, fisting the creased sheets, trying to capture your attention. The shimmering moonlight was dancing on her features as if it was a sparkle of fireflies, making her oddly colored eyes appear to glow, and highlighting her sickly appearance.

In her vampiric form, her skin was tinted a ghostly—even chalky—white, barely a smidgen of blush dancing on the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes shifted from their original grassy green to a peculiar duochrome blend of emerald and ruby. She really looked unwell, but you knew it was merely a product of circumstance, her gloomy fate.

Ellie donned somber dark circles around her eyes, her lips withered, pale, and thin as a piece of tissue paper. Just behind them though, rested two deadly weapons of her very own—sizeable, razor-sharp, gleaming ivory canines reflecting the scarce lighting as if they were made of mirrored glass.

For the first time tonight, you met her gaze, assuming an unbreakable poker face. Her keen sight could pick out the most subtle of twitches, so you learned to defeat that. The moment you met her line of sight she perked up, her eyes widening in glee, you had finally acknowledged her existence after so long.

Scooting forward you placed yourself right in front of her still kneeling form, sitting so she was in between your legs, but she wasn't allowed to touch you until you said so. What torture.

She began again, “Can I do something to make you change your mind? I'll do anything. Anything in the world. I'll make you feel re-really good, and then I won't ask again…ever even, if that's what you want. Just please let me…I'm so thirsty.” She was rambling a million miles a minute, slurring her words and cutting herself off with hiccups, stuttering like was having a nervous breakdown.

Her chest heaving up and down was visible to you despite the dim surroundings, and you could just make out her facial expression—a pained grimace, as if she was experiencing all of humanity's greatest suffering. When you didn't reply but stayed observing her blankly, she sighed and hung her head in shame, you almost felt bad. Almost.

You extend a hand, twirling a strand of her hair—previously silky and vibrant, now as lifeless and dull as charred hay—and you feel her relax under your touch. You continue raking your fingers through her locks, scratching her scalp with your nails, and you hear her exhale forcefully. She's likely overwhelmed by your scent—it's invigorating, fresh, and full of life.

“Have you been good?” You pipe up with a voice colder than ice, softly caressing the flesh of her tense cheek, and letting your fingertips travel to the underside of her chin. You gently tilt her head up, noticing the way her eyelids flutter to a close. She's soaking up the heat radiating off of you, making sure to feel the sensations of your skin brush against hers as much as she can, commit them to memory for when she's apart from you.

Her lips part, allowing for hushed, woeful whimpers to pour out, and she instinctively bites her bottom lip to quiet herself. Only she forgets about the powerful daggers in her mouth, and almost pierces right through her own skin.

Taking notice, you tut at her, warning clicks of your tongue bouncing off the room’s walls, contrasting the dead of night’s eerie silence. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You push the pad of your thumb down on the plush of her lip, angling her jaw side to side, examining those killer gnashers she's got.

“You could hurt yourself with these y'know, be careful.” Her eyelids flicker open, she's staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes she could muster, somehow all while maintaining such a strong glare you feel as if she's trying to challenge you.

“I'll decide if you can have some, as long as you're good, and you let me have some fun first. Alright?” You explain in a neutral tone, earning a cute “mhm” of confirmation from the undead being before you. “Good girl.”

You slowly slip your thumb into her mouth, avoiding her fangs at all costs, and you let her wrap her slippery tongue around your digit, watching how her cheeks hollow and her eyes roll ever so slightly while she sucks, moaning as she takes in your taste—nothing more than just skin.

You chuckle at her desperation, revel in the power dynamic you have created. “Mmm, you taste so good, so sweet.” She mumbles, swirling her tongue around your thumb, coating the entirety of it in her spit. You allow it for now, but soon enough, to no surprise, she slyly tries to shift to the side in preparation to slice you and get her treat.

You sharply retract your hands from her, removing your finger from her mouth with a pop, disappointed by her greed, her audacity. She turns to the side and pouts, huffing and rolling her eyes with more attitude than a moody teen. “What did I say?” You calmly hiss at her. She whispers, almost inaudibly, “Sorry…taste so good, can't help m’self.” Her voice wavered, and the moonlight illuminated the faintest tinge of red across her features, it was nearly invisible.

But you could tell exactly what was up. She shifts uncomfortably in her spot, grunting with laughable, pitiful attempts to rub her thighs together, fingers toying with the cloth of her pants, putting her frustration on full display. You looked at her struggle, unable to contain your grin.

It was a different kind of high, seeing such a feared and fabled beast kneel before you in such a pathetic manner, but it turned you on like nothing else. It was also evident she enjoyed it as well, no matter how much she didn't want you to be aware of the fact. The extent to which she worships you and handles your body, the way she was willing to beg and let you order her around showed just how much you meant to her—it was beautiful in its own way, how devoted she was to you. You were her person.

The fact she couldn't stifle her desire anymore after all this time suggested a shift in the atmosphere of your wicked games, the tension in the air was getting impossibly thicker, and you were loving every second of it.

Ellie, you've got a short memory.” You tease, then gesture to the gauze wrapped around your forearm, protecting two puncture wounds left by none other than her just the previous night. She looks at it and cocks an eyebrow, grouching, “Yeah, I see that, what about it?” The husky edge to her voice had returned, the defiant attitude you loved to crack was back in full force.

“Hundreds of years old, you even have memories of wars, and you can't remember what happened, like, 24 hours ago? Wow…” Your voice is so patronizing, it's unpleasant and abrasive on the ears, even your own. She shrugs her shoulders, still kneeling on the cold, hard ground at your mercy. “Well let's have a refresher then, shall we?” Tearing the tan-colored bandage apart with a single rip, you reveal the puncture marks—they were still wet and irritated, the wounds reopening immediately at the slightest movement.

Ellie whines like an animal, a crude “ahh”, and she starts pleading harder than ever. “Please, baby, my pretty, my angel, please, please, pleasepleaseplease, just lemme have a drop, just one. That's all, I swear.” Her gaze darkens exponentially, if you didn't know her it would instill fear in your heart, but luckily you were well aware of all her tricks. She snarls, “Fuck you. I'm literally on my fucking knees right now. Why are you doing this?” Her voice breaks angrily, wobbling with great lust and need—the need to have you, the need to drink you and fondle you and taste you in all senses of the word, and at this point she didn't seem to care about preserving a morsel of her dignity, she was simply so drunk on you, you couldn't believe.

You reiterate the previously established explanation, “We have an agreement that says you're allowed to take my blood once a month, so you can have some more each time. Rather than taking a little bit but more often, you requested this yourself. And you already drank lots yesterday. Does that not ring a bell?”

She groans, a gravelly, guttural sound that had you coming back to your senses and realizing, this was technically, a monster who you loved so dearly.

It led you to wonder—to her kind, what was so special about the liquid coursing through your veins?

When you split your lip open as a kid, clumsily tumbling face-first onto the asphalt, or bit your tongue while eating something stubborn, the strange, metallic taste was purely disgusting. It had a certain heaviness to it, both physically with the way it sat in your mouth, but also mentally. Like a subconscious awareness you were not meant to consume it like she does, but to spit it out the millisecond it made contact with your taste buds. There were times where the thought made you queasy, the measly knowledge of just how much of this fluid was inside you, keeping you alive.

But to her, it was a completely different story. She lapped it up with such fervor, such thirst you've never seen before. A sloppy frenzy like there wasn't a single thing more delightfully flavorful.

Her teeth penetrating all the way through your epidermis, dermis, and hypodermis, and straight through the vein wall was a feeling you're likely never going to get used to. It stung, it really did, and you were quick to get all woozy from the blood volume loss, but Ellie knew your limits—even though hers were not even close. Her thirst was insatiable.

The intimacy of the act was a whole separate topic to think about too. It was such an erotic experience, and when probed about it she argues it's better than sex, somehow. When she drinks from you, Ellie is really messy with it, you noticed. Blood dribbles down her chin and stains her lips as if it's a designer lip oil, the distinct deep maroon color sometimes appearing clownish and too intense against her fair complexion.

She was really handsy as well, and you weren't sure if it was purposeful, but you didn't care to ask because you didn't really mind in the first place. It felt nice. Her muscular hands tend to trace your waist as she's suckling, hovering by your ass, and traveling north to knead the supple tissue of your breasts.

And how could you forget about the sheer proximity of it all, even when having sex normally, it didn't feel nearly as intimate or vulnerable as this. Her body would be tightly curled around yours, she couldn't bear to have one meager square inch of her not touching you.

When she drank from your neck, it was bordering on heavenly, you had to be honest with yourself. There was something about the combination of the light headed, dizzying feeling it brought you, her closeness, the licking sensations, and the hungry sounds she produced that all together mixed to form nothing short of a mind blowing, intoxicating concoction.

When you both were feeling it, she'd be able to draw breathy moans to fall from your lips, and would giggle into your skin before sucking harder, leaving bruised marks surrounding the punctures. You read in some folklore that vampires carried a sort of aphrodisiac in their fangs, or was it their saliva? Again, you didn't really know all the details, but the sessions made you both yearn for each other in a way that felt taboo to discuss—midnight feedings often turning into animalistic fucking, sometimes even simultaneously.

Like having Ellie latched onto the side of your neck while she grinds her dripping pussy onto yours, her pleasureful mewls filling your ears, or having her hold your wrist to her mouth while her other hand is pleasuring you into oblivion, prodding against your spongy walls, making your head spin.

The time you spent lost in thought, she had broken the rule of not touching you unless you said so, but all she had done was rest her head on your knee, zoning out, sulking like an injured puppy. Unfortunately for her, you weren't done torturing her just yet. You didn't move her off of you, she was just laying there, grumbling curses under her breath, saying how mean you were, how much she despised you and everything you stood for, although both of you knew the truth—she had said herself, “I've never tasted blood like yours,” and you felt intrinsically bound to her on a subconscious level, these were mere amusements you indulged in, that ended up beneficial for both.

She got her delicious elixir of life, at the cost of you having your way with her for a bit. You hear her sniffle, the little defenseless sound of defeat was able to break your act.

You resume stroking her hair, and she wraps trembling arms around your thigh. “Hmm?” You coo, putting on a sweet facade. “Don't talk to me like that, c'mon man.” She wails, the attempts to regain control over her voice proving unsuccessful.

You took your nails to the newly formed raspberry scabs on top of your bite wounds and picked them off, and she lunges to grab your arm with inhuman reflexes, but once again you emerge on top, having spent so much time memorizing every last one of her behavioral patterns, so much so you knew exactly how she was going to attempt catching you and moved out the way without thinking about it.

“Too slow, you've gotten predictable.” You ridicule her, embellishing your voice with the most fake, sickly sweet tone you could just to irritate her as much as you possibly could. Ellie lays her head on your thigh, sighing. It's like she's given everything up. Her own patience was running out, potentially entering unpredictable territory now.

You squeeze the sides of the hole in your skin to coax a bubble of bright red blood to ooze out, marveling, “It's such a nice color, I see why you like it so much.” You talk to her coolly, ignoring her tearful, yet terrifyingly rage-filled glares, her massive fangs bared as if you were a prey animal she caught herself and was preparing to rip apart.

“Want a taste, Ellie? Have you earned it?” You think out loud, comically tapping your chin to exaggerate the brainstorming act. “Whatever, it's not like I have anything left to say to you.” She sounded heartbroken, you've never seen someone have such sorrow, the sheer misery behind her eyes actually caught you off guard.

"Okay I think you have earned it, just need you to say one more thing.” She nods, a little too quickly, rushing to catch any tears that were planning an escape route down the sides of her pretty face. You cradle her cheek, brushing your thumb against her skin, “Aw, baby, don't cry.” This time however, your tone is sincere.

She doesn't wait for your request, and starts all over again, this is getting old. “I promise everything. I'll make you feel so good, I'll give you whatever you want, please …you're too sweet.” She huffs, “Well, except when you're not.”

She continues mumbling, burying her face in the meat of your thigh, occasionally stopping to lovingly peck where she was laying, quiet smooching sounds. That really melted your heart, you were ready to give her what she needs after so much cruelty. This went on much longer than you had planned, but you were having fun with it. So you decided to abandon whatever you would ask of her. But could anyone blame you?

She slowly reaches for your wounded arm, gauging your reactions, like in the situation you were planning to do something to prevent her, but you come up with a better idea. “I'll do you one even better, Els.” The grin that envelops her face could light up a thousand suns, and melt the coldest of souls. Make vampire hunters quit their careers even, that's how adorable she could be, on the occasion.

You lean back to take your shirt off in one swift motion, and lay back on the edge of the bed, tilting your neck to give her access to the sweet pulsating spot, finding the droplet of drool that falls from her agape mouth utterly hilarious. “Go ahead, I've had my fun.” She hesitates. “But our agreement, I don't wanna hurt you.” “Ellie it's fine, unless you don't want t-” “No I do I do, oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so muchhhh.”

Her gratitude is silly, she's straddling you and kissing all over your neck, face, and collarbones with such care, and you inhale sharply once you feel the familiar sensation of her teeth piercing your sensitive skin.

She has one hand on the nape of your neck, holding you close to her so you couldn't move away, and the other one finds your fingers to intertwine with hers, loud gulping noises filling the room as she messily laps up all that flows from you.

Her bony hips are sat atop your pelvis, and soon enough you feel her start absentmindedly rocking back and forth on you, your breath hitching. You hold her waist to ground yourself, and aid her. She's whispering, mostly to herself, “Fuck that's so fucking good, needed this so bad, need you, fuck- shit. Ah, yes.”

The vertiginous feeling swirls in your head and you feel yourself fading, your grip on her sides loosening, but you don't feel one single ounce of panic, because you know she's got you. No matter what, until the end of time. Or at the very least, until the final bells tolled and you were lowered to your eternal resting place six feet underground.

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[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite 08

Another early chapter to celebrate my birthday 🥳 i am now a 25 year old child 👧 please enjoy and let me know what you think 💕

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Series Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, verryyyy nsfw, chan x reader, OT8 x reader, A/B/O, m/m/f smut, possessive! SKZ, possessive! Reader, anxiety and depression, reader is a CRYBABY, fluff, angst, virgin!reader,  cursing, violence, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, Sub reader x mostly dom SKZ, misogyny and sexism, Ateez are depicted as terrible people (sorry Atiny!) 

Chapter Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, Hard dom! Chan, suggestive, kissing, dirty thoughts, cursing, fluff, mild dissociation, traditional gender roles, crying (as usual)

WC: 4.1k

MDNI 18+

Hyunjin could, in fact, carry you up two flights of stairs. Now you know better than to doubt his physical prowess. It seemed almost effortless to him to make the trek up with you on his back. The whole time he had you hoisted up you were able to see the muscles in his arms rippling. 

It honestly made you see him in a different light. You had thought he was an attractive man- of course you did- but knowing how strong he was… It made you want to ravish him. See what other muscles he has hidden from you. 

Good thing you were behind him or he would be able to see the gears turning in your mind and the flush in your cheeks. 

He took you right to the closed door of your room. It was concealing whatever your ‘surprise’ was. Hyunjin gently set you down on your shaky legs, grabbing your hand once your feet touched the floor. He lifted your hand up to his mouth, placing a kiss to your palm, then leaning in close as if he was going to kiss you. Your heart was thumping out of your chest, anticipating his next move. Instead he only kissed your cheek and whispered smugly, “Don't ever doubt me again, Baby.”

You had a look of ‘wtf’ on your face but he just ignored it, choosing to turn on his heels and head back down the steps. 

Before he went down he turned to you one last time. 

“Oh, the surprise is from Min.” With that he gave you a wink and descended the steps. 

From Minho? That felt slightly odd to you. You had gotten a feeling the beta didn’t care for you much, but maybe you were wrong. Maybe it just took him a minute to warm up to someone. Either way you weren't going to dwell on it, he had gotten you a surprise after all. 

Opening the door to your room you saw many bags sitting on your bed. Not just any bags, they were bags from Euns shop! Walking into your room and closer to the bags you noticed that there were many more than the 5 bags you had before your.. Mishap. There now appeared to be at least 10 bags. 

‘Did Minho get me more clothes?’ You wondered, suddenly overcome with gratitude. While you loved wearing your alphas clothes it would be nice to have some of your own, especially after Chan had literally destroyed your original outfit. You looked through the items left for you, and half of them you definitely didn't pick, but you loved each thing he had grabbed for you. You had been so worried when you were shopping that you would spend too much money, that you didn’t get all the things you had wanted. Looks like Minho paid you great attention though because he had picked things you had desperately wanted. So many pretty dresses and sets. And lingerie? 

Looking at the matching bra and panty sets you just knew there was a dark red blush on your cheeks. What was new though. There were also a few strappy numbers you would usually be way too shy to buy for yourself. It made you remember that you were expected to be shared amongst the pack. 

‘Did Minho want to see me in these racy outfits?’ You might actually have a heart attack at the thought. 

After looking through each bag you sped yourself down the stairs to find Minho. You went down to the second floor where you remembered his room being, finding the door open and him not there. 

You did take a moment to peer inside, though. His room was decorated in deep purples, and had a thick shag rug that almost surrounded the entire room. The space felt very mature and had a lingering scent of the beta. 

Your eyes were starting to close at the intense smell of him, a musky spice that was almost intoxicating. You snapped yourself out of it before you fell too deep into a subspace. No time for that you were on a mission! Next stop was the kitchen. 

You barreled down the next flight of steps, almost tumbling a few times due to your still weak legs, and onto the main floor. You could hear a few soft voices coming from the living room but none sounded like the man you were after. There was a smell of something cooking coming from the kitchen, and when you stepped into the large room there was Minho. He was there stirring some vegetables on the stove. 

He seemed to have heard you enter but before he could greet you, you launched yourself at him pulling him into a hug and smothering your face against his shirt. He seemed stunned for a moment- putting his hands in the air like he was afraid to touch you. It took him a second before he felt himself relax in your hold. 

“Fank you fo the clofes” Your words were almost incoherent against him but he managed to understand. With one hand he patted your head while the other leaned past you and continued stirring the food he was preparing. 

“You needed them. It’s no big deal.” He responded evenly, as if his heart wasn’t beating wildly. 

You pulled back from him with those signature tears “No big deal? Of course it is! You went out of your way for me! And got me even more! I am so grateful to you Minho! I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness.” 

He gave you a small smirk, “You know how you can thank me?” You looked at him with hopeful eyes, shaking your head no. 

“Wipe those pretty tears off your face.” He responded with a small pat to your cheek before turning his attention back to the food. 

You sniffled one more time before nodding and using your palms to wipe your face. It was then that your omega brain noticed he was cooking. That was your job! 

“What are you doing?” You demanded. “I’m supposed to be cooking for you!” You then tried to shove him out of the way but he wasn’t budging. He was surprisingly sturdy. All he did was laugh in response. 

Your lips curled into a pout and you crossed your arms angrily, giving him your best evil eye. It did not phase him at all, instead he just laughed again shaking his head and continuing to cook. You wouldn’t give in though! If the glare wouldn’t work you would try being sweet. 

Unfolding your arms you clasped your hands out in front of you and gave him your best puppy dog pout. 

“Please Min.” You stepped closer to him and rested your head against his shoulder. “It makes me feel useless if I can’t provide something for you guys.” 

Minho felt himself tense up when you touched him again. For some reason your touch was making him nervous. That is until he registered your words.He turned to you with a sternness on his face. 

“Don’t say that.” His voice was borderline harsh. You looked up at him shocked when you heard it. He continued a little softer after seeing your expression, “ You’re not useless, you provide enough” 

‘Or you're going to start soon enough.’ He thought to himself. 

“I like cooking, it's calming to me. If you really want we can split it up and I’ll let you make breakfasts and the occasional dinner.” 

Your eyes shined at the prospect of being allowed to contribute, nodding your head rapidly. You would take anything you could get. “Yes! Thank you Minho!” You hugged him again quickly before skipping out of the kitchen, happy with the agreement. 

The beta called out after you “Tell everyone 5 minutes til’ dinner!” 

“You got it!” 

Wandering back into the living room Felix and Jisung were still lazily strewn on the loveseat but now Changbin and Jeongin were also in there, the group playing Mario kart on the switch that was hooked up to the tv. You stood in the entryway for a moment watching them play. 

It brought back memories of you playing games with your siblings, back when things were simpler. It felt like they were, anyway. You had a pretty normal childhood all things considered. You had a good relationship with your siblings, you had friends, you were doing well in school- fuck, you were even planning on going to college to become a zoologist. You were happy. 

That all changed for you the second you turned 16, when you presented as an omega and had to forget about ever having a normal life. 

You must have been stuck pretty far in your own mind because you didn’t hear Changbin calling your name until he touched your arm in concern. 

“Huh?” You asked as you snapped out of it. 

The alpha had a look of worry etched on his face, “You’ve been standing there in a daze for a few minutes, Baby. Are you ok?” His rough hand cupped your cheek and you leaned into it comfortingly. 

You nodded, “Mmhmm. Sorry, just thinking.” Then you looked past him at everyone in the room, “Minho said dinner was about done.” As you said Changbins stomach let out a loud gurgle, causing the other boys present to burst into chuckles. 

Changbin released your face with a wide grin, “Why didn’t you say so!” Then he cupped his hands over his mouth to project into the entire house. 

“DINNER TIME EVERYONE!” 

You giggled at his antics and everyone made their way into the dining room to enjoy a meal together.

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

Dinner was a quieter affair, it seems like everyone was still mellowed out since the joint nap you all took, the tiredness still present. That's not to say it wasn't full of jokes, that will never stop. By the time you had all eaten and cleaned up it was now quite dark outside, the light completely disappearing behind the mountains. 

Even though you slept away most of the day you could still feel the drowsiness behind your eyes. You were sitting in Chan's lap with your head resting against his chest while he joked with the other guys, the tv on in the background but no one was paying any attention to it. 

Your alpha had his hand on your thigh, rubbing slow circles into your warm skin. He could sense you slipping away every now and again, and had decided it was time to take you to bed. You had a big day tomorrow, anyways. 

“Are you ready for bed, omega?” He whispered against your hair, placing a kiss there. 

You gave him a slow nod, “Mmhmm.” He scooped you up into his arms and stood from where you were both seated on the recliner. 

“Say goodnight to the boys, baby.” 

You lightly lifted your hand and gave them a wave, “Goodnight boys.” 

“Goodnight, Baby!” They chorused, with Jisung adding in a little “I’ll miss you!” there at the end.

The tired giggle you let out almost made their hearts stop beating. It was so cute. “Miss you too Ji.”   

Chan carried you up the stairs and into his room where he set you gently in his bed. You immediately nuzzled yourself into his comforter. He spoke softly to you, “Before you fall asleep there's something we have to talk about, Baby.” 

There was a sudden inkling of anxiety in your stomach. Have you done something wrong? Were you being too much? What if he- You were brought out of your thoughts by Chan placing a chaste kiss on your mouth. 

“I can almost see your brain running a million miles an hour, nothing is wrong Omega.” You felt yourself relax at his reassurance. “I was actually going to check in with you, about how you are feeling about the pack. And about what we had discussed a few days ago.” His hands were back on your thighs,  the heat of his strong hands igniting something inside of you. “The other boys are quite fond of you, you know that baby?” He was staring deep into your eyes, smirking as if he could see how his hands were making you feel. 

“I-I like them too.” You stuttered. you kept your answer vague, scared if you revealed how they make you truly feel it would upset the Alpha. 

He hummed, his hands hiking up even higher-inching closer and closer to your core. He paused his movements, “ How much do you like them, my love? Do you like them enough to let them touch you like this?” 

You were apprehensive to answer him, so he pressed further. “You know, if you're worried I’d be mad or jealous, that’s not something you have to be concerned about. In fact, I would prefer it if you wanted them like they want you.” He smirked at the hitch in your breath. 

“And how do they want me, Alpha?”  The words were almost a whisper as they left you, your tone breathy. 

Chan let out a purr, “ They want you in all the ways I do.” His hands inched up ever closer but still not reaching. He leaned in close, his mouth almost on yours. 

“Will you let them have you? Will you be a good omega and please your pack?” 

The hesitancy was gone from you as you rapidly nodded at his questions, desperate for him. 

“Yes Alpha. They can have all of me. Whatever they want I will give to them.” 

“Good girl.” He praised, slotting his mouth over yours and finally letting his fingers find your core. The rough pads of his fingertips lightly rubbed over your (his) underwear, feeling the accumulating wetness that was making a dark spot. You let out a stuttering moan at his touch, hips instinctually raising to meet the touch. 

He hummed, grinning devilishly “ Does my sweet omega like that?” He pressed harder against your pussy, pushing the fabric between your folds. 

Nodding quickly you responded “Yes Alpha.” 

Chan then placed his lips back on yours, his hand pulling away and finding the band of the underwear. He hooked his thumbs under each side and slowly dragged the garment down your thighs, his tongue running along the inside of your lips begging for entrance. You gave it to him gladly. 

Once he had completely pulled the boxers from you he pulled his lips back slightly, still touching but not kissing. “You’re still too sore to take me, but I just have to reward my baby for being such a good girl.” His lips starting trailing wet kisses down your throat and continuing down your stomach where he lifted his shirt to reveal your breasts to him. 

You were squirming in at his touch, eager to feel his mouth on you where you needed him most. 

The alpha settled himself between your legs, spreading your thighs to make room for him. You were absolutely leaking. The crystalline liquid drips out of you causing the room to fill with the scent of you. 

“Who made you like this, Baby?” He asked in between sloppy kisses to your thighs. 

“Yo-you did, alpha.” You responded, panting in anticipation. 

“Hmmm just me?” His eyes found yours, as if challenging your words. “ Are you sure about that?”

You paused, trying to find an answer. “Umm..” 

He nipped at your soft thigh skin, leaving a red mark in his wake. “ You can be honest with me, omega. Have you thought about any of the other boys this way? Thought about any of them putting their mouths on your wet little pussy?” His tongue stuck out and he gave your clit a teasing lick. 

“Alpha please.” There was no way you could answer that. You were too mortified at the prospect. 

He growled at your avoidance “ Answer me, omega. You will get nothing if you don’t tell me what I want to hear. Do you think about them eating you like this?” He gave you another bite on the opposite side. 

“Yes!” You couldn’t take it anymore. Morals be damned. “Yes, Alpha I have. m’ sorry!” Hands gripping the sheets below you. 

At your honesty Chan licked a long strip starting at your hole up to your clit. The moan you let out was otherworldly, your hands finding his dark hair and yanking on the strands. 

You tasted divine. Like the sweetest nectar from the ripest fruits. Chan felt his eyes roll to the back of his head at the taste. 

“Please, alpha.” You begged, wanting- needing - to feel him again. At your pleads he dove into you, his tongue shoving its way into you looking for more of your sweetness. His lips found the little bundle of nerves and wrapped around it giving it a harsh suck. 

“FUCK!” You bucked your hips, shoving him further into your pussy. 

In retaliation he nipped at your clit and let out a deep growl, a glare in his eyes as they found yours. “Stay still or I will stop and leave you here with nothing. Do you understand me?” 

You let out a quiet “Mmhmm” and his fingers came up to replace his mouth, rubbing tight circles on you. 

“Tell me who you’ve thought about this with, baby?” 

Your own hands left his hair and covered your face in embarrassment. “I can’t. It’s too much.” 

Chans other hand that wasn't on your core reached up and roughly yanked your hands from your face, him now gripping the underside of your chin to turn your head to face him. Your eyes now locked on his as if he was seeing into your soul looking for answers. 

“You will tell me, omega.” He was using an alpha command on you, since you were bonded to him you couldn’t refuse no matter how much you wanted too. 

“Jisung.” You cried. “Was t-thinking about it earlier, Alpha.” More slick was leaking out of you at your admittance. This display of dominance shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. 

Chan gave you that predatory grin, pleased with your answer. “Sungie huh? How did 

I know it was gonna be him. Good omega.” 

He returned his mouth to you, this time with renewed vigor. His finger found its way inside of you, rubbing your walls with the calloused digit while his lips sucked you into the next dimension. 

You were squealing and moaning, unable to contain the animalistic sounds that escaped you. The knot in your stomach was starting to form, all you needed was one push and you would be a goner. As if he could sense it, Chan slipped another finger inside of you causing you to topple over the edge. 

You came with a long drawn out moan, Chan not letting up for even a second until your convulsions ceased. He wanted to drain you dry and that's what he had done. 

Once you stopped shaking and were finally able to catch your breath Chan pulled away from you-  his face soaked with your essence. “You taste so good, omega.” His fingers slipped out of you and he lifted them to your mouth. “Go on, taste yourself.” He urged. Your mouth opened wide enough for him to stick the digits in. Your tongue swirled around them, collecting the wetness. He couldn't help himself, he shoved his fingers further down your throat holding them there while you gagged around him. You didn’t fight him though, and just let him do whatever he pleased with you, like the good little doll you were. 

Chan pressed a sweet peck to your stomach before  removing his fingers from your mouth and crawling up to be face to face with you. When he was at eye level you grabbed him forcefully, connecting your lips with him and tasting more of your juices that lingered on his mouth. 

He was the first to pull away after a few seconds, nuzzling your noses together and just breathing each other in. 

“You did so good for me, baby. Thank you for being honest with me.” He was running his hands softly along your sides. 

“You’re welcome alpha.” You responded quietly. “You’re not mad are you?” 

He would have scoffed if you weren't so fragile right now. 

“No baby of course not. It makes me happy you want him like that.” 

Your shining eyes looked hopeful, “It does?” 

“Mmm yes baby. You are theirs just as you are mine. Soon you’ll come to see it that way too.” You nodded at his words, the exhaustion now taking over. “Let's get you tucked in. You have a big day tomorrow. We have a few things to do in town tomorrow.” You nodded once more and let him tuck you in under his blankets. He placed a delicate smooch on your lips then forehead, and you were out like a light. 

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

Once you were asleep Chan sent a group text for a pack meeting out on the back patio. It was a warm night and he didn’t need you snooping in on this conversation if you were to wake up. He watched you slumber for a moment, taking in your peaceful features. He really did feel so lucky to have you. Everyday you proved yourself to be his dream girl. 

He gave it another moment then made his way down the steps and outside where the other members were waiting for him, lounging on the outside furniture.A few of them gave the elder sly smiles, they could all hear exactly what the alpha had just been doing with you. Chan just rolled his eyes and smirked at their looks. 

 Chan took a seat on the ottoman by the sliding door, “Alright, I was wondering if anyone had any more problems we need to work through.” He scanned everyone's faces, “ I know it hasn’t been the smoothest of sailing the last few days but I think from here on out it will be better for everyone.” There were nods of agreement at his words. 

Changbin was the first to speak, “How is she settling in? I hope we haven't been too.. Abrasive.”

Seungmin snorted, “That's rich coming from you.”

The alpha looked at him incredulously, “I am not that bad! Not as bad as your other fellow betas!” and pointed to Felix, Jisung and Hyunjin who all looked at him in disbelief at being called out. 

“Hey, that's not fair! We’re a sensitive bunch and she's a sensitive girl! She needs us!” Hyunjin protested, the other two nodding furiously in agreement. 

“Yeah she likes our kisses!” Jisung chimed in, then looked to Chan for confirmation. “Right hyung?”

“That’s another reason I wanted to call you all out here. Turns out she’s not as innocent as she lets on. She’s been having quite naughty thoughts about you boys.” Chan's smirk never left his face as he spoke. He watched each one of them have a reaction at his words. 

Jeongin sputtered out “Is-is that okay with you Chan?” He was nervous his leader would change his mind and now be mad about it. 

“Oh more than ok Innie.” Chan reassured him. “I have a feeling soon enough our little omega is going to be pretty insatiable and to be honest it would be a lot easier for me to have others to help take care of her needs. I mean, fuck, especially during her next heat it will be nice to have some help. My dick is still raw from that little minx.” 

There was a collective groan at the prospect. They would have given anything to be there for the first one. 

“While we’re talking about it there are a few things i want to discuss. As far as a claiming bite goes, it would be ok with me if you did bite her. Just not on the neck. And no cumming in her until we get her on some non-harmful birth control. I’d like to have time with her before we bring kids into the equation.”

They all nodded in understanding, agreeing with the alpha.

“Has she said who she's thought about, Channie?” Felix questioned with a dark flush on his face. 

Chan tosses his head back and forth as if pondering the question, before answering teasingly “I may have gotten one out of her.” The beta looked hopeful. “Buuuuut I think I’ll let you guys figure it out.” 

Felix pouted, crossing his arms. Minho was sat next to him and pinched his cheek, cooing at the younger beta. 

“Aww lixie don’t pout. You know it's probably you.” 

The red in Felixs’ cheeks darkened even more as he smacked Minhos hand away. 

“I think it’s me!” Changbin boasted 

“Nah, you should have seen her face after I carried her up the stairs earlier. Gotta be me.” Hyunjin said convincingly. 

 The boys just went back and forth, all trying to figure out who is the first one to catch your attention, not knowing it was literally all of them. 

It was pure entertainment for Chan and Minho as they watched the others bicker. 

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

Tags - Closed

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[solar-wing]

⚣ Badass 👊

⚣👊 A/N → @natef458 Last request from my previous account. Now, I can focus on one inbox (at least for now)! Shorter than what I've normally done, but I wanted to keep it simple. Hope you enjoy it! Tamaranean male image generated by AI. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Tamaranean Male Reader | Dick Is Nightwing |

⚣👊 Summary → It's Y/N's first mission as a part of the team since he came to Earth. The Team and their leader Nightwing soon found out just how capable Tamaraneans are in a fight.

⚣👊 Words → 3.3K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

Under the harsh glow of the moonlight, the Young Justice team converged around the abandoned warehouse where Vandal Savage and his cronies were holed up. Nightwing was co-leading the mission with Aqualad, coming far in his leadership and skill since they had founded the team along with their friend and teammate Kid Flash, and new friends Superboy, Miss Martian, Artemis, and eventually Zatanna.

Many of the original members had grown much from their early days as a part of the team, moving away from their past titles as sidekicks and coming into their own identities as heroes.

One of them was the former sidekick to the Dark Knight, previously known as Robin, who’d realized he wanted to separate himself from Batman and forge his own path and identity. Thus, within a few years after the team’s founding, he left his position and title as Robin and took on the persona of Nightwing.

He’d come a long way from the kid he was before, becoming more of the leader his mentor, and friend Aqualad saw in him. So much so, that the Atlantean had decided to start letting him help co-lead missions, seeing that was their original deal during that first fateful mission on Santa Prisca. And it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Batman had alerted the Team about a new mission concerning Vandal Savage who had just stolen a prototype weapon from a top-secret government facility. This weapon, codenamed "Project Eclipse," was not only a formidable tool of destruction but was clearly another attempt at trying to make humans evolve as a race due to his crazy beliefs in Social Darwinism and survival of the fittest.

By now, the Team knew this could only be the minor puzzle piece to something bigger. But, a weapon of that capability was way too dangerous to be left in his hands. Thus, they were tasked with intercepting Savage and recovering the stolen weapon before he could carry out whatever twisted experiments he had planned.

Only now, their team had grown much larger, bringing in various new members. Some were sidekicks to other heroes a part of the League while others were just regular people who had developed powers and abilities, whether intentionally or not, and were recruited into the team so they could learn how to control them and use them for good.

They’d lost a few along the way, some choosing to leave the team on their own while others had met a different and more grave fate, one of them being the new Robin, Jason Todd, who’d taken Dick’s place after he’d given up the position of Batman’s sidekick. Of course, the team mourned the loss of their fallen teammates, but it didn’t take away from their strength, especially with the other new members who had joined.

One of them being Y/N, an alien refugee who’d made quite the entrance to Earth just two years prior. He’d escaped from the captivity of the Gordanians, an intergalactic race of slavers who’d attacked his home planet, Tamaran, and abducted him as a slave in the process.

But, the slavers were ignorant of the fact that Tamaraneans gained strength from sunlight. So, when traveling closer to Earth within view of the distant sun of the solar system and after encountering the inherent unpredictability of space travel, Y/N seized his opportunity for escape, breaking free from his confines and escaping the vessel.

They’d pursued after him, hot on his trail as he made his way onto Earth, landing in the unsuspecting municipality of Happy Harbor. Unknowingly, but thankful in the end, his arrival had caught the attention of the Young Justice team, whose base was located in the nearby mountain and had come to his rescue.

It’d definitely been an interesting first meeting, considering none of the Team could understand him since he was speaking an alien language they’d never heard of. That’s when Y/N took it upon himself to lock lips with the Boy Wonder, who had yet to give up his identity and position as Batman’s sidekick.

Apparently, Tamaraneans possessed the ability to learn language through skin contact. It didn’t have to be done explicitly through kissing, but they were also a very direct and forward race when it came to their feelings. Being a race ruled more by emotion than reason.

Simply put, Y/N found Dick attractive and planted one on him so he could learn English, much to the then Boy Wonder’s surprise, but also enjoyment. He didn’t know much about Tamaraneans, but, judging by YN’s appearance, it definitely had to be a planet full of attractive people. But, he only had his eyes on one at that moment.

Now, two years later, Y/N had become an integral member of the Young Justice team, his journey from alien refugee to valued ally a testament to his strength and resilience. Despite the initial language barrier and clear cultural differences that in the early stages separated him from his teammates, Y/N had quickly adapted to life on Earth, his determination to learn and grow matched only by his unwavering commitment to the team.

Y/N brought a unique blend of strengths and abilities to the Team, complementing and enhancing the skills of his fellow teammates in various ways. His Tamaranean heritage bestowed upon him powers and abilities that were on par, if not equal, with those of Superboy, making him a formidable force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

Like Superboy, Y/N possessed superhuman strength, allowing him to perform incredible feats of physical prowess and to go toe-to-toe with even the most powerful adversaries. His invulnerability made him virtually indestructible, able to withstand the most devastating attacks without so much as a scratch.

But what truly set Y/N apart was his extreme proficiency in hand-to-hand and weapon combat. Trained from a young age in the art of combat on his home planet of Tamaran, Y/N was a master of various fighting styles and techniques, able to hold his own against opponents of any size or skill level.

In addition to his formidable combat skills, Y/N possessed the ability to generate energy bolts and blasts from his hands and eyes, a power known as star bolts on Tamaran. These powerful energy blasts were capable of incapacitating even the most resilient foes, adding a deadly edge to Y/N's already impressive arsenal of abilities.

Together, Y/N's strength, combat prowess, and energy manipulation abilities made him a major asset to the Young Justice team, capable of turning the tide of battle in their favor with a single well-placed strike. Whether facing off against street-level criminals or cosmic threats, Y/N stood ready to defend his teammates and protect the innocent, his unwavering determination and indomitable spirit serving as a beacon of hope in the darkest of times.

As the Team faced off against Vandal Savage and his henchmen in the abandoned warehouse, the air crackled with tension and anticipation. Nightwing and Aqualad led the charge, their years of experience and leadership guiding the team through the chaotic fray.

Superboy, Miss Martian, and Zatanna with a few of their other teammates had split off to retrieve the stolen weapon, leaving Nightwing, Artemis, Kid Flash, and Y/N to hold off Savage and his goons. The battle was fierce and relentless, with Savage's forces proving to be formidable adversaries.

As Nightwing faced off against Vandal Savage in the dimly lit warehouse, the villain was proving himself to be a most formidable foe. Savage's millennia of combat experience and immortality made him a threatening force, his strength and resilience far surpassing that of any ordinary adversary.

The two circled each other warily, each seeking to gain the upper hand in the deadly dance of combat. Nightwing moved with the grace and precision of a trained acrobat, his nimble movements a stark contrast to Savage's brute force and relentless determination.

With a calculated look, Savage launched himself at Nightwing, his fists crashing down with bone-crushing force. Nightwing barely managed to dodge the blow, rolling to the side and countering with a swift kick to Savage's midsection.

But, he shrugged off the attack as if it were nothing. With a savage grin, he came at Nightwing again delivering multiple strikes that drove the young hero further back towards the edge of defeat.

Even with his own experience and endurance in battle, Nightwing found himself struggling to keep up with the relentless assault. His movements grew sluggish and tired as his body began to succumb to the pain of the attacks, his mind racing as he searched for a way to turn the tide of battle in his favor.

As he staggered back from Vandal Savage's brutal onslaught, his muscles burning with exhaustion and his mind reeling from the relentless barrage of attacks, he knew that he was on the brink of defeat. With Savage bearing down on him, his fists raised for the final, devastating blow, Nightwing braced himself for the inevitable impact, steeling himself for the pain that was sure to follow.

But just as Savage's fist came crashing towards him, a streak of emerald energy shot through the air, intercepting the attack with pinpoint precision. Nightwing's eyes widened in astonishment as he watched Y/N swoop in, his Tamaranean abilities allowing him to move with speed and agility unmatched by any ordinary mortal.

With a powerful surge of energy, Y/N deflected Savage's blow, sending the immortal villain stumbling backward with a grunt of rage and frustration. Nightwing could hardly believe what he was seeing as Y/N stood before him, his expression determined and his eyes blazing with determination.

But the battle was far from over, and Savage wasted no time in launching another furious assault. As he lunged towards Y/N, his hands outstretched for the kill, Y/N met him head-on, his own strength and resilience proving to be more than a match for the immortal foe.

With a swift movement, Savage managed to grab Y/N mid-attack, his grip like iron as he sought to crush the life out of the young hero. As he tightened his grip around the Tamaranean’s midsection, he was despondent to see Y/N unfazed by his move, his expression calm and determined as he looked Savage straight in the eye.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am stronger than I look," Y/N declared, his words resonating with undeniable strength and conviction no matter how soft they were spoken.

As he spoke, a flicker of determination ignited in Y/N's eyes, the vibrant emerald glow intensifying until his eyes shone with a brilliant radiance. The Tamaranean brought his foot back before unleashing a devastating kick to Savage's chest, the force of the blow sending the mastermind staggering back. His expression contorted with pain and surprise despite his strength and healing as he struggled to maintain his footing against the onslaught.

As Savage stumbled backwards, Y/N seized the opportunity to press his advantage, launching a relentless barrage of attacks that left the immortal villain struggling to keep up. Meanwhile, Superboy, Miss Martian, and Zatanna had succeeded in securing and disabling the prototype weapon, turning the tide of battle in their favor.

As the battle raged on and the rest of the team rallied to their side, they watched in awe as the Tamaranean held his own against Savage and his goons, his strength and resilience shining through with every strike.

He was relentless, pressing his advantage with unwavering determination as he launched into a relentless barrage of attacks. Each strike fueled by an inner fire and a fierce determination to protect his teammates and emerge victorious against the forces of evil.

Also, no one was allowed to lay hands on his leader like that without repercussions. Vandal truly did not know who he was fucking with.

As Nightwing watched Y/N in the heat of battle, a wave of admiration washed over him, mingled with a sense of awe that bordered on reverence. His eyes traced the contours of his form, noting the fluid grace with which he moved and the unwavering determination etched upon his features.

In the flickering light of the warehouse, the Tamaranean seemed to glow with an inner fire, his emerald eyes ablaze with determination as he faced off against the immortal menace of Vandal Savage. Nightwing couldn't help but be captivated by the sight, drawn to the raw strength and resilience that seemed to emanate from Y/N's very being.

But it wasn't just his physical prowess that impressed Nightwing. It was the strength of his spirit, the unwavering resolve that burned brightly within him even in the face of overwhelming odds. There was something undeniably magnetic about Y/N, something that stirred a longing within Nightwing's heart that he couldn't quite put into words.

With a determined nod, he rose to his feet, his own resolve renewed as he prepared to join the fray once more.

Together, Nightwing and Y/N fought with a synchronicity that bordered on instinct, their movements fluid and coordinated as they launched a devastating assault on Savage and his forces. As they drove their adversaries back, the rest of the team rallied to their side, their collective strength and determination proving to be more than a match for the forces of evil.

As the battle raged on, Nightwing couldn't help but feel a stirring of something deeper than mere admiration. There was a connection between him and Y/N, a bond that transcended words and defied explanation. It was as if they were two halves of a whole, each complementing the other in ways that went beyond the battlefield.

In that moment, as they fought side by side against their foes, the acrobat couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to truly be with the Tamaranean, to share in the triumphs and trials of life as partners, as equals, as something more.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. There would be time to explore the depths of his feelings later. For now, he fought alongside Y/N with a renewed sense of purpose, his heart filled with admiration and longing for the alien hero who had captured his attention in more ways than one.

Y/N used his incredible strength and ability of flight to help launch Nightwing into the air, while Nightwing used his light and agile nature to deliver a series of lightning-fast blows against the villain. Together, they worked to bring the villain to his knees, their combined efforts finally proving to be too much for the immortal.

As Savage finally admitted defeat with a promise and retreated into the shadows, the Young Justice team stood victorious, proud and relieved smiles etched onto their faces from their hard-earned victory. They all surrounded their co-leader and teammate, making sure he was okay while praising Y/N for his prowess in his battle with Savage.

"Dude! That was like total badass moves out there!" Kid Flash exclaimed, his eyes wide with awe.

"Yeah, I know you've been on the team for a while now, but I haven't seen a more well-deserved ass whooping like that in a while," Artemis agreed, her lips curling into a smirk.

"It truly was a sight to behold. Well done, Y/N," Aqualad added, his voice tinged with pride.

"I'm so glad you're both safe," Miss Martian added, relief evident in her voice.

"Yeah, that was a close call," Superboy chimed in, his expression serious.

Nightwing couldn't help but chuckle at their enthusiastic praise, his gaze drifting to Y/N. The Tamaranean smiled, his eyes sparkling with appreciation and gratitude at the praise.

"Thank you. Though, I think my friend here is deserving of just as much credit," he replied, gesturing to the former Boy Wonder.

"Oh, no, you definitely did most of the heavy lifting," Nightwing insisted, shaking his head. "If it weren't for you, I would've been a goner."

"I do not know about that. You were holding your own quite well before I arrived. But, we make a good team, do we not?" Y/N mused, his smile widening.

"Yeah, we do," Nightwing agreed, his cheeks flushing slightly at the compliment.

"And now we know, the next time we need to save our butts, just throw Nightwing into mortal danger and Y/N goes into god mode," Kid Flash teased, breaking the mood.

"Dude!" Nightwing hissed, punching his best friend on the arm.

"Yeah, payback, Robby-Poo," Kid Flash, still using his old nickname for his friend despite his name change.

"Well, we should probably head back to headquarters. We need to get this weapon back to the cave," Aqualad interjected, ever the voice of reason.

"Sounds good to me," Superboy agreed, already heading for the exit.

As the Team made their way out of the warehouse, a warm feeling settled over Nightwing's chest, his gaze lingering on the Tamaranean. There was no doubt in his mind that they would continue to make a great team, both on and off the battlefield.

"Hold on a sec, Y/N. We'll be right behind you, guys!" Nightwing called out to his teammates.

The rest of the team shared a knowing glance, a few snickers, and suggestive grins exchanged between them. But they didn't say anything, opting instead to give their friends some privacy.

Except KF who was giving the vigilante a thumbs-up and a wink.

Nightwing rolled his eyes and shook his head, but the blush didn't fade.

Once they were alone, Y/N turned his attention to the former Boy Wonder, his expression curious.

"Is everything okay, Dick? Are you still hurt?" He asked, voice lilting with curiosity.

The acrobat tried not to blush at Y/N's use of his name, the way it rolled off his tongue like liquid gold. Even though they were technically still in the field and should be addressing each other by their alias names, he didn't mind it. Not one bit.

"No, no, I'm fine. Really. Just wanted to say thank you," Nightwing assured, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"For what? Defeating Vandal Savage?" Y/N questioned, confusion written across his features.

"Well, yeah, that, too. But, I meant, thank you for saving me," Nightwing explained, his tone growing soft.

"Oh," Heat growing under the Tamaranean's golden cheeks.

"I'm not gonna lie, I was worried for a second. But, then you came swooping in and turned the tables. I knew I was safe," the acrobat confessed, his gaze locking with the Tamaranean's.

"You are most welcome. It was an honor to fight alongside you. I would not have let any harm come to you, Dick," Y/N replied, his expression earnest, though he wanted to say more.

Ever since he came to Earth, he'd grown into the Earthling culture, which meant he was a lot less direct with his feelings, which proved to be much more frustrating than he thought. Especially when it came to expressing the lingering feelings he had for his leader.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," the acrobat said, offering a small smile.

"Of course," the Tamaranean responded, returning the gesture.

"We should probably get going. The others are waiting for us," Nightwing pointed out, though he didn't want the moment to end.

"Yes, they are," Y/N agreed, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"Maybe after we're finished filing our reports and debriefing, we can hang out? Catch up on things, or whatever," the acrobat suggested, his heart racing in his chest.

"I would like that," the Tamaranean replied, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Cool," Nightwing nodded, trying his best not to grin like an idiot.

"Yes. Cool, indeed," Y/N echoed, his eyes sparkling with gleefulness.

"You two coming or what? Let's go," Kid Flash yelled from the warehouse entrance.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming!" Nightwing called back, rolling his eyes.

With a final shared smile, the two heroes made their way toward their teammates, the promise of a new beginning and a blossoming relationship hanging in the air.

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[totaly-obsessed]

would you be willing to write either an alessia x reader or a leah x reader who has ADHD? i loved your alexia piece. it made me feel super seen ❤️

Fitting In

Alessia Russo x reader request

-> A struggle day with Alessia - ADHD!Reader

-> @anon Makes me so happy to hear that you felt seen! These are things that actually happen in my day to day life - and adhd presents so different in people, please don't be offended if this doesnt fit you!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Baby?” Alessia's shout echoed through your shared home – the blonde had just come home from practice and was excited to spend a nice, relaxing evening with her girlfriend. But just a couple of seconds later she could see that the rest of the day would be a bit more chaotic than she had originally thought.

“Where are you?” Win, the Arsenal dog whined quietly booping her nose on Alessia's shin, trying to get her attention. With a sigh the striker took off the collar, letting the chocolate lab loose – just to see her race to the living room carpet where she dramatically flopped down with a loud huff.

“Bedroom!” Carefully Alessia opened the door, she never quite knew what to expect behind closed doors when it came to you. Maybe you would be dying your hair, trying her clothes on, or simply staring into the abyss. While she had been preparing herself for the worst, seeing you re-arrange furniture wasn’t so bad.

“Hi, Lessi!” The footballer did her best to ignore the heavy desk you were pushing around, instead giving you a kiss, melting at your huge grin and sparkling eyes.

“You’ve been quite busy huh?” You have been. The Wardrobe had been replaced by the bed and the bed with the desk – or at least your girlfriend guessed that you wanted it to go there.

“Help me?” She didn’t need much convincing, but the sheepish smile on your face certainly did the job.

With a gentle push, you were removed from the desk, as Alessia couldn’t watch your struggle any longer. With just a few expert nudges and lifts it was where you wanted it to be, with you directing the blonde.

“Done!” She brushed off her hands as if she were brushing off dirt from hard labor. With a smug smile, she saw you stare, particularly at her arms (still wearing her Arsenal training tank top), before she pulled you into a bruising kiss – large hands resting on your hips, fingers digging into your bum.

“Did you get groceries amore?” Oh right. There had been a reason why you had wandered in here, you originally had planned to get dressed and go shopping but all of a sudden you just felt an incredible urge to re-arrange the furniture. “Sorry, Lessi.”

With a soft chuckle, Alessia kissed your forehead, she knew that you didn’t do it on purpose, you never did. You just were forgetful. “How about we go out to eat?” That was the most brilliant idea you have ever had. Usually, you would order in because Alessia was too tired from training to actually go out – so it was a nice change. “That sounds fantastic baby. But it’s gonna be noisy and busy, you okay with that?” Your excited nodding was enough to melt her heart all over again. Bless you, so excited to go out with your girlfriend.

“I’m gonna have a shower, yeah?” You didn’t really realize what Alessia said until you heard the water running. “No Lessi!” As fast as you could you made your way to the bathroom, your girlfriend still in front of the mirror taking off her makeup. “Can I have it first? I’ll literally be ten minutes!” With one or two bats of your lashes, the blonde agreed, leaving you in the bathroom.

“Hey, google – play shower list! No, play Date playlist!” You had to repeat yourself, your Alexa was too confused with your wishes. The water was still running as you took Alessia's place, looking at yourself in the mirror. “Should I wash my hair? But I washed it yesterday – Shit. I didn’t do that washing did I?” There was no one to answer you, you were talking to yourself. On your way to the laundry room you nearly tripped over Win. “Winnie! You’re here! Oh, I love you so much!”

“Amore?”

No answer.

“Amore?”

With Win in tow, you climbed back up the stairs, already seeing Alessia with a big goofy smile in the bathroom. “Shit. I left the shower on.” The dog excitedly yapped once she saw the familiar blonde, her tail hitting your leg. “Yes, you did.” She wasn’t mad – she was laughing, and she had shut the water off. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry Less. Promise I’ll go now.”

“You haven’t had it yet?” Win was once again whining for attention but stopped once you leaned down to pet her head. “No, I want downstairs and I was doing the washing because I forgot to do it earlier.” By now you had eventually taken off your socks and outer layer, just in your underwear now.

“I just need to get my skincare stuff.” Why it was in the kitchen you didn’t really remember, however halfway down the stairs, you remembered the disgustingly cold showers. “Need the shower to warm up first!” Up you went again.

Now with your skincare, water warming up, the right music, and the laundry on – you were ready to actually get in, until you weren’t. Your sister had sent you a TikTok, which left you to doom scroll for a while before Alessia eventually came back up. “Are you done amore?”

She knew that you hadn’t been in yet, the half-Italian always knew when you were having a hard day, and today was one of them.

“I don’t know if I want to shower yet.” Your girlfriend could see the frustration building up in you, so she pulled you in a hug. “That’s okay baby. Can I go?” The defeated look on your face was all she needed, cooing over your sad little face before shoving you out the door after calling Win to keep you company.

Whilst the footballer was in the shower, you had tasked yourself with picking outfits for the both of you. Picking Alessia’s was easy, not only did she look good in everything, but all her clothes matched, so there was no bad choice.

When the blonde entered the bedroom she couldn’t help but laugh at you standing in front of the full-body mirror, wearing a cropped puffer jacket you had bought last week. Your lips in a pout and cheeks red in frustration – something was wrong.

“You okay baby?”

Boom, tears. Knowing that Alessia knew you and all your little signs meant the world to you. “I hate this jacket.”

“But you just bought it last week, what’s wrong with it?” by now she was standing in front of you, opening it up, closing it again, turning you around to get a better look, trying to figure out what is bothering you. “It’s the sleeves, look.” You thrust your hands out, the sleeves rising up so that your wrists were out.

“Maybe it’s the hood?” Your girlfriend pulled the zipper on the detachable hood, taking it off and abruptly throwing the hood itself on Win’s head. “What do you think? I think you look great!” You had to admit, that it was better, but the sleeve situation was still bothering you. “Nuh-uh. Wanna get rid of it.” With a final nod, Alessia helped you take it off, throwing the jacket on a pile of clothes. “Ella was looking for one of those.” That was that. Ella would get the jacket.

In the end, Alessia chose your outfit, as you were much too busy playing with Win, who was pawing at you when you had flopped down next to her on the carpet.

Whilst you were getting ready Alessia grabbed the rest of your stuff – that you would definitely forget and run back in and out again until you have everything, like your wallet or lip balm.

As soon as you entered the restaurant you regretted it. There was so much going on and such a wave of noise that greeted you that you nearly just walked back out again – but your girlfriend had already picked out a table in a corner.

“Less I don’t know what to get – I’m like overwhelmed by the options.” Somewhere a child started screaming and a hoard of adults kept laughing at it very loudly. “It’s like I can’t read the words that are literally right in front of me."

It started to beep everywhere in the big room. You had picked a popular restaurant in the area that had pagers that vibrated, blinked, and beeped when your food was ready so you could go and get it.

“What do you feel like amore?” You were zoned out, eyes empty staring at the menu, dead to the world around you. Alessia sighed, she knew that this would happen. “How about Pasta?” You nodded, she knew which one you would like.

A couple of minutes later your girlfriend came back, with one of these little devices in her hand, placing it under her thigh on the stool, desperately trying to soften the glaring noise.

Suddenly the lights dimmed and a birthday song was played loudly over the speakers. As well as you could you held your ears closed as most guests started to sing and clap along. Just as the song ended your food was ready and Alessia went to go and get it.

“How was training Less?” She could see your head swiveling around, overwhelmed by the lights, the noise, and the people – nonetheless, she took your bait, explaining what had happened at the Arsenal training center, appreciating that you tried to listen, and even asked questions.

Ten minutes into eating a children's birthday party sat down at the table next to yours, and as cute as the kids were – they were even louder than your thoughts. Screaming over the top of each other, begging for Ice cream for dinner and even yelling at the poor elders on their other side, trying to show them something.

“Amore? Are you overstimulated? Would you like to get this to go, and just go home?”

“Yes please.”

Alessia went up to the register with your plates, while you packed up all your stuff, grabbing your jackets and Alessia’s little bag that really only held her car keys.

In the car, you couldn’t hold it anymore, and the tears just burst out of you in streams that seemed never-ending. “I-I’m sorry Lessi, jus wanted to be like everyone else but I can't even sit in a restaurant.”. Your girlfriend cooed at you, gently stroking your thigh trying to calm you down a little. “We don’t need to be like anybody else. We can just be… Us!”

The rest of the evening was spent cuddled up on the couch with Win occupying one of the ends, stealing a blanket off of you, as Alessia covered you in hers as well. The wood was still warm when you ate it, even after changing out of the uncomfortable outfits and into big shirts and joggers.

“I love you amore. For you – you don’t need to be like anybody else.”

[gilverrwrites]

Against The Wall (/Bathroom Door)

Pairing: Dean Winchester/AFAB! Reader

Feminine pronouns used.

Plot: Dean and the reader are unable to keep their hands off each other during dinner. They sneak off together for a 'quickie' in the restroom.

Rating: M/18+

This is a re-written/edited fic I wrote and posted on a now deleted tumblr. If I recall correctly, it was originally a request for 'against the wall' sex.

Please remember: to be kind to yourself.

Content: Swearing, (really cheesy) flirting, established romantic/sexual relationship, nipple play, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, semi-public, clothed sex, size difference, biting, (non-sexual) peeing.

Excerpt: "Give me rough and ready any day.”  “Ohhh, don’t worry Darlin’...” Dean smirked, the hand on your thigh slipped to cup you through your jeans as he almost closed the gap between you, his lips less than an inch away. “I intend to.”

“Why are we staying here? Why didn’t we check in to that place down the road?” You groaned. You couldn’t help but feel like a sore thumb, as you needlessly examined the well-dressed wait staff and their high society patrons. If the side eyes, and tight smiles they shot back at you were anything to go by, they also thought your table stood out.

Attempting to avert your gaze, you glanced over the menu and had to stifle a gasp. Tired and sore from the hunt, you’d collectively decided that it would be faster and easier to just dine at the hotel’s restaurant, but $37 for a burger, FRIES NOT INCLUDED! Daylight robbery! In hindsight, you wished you’d bothered to walk the extra 10 minutes to the nearest greasyspoon, just on principle. Besides, the motel down the road was next door to a pizza joint, double whammy. “It would have been a helluva lot cheaper.”

“Because it was full up. Besides, I thought you’d appreciate somewhere a little more sophisticated.” Dean replied. If the grin on his face, and the hand on your thigh was anything to go by, he didn’t really care where he was, he was just happy for the food and the company. And to be done with the ghouls you’d been hunting down all week. He winked at you as he leaned in and snatched the menu from you, and you giggled when his brows shot up. Likely also outraged at the price of a burger, WITHOUT FRIES.

“Deano, sophisticated; we, are, not.” You stated as matter-of-factly as you could, trying to ignore his hand as it inched higher and higher up your leg.

“Speak for yourself Sweetheart.” He quipped, locking his eyes with yours and wiggling his eyebrows, “I’ve always had a taste for the finer things in life.”

“HA.” You deadpanned, but he didn’t budge. You leaned in closer, lowering your voice to a purr. “Well, not me. Give me rough and ready any day.”

“Ohhh, don’t worry Darlin’...” Dean smirked, the hand on your thigh slipped to cup you through your jeans as he almost closed the gap between you, his lips less than an inch away. “I intend to.”

You would have leaned in to kiss him, had the sound of Sam clearing his throat, signifying his discomfort, not distracted you both. Embarrassed at having forgotten his presence you both leaned back in your chairs. Dean promptly placed both his hands on the table and shot Sam a very unserious thrown.

“Sorry, Sam.” You extended a brief apology and the three of you sat in awkward silence until someone came to take your drink orders.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room.” You announced shortly after the waiter had left. “10 bucks says this place has attendants.” You joked as you stand from the table and walk away.

“Wait up, I gotta take a leak too!” Dean declared. “If they come back for food, just order for his. No green shit.” He instructed his brother before wrapping an arm over your shoulder and following very, very close behind you. You really did need to pee, but if Dean had something else in mind, you wouldn’t object.

Together you manoeuvred your way through the labyrinth of busy tables and ‘atmospherically’ dim hallways until you found a vestibule of doors labelled ‘la toilettes’.

Dean held you at arms-length as he poked his head through one and looked around. From what you could see, it seemed to be a single occupancy bathroom. “Score!” Dean turned to face you as he backed the rest of his body into ‘la toilette’, pulling you in with him. “Plus, no attendant, you owe me 10 bucks.”

The moment you heard the lock click behind you he pounced, arms either side of you, fingers against your scalp, caging you between his firm chest and the door. Your lips crashed together; a shiver ran up your spine as he groaned into your mouth. It wasn’t a soft kiss, it was harsh, demanding, just how you liked it. You snaked your hand under his shirt and ghosted your fingers up until they rested on his chest, there you could feel his heart beating a mile a minute.

Briefly, you felt high on the effect you had on him. The moment abruptly ended when he snatched your waist, twisting you around, and pushing you face first against the cold wood.

In this new position, you could feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your ass, instinctively you reached an arm back to rub against him.

“F-fuck.” Dean spluttered, grinding into your open palm. “You’re so sexy.”

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You replied, “But can we get a move on please.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He rasped, before sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin of your shoulder. Strong hands begin roaming your body. One hand skirts along the curves of your upper body before gliding back up, beneath your shirt, under your bra and begins squeezing at your breast. His calloused fingers pinch at your sensitive nipple, rolling it between the tips of his fingers.

His bite softens, and his tongue flicks against the tender skin before he begins to ghost his lips over your neck, kissing, licking, sucking, marking. Meanwhile, his other hand deftly works on your belt, whipping it open in no time, he nabs the hem of your jeans and yanks down, forcing them down to your knees, underwear following soon after.

You sucked in a breath and arched your back against him when you felt a finger begin running against your slit. A second finger quickly joined, and you withered at the feel of his coarse digits splitting your lips open. The heel of his palm pressed against your clit, sending a shockwave through your body, two fingers gently prodded at your entrance, but he didn’t push in straight away.

Needlessly you rocked against his hand, hoping to garner some friction against your clit, trying to sink yourself onto his fingers, but you just couldn’t quite hit the right spot.

“Dean stop!” You whined. “I need you.”

“Need me?” He chuckled, his hot breath tickling the back of your neck. You knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face, and he was lucky you were too needy to care. “Need me to what?”

“Need you inside me.” You whispered back to him, cheeks ablaze. “Need you to fuck me.”

You felt your hole slowly spread open as his fingers inched in, stretching you around them, but no sooner had it started when he halted again.

“Dean, please!” You begged, and seemingly that was exactly what he needed to hear.

Within seconds his long fingers were buried inside you. Leaving no time to adjust he started pumping in and out, scissoring your insides, while the heel of his hand massaged your sweet spot, both actions sending an unbearable pressure through your body.

It wasn’t long before he slid in a third, and you were seeing stars, panting and rutting as a tight knot surged in your core, your climax was fast approaching, tittering on the edge when Dean abruptly pulled himself from you.

An exasperated cry leaves your lips as you attempt to reach for him, to pull him back but you’re barely able to brush your fingers against his arm. Accepting failure, you spin around to face him, ready to pout at him, to demand an explanation but before you open your mouth his hands are cupping your thighs. He lifts you off your feet, forcing your arched back against the door once again. With some shuffling he managed to bring your knees up, hooking your ankles over his shoulders, his face embedded in your concealed cleavage.

“Hold still.” He instructs, balancing your weight between one hand and the door, as he makes quick work of his belt, jeans, and boxers. You bite your lip, repressing any instinct to wither or jerk as his cock springs free.

“Ready?” He asks, his half-lidded, lusty green eyes gaze up at you as he positions himself at your entrance.

“Ready, and very, very eagerly waiting.” You confirm.

You suck in a breath as he enters you all at once, relaxing his grip on your body slightly so you sink down, taking every single inch of his shaft.

“Fuck.” He shudders against your body, his eyes rolling back already. His voice to low and guttural. “You feel so good. So fucking wet.”

Hands gripped tight against the wall for support, ankles firmly angled against his shoulders, you roll your body, grinding your pussy up and down his cock. His fingers dig tight into your thighs, surely leaving bruises as he savours the feeling.

“Fuck me, Dean.” You plead, rocking on his dick once more. “Need you to fuck me.”

“How could I say no to that.” He groans, adjusting his grip on you, slipping his hands up until they’re wrapped tight around the back of your knees. He slowly leans back, sliding his cock out until only the tip remains inside, before brutally slamming back in. It doesn’t take long for him to find his pace, slow, hard, and so fucking deep.

If he registers the creak of the old wood supporting your back, he clearly didn’t care. Neither of you had really made an effort to disguise what you were doing, why start now?

You were soon twitching at the feel of each thrust, murmuring his name. You didn’t expect to last long after he’d brought you so close once already, and you were right. He rebuilt that tension almost instantly, you felt dizzy, hot and wet. Barely able to feel anything but the throbbing, burning heat between your legs. With one last strangled moan, you tightened around him as you reached your climax.

Dean soon followed behind, the feel of your cunt tightening around his dick setting him off. His muscles clenched around your body, and his pace slowed as he released inside you, grunting with each spurt.

Flushed and panting you both remained in your positions as you came back down. Cum began to seep out of you as Dean softens.

“That was….” Dean pursed his lips as he searched for the right word. A smile spreads across his lips as he seemingly finds it. “That was, awesome.”

“That was awesome.” You reiterated as you began lowering your body. Dean's firm hands steadied your feet return to the floor. He reached down to pull your jeans up for you, but you stopped him, shooing his hands away.

“I really do need to pee!” You answered his puzzled look as you waddled over to the toilet.

“Right!” He laughed, as he pulled up his own trousers. “Plus, you should always pee after sex, right?”

You nodded affirmatively as you did your business. There was something weirdly intimate actually urinating in front of your boyfriend without shame. You really did have nothing to hide, he knew every gross detail.

“We should head back out there.” You said as you finished up. Readjusting your clothes and washing your hands. “Sam will probably think we fell in or something.”

“Nah, he may look it, but he's not that dumb.” Dean joked. “He better have ordered something good, I need more than rabbit food after that.”

“Agreed! Oh, and Dean?”

“Yeah, babe?” He answered as he drapes his arm over you.

You press your head into his shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes. “Round two after dinner?”

“If I ever say no to that, I want you to shoot me.”

[reidsaurora]

hil! so im a little nervous to send this in and confused how exactly to request but im gonna try anyway

the summer celebration and the banner is so cute! could i please request for you to write a "Malibu Dream House - domestic!au" with Reid and fem!reader? Spencer and reader are expecting (unless you're uncomfy with pregnancy, then they can just be a couple that's moving) and relocating, buying a home together. and the team comes over for a house warming party during well obviously the summer! just like cute fluffy dynamics between everyone. Rossi is protecting the bbq like it’s his baby and ofc Ms. Penelope Garcia is excited at the possibilities of the couple’s future

i hope this isn’t too boring a request, and of course no pressure to write this, i just hope you’re having a good day and hope summer treats you well 🩵

hi, lovey! sorry this took so long! as usual, i don't have an excuse alshalsjsksh 💀 hope u enjoy though!

"With A Little Help From Our Friends" ~ S. Reid

Summary: When Reader is feeling apprehensive about the end of her pregnancy, Spencer reminds her that really all you need is a little help from your friends.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 1,846

Content Warning: pregnancy stuff, a little sexual humor at the end, food talk, small mention of a gun (this is CM after all), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: it definitely didn't take me three different attempts to write something without scrapping it...

Originally Written: 07/23/2024 through 07/27/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (love u my editor 4 life)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration can be found here!

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Crashing Waves - angst requests -> Sun Kissed - fluff requests

To say the last couple months had been busy would've been an understatement.

Sure, when you and Spencer first saw that little blue plus sign, you went into full-blown parent mode. It started with some baby clothes, then some bottles, then the crib… But, entering the last trimester of your pregnancy, that's when things started to get real.

In the process of getting ready, you'd acquired enough things for a potential army of babies, making Spencer's apartment—originally intended for one resident—feel even tinier than the baby you were soon to birth. So what was Spencer's genius solution? Move into a new house, because he simply couldn't get rid of his baby's things before she'd even arrived.

And that was how you found yourselves heavily pregnant and moving into your new three-bedroom Cape Cod in the quiet town of Cabin John, Maryland. Perhaps you should've found somewhere that wouldn't require waiting until your eighth month of pregnancy to move in, but with its charming blue-and-white exterior and flower boxes on nearly every window, it was hard to say no to the place.

The last week had been spent moving everything in, not much thanks to you but thanks to your friends/colleagues of the BAU. Pretty much everyone had been in and out of your home over the week, but Spencer still insisted that the two of you should throw a housewarming party, and who were you to say no to that cute smile and big brown eyes? You only hoped your daughter wouldn't inherit them, or else you might just take that two letter word out of your vocabulary altogether.

Now you were here, in the kitchen supply aisle of the grocery store, contemplating what paper plates to use for the party.

“I really don't think anyone's going to care about the design, love,” Spencer attempted to reassure you. “Just so long as they aren't flimsy.”

Your pregnancy brain was basically ignoring him at this point though. “What if I buy the wrong ones and they think they're ugly?”

Spencer pouted, though he placed a supportive hand on your back. “How long have you known my colleagues? And how many times has someone said something mean about something so miniscule?”

“There was that one time Rossi said he didn't like that flower arrangement I put on the coffee table.”

“In his defense, he said they were the same colors that his second wife had at their wedding,” he explained, then chuckled. “He was probably just having some PTSD.”

Eventually, after a few more minutes of contemplation, you decided on the basic white ones, Spencer reassuring you all the while that they were perfect. Then, it was onto cutlery, which was just another thing for your brain to pick apart. You knew it was silly, truly, but you just couldn't get yourself out of your own head about even the most miniscule things.

On top of that, it seemed as though your husband hadn't missed your shift in behavior. Sometimes it sucked that he read people for a living.

“Honey,” he started, his tone sounding oddly like the word he'd just said, “are you sure this is about paper plates and plastic forks?”

Normally, you'd be able to put up a fight with your brain, push down the thoughts and explain later in the comfort of your home. But pregnant you was much different than regular you, and it only took that one question to have you tearing up.

You leaned into his shoulder, hoping to suppress the sounds of your cries. “What if I make all the wrong choices and the baby hates me?”

His lips met the crown of your head for a gentle kiss, followed by a soft sigh. “I promise she'll love you. You're going to be the most wonderful mother any little girl could ask for.”

“But what if I buy her the wrong diapers and she yells at me?”

Spencer gave you that signature pout, and a small swarm of butterflies set off in your belly. “I doubt she'll be that picky over them, but if she is, we just buy her new ones and make it better.”

You couldn't help but snicker through your tears. “I feel like that's awful advice, but I think I get what you mean.”

“C'mere,” he mumbled, pulling you in as closely as possible. Your bump had made it hard for hugs to happen, but that definitely didn't stop your husband from trying. “You're going to make a mistake or two. It's in our nature. I will most likely make a lot more than one or two mistakes-”

“Not true. You're gonna be the best dad in history.”

“And you will be the best mom in history. It's going to be a learning curve for all three of us. But, when they say ‘it takes a village,’ at least we know we have our village. JJ will be there to help with all your new mom questions and Hotch will be there to help me build her first treehouse. Kate will be there when she starts playing with makeup and we start to feel old.”

You giggled into his shoulder, earning you a small smile. “Penny will be there just to spoil her.”

“Emily will be there just to teach her how to flip someone off,” he snickered, the sound vibrating against your skin. Then, he was pulling you up for a long but sweet kiss, the taste of his morning coffee taking over your senses. “We've got this. You've got this.”

And instantly, you were feeling better. You knew Spencer knew magic, but sometimes you swore he was a wizard with the way he could change things just by saying one thing.

—

The second you pulled into the driveway, your heart sank to your stomach.

“Spence, why is the gate open?” You only hoped he had a reasonable explanation.

Unfortunately, his answer was not at all what you were hoping to hear. “I'm not sure. I don't think I left it open.”

Abandoning your party supplies in the car, the two of you headed toward the gate, Spencer insisting you and the baby stay behind him. As an FBI agent, he knew never to go anywhere without a gun, so luckily he at least had some way to protect you and himself if it came to that.

With one hand, he pushed open the cracked gate, the other lingering near his firearm just in case. The two of you quietly and slowly made your way into the backyard. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest, it felt like it would jump right out of your ribcage. Spencer managed to remain his normal, calm self, but you couldn't say the same.

And then, just as you rounded the corner: “SURPRISE!”

Both you and Spencer nearly jumped out of your skin at the screams, though you both quickly realized what was going on.

Pink and white balloon arrangements, one table filled to the brim with gifts and another covered with various snack trays and drinks. If it wasn't clear this was a baby shower, the sea of people in pink outfits would've been the giveaway.

Penelope was first to greet you, her pink sundress bouncing as she practically ran to meet you. “You don't understand how hard it was to keep this from you,” she said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

Your arms flew around her neck, and hers wrapped around what they could of your stomach. “What is all this?” Now you were on the verge of tears with her.

“Papa Rossi wanted to throw you guys a shower and of course we had to surprise you.”

You let go of Penelope and turned to Rossi, wearing his normal attire, except for his normal white button-down had been replaced with a pink one. “Dave, you old softie!”

His arms wrapped around your neck for a small hug, and he left a peck to each of your cheeks. “I love you, kid, but don't call me old.”

You laughed as he let go, and immediately he walked over to the grill, like that was where he belonged. Then, you and Spencer were off to make the rounds.

Spencer wore the biggest smile you'd ever seen, aside from the one he had when you'd first shown him the pregnancy test. Even though you'd been with Spencer for nearly a decade, you still felt butterflies and goosebumps when he smiled, when he laughed, when he called you ‘love’.

“He's gonna be the best,” Penelope said, her eyes following yours.

You smiled before turning back to her. “Yeah, he really will.”

Just then, Luke and Spencer headed your way, Spencer moving to stand behind you. Immediately, you leaned into him, and he took your belly in his hands, relieving some of the pressure there. “Why were you staring?” he teased in your ear.

“I just think you're pretty,” you giggled, the sound like music to your husband's ears.

Luke snickered at the interaction, though he tossed an arm around his girl, giving Penny a quick kiss on the head. “By the way, you guys should have babies more often. This woman has been cooking enough to feed an army. She left like ten casseroles in the fridge for you guys.”

“Penelope,” Spencer gave her a soft look of something close to disapproval, though you knew he didn't mean it. “You didn't have to do that.”

“You and Mama are gonna need something to eat, and I know you guys are not going to feel like cooking after being up with a newborn all night.”

And it was time for another hug, the tears from earlier actually falling this time. You weren't sure what it was about pregnancy, but you'd realized it had made you awfully touchy. But you didn't care, especially today, when you were in the arms of some of your best friends.

“Hey, Penny,” Luke said as he watched the encounter, a tone of slyness to his words. “Maybe we should hop on the train next. Then you'll have a reason to make that breakfast casserole more often.”

She pulled away from the hug before turning to her boyfriend with probably the most serious look you'd ever seen her wear. “Luke Santiago Alvez, if you bring your man-juices anywhere near me, I will rip off your thingy and then feed it to you.”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips. Then, you turned to Spencer, who was just confused. “Did she just call it a thingy?”

“Did she just say man-juices?” His sentence elicited giggles from all four of you.

It was then that “With A Little Help From My Friends” by The Beatles started to play on the speaker, no doubt having been taken over by Hotch. But as the song played, you couldn't help but notice the sea of people all here for your baby. Sure, you were terrified. But you knew you'd get through it: with just a bit of help from your friends.

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @mmmeademaaa @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing @captainchris-pike @therealrazortai

[annabelle--cane]

placing my hands out placatingly, asking everyone to please be cool and not reignite og!elias burnt out gifted kid discourse. okay? okay. I think this is setting up some more sam and gwen parallels. from mag 193, we know that elias bouchard (original flavor) was told from a young age that he was smart but lazy, he was squandering his advantages, and he was wrong to envy other children because they were meaningless and he was better. he seemed to internalize this to some extent, because by the time he was in his early twenties he had no friends and no family and no real life, just the certainty that he was destined to deserve better.

I think it is reasonable to assume that gwen received similar messaging during her childhood, as she seems to be treating the OIAR the same way elias treated artefact storage (as a stepping stone job to a bigger career waiting for her up the ladder), and she takes a lot of offence when she feels disrespected. from magp 03, we know she's reticent to tell her friends that she's still working this same job, especially because the friend's party she was going to was to celebrate making partner at a law firm.

from this episode, we know that sam was declared "gifted" as a child and his parents rigorously enrolled him in every program they could find, and it started going down hill when the magnus institute rejected him (did they reject him outright or was he there for a bit and then kicked out? what he said to celia doesn't quite fit his earlier statements, but moving on). he has a lot of pent up and fixated feelings about not being chosen by them, he didn't get into oxford, he just missed the highest grades, and he's reticent to tell his parents that he's working this job, especially because he used to be at a law firm.

we know the bouchards are a wealthy and influential family, and as sam speaks with a south asian accent I think it's safe to assume that his family immigrated. of course, there's a massive amount of variation in the socioeconomic statuses of south asian immigrant families in the UK, and I don't know enough about how british gifted kids programs work to know if sam having been in a bunch of them would imply anything about his parents' disposable income, but nonetheless I still think their different backgrounds potentially say a lot about how they handle these feelings of not meeting the high standards that were expected of / promised to them. gwen is fighting to be on the same level of social status and power as her peers, and sam probably felt like he was he had opportunities for upward mobility in this brand new place but kept failing them. it's causing both of them to be very active characters, they are the two people pushing the story forward the most by far, but the ways in which they are active diverge greatly.

gwen, until recently, had felt like she was unfairly stagnating, like she was "not most people" and was cut out for better, and being constantly barred from climbing the ladder made her both resentful of lena and extremely paranoid / insecure about her own worth. now that she's starting to crack it into the "real work," it's obviously taking a great toll on her, but she doesn't want to back out, she wants to prove herself and take what's rightfully hers and not show herself to be unfit for real power. her actions appear to be guided by an ethos that her life hasn't been wasted yet, she still has time to make good, she just needs to ignore that weakness masquerading as a conscience, please god don't let her fail.

sam feels like he's made mistake after mistake after mistake and led himself to his own desperate state where he only just managed to avoid destitution because his ex was kind enough to hook him up with an emergency job that is actively destroying his physical and emotional health, and he has pinned all this frustration on trying to figure out what the magnus institute was all about and why it didn't choose him. like gwen, great things were expected of him, but unlike her he doesn't seem to still be striving for them, that dried up when he had a breakdown at his last job. now he just wants to figure it out and make sense of it, as if solving the mystery will let him fix it and undo all that time and un-waste his promised potential. his actions seem to be guided by an ethos that, even though he's already screwed everything right up, solving the ghosts that haunt his life will some how lessen their burden and maybe, just maybe, give him closure on the Flaw That Doomed Him and allow him to move past it without dragging it still forward.

[rainesrants]

One Last Time

Pairing: Zuko/Reader Word Count: 2.6K+ Tags: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Guilty Zuko... Summary: Zuko sees you for the first time in years, but this time, you're on the enemy's side. Unfortunately, he's not here for you; he's there to stop his sister. With you there, will he be able to end this once and for all, or will you remain his weakness? A/N: This is my first time posting one of my works (on this account), so please don't hate! I apologize if there are any grammar mistakes, but I hope you enjoy.

No, it couldn't possibly be. Perhaps he was having a hallucination, his eyes deceiving him. That was the only logical reason as to why you were there, standing right next to his sister as the crowning of the Fire Lord was taking place.

You who he was previously betrothed to, your parents having set you up at a young age for rank. Although it was originally a marriage of convenience, it had quickly blossomed into something more. The two of you were able to cherish your relationship as you grew older, despite the obvious hesitance in the beginning.

You who comforted him the night his mother left, refusing to leave despite his protests. Even with tears blurring his sight, he could see how worried you were. Your arms reached out to him, pulling him into an affectionate hug. He could feel the way you trembled, trying to stay strong as you forced a smile for his sake.

You who stayed with him even when he had lost his honor, his face scarred beyond repair. He could still remember the gentle touch of your hand as you carefully bandaged his wounds and the affectionate forehead kiss that came after.

You who begged to accompany him on his journey to find the Avatar and regain his glory. Alas, he knew he couldn't possibly endanger you, the one last person he held dear to his heart.

You who remained a part of him, even throughout all of his journeys. There were days he'd wish he could crawl back to you, just to get a glimpse of your bright smile.

The warmth you brought with you was unlike anything he had ever felt. It was different from the heat he experienced when he would firebend, much different. It was far beyond that, something he could only describe as soothing. He could feel it in his body as his heart would start to beat faster at the mere sight of you, his lips bending into a clumsy smile as you'd notice the red covering his cheeks.

Even when he had returned to the Fire Nation with his sister, he dared not go back to you. He knew it would only do more harm than good, remembering the feeling of his heart breaking as all he left behind was a letter to you before going off in search of the Avatar alone. He could only imagine your wails as you realized he was gone.

He had always wondered how you were, asking guards to secretly check your condition. It was cowardly, yes, but how could he return after so long? After he had ignored your messages to him during your time apart, after he left without so much as a goodbye, after he had tried to love another just to end up missing you more.

You who owned the title of his best friend and much more. You were the love of his life, someone he could not dare see harmed.

So why?

Why were you there, remaining the only audience to Azula's crowning? 

Even with everything happening, he would always recognize you-no matter how far apart you were. With desperation, he ushered Appa to move even faster than before. A heavy grumble shook the ground as the sky bison landed, wind and debris releasing from under him.

With a slow turn of your head, you realized what everyone was staring at. For just a moment, the two of you made eye contact, and it was only then that he realized the true state you were in. An unreadable expression was displayed across your face, a mixture of both confusion and worry. In all the years he had known you, he'd never seen you quite this disheveled. The beaming grin that adorned your face at almost every moment had disappeared, replaced with a sullen frown. Your eyes no longer shone either, only a dull glare and dark eye bags remaining.

What happened to you?

His attention was quickly taken away as he remembered his mission, the real reason as to why he was there. He couldn't possibly allow himself to be distracted, not when countless lives were at stake. Forcing himself to turn away from you, he swiftly stood up, taking a deep breath as he moved to face his sister.

"Sorry, but you're not going to become Fire Lord today," he said, "I am." Stealthily jumping off of Appa, he landed on the hard ground. He could feel your eyes on him, but all he could do was try his best to remain his composure. 

"You're hilarious." An eerily large smile creeped up his sister's face, the sound of her mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

"And you're going down," Katara announced. He didn't even notice her as she approached from behind, the both of them now standing side by side.

Azula rolled her eyes, but just as she was about to get crowned once more, he watched as she raised her fist, halting the ceremony. "Wait. You want to be Fire Lord? Fine." Standing up, her entire demeanor changed. She was no longer smiling, an angered look on her face. "Let's settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be. Agni Kai!"

He knew what his sister was trying to do, but as his gaze flickered to you out of habit, he felt his words get caught in his throat. You'd seen everything happen when he had refused to fight his father, but this time, the situation was different. "You're on."

His mouth felt dry as he saw you react, moving with your hand out towards him-as if it were an instinct. You had look conflicted, as if you wanted to say something to him. As you were about to take another step forward, Azula began to approach you, reminding you of her presence. He could only watch from a distance as you turned to face her, your arms going limp at your sides as you paused. It seemed you had made your decision, but he could only feel hurt.

"What are you doing? She's playing you." The sound of Katara's voice snapped him back to reality, but her words went through one ear and out the other as his expression hardened, his eyebrows furrowing. "She knows that she can't take us both, so she's trying to separate us."

At her words, Azula began to cackle maniacally. "Oh, how precious, but I'll manage. After all, I have a special guest with me tonight, don't I, Zuko?" She placed a hand on your shoulder and at her signal, you raised your arm, but this time, it was different. Before he could say anything, he watched as you flicked your wrist, shooting fire towards them, just barely missing the poor waterbender.

You hadn't missed.

That was a warning.

He could hear Katara gasp from beside him, not expecting you to attack. She was about to pull out the water beside her but stopped as he held his hand out in front of her. She could see the way he looked at you, and whispering underneath her breath, she asked, "Who is that?"

He hesitated for a moment, clenching his fists tightly as he said, "It doesn't matter." For a moment, he watched your eyes widen in surprise. He bit the inside of his cheek, looking at you one more time before turning back to his sister. "Let's get this over with, just me and you. This way, no one else has to get hurt."

As they both went to opposite sides, Zuko couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. Why were you with Azula of all people? Throughout the years you'd known each other, you may have been close with the both of them, but you would always choose him over her. Had his absence truly changed you this much?

He rolled his shoulder back as the sound of a gong echoed through the arena, announcing the beginning of their fight. Stranding up to face his opponent, he slowly turned around. Thankfully, he was able to catch a glimpse of you, and you were too far back to be accidentally hit by any attacks.

"I'm sorry it has to end this way, brother." Azula took off the jacket wrapped around her shoulders, dropping it onto the floor with a light thud.

"No, you're not." He lifted his hands, getting into a proper fighting stance.

No other words were said as Azula's lips shifted into a deranged smile, forming her own battle stance. Before he could blink, he watched as his sister shot blue fire from across the arena. He quickly retaliated, sending his own in an even bigger wave to counteract her attack. The temperature had quickly dropped from the intense heat, their fires clashing together in a fight between red and blue, creating a wall between them.

Azula continued to stand on the offensive, leaping forward as she used her skills to send multiple attacks his way. Knowing this was a time for no hesitance, Zuko shot even larger flames in order to defend himself. Her fire missed him, going straight to his right. There was no mercy between both sides, the two of them ignoring the way they had set the surrounding buildings aflame.

He could hear his sister panting from afar as she continued her relentless attacks; the amount of power she was using was too much. This was the time to strike, so he sent the strongest wave of fire he could. She just barely jumped out of the way in time, using her bending to send herself propelling towards him as she fought back his attacks. It was like a tornado of heat as Azula circled her brother, but as he carefully predicted her next destination, he was able to knock her back. She crashed to the floor with multiple grunts, her breathing getting heavier and heavier. She could only get up with a groan, an agitated look on her face.

He felt his confidence gain a boost, his lips turning into a smug grin. "No lightning today? What's the matter? Afraid I'll redirect it?"

Her brother's remarks seemed to make her more furious, watching as her expression became enraged. "I'll show you lightning!" Without so much of a thought, the air quickly became electrified as she summoned forth countless lightning bolts around her. He quietly prepared himself for her attack, shifting his feet into a better stance, getting ready to take whatever she gave him. He watched as his sister's eyes darted around, looking for a weak spot, but what he didn't expect was for her to turn around, her eyes focusing on you.

No.

No.

He immediately jolted forward, praying he could get there in time to save you. He couldn't care less if he had to stop his sister and get hit himself, as long as you were safe. With a scream of desperation, he watched as the lightning shot through the air in record-time.

But he was too far.

No matter how fast he moved, no matter how much fire he used to send himself flying face first towards you, he couldn't possibly stop the attack in time. He could only watch as your eyes turned to Azula, then the lightning being shot straight toward you, then him. You barely had a moment to process what she was trying to do, a look of pure shock visible on your face as you scrambled your thoughts together. You knew that you couldn't escape in time, so with as much strength as you could muster, you prepared yourself to take the hit. You tried your best to take a firm stance on the ground, but no amount of preparation or experience in firebending could ever help you get ready for the searing hot pain that hit your chest. 

The vision of you reaching out to him with both of your hands was engraved into Zuko's mind, your eyes darting toward him. The only thing that he could hear was the sound of your strangled scream, calling out to him one last time before you crumpled to the floor. He completely ignored the way Katara yelled at him in bewilderment, only to realize his intentions. Running to reach you, the smell of burnt skin engulfed his senses. He kneeled to the floor beside you, only being able to watch as you twitched uncontrollably from shock.

He wanted to embrace you, to hold you in his arms, but he knew that no matter what he did, he couldn't help relieve the pain. Instead, he grabbed ahold of your hand in support, his grip tight and worried.

The sound of fighting continued behind him and as he turned back to check the commotion, he realized he had left his sister and Katara alone. He wanted to get up, to help her fight back, but he felt the way you had gone limp, your energy quickly fading away. 

He couldn't possibly decide between the both of you, but as he locked eyes with the waterbender, she gave a reassuring nod. "I've got this. You help them." With one last look at the sight of water and fire clashing, he moved to get a better look of you. Thankfully, you were no longer spasming, but you were lying unnaturally still.

You weren't moving at all.

He was unsure of what to do, watching as little by little, your life had slowly started to fade from your eyes. He didn't even realize how tightly he was holding your hand, but if you noticed, you didn't seem to mind.

"I've missed you, Zuko." You forced yourself to speak, your voice raspy and hoarse. It was the first time in a while he had heard you say his name, the sound of your cheery voice gone. He could only be glad to hear it, remembering how he wished to listen it every day, to see you every day. But now, he was unsure if he'd ever get the opportunity to.

"I've missed you too, (name)." You tried your best to curl your lips up into a small smile, your eyes gazing deeply into his. "Why are you here, after all this time?"

You tried to inhale, your breath coming out as ragged. "Azula had said you'd be here, and knowing how reckless you are, I wanted to keep you safe." Once he realized you were always on his side, he felt the knots in his stomach loosen. Of course you didn't betray him, he was a fool for even thinking you would. Pulling you closer, he could feel your heart beating through your chest, moving at a slow, unnatural rate. "I never would have come if it meant you'd get hurt."

"But I didn't get hurt, you did," he whispered, holding you as close as possible without hurting you. 

You rolled your eyes at his words, using all the strength you could muster to playfully pat his arm. "You know what I mean." 

For a moment, the two of you had gone back to how you used to be. To the power couple that were bound to be the best leaders the Fire Nation had in a long time, to being the best friends that were attached to the hip, to being the childhood friends who teasingly messed with each other every opportunity they could.

But that was quickly taken away.

You felt a strong pain strike your chest, the wind being knocked out of your lungs. Zuko could see the hurt you were in, only able to watch as you tried your hardest to fight back the way your eyelids got heavier and heavier. Trying to speak, your words came out almost completely breath-like, practically wheezing. "I'm really glad I got to see you one last time."

"One last time?" He asked, but he knew what you were implying.

"I love you dearly, Zuko." You could barely speak, using the remaining strength in your body to pull him closer. The feeling of your lips meeting together was just as familiar as all the other times you had kissed, the years not changing the affection in them. He held you close, his other hand squeezing your hand tightly. He didn't even realize that he had been crying, your face being soaked with his tears.

As you finally pulled apart, he looked at you one last time to see you crying as well, allowing him to catch one more glimpse of the smile he adored so much. "I love you, too."

When he watched the color drain from your face, all he could do was hold you. When he felt the way you had gotten abnormally cold, all he could do was use his bending to try and warm you up. When you closed your eyes, all he could do was gently push the hair out of your face. When he finally felt the way you crumbled in his arms, going completely limp, he knew he couldn't do anything more.

You were gone.

[moonshynecybin]

Hey! Just wanted to say I’m in awe of how your writing it’s just so GOOD and FUN and TORUROUS. It’s rly hard to nail the voices and dialogue of characters (especially when writing them speaking in english!) but you always make it so believable. Ur Vale especially is sooo charismatic which like hats off bc a more mercurial man has not been made. 

Re ur charged-airport-conversation fic, I’m intrigued to find out how Marc will handle his sexuality crisis. Will he be in denial? does he very seriously study gay culture like telemetry data? is he getting Grindr? is he seeing it as something to incorporate into his PT routine & somehow translate this to a competitive edge? how did he feel about the pope saying frociaggine????

Also I loved the goofy brother shenanigans, Alex strongest most patient and silliest man alive truly. Extremely funny to think of Alex “please get a girlfriend you’re 30 and annoying me” Marquez having to cope with Marc coming back like “I found one! :3” holding hands with Cervera’s enemy #1 undisputed champ 2015-2024

Anyways, would love to hear any thoughts u had but no pressure! I just wanted to thank u for ur brilliant mind & forget about whatever fresh hell that sprint was 

this one. is one that i plan to maybe actually and fr write out so i shant answer in full because i hope that you'll find out eventually. um. i CAN give you chapter two! of THIS fic where Marc and Vale get stuck in an airport and have a somewhat fraught little bonding session. i have not proofread this OR reread the original so if there's inconsistencies just chill out. theres also a lot of liberties taken with the amount of privacy these guys have on a given race weekend again just chill out. please. they live in different countries and are bitter rivals its hard to get them alone into fictional scenarios. its about 1.4k.

(Part ONE !)

The next time he sees Vale is in the paddock.

It's not unusual to see him— the paddock is small and Vale is always a presence, felt even when he’s gone, indelible—but it’s on the television more often than not these days. Maybe a glimpse of him zooming around on his scooter, ignoring the swing of the camera phones tracking him in his wake. But it’s not like this, never this close up. Vale maintains distance, and Marc has adapted to take his cues from that same distance. He’s not going to be the first to engage, not anymore. 

All that being said, Marc is trying to grab some alone time in between sessions, communing with his lunch and contemplating ways to improve his breaking into Turn 11. He’s tucked into a shady place out of the way, generally out of the range of any stray cameras, when Vale catches him, sliding next to him on the table and leaning forwards on his elbows.

He starts picking at Marc’s food.

Marc reacts reflexively, not even processing that it's Vale who’s at his elbow who is reaching over to snag a bit of his chicken. He lifts his bowl out of reach like he would with Alex. “Hey— that's mine,”

Vale’s game, apparently, shooting him one of those dangerous grins, eyes crinkling at the sides towards Marc like he hasn’t seen in years. He’s brimming with the confidence of someone used to getting away with breaking rules. Marc puts down his food. Lifts a hand, adjusts the cap at the top of his head, and tucks his hair behind his ear. 

This means something. He doesn’t know what.

“Allora, you were not eating it.”

And Marc has always been easy for it—the simple skill he has in spinning a situation into the brightest version of itself, mood turning on a dime. Even when he was destroying Marc, he would do it with a smile. 

It’s that same silverbright thread that makes Marc laugh, disbelieving, a shock of delight. He shoves at the edge of Vale’s arm, jockeying with his elbow. He bites his lip, shakes his head. Would you look at that?

“Presumptuous,” Marc scolds, and tucks back into his lunch, forking another bite into his mouth. Vale grins and leans closer, conspiratorial. That same hot, embarrassed feeling from the airport rears its head, giddy. Marc glances around. There’s no one here. He feels like there is. LIke there’s eyes on them, even though he’d chosen a place where there shouldn't be.

It feels like crossing a line, teetering on the edge of some cliff, one toe over the edge. Hot and anticipatory in the pit of his stomach. There’s a breeze going, and he shivers. Vale leans closer.

He likes it. 

He also knows that he shouldn't like it. He’s gone through this song and dance before. This feeling, this hero worship that he has with Vale never leads him down any good road. He thought– six premier class titles and nearly ten years of vitriol had been an effective cure. Not so, he’s finding out.

Vale corrects, “I see what I see. This I cannot help.”

“Oh yeah? You’ve been watching me?

Vale shrugs, steals another bite. “You do manage to put on a good, ah, show.” He finds the words in Spanish. Marc can’t remember the last time they spoke in Spanish.

Marc takes a breath in. Settles himself. He doesn’t know what the end goal is here. Curiosity wins out— it’s better than wondering why Vale’s here in the first place. What game he’s trying to play. What he thinks he’ll get out of being nice to Marc, aside from that shivery feeling clawing its way up the base of his spine. He should really at least find out if he’s doing this because he plans on not being nice to Marc. 

“How did you find me?” Is what he goes with. Neutral enough. 

“You are not hard to find.” The answer is vague, but frank. Vale loves to speak around things.

Marc raises an eyebrow, decides to just keep looking at him. They both know he’s bullshitting. Vale breaks, and makes a face, shrugging.

“I have been racing here longer than you. I know the hiding spots.”

Marc gives him a minute roll of the eyes. It's still not an answer. “You know, they remodeled not too long ago. The entire layout changed.” Vale would’ve had to work to find him. 

“Not too much!” Vale spreads his palms cheerfully, seizing on a diversion. “The bones are still the same. The stands are over there,” he juts a thumb, “The pits are here. The bathrooms change, but bah. It’s a facelift.”

Marc wrangles down a smile. Vale’s not being serious— he’s being fun. Maybe he’s trying to get him comfortable for some reason. “A lot changes, I think.” He says frankly, and he means it. 

Vale’s eyes flash. He sees Marc’s conviction, catches the double meaning. Another one of their conversations centering around two different issues on the surface, but coming back to their history all the same. The elephant in the room butting into other topics. History, division, and rivalry, all sneaking its way into the cracks in their words. 

Vale keeps going, the lead in their little play.

“Maybe. But it’s not— like, aerodynamics, new regulations, new tires— all that changes. Small stuff.  Opinions, riders. But it is still a paddock. I’ve been in paddocks my entire life. You can’t change much.”

Things change a lot, in Marc’s experience. People. Teams. Bodies. 

Friendships.

And Marc is brave usually, has made a career out of it, so he feels like he has to ask. No use avoiding it and feeling half out of his skin for the rest of the day. Vale’s knee bumps into his own and he closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them Vale is already looking at him

“Why are you here?” He levels.

Vale throws him a soft smile. It comforts exactly no part of Marc.

“Maybe I was looking for a hiding place.”

Marc hesitates, choosing his words carefully. It’s always a spar with Valentino; even when they were friendly, they were still competing.

“Am I the hiding place?”

“Well, I am still more famous than you, is true. Less photographers on you than me. It’s peaceful.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Now there’s a good question.” Vale says, stealing something else off of Marc’s plate. “Today? I was hungry. I thought I’d stop by and eat with an old friend.” The words jolt through Marc like a highside. He’s in the air— lost, flying, falling. 

Vale stands, towering. He claps Marc on the shoulder. It burns white hot. Marc keeps his eyes on him, trying to catch a hint, a clue as to how this all happened. 

An old friend.

“Is that what we are?” He asks, more earnest than he should be. Vale can be such a bastard.

“Well, what would you call it?” He responds, turning the question on Marc, voice quiet. Serious, like he knows whatever hangs between them is as thin as a spiderweb. Marc swallows.

“I don’t know,” Marc answers. still too honest, even now. Something flickers on Vale’s face, too quick and complex for him to read. 

“Think about it.” Vale prompts, and walks away.

Marc finds out that they weren’t alone, in that section of the paddock the next day. The pictures hit the news after the race, headlines rolling in thankfully after Marc has left for home. Valentino Rossi and Marc Marquez sharing lunch, alone on a race weekend ten years after their falling out. What could it mean? 

But Marc’s eyes look at the photo and just catch on Vale’s shoulders, leaning towards Marc, the palm of his hand, arcing through the air as he gestures, frozen on the screen of his phone, and himself, eyes crinkled at the corners. He was wrong. He didn’t manage to reign in that smile after all. 

FRIENDS AGAIN?, the headline asks, and Marc wonders.

[wing-ed-thing]

... And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part I

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags/Warnings: Naive!Servant!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Canonically Mean Vinsmokes, But Reader is Kinda Into It, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Name-Calling, Hitting, Reader Fell First, Yonji Falls Harder

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Notes: Welcome to my current hyperfixation. I guarantee you one hell of a roller coaster. Brace yourselves.

Ichiji had never seen anything like it. 

He had gone into Yonji’s room to talk about something, and from the sight of his brother’s moving lips, it was evident that his question was definitely being answered— by a long monologue, no less. But Ichiji couldn’t hear a word, not when you were zipping around the room, thoughtfully, pathetically doting on his brother as if he were a god. 

None of this would have been out of the ordinary for Ichiji if your position had been that of royal attendant. A butler, a valet, or even one of the maids would have been more appropriate when it came to fussing over his brother so early in the morning, and even if it had been an entire swarm of regular servants, Ichiji wouldn’t have batted an eye. But now that he considered it, Ichiji hadn’t seen a single valet in Yonji’s entire wing. 

In fact, it appeared as though Yonji dismissed all his personal aids in exchange for the company of the royal library attendant. 

The library attendant.

Despite being so far from your typical work environment, you seemed less than bothered by the fact that you had assumed an entirely different job than what you were originally hired for. Rather, Ichiji thought you appeared fairly eager to place yourself at Yonji’s disposal. He could practically see glitter in your eyes, and while he wasn’t exactly surprised— in fact, he was a bit disgusted by the fact that a lowly book roach had the nerve to even think about looking at a member of the royal family in such a way— Ichiji couldn’t help but feel that he’d missed something. 

The library had to have been halfway across the castle, not to mention that Ichiji wasn’t even sure if the library snail was currently docked to either Yonji’s or his own fleet in the first place. 

Yonji’s curly eyebrows creased as he gestured toward himself, continuing to talk— Ichiji still didn’t know what about. Yonji flexed the bare muscles on his bulky arms proudly. 

You held up two nearly identical shirts on two hangers to Yonji’s left, one a bit higher than the other. 

The only real difference between the two was the buttons. The one in your right hand sported large, clear buttons, while the one you held slightly higher had smaller, opaque buttons. Yonji barely spared you a moment of his attention, his eyes flickering to the white shirt with the opaque buttons. His glance communicated enough, and you swiftly placed the rejected shirt back into his ornate, hand-carved wardrobe. 

The two of you had done this routine before. 

Yonji made the shallowest efforts as you swooped in behind him, carefully pulling the fabric over his arms until it draped lightly over his shoulders and chest. He placed his hands in the pockets of his slacks, completely ignoring you as you maneuvered in front of him to begin buttoning his shirt. Yonji spoke over your head as you tucked it into his waistband. 

“Hey!” Yonji’s aggravated growl snapped Ichiji from his trance. Yonji had you by the sleeve, just about tearing your uniform off your shoulder as his nose contorted in a deep snarl. “Where the hell did you put my raid suit?”

“It’s right here, Prince Yonji!” You held up the canister like a precious treasure, eyes glinting at the number marked prominently on the side. Ichiji couldn’t recall ever seeing someone so enthralled by servants' work.

Yonji scoffed, heaving you forward by the corner of your uniform before pushing you back with double the force. He roughly snatched the canister from your hands before he turned to make his way toward the doors. 

“C’mon,” Yonji knocked a hand against Ichiji’s shoulder. “Let’s take a look at that new tech you were tellin’ me about.” 

“Right.” Ichiji nodded, the slightest bit heated that he had been made to forget why he’d visited his brother in the first place. He stood from the plush couch in the middle of the room to follow Yonji. 

“Goodbye, Your Majesties! It has been an honor to serve you today.” Neither brother turned back as you bowed at the waist. The heavy doors closed behind the two, leaving you alone to tend to your chores.

Ichiji considered the closed entrance for a beat before joining Yonji, who strutted down the plush carpet of the hall with an elevated cockiness. Ichiji gave him a once over, studying him with acute curiosity before averting his attention to the view of the sea outside the passing windows. 

“Does the library attendant dress you every morning?” he asked. Yonji let out an obnoxious, bellowing laugh.

“Yeah! And the best part is I didn’t even have to ask!” Yonji cackled in his usual boyish rasp. He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning forward slightly to narrow his eyes mischievously at Ichiji. “What? You like my new personal attendant?” 

Yonji laughed again as the two stepped into a winding stairwell. The sound resounded upward, bouncing off the stone walls. He squared his shoulders back, a wide, self-satisfied smirk plastered to his lips. Ichiji hummed, trying to decide how invested he was. 

“Retaining a valet or two like Niji and me would be more logical. Perhaps a few chambermaids instead of some creepy roach,” Ichiji frowned. “Your taste in toys has always been… unique.”

“What can I say? I can never get sick of that stupid, wide-eyed face!” Yonji snickered behind closed teeth, tugging absentmindedly on the loose collar of his shirt. Neither he nor Ichiji spared a second glance at the soldiers who greeted them as they made their way across the courtyard. “I could kick it and still get an offer to shine my boots. A proper servant should consider it a privilege to serve.” 

Yonji continued to hiss, and Ichiji hummed again. He had grown tired of the subject, but Ichiji couldn’t help but consider that there was something about your dynamic that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. 

“All this excitement over a little attention from a servant,” Ichiji muttered. 

Yonji’s self-assured smirk wavered as his pace slowed. He fell just short of Ichiji, who continued ahead. Yonji’s brows wrinkled in disgust, and his lips quickly contorted into a disdainful scowl. He huffed, turning his nose to the side, before widening his strikes to catch up with his older brother.

“I’m being treated the way royalty outta,” Yonji spat. He hardly noticed how the doors to their destination opened in their presence. “What does it matter if I get a laugh out of breaking this one, too?” 

Ichiji didn’t humor him with a response. The two brothers disappeared into the building, both finally tired from talking about you.

***

“Oh my god!” a cleaning woman gasped, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth as she gaped in horror at the sight just outside the window. A crowd of other house servants gathered around her, all careening to look down at the training grounds below. They muttered to themselves in panicked horror, causing more staff to drift from the hall and into the storage room to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the ground below. 

On one side of the yard stood all three Vinsmoke brothers, each donning their respective raid suits as they talked amongst each other. However, the Vinsmoke princes were the last thing the hoard of staff pressed up against the four medium-sized windows appeared concerned with. 

You stood directly in the middle of the opposite end of the training ground. Three large books were stacked on top of your head, and a basket of crisp, green apples was in your hands. You wabbled, teetering slightly as you tried to balance the books. Perhaps you could have if there were fewer of them or maybe if the princes hadn’t chosen an encyclopedia each. 

All the upstairs staff could do was watch as Yonji sauntered over to you and plucked an apple from your basket. He placed it on top of the stack of books, tongue poking out from his lips as he rotated the fruit on top of the book cover until the orientation was to his liking. 

“Don’t you dare move a muscle,” Yonji sniggered. As if he were studying a piece of art, he peered at you tauntingly with one eye closed through a box shape he made with his fingers. He chuckled again, pivoting to retreat to the other side of the training ground. Ichiji and Niji were already waiting for him, sinister smirks contorting their faces to reveal sharp incisors. 

“Oh my god, I can’t look! I can’t watch someone’s head get blown off!” one of the upstairs maids turned from the window to push through the hoard of gathered servants. Her spot was quickly filled in. 

“I wonder what brought on such a brutal punishment,” a laundryman remarked to a pantrygirl. The gathering of servants shifted around to accommodate the new bodies that gathered. “Does anyone know what happened?” 

Cosette had just appeared at the end of the hall as the group's muttering grew louder. Unlike many other servants who gathered around the windows, Cosette had actual work to do in the kitchen storage closet. Still, it hardly took a moment of her standing in the doorway to realize something was terribly wrong.

“What’s going on?” she asked a scullion, a wave of dread washing over her like a bucket of cold water.

“The princes have someone down there that they’re using for target practice,” he answered, gesturing to the top of his head. The scullion ushered her forward, allowing Cosette to slide in at the edge of the very last window. She squinted at the sight below before gasping in horror at the sight of it all.

The books, the apple on top, and the giant basket of more shiny green apples that you gripped in your hands. 

And on the other side of the yard, Yonji was winding up.

“Who is that?” Cosette gasped in mortification. Your form looked more than familiar, but Cosette couldn't see your face from the angle she was looking. In a moment of realization, her eyes widened. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Someone said it was the library attendant,” another servant answered, and Cosette ran into the same question that every other servant in the room considered upon hearing that information. 

What business did the princes have with the library attendant?

Tormenting the staff, especially over the slightest perceived infractions, wasn’t out of the realm of possibility when it came to the Vinsmokes. However, given that your post was strictly the library, and nowhere else, none of the gathered staff could fathom a scenario in which the custodian of the library would even have to make contact with any of the princes—let alone all three. None of them ever held any interest in books, after all.

 Other than Judge, the other Vinsmokes assumed interests that they deemed more valuable than Germa’s extensive archive. Not to mention that all scientific notes and heavily referenced texts on technical information were kept in their own room near the central laboratory. On rare occasions when a member of the royal family wanted to seek knowledge that would enhance their combat abilities, they would have a servant deliver a text, no matter where it was stored.

The books you maintained comprised a vast collection of lesser-used texts. From general encyclopedias to old records and files to more niche topics, most of your domain was compiled during the days that Judge was strictly a man of science and included the extensive accumulation of the late queen. It was primarily due to record-keeping reasons— and perhaps sentimentality— that the Germa Kingdom kept a library attendant at all.

If your head were about to roll with those chances, the rest of the staff would have no hope.

“You better hold still!” Yonji warned. The motor in his gauntlet whirred to life. 

You stared straight ahead with your back erect and your muscles as halted as your untrained body could muster. Your teetering from before had subsided, and while you continued to shake slightly from effort, Yonji couldn’t help but consider that you didn’t look nearly terrified enough. And as you stared directly into his dark irises with your stupidly eager gaze, Yonji decided that he’d give you something to be afraid of for once. 

His winch whipped out of his forearm, the metal wire extending many times the length of his own body as he swung his weapon clockwise in a swiping motion. It barreled towards your head at lightning speed. The horrified screams from the gathered servants above were drowned out by the thundering boom that exploded as Yonji’s winch crashed into the castle wall to your far left.

And for just a moment, before the windows in front of the servants broke and the castle violently trembled, Yonji's winch swiped away the second book on your head. The green apple and the book it sat on fell neatly onto the text directly on your hair before you were blasted into the dirt. 

You tumbled across the training ground as the castle wall dented, the accouterments on your head leaving a trail to mark where you stood. The basket of apples had tumbled to the ground, causing the fruits to roll across the field. The three princes bellowed with laughter as Yonji recalled his weapon. 

“I told ya that you better hold still!” he sneered.

The dust cleared, revealing your overpowered body in the dirt. You lay motionless.

“I think your new toy’s broken!” Niji howled. 

Yonji’s brow creased in disapproval, taking in the sight of pages and apples strewn across the yard. He glanced around wildly, an undetectable hesitancy stalling him where he stood.

“Hey!” He stormed forward, jaw clenched as he kicked a few fruits across the lawn. “Hey! What the hell did I tell you? You better get your ass up!”

You propped yourself up weakly, barely mustering the strength. Yonji’s eyes bored into the back of your head as you tried to pick yourself up. His impatience trumped your efforts as he wasted no time in grabbing you and hauling you to your feet roughly. He shook you with barely restrained rage.

“You got the nerve to disobey me, huh?” Yonji jerked you violently, his grip around your bicep punishing. 

Your head snapped back, and only then did Yonji notice the water pooling in your eyes. The glossiness clouding your pretty irises was enough to redirect his rage into a wide, toothy grin. Self-satisfied, he let you drop to your knees.

“Prince Yonji!—” you cried out just as he turned to walk away. 

His earlier annoyance had just about melted instantly, and in its place came a righteous sense of power and control. Yonji had allowed you to fawn all over him for long enough now, and now that he had broken you, your novelty had worn off. He sighed to himself, letting his eyes close as you slowly stood somewhere behind him. It was time to find something new to play with.

—“That was awesome!” 

Yonji’s eyes snapped open, and without thinking, he pivoted on his heel to face you. The tears that he saw in your eyes were present, but the look on your face was nowhere near the expression of terror that he anticipated. Instead, you looked up at him with pure admiration and a dumb smile on your lips. The complete subversion of his expectations left him at nothing less than a loss as he couldn’t help but stare while you blabbered on about how amazing you thought he was. 

—“considering the width of the cable, the damage amounted to a force of equal magnitude to your highness’s strike—!” 

Yonji shook his head as if the physical motion would reset his thoughts. His hand came up to his forehead as he cringed into his glove. And with a motion of dismissal, Yonji turned away from you once again.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Just pick all this stuff up…” You didn’t need to be told twice. You grabbed your basket, ready to chase all the apples around the training ground. 

Just as you were about to reach for your first one, Niji kicked it into a nearby shrub.

“On your hands and knees. You can collect these with your mouth,” Niji taunted. He toyed with another one under his shoe, and lining it up with the side of his boot, he kicked it up into the air and right into the side of your head. “Fetch, doggie.”

“You better pick ‘em up quickly and get those books back on your head, library roach,” Ichiji gruffed. His red light energy glinted, sparking threateningly around his form. “We’re not done with you yet.”

***

Yonji eventually sent you to the medical ward. Although he immensely enjoyed looking at the nasty scapes and bruises that marred your skin, he considered the dirt and blood unsightly. So, when the Vinsmoke family was to be having dinner, you were given strict instructions to make yourself presentable and bring an extra helping of dessert back to Yonji’s quarters.

By the time you arrived, the kitchen was just beginning to wind down, having already presented the royal family with their courses. Cosette nearly jumped when she spotted you just inside the kitchen’s entrance, sputtering out a few more directions to her staff before making a beeline to you. Despite your refreshed uniform, Cosette’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tech bandages that littered your body. 

“Oh my god, you’re alive! Are you okay?” She ran up to you, placing her hands on your cheeks to inspect your head. (Your face was miraculously devoid of damage.) Having seen most of what you had gone through today, her question was clearly rhetorical: “Are you hurt? What are you doing here?” 

You took Cosette’s hands in your own. With the library always being so far away from the main parts of the castle and Cosette’s promotion to head chef, the two of you hardly saw each other anymore. And after what she had witnessed just a few hours prior, she worried about what had happened during the time and distance you had been apart. 

“Prince Yonji sent me to bring back dessert,” you answered, returning your attention to Cosette’s widened eyes. “Do you happen to have any cake?”

Cosette couldn’t help but recoil, hands hovering hesitantly between you. A cleaning boy passed through the tight space where you and Cosette stood. She pulled you out of the way as dirty water from a dish splashed the floor. 

She opened her mouth to address the servant, but your question blocked out any focus she had on kitchen affairs. Cosette blinked a few times as if your words would make sense. Your name crawled from her lips in confusion and concern. 

“What happened to the library?” she opted to ask. The crease in her forehead deepened with distress. She ran a hand down her face to center herself, but a bulky chef carrying the compost bag began to shimmy past the two of you. You pulled her out of the way, and both of you pressed yourselves flat against the wall as the chef passed. Cosette grumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. “Save that thought!” 

She determinedly nodded, pulling you through the kitchen and into the pantry. Cosette tugged the light on before closing the door behind the two of you. Your name left her mouth again in a frantic hiss.

“What is going on? Everyone was saying you were being punished for something. Everyone was watching because Madame Thénardier spied you from the third-story storage closet, and everyone thought you were about to die—!” She waved her hands frantically, pacing herself in a circle. —“And I told everyone to leave once I learned it was you—” Cosette curtly gestured in the air. —“But then Master Yonji hit the castle, and the glass was everywhere—!” You moved in front of her before she could hit her head on a bundle of carrots.

“Cosette,” you stressed, and she stopped for a moment. But only for a moment. You grasped her gently by the shoulders. “I am more than alright. I still work at the library.” You offered her a single, soft nod, but her shoulders remained tense under your grasp. “But Prince Yonji needs me sometimes, that’s all.” 

You glanced off sheepishly at a bag of potatoes. 

“He needs you…” Cosette glanced you up and down. You nodded adamantly. 

Cosette heaved a heavy sigh, drifting away from what you intended as a reassuring touch. She sat herself on a barrel of flour, both arms wrapped around the knees she pulled up to her chest. She puffed out her cheeks, not entirely eager to listen as her back slouched. 

“I don’t doubt that, but…” She nodded a few times in punctuation.

The door to the pantry opened. A cook with a pile of boxes quickly turned back around at the frantic wave of Cosette’s hand, letting the door shut again. She met your gaze, tilting her head to the side. 

“I don’t doubt that, but you almost got your head blown off today… I worry about you… I don’t know if you realize how scary today was.” Cosette trailed off, letting her feet fall back to the floor. She thought, zoning out on a random tile past your knees. “Getting so close to a person who doesn’t have a heart… it’s dangerous.”

The pantry went quiet. 

Noise continued outside. Pots clanged together. Water ran from faucets. The kitchen staff called out to each other; their voices muffled through the door. 

You took a deep breath before you spoke.

“Thank you,” you started. “For being so concerned about me. You’ve always been a great friend.”

Cosette didn’t answer you, and silence overtook the pantry once again, and the kitchen noise continued.

She wasn’t convinced about your safety in the slightest.

And with this talk about the Vinsmoke prince needing you, Cosette wasn’t even convinced that your own words convinced you. 

She remained quiet, at a loss for what to say or even think about the whole bizarre situation.

“I think he really likes me.” You smiled at your shoes.

Cosette most definitely didn’t know what to say to that.

Her shoulders deflated. She toyed with the end of her apron as she quietly considered you. You leaned against one of the shelves, admiring a basket of green peas with a quiet giddiness. 

“I think…” she pursed her lips, following your line of sight to the basket. “I think that perhaps his Highness likes the idea of you liking the idea of him liking you.” Cosette squinted her eyes, facing a random direction, as she lowered her hand in a slicing motion on her opposite palm. 

“You think he knows?” Your eyes widened at the prospect. You bolted up from where you were leaning, slamming the top of your head against the shelf above. “Ow!” You covered the sore spot with your hand. And as you were rubbing away the acute pain, you missed the softness that spread over Cosette’s gentle features. 

She quietly rose from her barrel and took your arm in hers. 

“Come now,” she sighed, opening the pantry door. “Let’s get that cake the prince was asking for. I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

***

You beat Yonji to his quarters, although it was probably for the best that you didn’t arrive after him.

You shut the doors quietly behind you with your shoe, taking in the eerie stillness of his room. It always felt odd being there without Yonji, and anticipating his presence left you with a nervous, looming feeling—like you weren’t supposed to be there. And, at least according to your job description, you weren’t. 

Most of the room was just how you left it. Yonji’s king bed sat opposite the door, with the headboard positioned in the middle of the wall. The microfiber sheets were neatly made just as you left them, and the pillows remained perfectly fluffed. 

All surfaces were clear and freshly dusted except for the circular table in the corner of the room near the door. Two large sake cups sat empty; condensation from earlier had already stained the wooden finish. You spotted the sake bottle on the floor.

You stepped down into the lowered lounge area to collect it and the cups. The two curved, leather couches were usually riddled with personal items, tools, and technical parts—which you were never to touch—but a space next to the table had been conveniently cleared off. 

You could only assume that the princes had been in Yonji’s room while you were in the medical ward. You wondered if you would be punished for your absence later.

The holo-screen glowed in the corner, and a large, detailed map of Germa’s next assignment was displayed and annotated with green and blue markers. 

You stared at the depiction of the sparsely populated city, placing the bottle with the cups on the table. In your other hand, you held the covered plate with Yonji’s cake. The green marker, a more neon color than the matte blue marker, depicted a series of vectors of the same size in various sections of the city, each ending with an “X” symbol. Meanwhile, the blue markings were dotted lines and small, boxed-in buildings. The trail ended at the coast.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest, and with it, the cake almost toppled over as you turned to face Yonji. You had expected him to tease you, but he stood silently with his hands in his pockets. His expression was not one you usually saw. Yonji gazed at the holo-map, face grave.

“I can’t say I’m a fan,” Yonji grumbled. His eyes flickered to yours, locking you into an intense stare with a frown. “But you know, now that you’ve seen this—” He pointed a finger at the map, tilting his head to the side.  —“I’m gonna have to kill you.” His face contorted into a wolfish grin.

“Oh, I see.” You glanced back at the annotations, unfazed by how Yonji’s nose scrunched up in amusement. He prowled around the upper level, approaching the two steps down into the lowered corner lounge.

“Mission information is confidential.” Yonji placed his hands in his pockets. He stood directly behind you, the minor elevation allowing him to more than dwarf your form as he quietly blocked your only exit. “For the eyes of Germa 66 only.” 

“The arrows,” the words slipped out of your mouth. “They’re the radius of your winch.” You had most definitely meant it as a question, but the observation came out with more certainly than you anticipated.  

You turned your head for confirmation. Yonji’s chin jutted slightly back in acute surprise, his curly brows knitting together as he sneered. You stared at him silently, waiting for an answer, but Yonji only continued to look at you disapprovingly.

“The arrows are the radius of Your Highness’s weapon,” you corrected (as if that was the issue). 

Yonji’s scowl deepened as he snatched the bottle of sake from the wooden table. Unexpectedly, there was still some left. He flicked off the cap, shook his head a few times, and took a swig.

“Yeah? So?” Yonji circled the upper level, eyeing you closely as you stepped closer to the map. 

There were several levels to the city upon closer inspection. The entire diagram rotated upon your approach, revealing a multi-layered, three-dimensional diagram. The markings followed, remaining proportional despite the new angles. 

“Is this Speleothem?” you wondered aloud. Yonji took another swig of his bottle somewhere behind you.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding distant. You hadn’t noticed. “You been?”

“I’ve only read about it in books.” You reached out to touch the hologram.

The motion sent it into a tizzy, the diagram spinning erratically, causing you to step back. But once the image settled, it revealed an entire blueprint of the island with the green and blue markings still trapped inside.

Speleothem was a nation comprised of a single, large mountain. Uninhabitable on the outside, the people who lived on the island dedicated generations to carving out the dense rock, leaving a vast network of tunnels on the inside and an extremely rocky coast in the surrounding waters. But most critically, at least to Germa, were its five small entrances. 

Two canals passed through the island's base, intercrossing in the middle to split the system into quarters. Just above the water’s intersection, a vertical tunnel had been dug straight through the peak of the mountain to let in natural sunlight. 

You could see the problem. None accommodated the circumference of Yonji’s winch, and the tunnel system was far too narrow to support his typical brute-force attacks without collapsing a massive sector of the island. You wondered why he was concerned with being careful in the first place, too lost in your thoughts to remember where you were.

Yonji swiped the cake platter from your hands. You stiffened as you were rudely snapped from your daze. Yonji laughed at you that time. He turned on his heel, flicking the top off of the container. It clattered to the floor where the sake bottle— now empty— sat once again. 

“The hell are you still doing here?” he chewed. Yonji pushed past you, shoulder-checking you on his way back up the two stairs into the center of the bedroom. The fork that Cosette included already had a second bite of cake on it. 

“I thought you needed to kill me.”

“Not worth my effort,” he announced, mouth still full as he waved a now clean fork behind his head at you. “And I don’t want your corpse making a mess of my room when I have shit to do in the morning.”

Yonji plopped down on a different pair of couches in the middle of the room. The two ornate fixtures boasted intricate designs and velvet seating, both flanking an equally intricate coffee table in the middle, on which Yonji kicked his feet up. The set appeared to be a part of the same collection as his wardrobe, and the craftsmanship was a stark difference from the technologically sleek appearance of the furniture in the lower corner lounge. 

The back of his head faced you as he took an oversized bite of his extra dessert.

You were sure his ignorance of you was your cue to leave. 

You picked the serving lid up off the floor and held it upside down. As quietly as possible, you placed the empty sake bottle and the two cups into it. Yonji didn’t spare you even a glance as you quietly made for the door, unamused by you at the current moment. 

With the apparent raid on Speleothem the next day, he was either very tired or in an extremely good mood. Whatever the case, you knew better than to mess with it. You pressed down the push button at the top of the knob, holding it there as you hesitated.

You should really leave.

You should really leave and take the dishes straight to the kitchen before turning in for the night. 

Ruining Yonji’s fortunate mood and continuing to talk out of term? What a surefire way to get yourself—

“Speleothem uses a water system. That’s how they’re able to keep the tunnels together and carve out more.” Your voice cut through the air. The scraping of Yonji’s fork against his plate died in an instant. You cringed, letting your eyes squeeze closed as you braced yourself. No strike ever came. 

You slowly turned around, hugging your makeshift basket close to your chest. Yonji had an elbow over the back of the couch. His face was nothing less than unreadable as he studied you.

“They have ventilation tunnels that the water gets pumped through, and if those were to be disrupted, I’m sure you—someone—could cause massive structural damage without collapsing the system on something important below.” The words tumbled out of your lips faster than you could stop them, if not for the sheer purpose of filling the uncomfortable silence in the room. 

You could feel his stare boring into you, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze. Out of all the Vinsmoke princes, Yonji wasn’t the strictest when it came to meeting his eye, but it didn’t feel like the appropriate moment to test his generosity. 

He spoke your name, and it sent a shiver through your core. All your better instincts were as on edge as the hairs on your arms, afraid of the powerful man sitting before you. But in a match-up of pure will and power, the fluttering in your chest swiftly outweighed your senses. 

“Yes, Prince Yonji?” You bowed your head. He liked being reminded of his royal status.

There was another beat of silence. 

“Get out.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” 

***

Speleothem was an eyesore. Just a large rock in the ocean surrounded by smaller rocks, Yonji couldn’t say he was particularly pleased about his assignment on an island so dull and fragile. Reiju had, after all, been the one initially assigned to the assassination, but since she had been called for another assignment, Yonji was the one to take her place. 

The entire mission had been too covert for his liking. Unlike his sister, Yonji didn’t have much in his arsenal to cover a large area without compromising the structural integrity of the entire Goddam island. Unfortunately for him, Speleothem needed to be (mostly) intact. 

Yonji couldn’t help but grumble to himself as he fought off another security grunt with a strong uppercut. The sturdy exoskeleton clattered to the side, his compilation of fallen enemies beginning to make a pile around him. A series of high-pitched scraping noises and clicking sounded from just down the tunnel. Yonji ran the back of his gloved hand over his forehead. He despised that he was already working up a sweat, but they just kept coming. 

He ventured down into the main sector to meet the battalion coming his way. Due to the narrow passageways, the footsoldiers practically charged at him in a single file line. Yonji made short work of each one, critically denting their outer armor with each swing of his enhanced fists, but no matter how many times he swung or how many guards fell, more seemed to replace their fallen comrades at a rapid pace. 

The number of troops in front of him didn’t appear to dwindle. By the third round of reinforcements, the dark smirk Yonji typically had during battle had disappeared. He huffed to himself quietly, occasional grunts of effort being the only noise to break the steady rhythm of communication clicks and insect-like scraping. 

When another battalion of guards began to make their way down the tunnel from the opposite end, Yonji was officially annoyed. Even using a fraction of his skills, Yonji could have made short work of the entire section of the island, and he knew it. And if the mission took place at any other location, he could have. Instead, he’d have to play glorified punching bag until Niji gave the signal. 

In the midst of the chaos, Yonji’s eyes flickered up to the tunnel’s ceiling. He had been able to hear the sound of rushing water since the moment he entered.

One of the footsoldiers tackled Yonji from behind, digging his sharp mandibles into Yonji’s shoulder. Yonji moved on instinct, punching up into the ceiling and letting the flood of water wash out the tunnel.

But despite a real lack of excitement, the assignment went off without a hitch. By the end of the morning, Niji and Yonji had safely retreated and were ready to report back to Germa’s central sector, leaving Speleothem flooded and leaderless.

“Smart thinking with the ventilation system! I couldn’t’ve strategized a better distraction!” Niji let out a deep chuckle and smacked Yonji hard in the center of his back. “How the hell did you think that one up?”

Yonji trudged forward, ringing some water out of his orange scarf. While he could fly over the flooding in every other tunnel, Yonji’s raid suit was still wet from the first ventilation duct he broke. 

“Read about it in a book,” Yonji grumbled as he trudged forward. The bite he endured earlier had caused minor damage, breaking the skin just enough for the wound to be irritated by his damp clothes. 

Niji stood behind him, fists on his hips as he let out another hearty laugh.

“You know how to read?”

Yonji hardly heard him, trudging in the direction of his quarters to change into more comfortable clothes.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: He will get better. The soft spot I have for the Germa 66 boys has been absolutely crippling. Alternate names for this fic included "Easy," "Glutton for Punishment," and, of course, "Beauty and the Beast."

Part I Part II

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 1.4

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which anakin feels completely isolated from you for the first time in five years, and he doesn’t know if he will ever be given the chance to fix his mistake.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Anakin gave his guitar to Theo as he sprinted off stage and towards the very dressing room he broke your heart in.

You never came back after walking away at the beginning of the show, and that had him completely on edge. He looked around the backstage area and when he couldn’t find you anywhere, he checked the dressing room. But you weren’t in there either. 

Maybe you went back to the bus? God, he hoped so. He just got you back, he couldn’t handle losing you again so soon, and for a completely different reason this time. 

His nerves were completely shot as he practically sprinted to the bus, the only thought on his mind being to get back to you and further explain things to you. If he needed to drop to his knees and beg for you, he was more than willing to do so, because you were it. His one and only, and you always would be. 

The show tonight was one of the longer ones, so in the two hours he was on stage you could have literally gone anywhere. His heart was in his throat as he pulled open the bus door and looked around, and he could feel it quicken its pace as he realized that you weren’t here either. 

Where the fuck did you go? You told him you’d be here after the show, yet he couldn’t find any trace of you. 

Actually, he couldn’t find any sign of you at all. Your bag was gone, your jacket was picked up from off the couch, and your laptop wasn’t on the table anymore. “No,” he rasped. “Fuck. No.”

His hands were shaking as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called you, but he was sent straight to voicemail. 

You were ignoring him.

“Fuck,” he nearly yelled as he called you again, only to be met with the same result. “Fuck!”

After the third call he was forced to leave you a message, and he felt as pathetic as he sounded. “Baby, please. Please….call me back. I’m so sorry,” he rambled as he pulled at his sweaty hair. “We need to talk about this more, we have to work this out, I….fuck, Y/n, you said you’d be here after the show.”

He was crying now and was choking on his words as he said them, and he hoped you would be able to understand him, but he also hoped you couldn’t. He hated the fact that he was the one crying after he fucked things up, possibly beyond repair, when he really had no right to. 

“Please, just…tell me where you are and that you’re okay and safe, please,” he begged and dropped onto the couch. “I love you.” 

His phone fell to the floor after that and his hands came up to cover his face. 

He had no idea what to do. He was shaking and his eyes were sore as he couldn’t seem to stop the tears from leaving them.

What the fuck is he going to do? How is he going to fix this? 

He can’t lose you. He can’t, he wouldn’t be able to function without you. The thought of not having you around him after this was enough to send him into a panic attack, and he knew he needed to get a hold of himself, but he didn’t know how. 

You weren’t here, weren’t at the venue, and your stuff was gone. Where did you go? You wouldn’t have left without telling him, right? You wouldn’t have gone back to London and not tell him, right? 

He didn’t know anymore. 

His phone went off from its place on the floor, and he scrambled off the couch to grab it, and when he saw that it was you who texted him, he nearly cried of joy. But your message wasn’t what he wanted to read, and it left him feeling even worse.

Princess: I’m safe. I just need some time to think. Please, at least give me that. 

-

You slept on a chair in the airport last night, your duffle bag being your pillow and your jacket being your blanket. 

Your eyes were bloodshot and sore beyond words from all the crying you’ve done since Anakin told you that he cheated on you. Did that count as him cheating on you? Not exactly, but his lips touched someone else’s, so what did that make it? Accidentally cheating? You didn’t know and you were too upset to care about what to call it. 

After he went on stage and began the show, you couldn’t stand it anymore and left. You went back to the bus and was originally going to stay there and sleep on the couch, but the more you got into your head, the more you wanted to get the fuck out of there completely. 

Running away from your problems never helped anybody, but you were too stubborn to think rationally at this point. 

So you bought a ticket for the earliest flight back to London and grabbed your things before fleeing from the bus and sending him a text after listening to his voicemail. 

You felt bad about leaving like that, but you were so upset and hurt. Your heart felt like it had been physically ripped from your body and been left back with Anakin in Paris; the place you wanted to visit for so long now with the love of your life. And the two days you were there with him were amazing, and you were prepared for so much more, but every hope and dream you had for that city had been crushed and destroyed. You weren’t sure you ever wanted to go back, Eiffel Tower be damned. 

There were other towers you could see, right?

The whole flight back to London you wrote down the last few chapters for your short story in your notebook, needing the distraction to help keep you sane enough to be able to get back to your room in one piece. 

You looked like a mess once you got back onto campus, and you avoided everyone like the plague as you made a beeline towards your dorm and had a forty five minute shower. It helped a little bit, but you were still left feeling empty as you sat down on your bed with wet hair and opened up your laptop to type out what you wrote down on the plane. 

After you added some final touches, you printed it out and got changed into a pair of jeans and a grey shirt, leaving your hair still damp as you made your way to Kenneth’s classroom. 

It was empty when you entered it, and he looked up at you in surprise when you closed the door behind you and walked over to him. “Miss Y/l/n,” he greeted and closed the book he was reading. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon. I thought you’d still be with that boyfriend of yours.”

The mention of Anakin had a sharp pain shoot straight through your heart, and you flinched slightly as you cleared your throat. “Yeah, something happened with that,” you whisper and he gives you a look of concern as he notices the way your eyes glaze over with tears. “I’m okay. Promise.”

He gives you a smile that nearly had you sobbing right then and there, because how the fuck did things get to this? How did you end up back in London, crying in front of your instructor with wet hair that dampened your shirt as the seconds went on? 

“Alright,” he said quietly and braced his elbows on his desk. “What’s going on?”

His voice was so comforting and caring, you allowed your walls to come down a bit as you held up the stack of papers in your hand and wiped your eyes with your other. “I wrote my short story,” you announce. “I didn’t get around to editing it, so it’s probably full of errors, but I just wanted to give it to you because..”

You stopped your sentence short, but Kenneth gave you a look that told you he knew exactly what you were saying. “Because you’re not coming back to class,” he finished for you. “Are you?”

He stated it instead of asking it, and you bite down on your bottom lip as you nodded. Glancing down at the papers in your hands, he gestures for you to give them to him, and you do so with a sad smile. “You don’t have to read it,” your voice broke as you felt yourself beginning to cry again. “I just wanted to show that I really did love every second of these classes. I know I can do so much more, but it’s just not a good time for me right now.”

Kenneth flipped through the pages and looked up at you. “I’ll read it,” he promised, his gaze the softest you had ever seen it, and you realized just how much you would miss being able to talk to him like this and not feel embarrassed about it. “You’re an amazing writer, Y/n. It was a privilege to have you in my class, and I hate to see you go so soon, but I also want you to start putting yourself first. You’re always worried about everyone else around you, don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. Whatever happened before this, don’t let it take over. Use it, if it helps.”

You nod and wipe at your eyes with both hands now, sniffling quietly as you look at the man you respect deeply. 

“You’re going to go on and do great things. You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you,” he lightened the mood by laughing and it made you laugh, too. “Just don’t forget to put yourself first. I remember when my teacher told me that, and it stuck with me for most of my life. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear it until he said it.”

And you didn’t either. 

It was true, you put everyone above yourself and it often made you forget to take care of yourself. But not anymore. 

You were going back home, and you were dropping out of the program, but you weren’t quitting. You just needed to figure some things out and keep yourself grounded until you decided what was going to happen next. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything.”

Kenneth nodded and set your story down onto his desk. “Good luck, Y/n,” he said and it was the second time he used your first name since you walked in here, and it somehow made everything seem so much more real. You weren’t his student anymore. “I’ll reach out to you once I’ve finished reading this.”

“Okay,” you nod and turn around, giving the classroom one last look before heading towards the administrative office to officially drop out of the school. 

You cried more as you packed up your room, and then Bailey came in and let you cry onto her shoulder as she held you and told you to keep in touch. After that you met Evan’s eyes from across campus, and the three bags you were carrying told him all he needed to know. 

He brought you into his arms, too, and these were the people you were going to miss most about this chapter in your life. “Call me whenever you need to, okay? Or whenever you want to,” he begged and you nod against his chest. “Fuck, this sucks. I’m going to miss you.”

You laugh sadly, “I’m going to miss you, too,” then you step away and get a ride back to the airport, your heart feeling the heaviest its felt in all the twenty two years you’ve been alive. 

-

Anakin didn’t sleep at all, but that was no surprise. 

He got a good two nights of sleep with you while you were here, but now that you were gone, his sleep schedule was already back to being fucked. 

His whole body felt weak as he paced around backstage, holding his phone up to his ear as he called you for the first time today. He told himself that he’d give you some time, but fuck that. He missed you and needed to see where things were with you at the moment. 

“Hi,” you answered, making Anakin instantly stop pacing. 

“Hi,” he said back quickly. “How are you? Where are you?” He had no idea where you were since you only told him that you were safe, and he wasn’t one of those boyfriends that needed their girlfriends location on all the time. 

“In the car,” you answered and he felt his heart drop. “On the way to the airport.”

“The…airport?” He stuttered, his eyes burning as he let your words sink in. “You’re going back to London?”

“No,” you say quietly, and he could hear in your voice the way you were holding back tears. “I’m already in London. I’m going back home, Anakin.”

Anakin felt his whole body tense up, and it felt almost painful to move. So he stayed still as he tried to process your words. “You’re in London? How? When?”

“Last night. I bought a ticket and left. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I just don’t know what to do anymore, Anakin,” you cried and the remaining pieces of his heart shattered to bits. “I dropped out of the writing program and now I’m on my way back home. I need to feel normal right now or I might just go crazy.”

“Baby,” he shakily said as he met Vinny’s eyes from across the room. His friend gave him a concerned look, but Anakin just turned around and headed for the dressing room. “Baby, please.”

“Please, what? I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what to say,” you sobbed and he let the door close loudly behind him once he reached the dressing room. 

“Say that we’re going to be okay,” he begged, beginning to pace around the small room as he tugged at his hair. “Say that you and I will be fine, that we’ll talk this through and that we’re going to be okay.”

You were quiet for a few seconds, leaving him to listen to your uneven breathing. “You’re in Paris, Anakin,” he hated the way you hadn’t called him Ani even once since the start of this call. “I’ll be in LA tomorrow. Maybe this time away from each other will be good.”

“We’ve been away from each other,” he said as his heart twisted in agony. “I don’t want more time apart.”

“You’re on tour, Anakin-”

“I’ll come home,” he cut you off. “I’ll talk to Helena, we’ll stop the tour for a few weeks or something. Please.”

You sniff quietly. “The tour is too important,”

“You’re more important. We’re more important,” he thought maybe he was getting through to you, but then you destroyed that small ounce of hope with a single sentence. 

“I can’t do this,” you whispered. “I need time. Have fun on the rest of the tour, Anakin. I really mean that.”

Then you hung up before he could say another word, leaving him to call you back three times before you turned your phone off. 

“Fuck!” Anakin yells out and throws his phone onto the couch before sitting down next to it, his hands coming up to cover his face as he tries to hold back his tears. 

This was all his fault. He fucked things up between you beyond repair, and he was the one to blame. 

You flew back to London, for fucks sake, and the whole time he thought you were still here. And now you’re going back to LA, back to the apartment you and he shared, and possibly packing up there as well. 

What was he supposed to do? He needed to be on stage in less than twenty minutes, and he was on the verge of a panic attack. 

Anakin looked around the room wildly, as if anything he would help him even a little bit. His eyes landed on the various alcohol bottles placed on a table in the corner, and he knew he shouldn’t. The last time he drank was at the club with Liz, then she kissed him and he threw up twice and swore he’d never drink again.

But it was different this time. 

He needed to feel nothing right now, to get him through the show, then he’d figure out how to fix things. 

Without giving it a second thought, Anakin grabbed the first bottle he could reach and spent the next ten minutes drinking it. He set the now empty bottle down and left his phone on the couch, swinging the door open and stumbling his way backstage. 

The first person he saw was Liz. Of course it was Liz. 

Anakin’s eyes glazed over and he made it to her in less than four strides. She turned to face him with that fucking smirk of hers, and he narrowed his eyes on the bruise that had formed on the bridge of her nose, and for a split second he was proud that his girlfriend did that to her, then he remembered that you might not be his girlfriend anymore. “There you are,” she cooed. “We were starting to get worried.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, getting into her personal space. This was another situation where he could use his size to his advantage, even if he hated to do it, but he didn’t care right now. “This is all your fault. Y/n left because of what you did, because of what we did. Are you happy? Are you fucking proud of yourself?”

Vinny, who was standing nearby quickly made his way over, as did Helena, who had been talking with Theo a few feet away. “Anakin,” Vinny murmured, pulling on his arm. “Hey, don’t do this, man. She’s not worth it.”

Helena guided Liz away and towards the side of the stage, and Anakin could see how angry his manager was as she talked to the photographer. 

Anakin turned to Vinny, his eyes burning and his head spinning. “She left,” he rasped. “She left, Vin. Y/n left to go back home.”

Vinny stepped back in surprise but kept his hand on Anakin’s arm. “Back home? Like, back to London?”

“No, back to LA. She already went back to London and dropped out of the program and now she’s going back home,” he nearly cried. “She’s going to leave me, Vinny. I lost her.”

The drummer looked alarmed, and he pulled Anakin into his arms within seconds. “It’s okay,” he tried to comfort him, but they both knew it would never work. “It’s okay.”

Anakin felt pathetic. This is the second time Vinny had to comfort him in less than two weeks, and while he knew Vinny would never mind doing so, Anakin still felt terrible. It shouldn’t be this way. He should be better than this. 

“We’ll talk after the show,” Vinny promised, pulling away and reaching up to smooth out Anakin’s hair. “You and I will figure everything out, okay? It’s going to be okay.”

Anakin felt like a shell of himself as he nodded and allowed Vinny to lead him out onto stage, his mind a mess of thoughts and doubts and worries, and all of them were about you. 

The lights were blinding and Anakin’s vision blurred from the flashes. His head was pounding and his throat was dry as he tried to get out the last song of the night as quickly as he could, but he felt sick. The bourbon he had downed earlier didn’t help, either. 

He felt bile rise up his throat but he held it back and tore his eyes away from the crowd so he could look over at Theo. The bass player gave him a concerned look as he began to sing the song as well, no doubt sensing something was wrong and deciding to help the poor guy out.

Anakin was thankful for that as he didn’t have to raise his voice anymore since Theo is singing alongside him now, so his throat was given somewhat of a break. While his friend didn’t have a strong enough voice to be the lead singer, Theo still had a pretty good singing voice, and Anakin knew he should probably start having him sing in more songs in the future.

He felt his heartbeat quicken as even more sweat began to settle on his skin. The flannel he had adorned at the start of the show had long since been tossed aside and had left him in just his graphic tee, but he was still so fucking hot, and the lights weren’t helping at all. 

He made the mistake of looking over to his right, where he saw Liz and Helena standing backstage. While his manager had a frown on her lips, Liz had a lustful look in her eyes, and somehow that made Anakin feel even more sick. 

His fingers fumbled on the strings as he messed up the tempo of the song, which is something he had never done while he was out on stage before. Embarrassment floods through him and he quickly falls back into the right rhythm with Vinny and Theo backing him up as best as they could. 

All these cameras on him were not helping, even though he was used to being filmed at this point. He felt like was three seconds away from having a full on panic attack, and he would probably die of humiliation if he woke up tomorrow morning to see thousands of videos online of him breaking down on stage. 

The headline ‘Anakin Skywalker Has Epic Meltdown During Last Song Of Show’ was one he refused to read the following day. Fuck, he hated those stupid tabloids. They were written by money hungry, self-obsessed assholes who wouldn’t know what privacy is if it slapped them in the face. 

You hated them, too, and your distaste for them was more than valid. 

He missed you. God, did he ever. 

Anakin wasn’t used to missing you. He never needed to. Ever since his third year of high school he’s had you by his side. You were never more than a few feet away from him back then, and even now you were always usually backstage and quietly cheering him on. You should be where Liz is currently standing now. 

Or maybe he should be with you. 

Since the second you became his girlfriend you were always his top priority.

He hated that he had somehow managed to forget that fact the minute a pretty girl started paying more attention to him than you were. Could you be blamed? You were thousands of miles away and chasing your own dream while he was living out his. You couldn’t give him every second of your time like he was used to receiving, and he really fucking hated how he had actually managed to turn into one of those pricks who forgets about how good he has it as soon as things don’t end up going his way. 

Anakin wanted to stop singing the song and call out to you, but you weren’t in the crowd. You weren’t backstage. You weren’t here. You weren’t with him. You wouldn’t answer him, because you’re so fucking far away while he is here acting like everything is just fine. All he wanted to do was to run off stage, find you, and wrap you up in his arms, but he wasn’t sure if he had that right anymore.

He’s insecure and has never been away from you for this long. It was like he didn’t know how to properly function without you by his side. 

All the excuses in the world would never make up for just how poorly he’s treated you and for how little effort he’s been putting into your relationship. 

He didn’t blame you for wanting to end it.

But he needed you. He had just gotten you back, just gotten that sense of normalcy back, but you were gone again. 

Possibly for good this time, and he only had himself to blame.

-

One more part after this x

[donniesgirlie]

I’ve reacntly just read your “kisses and kips” and I freaking loved it! But I was wondering what if reader reacted differently after the line “Y/n, I'm perfectly capable of determining what I do or don't need. Just go to bed, I'll be there soon.”

As someone who doesn’t really handle “getting in the way” of someone else’s business very well, is terrified if they are bothering someone, specially a special someone (like an s/o) I’d froze up after that line, even if his tone isn’t directly at reader per say, I know I’d probably closed off to the point of leaving and sleeping back to my place out of fear I’ve made Donnie upset and getting in his way. Do you mind making a scenario out off this reaction? If not, you can ignore this request

Thank you!

First request, LET'S GOOOO!!

Me too - I hate the thought of even potentially being a bother😭

Hope you enjoy!

Original

Kisses and Kips - Alternate Version: Donatello x F! Reader

.

"Donnieeeeee~" You pull at the side of the doorframe, swinging yourself in and out of the lab as you draw out his name.

He had told you he'd join you in bed an hour ago under the guise of "5 more minutes." You get why he is working so hard; you do. With the recent uptick of Foot Clan activity, he needed to get the truck up and running again as soon as possible, but goddamn it- you just want to cuddle your boyfriend. You don't think it's too big of an ask, especially considering he's been working on that damn gadget for days now with little to no breaks.

With a sigh and light shake of his head, Donnie sets down his soldering iron. "Yes, love?"

You can hear the edge to his voice, strained from disuse and tilted with frustration. He slips his glasses off to pinch between his eyes, exhaustion clear on his face.

"Come to bed?"

He slips his glasses back on and swivels back to his work. "I can't. I need to finish this."

You let go of the frame and walk over to him. "You've been up over 48 hours, you're clearly exhausted, and you need rest - even if just for a little bit."

"Y/n, I'm perfectly capable of determining what I do or don't need. Just go to bed, I'll be there soon." You know he's not upset with you, but his sharp tone makes your heart drop; you can feel your stomach turning sour and your mouth going dry.

"Oh." You swallow, feeling your eyes start to prick with the threat of tears. Your voice comes out in a whisper as you turn to leave the lab, "okay..."

You know it's stupid, that he's been frustrated with the truck, and you shouldn't take it personally, but logic doesn't quell the small voice in the back of your mind whispering that he's upset with you and that you're smothering him. You calmly walk back to his room, ready to hide your tears in your pillow.

-

It's hours later when Donatello decides to come to bed. The first rays of sun are surely starting to peak over New York's surface, but all he can think about is you.

He knows he was harsh; he knows that you didn't deserve the cutting tone when you were simply expressing your concern for his well-being. He has just been so frustrated with the truck - the nunchucks are sticking and he can't figure out why despite taking them apart three times now, and the grill won't properly shut after shooting manhole covers. Not to mention the various other upgrades that he's itching to start but can't until the main problems are fixed.

He refuses to use that as an excuse, though. You're not his verbal punching bag that he can toss attitude at whenever he's inconvenienced.

So, as much as he hates to wake you, he refuses to go to bed without apologizing.

His heart breaks when his sits on the edge of the bed and looks at your sleeping face. Dried tear tracks streak your face as you grip his pillow.

Reaching a hand out, Donnie gently shakes your shoulder. "Y/n... Honey, please wake up?"

After a few coaxes and prods, you finally stir - slightly curling into yourself before stretching back out. "Dee?" You mutter, eyes slowly blinking open. "What time is it?"

"It's still early," he replies easily, moving his hand to lightly trace his thumb along your cheekbone. "I just didn't want to sleep without telling you that I'm sorry. I was upset because one of the circuit boards was giving me trouble, but I shouldn't have snapped at you; I'm sorry, love..."

"It's okay," you say, scooting closer to drape your arm over his lap, lightly nuzzling your face into his side.

"It's not," Donatello pulls from your hold just long enough to properly lay next to you before pulling you back against his plastron. "You didn't deserve to be yelled at just because I was annoyed."

His hand splays out on your back, rubbing up and down it as he buries his face in your hair.

He feels the soft press of your lips to his collar before your muffled voice mumbles, "Well, I forgive you," against his skin.