#sorry for the heavy sarcasm this is just so fucking deeply frustrating

[secondwhisper]

"Transmasculine people who claim to be adversely affected by sexism are bioessentialists cloaked in progressive language, discrimination on the basis of ""biological sex"" isn't real!"

Oh right, sorry. I forgot that sexism in medical research means that endometriosis, ME/CFS, migraines, post-concussive syndrome, Raynaud's phenomenon, and so many other conditions are only understudied in women. Of course endometriosis For Men™, ME/CFS For Men™, migraines For Men™, post-concussive syndrome For Men™, Raynaud's phenomenon For Men™, etc., are all well-funded fields of research and totally understood. Medical research cares only about the gender of an individual patient, not the association of a condition with people of a certain gender. Patriarchal devaluation of women's health, women's illnesses being treated as fundamentally hysteric, and (peri)cissexist reductions of any individual to the reproductive system(s) they were born with clearly only affect people whose gender is woman, nobody else.

Wilfully ignorant motherfuckers.

[buckysgoldenheart]

Just Us

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry is sick and tired of you bringing dates back to your shared apartment, and he has no problem letting you know. So basically, mega jealous Henry, which I am a pathetic sucker for.

Warnings: mentions of sex, lots of cursing. I think that’s it.

Notes: this is kind of similar to another fic I did, and I try not to do that, but I just really felt the need to write this, so I did.

Words: 2732

Henry’s mood turned sour the second you walked through the door with your date in tow. You came in with a bright smile on your face that he returned with a scowl, but you did your best to brush it off. Your roommate acting like an overgrown child every time you brought home a guest was nothing new; you certainly weren’t surprised, and you had no intention of stooping to his level.

“Don’t mind us,” You called to Henry from over your shoulder as you shed your coat and draped it on the hook. “This is James.”

Henry only grunted in response, not looking up from fixing his dinner; peanut butter about to be spread messily on a slice of wheat bread. You rolled your eyes, took James’s coat and led him over to the couch where he smiled sweetly when you invited him to sit and offered him a drink.

Entering the kitchen, you opened the fridge door and pulled out two beers. “So?” You asked, your eyebrow raised as you searched for the bottle opener in the junk drawer. Henry dropped the knife with a clang on the countertop, then turned to you and crossed his arms.

“So, you just thought this was fine,” He asked, his voice dripping with aggravated sarcasm as he shrugged his broad shoulders and frowned. “Just whatever, no big deal?”

You chuckled at the weak argument you’d had at least three times before. You wouldn’t have given him the chance to say anything about your date at all if you knew he wasn’t going to hang on to it the entire night just to explode in the morning for bringing a stranger into his home. Your home too, you would often have to remind him. So, it was your mission to let him get the anger out early in the night. You’d be less likely to have to worry about it later and could focus your attention on the man sitting in your living room rather than Henry’s imminent frustration.

“Henry,” You sighed and took a sip of your beer. “As of right now, it’s just the continuation of an innocent date. We’re going to watch a movie.”

“As of right now?” Henry huffed deeply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that if it gets a little heated, I promise not to make out with him in front of you, but at this current time, you have little to worry about.”

He sucked in a long breath through his nostrils. “Ok, that’s—”

“And we won’t fuck on our couch. I’ll take him to my room so you don’t have to see anything scarring,” You teased with a wink.

“Ok, enough.”

“And we won’t be loud, I swear.”

“Enough!” He snapped. You quickly whipped your head around the corner to see if James heard, but he was still sitting there, playing with his fingernails as he patiently waited for you like the gentleman he was. When you looked back at Henry, he was practically quaking with anger. “Get that asshole out of my apartment.”

“Um, our apartment. And no thank you.” You smiled and cocked your head to the side as innocently as you could. “I’d like to be having sex tonight.”

“With him?” Henry pointed a long finger in your date’s general direction. The fury in his eyes could’ve stabbed James through the back of his head if the wall weren’t in the way.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“For fucks sake, Y/N. Have some self-respect.”

Your playful smile instantly dropped, and if you weren’t leaning against the wall, you would’ve stumbled. Henry had said a lot of things before; Hurtful things, things that made you want to slap him, but something about this felt worse. Assuming you were devaluing yourself by wanting to have sex with a man who was sweet, and kind and generous, and million other lovely things men, other than Henry, have never been to you, was like a stab to the gut. Henry was your best friend; you were his. You supported his choices and dreams, and it seemed Henry did the same for you unless it came to this very particular subject. He hated every man you brought around, but bringing them around or getting involved with them did not make you a stupid girl who cannot take care of herself.

“Jesus Henry, stay in your lane, would you?” You said, shaking your head and rubbing at your temple with your free fingers. “I don’t need my best friend giving me shit. Why can’t I bring a guy here without you acting like a complete dick to him and me?”

He stepped closer until you had to look up to meet his glare. “You’re a very smart girl, Y/N. Figure it out,” he growled, then moved around you, but you grabbed his arm before he could escape yet again. Every time, he tried to escape. Every time, he stomped away from you like a grump as if you had some reason to be sorry or ashamed, and you weren’t having it any longer.

“We aren’t children, Henry. I’m not playing this game. If you’ve got a problem with me, say it to my fucking face.”

He stared at you for a long beat, but then shook your hand off him and made his way down the hall, slamming the door to his room once he was inside.

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

James was better than most at kissing you, and you’d kissed your fair share. He knew what you wanted--how you liked things--without you needing to ask, and it was like its own little miracle. There was no fumbling around. His lips were firm and his arms around you were strong. He was confident in his touch on your skin as you straddled his lap, and all of it combined had you a moaning, whimpering mess.

“I wasn’t sure we would actually get to do this,” He said between kisses as you both tried to catch your breath.

“Why?” You lightly chuckled, your fingers skimming down to the little buttons holding his shirt together and easing one open. “I’m certainly having a good time.”

“Believe me sweetheart, I am too, but Superman there looked like he wanted to kick my ass.”

Fucking Superman. That asshole had come out of his room at random, inconvenient times as you and James lightly pawed at one another throughout the movie, and you both could feel Henry’s eyes on you. After the look he gave you the first time he came into the living room, you stopped turning your heads his way when his heavy footsteps thudded against the hardwood.

You made a low humming sound that had James’s cock twitching in his pants, and you moved your head down to peck your lips against his. “Don’t bother with him,” You whispered.

He leaned into the light scratching your nails were giving the side of his scalp, and with a groan, said, “If you say so, babydoll, I won’t give it a second thought.”

“Good.” You smiled, satisfied, then kissed him again but he pulled back barely a minute later.

“It’s just…the way he looks at you.”

“He’s a protective friend.” You snickered and ground your hips down on his a little harder to get him back on track.

He groaned as his fingers dug into your waist, but it didn’t distract him. “No, it’s not only that. It’s like…” His lips pursed trying to find the words. “He looks at you in a way that friends normally do not look at one another.”

“He’s got some weird attitude tonight, ok? It’s nothing.” Grabbing his cheeks, you forced him to look directly at you when you said, “Now keep kissing me before I get too impatient.”

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

At two in the morning, you figured you were safe. You figured there would be a direct and easy path to the front door of your apartment as you let James out with a smile and a goodbye kiss and promises to text one another the next day, though you weren’t sure how much either of you really meant it. And you were right, there was an uninterrupted tiptoeing to the door. It was when you turned back for your bedroom that you realized the path had a roadblock.

Henry stood in front of you, the fumes nearly visibly wafting off him, with the harshest look he had ever directed at you taking over his entire face. It was a disservice to his handsome features and made your stomach twist uneasily.

“Is this for fucking real right now?” He growled so intensely it vibrated in your ears. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

“Jesus, Henry, you scared me.”

“You actually slept with that guy?”

“Wh—”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Laughing half-heartedly, he ran one of his hands down his face, but that was all it took for the shock to wear off and for your annoyance to set in.

“Ok, I’m done with this. What is your goddamn problem?”

The two of you didn’t fight this way. Not for long anyway, and even so, this time was significantly worse than any other. Outbursts happened for the both of you, snapping, and words you wish you could take back, but Henry was still looking at you the way he had earlier in the night; like you were a reckless child he was losing respect for by the minute, and it broke your heart.

He stared at you as if expecting you to have an answer to your own question, but when you didn’t continue, he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “I’m going to a hotel. I can’t be here right now.”

“What? Henry, why?”

His keys were in hand, his phone and wallet tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, when it finally registered to you that he wasn’t kidding. He was leaving so fast he didn’t care to take anything other than the necessities with him. That’s how much he wanted to get away from you, and you hated it. You never wanted to get away from him.

Light from the hall streamed through the doorway as you finally began to follow after him. You grabbed at his t-shirt when he wouldn’t respond to your repeating calling of his name, and he whipped around fast with a frown down at you. Your mouth kept opening and closing, unsure of what to say.

He sniffed once, thinned his lips, and removed your hand from his body, then as calmly as he had spoken all night, said, “I’m in fucking love with you.”

Then door was slammed behind him, jarring you and leaving you to soak the night in.

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

When he said those words to you, the six words that he would never be able to take back, the ones that irrevocably changed your friendship in the blink of an eye, everything inside of you began to tremble and vibrate and beat with such intensity you could almost feel the functions of your body. Your blood was pumping a hell of a lot faster and you heart was ready to burst.

Your brain, your skin, the nerves and veins under that skin; every bit of you was working overtime to help process what happened and keep you alert as you did so, and maybe it was all a little overkill, but he had said the one thing you never thought you’d hear.

I’m in fucking love with you.

It would repeat over and over in your head, bouncing around the walls of your skull as it tried to find a way to escape, but there was no use. You could never forget his confession, or the way he said it. There was something desperate about it, weak. There was exhaustion, as if he were tired of holding it back and had given up on even trying.

It was too much. You’d never dismiss it, and God, when he got his ass back home you wouldn’t let him brush it aside, but for now, it was too much.

You wanted sleep after sitting completely still for two hours, staring into space. So you carried your body to the closest room, his room, crawled into his bed, and tangled yourself within the sheets until you wouldn’t be able to unwrap yourself without effort you did not possess at such an ungodly hour. You were stuck, trapped, engulfed by him, just like you wanted to be. Then you took his king-sized pillow, massive like his body, and hugged it to your chest, tucking your face in it. It smelled like him, all musky and piney and perfect in a way that always made you dizzy when he would sit a little too close and drape a long arm around your shoulders as you watched tv or read a book.

And you cried yourself to sleep, wishing he was beside you.

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

Henry came back in the morning, though he wasn’t sure how he gathered the courage. Maybe it was the fact that it was you. Just you, his best friend, his roommate. He loved you in more ways than one, and perhaps it was that knowledge that made him a little stronger.

He’d face you, and he’d do it with the intention of making everything clear. He was in love with you and it wasn’t going to change. He loved you as his friend; that wasn’t going to change either, and no way in hell was he going to lose you twice over.

Taking a few deep breaths, Henry unlocked the front door and eased his way inside. You weren’t around the sunlit soaked first floor of the apartment, and when he traipsed upstairs and nudged your door open, you weren’t there either. He wanted you tucked in your bed, not gone and probably terrified at the thought of seeing him, so running to James’s or Jake’s or Jason’s apartment to avoid him. That would be the perfect painful exclamation point on the disaster of his poor decision making.

Then he found you. Not missing, but snug in his bed, warming the mattress with your body as it dipped the slightest under your weight. Everything about the sight killed him and melted his heart simultaneously. There you were, laying peacefully angelic, right where he had wanted you for months. And it looked so beautifully natural.

Not even stopping to think, Henry inched his way to the other side of his bed, lifted the duvet and slid beneath it. He reached an arm around your waist and pulled you close to kiss your forehead, then tucked his face into the crook of your neck. When you stirred, he leaned back to take in your face as your eyebrows scrunched and your lips parted in a yawn.

You didn’t open your eyes but rose a hand, placed it on his cheek, and ran a thumb along the corner of his mouth. As the goosebumps spawned all over his body, he wasn’t even sure you were fully awake, but then you whispered, “It was always you, Henry. Always.”

Henry swallowed hard as your sleepy voice continued.

“I figured you weren’t an option, and I was doing my best working around that.”

After running a hand over your hair and tucking some behind your ear, Henry pressed a kiss to your lips. A short, soft one to see how you’d react. Then you opened your eyes slowly and met your Y/E/C with his blue.

“Do it again,” You said, and so he connected your lips a little firmer, tightening his hold on you, and rolling on his back until your body splayed over his.

You moaned when he caressed his tongue against yours after opening your mouth an inch. Your heart fluttered in your chest the stupid way dramatic, moony-eyed women often described it in novels. You thought it was a myth, the idea that anyone could make you feel so loved just from a kiss, and you’d lost hope for that kind of thing long ago. But Henry ripped your pessimism to shreds in a matter of minutes.

“I want you to be mine,” he mumbled against your lips. “Just mine.”

“Then I’m yours,” You said without hesitation, tilting your head back enough to look in his eyes. You nudged your nose against his. “Just yours.”

---

Tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz​ @jazzwoman897​ @meganwinchester1999​ @ufffg​ @debra77​ @rebelliouscat​ @anise-d-castle6​ @projectxhappiness​ @lowkeysebby​ @stringgeek13​ @notmyfault404​ @jjamesbbarness​ @guera31​ @sophiatomlinson23​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @hiddles-rose​ @picapicapicassobaby​ @lokilvrr​ @sunshine-seven @harrysthiccthighss​ @agniavateira​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @tumblnewby @summersong69​ @starlite13​ @mstgsmy​ @purplelove75​ @defffcc​ @the-soot-sprite​ @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity​ @aquariuslavenderhoney​ @the-problem-of-leisure​ @amberlokabrenna​

[little-diable]

Daddy’s got you - Negan (smut)

Requested by anon

Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Negan is hellbent on ripping (y/n) out of her depressive episode, taking good care of the woman he loves

Warnings: smut, 18+, mentions depression, could be triggering, oral (f receives), daddy kink  

Lately she was waking up feeling empty, lost, as if a piece of her was missing, getting pulled deeper and deeper into the darkness. A storm was raging inside her mind, fueling the anger that would flood through her, would urge her on as she’d stride through the Sanctuaries hallways, following Negan and his saviors. 

She had been around for months, Negan’s most loyal and trustworthy companion, though slowly but surely she seemed to lose her focus, would find herself tangled in one of her daydreams, thinking back to the life she had left behind.

“Doll” he flipped his fingers, eyes staring down at her, waiting for (y/n) to pull herself out of her thoughts, “welcome back” his voice dripped with sarcasm, carrying the annoyance that took over every ounce of his body. Negan deeply cared for her, would move heaven and earth for the woman he had fallen in love with a while ago, but her silence frustrated him, made his fingers tingle as he tried to compose himself. (Y/n) shook her head, blinking a few times, “I’m sorry” her heart felt heavy, mind hazy, clouded by another wave of depression that had crashed upon her a few days ago.

Negan softly wrapped his long fingers around her wrist, pulling her off the chair, onto her feet, “what’s going on doll? You need to talk to me”. (Y/e/c) eyes twinkled in the faint light, tears welled up in them, made a lump form in her throat, “I don’t know, ‘m just so tired” her head fell against his shoulder, tears dripping down the worn out leather jacket. He placed a hand on the back of her scalp, fingers combing through her hair, letting her weep in silence, he couldn’t find the right words, struggled to come up with anything that would calm her down.

“Follow me” maybe he wasn’t good with words, but Negan lived by the motto ‘actions speak louder than words’ and he was hellbent on proving to her that she could trust him, with all her heart. Clumsily she stumbled after him, hands rubbing her eyes, desperately wanting the tears to stop flooding, she was tired of the exhaustion that would nestle in her bones, robbing her of all her joy and strength. “Sit down” he pointed towards his bed, locking the door behind him, “you know how I feel about you, don’t you doll?”.

He shrugged off his leather jacket, tattoos shining through his shirt, salt and pepper hairs littering his chest, (y/n) couldn’t rip her eyes away from the handsome man, heart beating a bit quicker. “Uhm” she stuttered, too confused on his frame to let any words pass her lips.

“I can’t change your thoughts doll, can’t change your fears, but I promise to always catch you before you’ll fall, daddy’s got you now”. She stared at him with wide eyes, hands reaching out for him, pulling him down to finally kiss him, kiss him like she had done months ago, a drunken mistake both had never managed to let go of.

“Distract me daddy, I need you, please” a desperate whine rolled off her tongue, fingers tugging on his belt loops, eyes catching his gaze, his eyes were dark with lust, heavy breaths left him as he pushed her back into the mattress. He undid her trousers, (y/n) raised her hips for him, dark jeans falling down to the floor, legs spread for Negan to settle between them. The savior kissed his way up her inner thighs, calloused fingertips running along the outlines of her soaked through panties, the sight made his length twitch, begging to be freed.

Her heart was racing, mind all over the place, Negan had managed to let a little bit of light take over the heartwrenching darkness she had been oh so used to by now, to pull her out of her fears, the thoughts that would lure her off her path. “Relax doll, this is all about you” he pulled her panties aside, lips connected to her clit, moaning as he tasted her for the first time, already high on her arousal, on her dripping wetness. She arched her back, trying to press herself further against his tongue, “oh god” (y/n) couldn’t find the right words, the proper way to praise him.

Negan brought one hand underneath her shirt, tracing the soft skin, dancing up to her boobs, running along the fabric of her bra, squeezing her nipples through it. She felt her orgasm slowly overtake her body, limbs tingling from the intense pleasure, “I-” her jaw fell slack, eyes falling shut, “give into it doll”. She didn’t need to hear anything else, completely gone, giving her all to the man her heart was racing for.

“Fuck” her chuckle echoed through his room, she was still holding onto the aftermath of her orgasm, body still shaking, hands finding his shoulders, “come here” her voice sounded hoarse, rough from moaning nonstop for the past few minutes. Negan moved up to her, lips finding hers once again, hands fumbling with the rest of her clothes, desperate to see and feel all of her. “Wait” (y/n) rose from her position, pulling her shirt over her head, bra following shortly after as she watched Negan undress himself.

This night he’d distract her, from her dark, sinister thoughts, would fill her heart with love and her body with as much pleasure as possible. Negan was set on finally making her his, the only woman he deeply cared for, the only one he’d love, just like she deserved to be loved.

[simpworthy]

Summary: It is no secret that your boyfriend, Keigo, has never had the time or luxury of Christmas, and you are determined to change that.

Part 1? Might make this into a few parts if it is too long.

Warnings: Quite a lot of cursing and language at the beginning. Just the fluffiest of fluff and some angst... But it all ends well!!!

There was a loud crash in the kitchen and you froze. You were certain that it was Keigo returning from his early morning patrol, but you held your breath, waiting for the loud cursing you knew would follow. Sure enough, strings of vulgar curses and a few choice phrases you were sure he had made up spewed from his lips.

“Fucking hell! I work my ass off all day, and this is what i get in return? This motherfucking cabinet is absolute shit!” The slamming of said cabinet door was a loud echo through the quiet apartment, and you slowly drug yourself out of bed whilst groaning to yourself. Keigo had been uncharacteristically angry and overly irritable over the past few weeks, and it was becoming overwhelming for you.

“Hello to you too, birdy,” you growled, crossing your arms when you strolled through the doorway. Scanning the room, you noticed how heavily your boyfriend was breathing and your eyes found the cabinet which collapsed and sent dishes, various food items, and some type of liquid crashing into a very frustrated man. This was no doubt the cause of Keigo’s current mood.

“Sorry I woke you from your precious sleep,” he stabbed, his voice laced with sarcasm and devoid of his usual playfulness. Stunned, you pressed a finger into his chest.

“I don’t know why you are taking all your frustration out on me and the furniture,” you hissed, struggling to keep your voice even,” but you better fucking pull it together. I’m not going to sit here in misery because you can’t communicate your problems like a whole ass toddler!” Keigo turned up his nose at you, clearly tryout words had made things much worse. He grabbed the hand that was firmly planted on his chest, and wrenched it away from him with a force that made you gasp.

“Y/N, I am not going to stand here and let you tell me that I am the childish one!” He let go of your hand, and began to stalk towards the shared bedroom.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?” Your voice was shaking, tears threatening to spill over. Keigo kept his back turned to you, but he had stopped walking.

“You wouldn’t get it, so just drop it, Y/N!!”

“No! I’m not going to just drop it,” you raised your voice, a few tears running down your face,” You can’t just shut me out and become some kind of raging monster for weeks, Hawks. I haven’t done a single thing to deserve this!” He tensed at your use of his hero name. You saved that for when you were serious or extremely angry.

“You’re right, you don’t deserve it,” he muttered under his breath. He sighed and shook his head, making his way to the bedroom. You could hear the door click in place as he closed it, and you took note of the fact that he had not slammed it.

Wiping the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, you began to pick up some of the contents that had fallen from the cabinet, taking care to throw away any broken or unusable items. You were muttering to yourself when you picked up a small package. You crouched down and unwrapped the package, examining the small mug that had been broken. You pulled out a small slip of paper that was still intact, and looked closer at the loopy handwriting. A small smile was brought to your face as you recalled the small girl who had given the mug to you while you had been patrolling.

“Heroes deserve Christmas gifts too,” she had told you, handing the small package to you,” My grandmother’s special recipe is in there. She always told me to share it to people who need a little warmth on Christmas Eve!” You had smiled and crouched down to be eye-level with the young girl. You had grinned, taking her mittened hands in your bare ones.

“Thank you, that’s a very thoughtful thing for you to do for me!” The young girl beamed up at you after getting a picture with you, and you had watched as she skipped while holding her mother’s hand. You had placed the mug in the cabinet for safekeeping, wanting to remember the little girl’s kindness.

“I can think of some people who could use a little warmth,” you mumbled, running your hands over the shards of broken ceramic. You placed as many pieces as you could into a tubberware container, throwing away the smallest slivers that were just an outright safety hazard. Standing to your feet once more, you read the instructions that had been written on the paper with care.

Mama Tanaka’s Homemade Hot Chocolate

Remember young one, this recipe is for all to share! Go spread some Christmas cheer and a little warmth this Christmas Eve!

Ingredients: cocoa powder, chocolate chips, vanilla extract, peppermint pieces; and love, joy, and cheer

-Place the milk of your choice in a saucepan over medium-low heat. Using milk instead of water, makes this hot chocolate extra creamy and flavorful. I prefer whole milk or 2% milk, but you can choose any milk that you choose (I’ve even used unsweetened almond milk).

-Whisk in cocoa powder and sugar, and heat until warm.

-Once the milk is warm, add chocolate chips, whisking until they melt into the milk.

-Add a splash of vanilla extract.

-Serve immediately, topped with your favorite garnishes: marshmallows, whipped cream, chopped chocolate, crushed candy canes or more.

It was a simple recipe to follow, but your inability to comprehend the most simple of instructions was causing the frustration to build up again.

“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” You slammed your fists against the countertop, throwing all attempts of being quiet for Keigo out the window. “If a little girl can make this why can’t I?! I’m a pro hero for fuck’s sake!” You groaned trying not to lose it over a simple pot of hot chocolate.

“Maybe the stove eye is too hot,” Keigo suggested from where he was leaning against the doorway. You glared at him. Oh how the tables had turned.

“Did I interrupt your beauty sleep, or did you come to make sure I was perfectly miserable?” Keigo chuckled, casually making his way over to you. His body pressed against yours as he wrapped his arms around you to pry the wisk from your shaking hands. With his other hand, he turned down the heat.

“Let me help,” he offered, resting his head on your shoulder,” and no, I came to apologize.” You were taken aback, and you sighed. Keigo hummed a tune as he attempted to salvage the damage you had done to the now boiling pan of hot chocolate.

“I will finish this and then we can talk, yea?” You nodded in agreement, closing your eyes to dwell in the warmth your boyfriend was providing. Time seemed to slow as you stood there, letting all of the anger and pent up frustration melt from your shoulders. It was a heavy weight lifted from you and you felt relieved.

Keigo let go of you as he grabbed two mugs, and you couldn’t help but whine and complain at the loss of contact. Keigo smirked, pushing a mug into your hands. The rich smell if chocolate wafted to the air and you grinned.

“Come on, baby bird.” You let him lead you into the living room where you sat in the couch, pressing your body against him again. There was a comfortable silence as the both of you drank the warm beverages, happy and content to be together and happy to not be fighting. Your boyfriend was the first to finish his drink, and he set it on the coffee table, looking up at you. You hummed as you set down your mug shortly after.

“Ok,” you broke the silence, sliding your hand into Keigo’s,” let’s talk.” Keigo inhaled deeply, closing his eyes briefly before meeting your gaze once more.

“It’s this whole Christmas season thing,” he began timidly,” Everyone is so, I don’t know, happy?” Keigo stared out the window behind you as you cocked an eyebrow.

“Keigo? I hate to break it to you,” you chuckled,” but you’re one of the most disgustingly happy people I’ve ever met.” Keigo frowned down at you before looking back out the window.

“I’m... that’s not... wait! I am not! But, that’s not what I mean,” he protested,” It’s all so fake and not genuine whatsoever. Reminds me of my old man.” Now you had gotten somewhere. Keigo was never very open about his past and his father, he only let you see snippets of the things he had been through. He said he preferred looking to the future rather than to the past.

“Keigo, not all of it is fake, you have to know that,” you argued, sensing that Keigo’s mind was beginning to drift elsewhere.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right kid, I just never have had a Christmas, if you want to put it that way. I don’t see any point to it, I guess,” he shrugged. To say you’re heart shattered would be an understatement, and you rubbed your thumb in reassuring circles against his palm.

“What if I gave you one? What if I showed you Christmas isn’t all that bad?” Keigo raised his eyebrows at your words as if he was trying to completely wrap his mind around what you had said. Was it really be possible that you cared enough to make Christmas special for him? He smiled at the thought.

“Ya know, babe, I’d like that,” he laughed, his golden eyes meeting your gaze again.

“I’d like that a lot.”

[wickedmilo]

SOUNDS LIKE A YOU PROBLEM | MILO & CHLOE

PLACE: A dive bar TIMING: 10:49 PM SUMMARY: After realising he has run out of money, Milo approaches Chloe and asks her to pay for his drinks. WRITING PARTNER: @chloeinbetween ​ CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcohol, references to emotional abuse, drug manipulation (Leanan-Sidhe kiss), chronic illness

There were a lot of things Chloe hadn’t done for years, banned because the only thing allowed to be a detriment to her health was the fae feeding on her. There were a lot of things she wasn’t supposed to do now either, against medical advice or the general opinions of the town on what wasn’t and wasn’t safe. Drinking a glass of whiskey by herself in a bar that was too dingy to have a crowd on a weeknight probably fell into all of the above. Which was why she was doing it. Her fingers drummed against the sticky linoleum of the bar, looking at messages on her phone that she had no plan of answering. Her old messaging app had kept all the old messages from before she’d been taken, so in her worst moments she scrolled through the texts she’d received demanding to know where she was, and why she’d abandoned them. 

It was hardly surprising in pits like this that she didn’t notice the young man sidling up to her curiously. Not until he was much too close. “Can I help you?” Chloe asked, looking him up and down. 

Until very recently, Milo had no reason to concern himself with boundaries. The circles he usually ran in had far more important things to worry about, like who had the drugs, and where they were going to use them. He was too used to stumbling, getting close to strangers, or sharing paraphernalia with people he didn’t recognise. Being forced to avoid people, Humans, was new. A habit he was being forced to form. That didn’t mean his other habits, the ones he had been establishing for years, weren’t demanding his attention though. Which was why he had made his way over to a quiet bar, a bar he knew didn’t often draw in the crowds. As depressing as it was to drink alone in a shadowy corner, that’s exactly how he had been spending his night. Up until the moment he had reached into his pocket for the crushed bills he usually kept there and realised they were no longer present. He shouldn’t be surprised, he had been handing them over for hours. But everybody knew running out of money was anxiety inducing, even when you didn’t have habits to maintain. 

His bank account was empty, that had been the last of it. He wasn’t stupid enough to assume he counted wrong when he had withdrawn the remainder of his funds. And he hadn’t been to work since his official time of death. He could make a run for it, but even in his inebriated state he knew being chased down and potentially tackled by a bartender would only end in said bartender being drained of blood. There didn’t seem to be many options ahead of him. So instead of eyeing the door, he began to eye his fellow patrons. It was very easy to single out the person least likely to punch him in the face, and he pushed himself out of the booth he had been slouching in, getting far too close before he could hold himself back. His limbs felt heavy, his entire body clumsy, and uncoordinated. But he pushed on. “Yeah, actually-” He insisted, a familiar rush of longing creeping up on him as her scent began to permeate the space. Taking a hesitant step back, he swallowed his craving, willing himself to stay where he was. “You can pay for my drinks.” Maybe it wasn’t the smoothest way of asking the woman for money, but his brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity and pathetically, it was the best he could do. Maybe she would take pity on him. “I mean- I’ve probably had the worst fucking month of my life, and I… shit, I mean I have no money. What do you want me to say?”

“Excuse me?” Chloe replied, twisting in her seat to look him over. There was a buzz in her head, but it did nothing to numb the immediate annoyance at his request. If anything, it removed any social insecurity, Chloe was no longer interested in being careful with her words. A fae would be more eloquent than that anyway. She pushed her drink further onto the counter so that she would not knock it, and looked him up and down. There was a loose, chaotic way of his movements, like he didn’t quite know how to hold himself together. He was drunk, drawling, obviously. Her lip curled in disgruntled annoyance. “Why the hell are you at a bar if you haven’t got any money?” Chloe snapped back, looking right back up at him. 

“I really don’t see how that’s anyone’s problem except yours. And the bartender’s. How disrespectful do you need to be to expect something like this from other people?” She rolled her eyes pointedly at him. There was another thought, biting at the corner of her mind, after another moment of looking at him, the sentence slipped out before she could stop herself. “Can’t have been too shitty a month if you still have the capacity to make bad life choices.”

Milo knew the moment the woman turned to face him that she wasn’t about to hand over her credit card. Even if it hadn’t been obvious in her tone, it would have been obvious in the way she was looking at him. Letting out a huff of breath in response to the question, it was a sharp reminder of how important it was to take shallow breaths. He didn’t need the oxygen, and breathing in too deeply was only going to put her in danger. Each intake brought with it a wave of tantalising scent. “I had money.” He countered, an edge to his own voice. “I drank it.” Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he would do if somebody approached him and asked him to pay for their drinks. Maybe in the morning her reaction would feel reasonable, and valid. Right now though, in this moment, it was infuriating. It didn’t make any sense. 

“And it isn’t disrespectful to be a total dick when somebody asks you for help?” He demanded, twisting the situation to frame himself as someone to sympathise with, someone to feel sorry for. He fell silent again, his eyes narrowing as she carefully observed him. Even with so much alcohol in his system, it made him feel vulnerable, and exposed. He didn’t like it. Shifting awkwardly on the spot, he felt a spark of genuine anger when she eventually commented on his life choices. Did he really look that bad? “Oh, yeah?” He snapped. “You’re here drinking alone too, you know? Seems like we’re both making shitty decisions. I’d like to see anybody go through what I’ve been through and not want to drink themselves into oblivion. Haven’t you ever heard of coping mechanisms? Fucking crutches? Maybe I just need a fucking break.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Chloe replied, matching his edge just as harshly, even though her voice croaked with the effort. There was a way he looked at her that made her skin crawl, like he knew more about her than he should, or that he wanted more than her money. Perhaps what was left of her life, she though, and shook the thought away. He didn’t have the charisma to be like Lydia. He was pitiable. Still a threat, maybe, but under her anger she understood just want this looked like. 

There was a knife edge difference between drinking to cope and drinking to lose herself, and Chloe was terrified of landing the wrong edge of the line. 

Then he opened his mouth again and her sympathy was quashed immediately. “Only if they’re not a dick in asking for it. You didn’t even ask! You demanded. You look young but not too young to know the difference.” If nothing, her barbed comment only seemed to raise his hackles even further, his voice raising. Her hands curled tightly around the edge of the barstool. “I’m not pissing off anyone else though, am I? I don’t think you’re in a place to throw rocks, dude. Oh fuck off, do you really think you have a monopoly on suffering?”

Milo glared at the woman, irritated by the tone she was taking although he had a feeling he might look back on this conversation and feel it was entirely justified. “I’m trying to make it an us problem.” He muttered, thinking of every time Dani had ever called him a smartmouth. “I didn’t ask for shit.” He added, his glare only growing in intensity. Clearly it had been a mistake to approach her. She must have known he was likely going to ask her for money regardless of how she chose to begin their initial interaction, but technically he was being honest. “You asked if you could help me, and I said yes, you could pay for my drinks. If anything, you offered.” 

Noting her voice growing in volume, the last thing he wanted to do was cause a scene. But he also felt as though he had every right to be angry. He hadn’t done anything wrong. “I didn’t come over here to piss you off. I actually have better things to do.” He snapped, running a clumsy hand through his hair as he struggled to reign in his frustration. “You know what? Yeah, I really fucking do have the monopoly on suffering right now. Why do you think I’m even here? I had friends, and a fucking family, and I’m really fucking tired. So forgive me for not realising I was nearly out of cash. And forgive me for thinking that maybe someone might actually take pity on me and offer to help me out. It’s whatever, okay? I’ll fucking go-” 

“I’ll remember next time to be clearer with my sarcasm as you don’t seem to get it. I fucking doubt that,” Chloe snarled back, eyes creased in a frown, back straight. She couldn’t say whether it was the alcohol or the attitude that was giving her a headache, but she was pretty sure he was the problem either way. But somewhere in his furious tirade, Chloe heard the hints of something that… well, nothing justified treating people shittily, but something awful, something Chloe understood a little too well. 

No friends. No family. Alone in a dark place with an unhealthy coping mechanism and a need to drown your thoughts in a buzz. Chloe hadn’t had access to alcohol for the last few years, but… well, there had been something available to take the edge off. Chloe shivered. “Wait.” She said curtly, jaw flexing, unable to believe she was about to say this. Maybe because in the biting harshness of his features she saw snippets of Todd and Sammy, young lost men who had found the wrong source of comfort in their troubled lives. Chloe already knew it was fantastical to think she could fix things, but if there was a kindness to be offered…. On the other hand, he was an asshole who had pissed her off, so she almost let him walk away just to teach him a lesson. “Just this once, okay? So you don’t end up in jail on top of whatever other shit you have going on. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Maybe don’t engage strangers in conversation and you won’t have to.” Milo countered. She had spoken to him first. He wasn’t about to take responsibility for something that wasn’t his fault. He was just turning to leave, his hands balled into fists, when he heard the woman call out to him. Surprised, but too irritated to show any gratitude, he faced her once again, a frown still fixed firmly in place. He hadn’t been expecting her to change her mind, and he was in too bitter a mood to be honest about just how much the gesture meant. Taking the bills she was handing out to him, he was careful to only take the amount he needed, leaving a few of them behind. There were other ways to find money if he became desperate. Right now, it seemed like the very least he could do to acknowledge she was offering him help. Crumpling them in his hand, he sheepishly caught her eye. He knew he should say thank you, but he was stubborn. Too stubborn to admit he might have been unfair to her. So he left, instead. Without saying another word. Maybe one day he might feel guilty about that fact, but it wasn’t as though he was ever going to see her again. Something, he thought, that might very well be for the best.

[captain-mcdavid]

word count: 2.2k

smut: yes | no

warnings: angst, swearing, sadness, i’m sorry (second last chapter guys! pt 16 is the finale)

You fling a leg off the couch, expecting to land solid on the floor, but the choked groan that sounds has you pulling your foot back up almost immediately. You look, horrified over the edge of the couch, and Josh is rolling onto his stomach, face etched with a wince.

“What are you doing on the floor?” You squeal, and he grumbles, sitting up while he rubs at his eyes. He looks adorable and it almost makes you forget how confused you are.

“You fell asleep, and I felt like you probably wouldn’t have reacted too well to me spooning you, so I took the floor.” He explains, and furrow your brows at him, watching while he stands, towering over your seated frame.

“You didn’t think to maybe just leave?”

His eyes widen in surprise and you feel slightly guilty for your rude remark, but then he smiles and chuckles, shoving his huge hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t, actually,” He sighs and then rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his foot back and forth over the carpet like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Sorry, probably overstayed my welcome.”

He sounds defeated and you grind your teeth, wary to apologize. You know the full story now, so you’re not sure why you have such animosity towards him, but you know for sure that you’re not going to be able to sort out any of your feelings with him here. Things have been cleared up now but you can’t help but still feel angry, and you’re having a tough time deciding whether or not that anger is warranted.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” You say, sentence falling off because you don’t know how you meant it, you’re just trying to make things less awkward. But it doesn’t seem to be working. “I don’t even remember falling asleep last night,” You blurt randomly and Josh grins.

“It happened like mid sentence,” He tells you, and you shake your head in disbelief. “No seriously, you were talking and you just got quieter and quieter until you just passed out,”

“Oh my god,” You say, hands coming up to cover your face. Josh catches them on the way up, pulling you towards him.

“It was cute,” He mumbles as you stagger towards him, and for a second, everything feels incredibly normal. Your eyes meet and your stupid brain starts to think that maybe things can go back to the way they were before all of this messed up shit happened.

But then there’s a knock at the door, and you feel relief cause it’s an out from this extremely tense interaction, and you’re already starting towards the door when the thought of who it could be crosses your mind.

Then you’re remembering your self-destructive tendencies, and you know exactly who you texted last night when you got home. More messed up shit is about to happen. You stop in your tracks and turn back to Josh, “I, um, I don’t really… Shit.” You finally get out, and then you’re ushering Josh towards your bedroom. You’re gonna try at all costs to avoid another awkward encounter, so you just apologize profusely while he rambles confused questions. “Just stay here!” You command, shutting the door on him.

Jogging over to the front you breathe in deeply before opening, feeling your pulse spike as soon as you see his face. In the midst of your meltdown you had texted Blake asking him to come over, and now, knowing what you know now, you really wish you wouldn’t have.

“Hey,” He mutters, sliding past you even though you didn’t invite him in…

“Um, hi.” You say back. At this point you’re not sure if you should just tell him to get lost or rip him a new one for lying.

“What’s going on?” He asks, turning to you with a bored face.

You start to reply but he speaks again before you can even get a word in, “Wasn’t sure I’d hear from you again after that whole thing at the bar,” His tone is awfully condescending and now you wish you would have just not opened the door at all.

“Blake listen-,” You start, but once again, he’s cutting you off, and that’s where you make your decision.

“What do you even see in that guy? After all he’s put you through?”

“After all he’s put me through?” You gasp, your eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “What about you, you asshole? You cheated on me!”

“So did he!” Suddenly you’re both yelling, and if Josh couldn’t hear you before, he definitely can now.

“He didn’t actually, and I would have figured that out if you hadn’t lied!”

He freezes in his spot, and you clench your jaw, “How could you? You didn’t tell me that he was here that day, you had no right to keep that from me!”

“Oh please, I was looking out for you.” He argues and you find yourself laughing.

“Looking out for me? You’ve never looked out for anyone but yourself!” You cry, and you feel your emotions starting to boil over, because so much could have been resolved so much quicker if he would have just told you Josh was at the door. You feel robbed. “Why?” You ask simply, and he stares blankly back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He rolls his eyes like his answer is obvious, shrugging his shoulders as if it was a rhetorical question.

“Answer me!” The words slip through clenched teeth, your hands balled into fists at your sides.

“You know why, Y/N!”

“I don’t, actually.” You push, “Care to enlighten me?” The words are laced with sarcasm and frustration, you’re pining for this answer, but you have a feeling that you know what it will be. You just want to hear him say it.

“You know. You know why.” He repeats, the sentence rigid.

“To keep him away from me?” You ask, “Cause you wanted me for yourself?” You guess, already knowing his answer by the color that floods his cheeks.

His jaw clenches, and he turns to the wall, avoiding your hard stare.

“I don’t know what you thought was happening here, but we’re not together. You can’t just make decisions for me, you have no right!”

“Well neither do you!” He screams, “Quit acting like you’ve done nothing wrong! You’re using me, and you know it!”

You’re stunned into silence at that, because honest to god, you thought he was oblivious to that. The noise fades and you’re left staring at each other, neither one of you knowing what to say.

“You can’t stand here and yell at me like I’m the bad guy. Because I might be, but so are you.”

You have no words. Nothing to respond with, and Blake takes it as a sign to continue. “After all that shit happened with him you didn’t even wait two fucking days before calling me. I don’t even need to ask what happened last night, you don’t need to tell me cause I already know! You saw him and he did something that pissed you off, so you texted me. You do the same thing every time, he makes you feel like shit, and then you fall back on me like I’m some plan b. It’s fucking toxic.”

“I can’t-,” You start, but Blake raises a hand.

“Save it.” He spits, “I’m done with this. I’m done with your games. I wasn’t a good guy to you, and I’m sorry for that. But I own up to it.  I don’t pretend to be a good person while I ignore all the shit I do that hurts other people.”

“I don’t do that-,” You try to say, but he scoffs.

“That’s exactly what you do! You and him! Juts because you got hurt doesn’t mean you can do the same to others without consequence.” He pauses for a second and then sighs, lowering his tone, “I know I’m in no position to say any of this, cause I was an asshole to you, but you needed to hear it. Just do yourself a favour and figure your shit out before you get into it with anyone else.”

He walks out after that, the door slamming behind him while you stand frozen on your spot. You’re in shock from the blow you just received. In your head, you had pictured the yelling going the other way. You shouting at him and forcing him out rather than him leaving on his own.

All of this is very revealing to you, and with a heavy heart you all but collapse onto the floor, the tears falling almost just as fast.  

You’re not innocent in any of this. From start to finish you have been just as guilty as everyone else. You crashed into Josh’s life with the intention of hurting him, with the intention of getting revenge.

Just because you got hurt doesn’t mean you can do the same to others without consequence.

You justified your actions by telling yourself the feelings that developed were real but starting a relationship for the sole purpose of vengeance is not justifiable. You thought that because Josh did something just as bad that is diminished what you had done, but it didn’t. It hasn’t.

You tried to sleep with Seth you when learned about Josh and Lindsay. You didn’t think about Seth when you dragged him into all this, you were blinded by rage and you wanted revenge.

You’re so in your head that you don’t even notice Josh coming to sit beside you. Your gaze stays trained on the floor, your heart heavy with all your realizations. “Did you hear all that?” You’re the first to break the silence, and even though you’re not looking, you know that he’s nodding.

There’s no other words from Josh. No ‘He was wrong,’ or ‘He shouldn’t have said that,’, because Josh knows cause as much as you do that Blake was right.

Those words aren’t even spoken but they still leave a sour taste in your mouth. Blake was right.

“Where do we go from here?” He asks, and your response is almost instant.

“We don’t.”

Josh turns to you, and you have to gather the courage to look back at him. “I think I just need some time. Some space.”

“To figure your shit out?” He repeats, and you nod.

“I don’t want to give you space.” He starts. “I remember after you found out about Lindsay you tried to leave, and I wouldn’t let you. I was so fucking terrified that you were gonna walk out that door and I would never see you again. I knew you needed space but I was so afraid to lose you that I just couldn’t bring myself to give it to you. And right now I’m feeling that all over again.”

“Josh,” You whisper, folding your hand into his.

“We’ve been through so much shit, but none of it has changed how I feel about you. I need you to know that. And I need you to know that I’m so fucking sorry for everything that I did. For Lindsay, and for being such a dick, and for not telling you how I feel,”

“I’m sorry too,” You say, “I can’t believe what I did to you, it was so selfish and I’m so sorry. I should have never tried to toy with your feelings like that, and I should have never gone to Seth.” He nods and you push the words out slowly cause you’re not even sure you want to say them. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

“I know.” He quietly replies. And then he stands up, and a cold that you can’t quite describe spreads from your middle all the way to the tips of your fingers. Fear.

He walks towards the door and you know how he felt when you left. But you also know that you can’t stop him. His hand lands on the door knob and with one last surge of confidence you get up, all but throwing yourself into his arms.

You don’t know how long you stand there for. Just holding each other, but when you finally pull away, your faces are centimeters apart, and one look at his lips has you thinking that maybe if you just kiss him this could all go away, but it won’t. That’s clear in the way his hands stay firmly on your hips, pushing you back until your feet are flat on the floor again. This has to be done. It needs to end.

“I don’t want to give you space but I will. If you promise to come back.”

“Josh-,”

“Please.” He begs, his hands squeezing you so tightly that you can feel his reluctance. “Despite everything, I still want this. I don’t care how long it takes. Just promise me you’ll come back.”

You want to say it. You want to promise him, but the only words that make it out are not what he wants to hear.

You say them and he leaves, looking more defeated than you’ve ever seen him.

“Goodbye, Josh.”

[chibi-writings]

Blood of the Lilies

AO3 Link

Characters: Vernon Roche, Ves

Pairing: Vernon Roche/Ves

Words: 1,916

"We were to stop the Black Ones' advance along the Dol Blathanna - Mount Carbon line. And we did. For three days. Then they smashed us into splinters."

Roche and Ves are two of the survivors. Scattered and flung into a Temeria rocked by war, both from outside and within, they have only each other.

Written for my own Ves.

_____________

Somewhere, he thought he could still hear the battle raging, though he was certain that they were quite in the middle of nowhere. The forest around them was black as pitch, and even the moon and stars were bloated out by the crossing branches overhead. And more importantly, the battle had ended, when the Nilfgaardian cavalry had appeared unexpectedly from their right and had pushed their flank, while the artillery pounded the center mercilessly.

It had been admirable that the Temerians had even held them off for one day, let alone three, and Roche was deeply proud that his countrymen had done so, despite the loss.

They had scattered in all directions from pursuit, and he and Ves had been no different, sticking only with each other as they had fled in disarray with the rest of the army that they could find. But pursuit and chase had pushed and pushed them, until—

He breathed, and his chest exploded with pain as if a hot poker had just been drilled into him.

Roche was certain he did not make any noise. And yet as soon as he felt it, there were wonderfully cool hands on his face, touching him gently. A voice spoke to him, but he could not understand the words over the sound of battle.

Battle? No, no it could not be. It was—blood, yes, he understood now. The pounding of his own pulse inside of his head, his own dizziness and memories layered across his senses, leaving him confused as to what was real and what was not. But even then, his logic remained: they had fled. So unless something had gone terribly, terribly wrong, there should be no sounds of armies doing battle around.

His chest and lungs still burned, and even more so when something—touched inside of him. That brought a grunt from him, a drawn one, but then memory came back to him again.

Yes, he remembered that now. A lucky arrow from the enemy, finding its mark in his side just as the trees closed in around them. It had landed right on his lower ribs—where it still remained. There had been no time to pull it out while the Nilfgaardians were still trying to run them down.

“I’m so sorry Roche!” Ves’s voice came back to him as if cotton had suddenly been pulled from his ears. “I know it hurts, but it has to come out.”

If he had not been so busy trying to master his pain and ride it, he might have snorted at her. But presently sarcasm was nowhere in his ability, breathing and speaking alone were both an effort. “Just—” he panted a little, “—just get the damn thing out. I’ll be fine.” Sweat dripped down his brow from the effort of speaking.

A cold cloth was draped over his head, which was a blessing no greater than if it was from Melitele herself, and then he frowned and turned his head. There was a small fire, with a small pot next to it. When had a fire been started? Had they made some sort of camp? He realized with a small jolt of alarm that he remembered none of it. Just the running in the black forest with his side on fire, running and running until he was forced to lean on Ves for support, and then even that had faded into gray nothing.

Ves’s face came into view. There was dried blood in her hair, and on her uniform, and he frowned a little. Was she hurt? He tried to reach for her and see, but his arm felt clumsy and heavy, not responding the way he wanted it to. She gripped his hand in hers, tightly, and he held back as tightly as he could.

Her eyes were large and worried, and she peered at him intently. Then abruptly she looked away, down, and then took her hand out of his to reach for something that glittered in the firelight. “I-I’ll have to cut it out,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Do it, then,” he replied immediately, taking another scorching breath. Gods damn it all, it had gone right through his uniform, through the padded wool of his surcoat, even through his chain mail, and it was his pure luck that it did not pierce his lung. Perhaps everything else had slowed the arrow’s impact enough that—

Pain. Hot, driving pain that was splitting his skin and destroying every other thought, feeling, or sensation in his head. Automatically he groaned, his hands clenching, and then he was silent. Discipline, order, that was all that mattered, everything important. For Temeria he had to be silent. So the Black Ones would not find them.

He remembered the lilies in the field of blue. He remembered Vizima. He remembered Ves—her eyes were the blue field where the Temerian lilies grew.

He fought tooth and nail with the pain, and allowed himself to think of nothing else but the pain—if he was distracted, then the pain would come again and take him by surprise, and he might not be able to stop himself then. Still, when there was a peak of sudden, blazing agony it was enough to shake him to his core and there was a rush—he did not know whether it was his pulse inside of his head or his own voice—but it chased him into blackness again.

When awareness came back to him, it was through touch rather than sight or sound. He saw nothing and heard only fire, but the sensation of lips against his own brought him back faster than either sight or sound could have achieved.

There were hands touching his face with a gentleness he would have recognized anywhere.

He kissed Ves back, again trying to hold her, but his hand moved with that same sluggishness that, to his eternal frustration, all of his mental strength could not force to move faster. Still he found her hip and waist, clumsily, almost, and stroked there, trying to seem as comforting as possible. He barely even cared where he was touching, he just needed to touch her.

“Roche,” she was whispering, and his eyes fluttered open to see her leaning over him, their faces inches apart. Her eyes looked red, but he did not know if it was from exhaustion or tears. “Roche, how are you feeling?”

He took a breath, expecting pain. It did come, but it was none of the burning agony that the arrow had brought. It was sharp and short, but much more like a deep ache that was at least manageable. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her, but the words were difficult to form. His mouth felt dry and thick.

As if sensing his desire before he could say a word, she reached for a waterskin, though to his embarrassment she had to help him sit up a little before he could drink. It was warm, but he did not care, it felt as if it had been years since he had last sipped anything. He allowed himself a few mouthfuls before he remembered that this was the only water than they had, and they needed to conserve it while the Black Ones still hunted for Temerian survivors. He capped it and placed it down.

He was leaning against Ves, and her worried hands darted over him, unsure of where to rest. On his back, his other side, his arms, his—hair?

It shouldn’t have surprised him that his chaperon was missing, but it did. A quick search of his eyes showed him that it was not far, a rumpled black mass that he would have to properly sort out later.

He gratefully leaned into Ves, and worked one of his hands into her own. She gripped it tightly, thankfully, and the beginnings of a smile worked its way onto his face. It felt strange. “Are you alright?” he asked, taking light breaths in order to speak. “You are not hurt?”

He felt her stiffen. “You’re the one who was shot with an arrow and passed out while I cut it out, and you’re asking me if I’m alright?” she breathed incredulously.

“I notice you not answering my question.”

“Bloody hell, Roche, of course I’m alright! You’re the injured one here!”

“Good,” he said, relief washing over him. “I’m glad you’re fine.” He stroked her hand, unwilling to let it go. “That’s one good thing out of this.”

She was silent, but he could sense her emotions in the gentleness that she held his hand and stroked it in both of hers, and the little huff that left her lips. “You’re insane,” she whispered. But a grateful sound of deep relief. I’m glad you’re alright.

He pressed against her for a moment. Of course I am. “How long was I out? How bad was it?”

“Only ‘bout a quarter hour, and not very serious, thank the gods. It was in your skin but it didn’t get past the ribs. I-I think one of them might be cracked or broken, I couldn’t tell very well—it’s dark—”

That would explain why it hurt every time he breathed. Not the normal hurt of a surface wound, it was that far too sharp pain inside that spoke of a deeper problem. With how quickly they had to move to stay ahead of the Nilfgaardians, that could present a problem.

They would manage, though. If he had to crawl on hands and knees to stay ahead of the invaders, it was no question at all.

“You did well,” he said, gentle but firmly interrupting her worried babbling and silencing her. “I’m proud of you.”

His breaths were becoming irregular, the pain forcing his rhythm out of balance, and with an effort he paused before forcing them in and out, counting the seconds carefully. His head was swimming, the world tilting a little, and then he was really tilting, and he jerked a little before he understood that it was merely Ves lowering him again.

“Lie down,” she said, trying make her voice sound commanding and failing spectacularly. “You’re still injured, you’ll pass out again if you don’t give yourself some rest.”

“Mmm,” he muttered, feeling for the wound, and noticed only with a start then that much of his uniform had been stripped off. Only his undershirt remained. “Did you bandage the wound?” he asked, his voice sounding odd to his own ears.

“What?” Ves said. “For fuck’s sake Roche, of course I bandaged your bloody wound! You think I’d just leave it open?!”

His mind always tried to stay on top of things. Make sure everything was done, was taken care of. He couldn’t help it, it was pure habit, it allowed him to keep functioning when there was nothing else left for him. “Did you make sure it was clean? No fabric or armor stuck in the wound? They can cause infection.”

“Yes, commander, I did.” There was an irritated huff to her tone, but it was more relaxed than it had been a moment ago. Roche not pestering and making sure everything was in order meant that something was terribly wrong. “Do you want tea? We have some rations still, we can eat now and move later before daybreak.”

“Yes,” he said, or at least think he said so. It was hard to say, as the black sleep of unconsciousness claimed him again swiftly after.

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 05 | Faulty Code | KNJ (M)

Last time on LB04: Dealing with the aftermath of Saturday night is the least of your concerns when you find out Hoseok has been conspiring to build you a new dating profile. Meanwhile, Namjoon battles with the idea of a student failing his course while doing his best to manage his feelings for you.

Rating: M (18+)

Word Count: 12.7K

Series: Love Bytes (5/?)

Genre: F2L, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension, smut, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, S O F T Namjoon

CW: dirty talk, masturbation, teasing, grinding

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

masterlist  // previous chapter // next chapter

A/N: Welp. Here’s me letting out some of the steam from the pot. Don’t worry. There’s more to come. Tell me your fave parts I love hearing you guys talk about this story. 💜 Do not repost.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

What a fucking day. A slew of procrastinated assignments came in right before class today. Namjoon planned on spending the majority of the night reviewing them from home over a big bowl of noodles and a hearty serving of beef. That was before you asked him to come save you from the photoshoot. It sounded serious. He knew you were overreacting, and the fact that he had no license probably made him the worst person for the job, but he was an idiot when it came to you. How could he say no?

He still couldn’t be sure if it was the best or worst decision he’s ever made, considering the stack of unread essays still sitting on his desk. He sits down in his chair, eyes skimming across the surface of the pile. As he uncaps the pen nearby, a heavy fog rolls into his mind--and with it, the perfect recollection of you in that dress. He grips the pen tightly.

That fucking dress. You looked absolutely incredible. The slit running along the bottom of the fabric captured his attention immediately, allowing him to steal glances at the thighs he often imagined burying his face between. What he wouldn’t give to have you sitting on this desk now. He imagines your legs parting for him as he trails his fingers along your thigh just beneath the cut of the fabric.

He greedily sucks air through his nostrils and pushes the thought away with his exhale.

Papers. Grade the papers.

One sentence in, his mind betrays him again by rolling in thoughts of your various outfits and the charming way you floundered to copy Jimin’s poses. He turns the pen between his fingers, a smile forming on his face as he remembers the nervous glances you continually shot his way. Were you looking to him for subconscious approval? While it’s doubtful, he hopes that he brought you some comfort at the very least.

The cloud of thoughts carries him away once more, bringing a vision of your smooth legs divided before him. This time there are shorts hindering his journey to your core, but sitting at eye level is a very distracting pair of breasts just barely clad in a cute bathing suit. His eyelids flutter for a second as the daydream takes hold.

The strap around your neck gives way and your nipples bounce free, already hardened from the chill in the air. He leans forward with his elbows on the desk, as if to plant himself between the soft flesh he knows is a mirage. Short, jagged breaths fill his lungs as his mind scrambles to assemble a scent that’s close to fragmented memory of yours.

Half lidded eyes stare blankly ahead and his lips slowly part, wishing he could lave his tongue across your chest and leave a trail of sloppy kisses along the valley between each mound. Instead he drags his tongue across his teeth and breathes deeply, forcing himself to sit back in the chair. He shouldn’t be thinking about this; you were mortified.

He desperately snatches the first page from the desk, bringing it close to his face. He furrows his brow, glaring at the small type on the sheet. You’re not here, but the papers are. It’s not that hard. Focus on something else.

He drags his eyes across the first sentence. Then the second. Soon he’s proudly admiring the way he finished the first paragraph, but the words jumble on their way to his brain. He repeatedly moves his eyes across the page but he still can’t make sense of the sentences. Throwing his head back with a loud, frustrated groan, he rests his neck against the hard wood of the chair.

He closes his eyes, quietly accepting the fact that his brain is useless to him right now. The papers have waited this long; they can wait a little longer. Even with his eyes closed, all he can see is your breasts popping out of your top. What he wouldn’t give to nibble and tease the supple flesh surrounding those perfect tits. His hand slides beneath the band of his sweatpants, fingers curling around the solid mass of his cock.

Every detail is burned into his memory with perfect clarity and he uses it to fuel his lurid fantasy. He strokes himself at the thought of you straddling him in this chair, holding a hand to your back to further thrust your tits into his face. He bites down on the pebbled nipple and pinches the other between his fingers, forcing you to twist your own fingers in his hair and keen for him.

The surface of the chair painfully digs into the nape of his neck as his head becomes heavy, but he merely shifts the position of his back against the wood. He pauses to pull down the fabric of his pants just enough to free the head of his cock, dragging his hand across the sensitive tip to collect a mix precum and sweat before resuming his rhythmic pumping. He lets out a deep, throaty groan at the wet sound his cock makes sliding through his hollow fist.

With one tit in his mouth and the other clamped between his fingers, you slowly grind yourself back and forth on his lap, a loud, pornstar-esque moan escaping your lips every time the tip just barely grazes your clit. The hand at your back moves up to knot fingers in your hair, pulling your gaze toward the ceiling. The hand at your chest drops to your waist, halting the stuttered movement of your hips. I want you to beg me. Beg me for more. Come on. Beg me to put this cock in you, baby.

Just as you’re about to oblige, the phone on the desk starts buzzing; the familiar chime of three texts in rapid succession threatens to pull him from his thoughts. He slows his pace only to ensure there’s nothing else on its way to the device. When he’s met with silence, he increases the pressure of his palm against his sensitive tip on each upstroke. The impending wave of pleasure gains momentum as he imagines your needy voice whispering in his ear. How many different ways had he heard you beg in that sweet, tired voice of yours? “Namjoonie… Please?”

“Oh... fuck…” he chokes, drowing out the sound of two more messages pinging on his phone. He leans back into the chair and tilts his head towards the ceiling in ecstasy, desperately thrusting his hips into the phantom of you. Sharp, brittle exhales stab at the air around him as he feels his release drawing nearer. His hand grips his shaft tighter, pumping over himself as fast as he can. That’s it baby. Take it.

The obnoxious moan his mind conjures as a placeholder for whatever sounds you might make has him grasping at his own throat, desperate to have both hands occupied. You try to gasp out his name but each time you begin he plunges deep into your cunt, forcing you to start over with every inhale; you stutter out a hail of desperate “Na”s before finally giving in to a breathless curse as he bounces you up and down.

He can’t help the wicked smile that curls around his lips with the accuracy of his fantasy portrayal. He savors the frustration in your features that just barely mask the shy smile underneath. Even now he can’t stop thinking of your charming, bashful mannerisms: the tremble of dry lips devoid of their natural sarcasm, the rigidity of your posture as you self-consciously suck in your gut, the nervous comb of your fingers through your hair, and the arms that curl across your chest to hide a needless shame. Somehow that manages to further ensnare him in the trap of your beauty.

His thighs begin to quake, toes lifting his heels from the floor. “Oh, fuck…” he desperately tries to warn the empty air around him, as though you can hear the way he’s about to empty himself into you. “...Baby...” His hand is like lightning now, but with the rigidity of his arm, the repetitive motions are causing a cramp to form. He’s so close though. Just a bit more.

The phone on the desk buzzes again, alert breaking the fantasy just enough to slow his pace and use his free hand to flip the screen around. He’s sure if anything serious was happening, he’d get a phone call, but it’s better to make sure nothing is going on. As the screen lights up, his eyes glaze over the fresh text notification a few times. His heart sinks, halting his strokes before bringing the phone close to his torso.

You: are u avoiding me Namjoonie????

He sighs, trying to compose himself enough to open the app. A second message soon follows, bumping the notification down.

You: pls don’t :c

Why would you think that? He opens the message thread to be assaulted by your previous messages.

You: hey… so

You: i may have overreacted earlier when i asked u to save me 🤔

You: but you still came through for me and i do appreciate it

You: i guess what i’m trying to say is thanks

You: it was nice that you made an attempt

You: are u avoiding me Namjoonie????

You: pls don’t :c

Fuck. I’m sorry. He puffs his cheeks, cursing himself for being too preoccupied to respond when you first messaged him. You’re probably worried about things being weird now that he’s caught a glimpse of your perfect tits. But it’s not weird; it’s just hard. He steals a glance at his shaft, which twitches involuntarily in response to being robbed of its climax. Very hard.

Focusing back on the screen, shaky thumbs attempt to map out a dignified response. A mix of precum and sweat smears the keyboard and he cringes, dragging his tongue across a finger and wiping it across the screen before rubbing the surface with his shirt. There’s a bunch of gibberish in the textbox, but it thankfully hasn’t sent. He deletes it carefully before deciding on what you need to hear to allay your fears.

He lets out a deep breath and presses the green phone button. He smiles as your contact photo blows up on the screen. You’re stealing a sip of his milkshake just as he had turned around, and looking guilty as fuck as you do it. Jin had been kind enough to send it his way as a reminder not to leave things unattended around the drink thief.

“Hello?” You answer much quicker than expected.

“Geeksquad… Why you being paranoid?” He does his best to carry humor into the question, but he barely has time to conceal the shakiness in his breath.

“Are you okay? You sound a little out of breath.” You don’t buy it.

“Oh,” he sighs loudly, trying to reduce the sound of any following exhales. “Sorry I’m…” he fumbles to find a reasonable excuse for his demeanor.”...just uh, working out.”

“You?” you begin in an accusatory tone. “...Working out?”

“It’s a great stress reliever,” he manages to counter. “Anyway, I’m just calling so you won’t worry yourself to sleep.”

“Wow. What? Pshh. I wasn’t worried, like, at all, dude.”

Okay. You were freaking out. Confirmed, he muses to himself.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah… I was just making sure you weren’t too mad about the false alarm.”

Quit beating around the bush, Y/N. I know that’s not what you’re really worried about.

Regardless, he chuckles. “Look, I’ll say it now and any time you need me to repeat it: I’m always gonna be there for you when I can. I wasn’t doing anything important tonight anyway and the uber ride was hella cheap from my place to Tae’s. Plus… I got to see you model next to Jimin, which was hilarious by the way.”

“Har. Har. Har. I got completely blindsided by Hobi and Tae. Super hilarious. Especially considering I haven’t spoken to Jimin really since Saturday. You know. When I made him think we were gonna hook up and then just peaced out. Like a bitch.”

You’re not a bitch. It’s my fault you think that, isn’t it? You’d understand if you knew, wouldn’t you?

“He’s not going to hold it against you. You know that.” The words are painful. He wants to admit his own guilt in making the others back off, but he can’t seem to pull them out.

“Yeah.” You hum a sound of discontent into his ear. “...Hey Joonie? Do you think those photos are going to look okay?”

Your mind moves a mile a minute; he rolls his eyes at your insecurity. Why can’t you see the beauty in yourself? “I think Tae can pull out some decent ones. He has an eye for that kinda thing. Once you started smiling for real and let go of that fake shit, I think those were the money shots.”

“Good. I’m anxious about it still, but I feel slightly better.”

“Glad to help. Is there anything else?” His dick flexes at the thought of ending the conversation, the orgasm still close enough to easily pump out. It’s taking all his willpower not to run his fingers along his shaft in preparation.

“Um….” You hesitate against the receiver. “W-We’re good right? I mean...about that whole thing with Kookie in the hall.”

There it is.

Namjoon clicks his tongue, white lies spilling from his lips rather easily tonight. “Ah, I hadn’t even thought about it all that much. But I suppose we need to address it.”

“Do you think you can pretend like it didn’t happen?”

“Like what didn’t happen?” he asks lightheartedly, trying to ease the awkwardness out of your lives.

“The nip slip!” you hiss, failing to catch on.

Oh god, you’re killing me, Geeksquad. Come on.

The image of you spinning away from him just a bit too slowly plays over and over in his mind. He flexes his muscles to still the heat building in his gut. He’s just about ready to blow and his thoughts become jumbled on the way to his brain. “I-uh,Ah, yeah-Hmm. I know. I was, uh… making a joke Y/N.”

“Oh.” The exhale on the other end causes him to wince, your humiliation practically tangible.

“Well... Ithinkthat’sallweneedtotalkabout.Ineedtogotobed. Thanks,Namjoonie. Youhaveagoodnight.”

“You... too.” Were any of those actually words or was that a sneeze in disguise? You really don’t handle embarrassment well, but then again neither does he.

“And remember to forget!”

Oh my god. Please just hang up.

His flingers set the phone face-down as the call ends. He slides back against his chair and stares down at the exposed swollen head of his cock, dripping with precum and begging to continue where he left off.

“No worries… Hadn’t even thought about it at all.”

His fingers curl around the base and he pumps it a few times, throwing his head back against the hard surface of the chair with a loud ‘WHACK’. He flinches with a grumble and grabs at the back of his scalp. Frustrated, he tugs up his waistband and stands. The friction of the material against his sensitive tip forces him to suck air through clenched teeth.

Pulling his shirt off in one swift motion, he jumps into the bed across the room. He reclines against the pillows and basks in the chill of the sheets beneath him. His jaw shifts back and forth as he stares at the ceiling, reaching beneath the band of his pants once more to pull free the aching erection in his hand. Never once had it gone soft during your conversation.

Was it wrong to still be thinking about you? Maybe. But he was so fucking close before. He was exhausted. He needed this. There would be time to feel guilty tomorrow. He closes his eyes and begins again, slowly building to a pace that has him digging into his thigh with his free hand. He squeezes on the upstroke, always hitting the tip with just enough pressure to edge him closer and closer to ruin.

He sucks his lips over his teeth, poking his tongue out from between them. It’s easy to imagine your body above him, tits smacking his face with every bounce from his hips. A constricted moan fights its way from his throat as he imagines twisting fingers in your hair, pulling you down to meet his gaze. As he increases the ferocity of his thrusts, you wail uncharacteristically at the sensation. Your foreheads touch, heavy breaths fanning each other’s cheeks before he finally pulls you down on his lips for the kiss he desperately needs. That’s all it takes.

“Mmhph...!” He draws a hand across his mouth and bites down to muffle the helpless sound of pleasure that escapes him. His cock finally loses control and sputters thick ropes of cum across his belly. Another squirt leaves gooey trails up his chest. His seed pulses rhythmically from him again and again, hot streams of cum coating his torso and reaching all the way to his chin. He rides out the waves of pleasure, and strokes himself in tandem with its tempo until his balls are completely empty. His eyelids flutter open and he looks down at the mess he’s made.

“Holy. Fuck.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Plink! The notification sound is a foreign one. You close out the request for replacement printer paper and shove your hand in your cargo pants in search of your phone. You plop down in your chair to see there’s a message waiting from a match on Tinder.

Oh no.

Was this an accidental swipe again? You quickly load the app to see what’s waiting for you. You open the profile and vaguely remember swiping right on him. He was kind of cute in a tall, stick-man kind of way. The few pictures showing a smile were fairly captivating and you couldn’t find a reason to say no. His profile made him out to be intellectually stimulating with a sarcastic sense of humor, so what the hell right? Besides, he already sent the first introductory message.

Chul: Good morning! Please accept this unimpressive hello as an attempt to woo you. ~Chul

It makes you smile and you bite your lip as you try to compose a response. It’s not that hard. Just say hi back.

Your fingers hesitantly tap the screen, painfully piecing together your first reply to a potential date. Your words feel clumsy and stiff as you struggle to make a joke. Is it too cringey to send emojis to people you don’t know? You pick at least four different emojis before deleting your sentence and starting over again.

You: Oh hey! I see your message and raise you a second, equally unimpressive hello. 😅

Feeling like you could have done a better job at actually giving him something to work with, you quickly send another text.

You: I hope you’re having a good day so far! TGIF right???

Wow. That’s a really fucking stupid thing to say. You hate yourself so much for not being better at this and dejectedly put your phone down. Maybe you were just fooling yourself if you were thinking a person like you could ever be comfortable enough to talk with strangers.

Despite feeling like a loser who has nothing of value to contribute to this conversation, the notification sounds again. You spend the rest of the day texting back and forth with him about your shared interests before agreeing to finally meet him for coffee after work.

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You’re texting the group chat as you sit in your car, listening to the soft patter of rain hitting your windshield as you mentally prepare yourself to enter the cafe. You exhale, knowing your gloating will cause trouble, but man if you didn’t want to rub it in their faces just a little bit.

You: Y’all motherfuckers can eat me. My profile was so good I’m bouta be on my first date

Hobi: WHAAAA? REALLY!

Joonie: Don’t blow it.

Jin: Where is he taking you?

Jin: Maybe a 5 star fancy restaurant run by an incredibly handsome chef? :D

Yoongi: I wish I knew a place like that. I’m hungry

Jin: -____-

Jin: You should be nicer to your elders

Taehyung: But my photos aren’t ready yet? Is this magic?

Jimin: Uh oh you bruised his ego!! >u<

Taehyung: NO NOT TRUE! I just want Y/N to explain how this happens before our hard work gets shown to the world? I am suspicious. Send a photo of your date

Yoongi: Can you photograph things that don’t exist?

You: WOW. OKAY.

You: His name is Chul he’s nice. We’re getting coffee to meet in person

You: Also. 😤Fuck you all. My shitty profile got me a date obvs don’t need your help

Hobi: AWWW I’m proud of you dirty girl

Hobi: sorry my phone keeps auto-correcting dirty girl to dirty girl

Hobi: …

Hobi: Who did this to my phone

Jin: You did last week..

Hobi: REALLY? I don’t remember at all! LOL

You should have known better than to text them all at once.

You: well this has been real guys thx for ur valuable input. Ima go have coffee with a hottie

Jin: Is it still coffee if you put all that sugar and whipped cream on it?

Yoongi: Bring me back an iced americano

Jungkook: as long as ur taking requests can you get spicy pork?

You were wondering when that brat would finally respond.

You: NO. HERE. Choke on this photo of a real place where ima be meeting a real person

You snap a quick photo of the cafe and send it to the group, hoping it will satisfy their need to know the details.

A private text from Namjoon comes through.

Joonie: You brought that conversation on yourself lmao... But anyway, be safe

You: no worries im always safe. besides you have photo evidence of my last known location if i go missing

You: oh u want my license plate number too just in case???

Joonie: Not funny

You: pfft says you my anxiety thinks I’m hilarious right now they definitely wont find my body 3 days from now

Joonie: No one’s gonna murder you. Relax Y/N. Just be yourself

You: Be obnoxious?

Joonie: Exactly

You: caaan doooo lmao 😘

Joonie: Text me when you get home, okay?

You: Okay mom

Joonie: Good luck Geeksquad

You flip your phone around and stuff it into your pocket. Shit. Maybe you should have changed out of your work clothes. Oh well, the t-shirt and cargo pants will have to be enough. After all, you always look like this; it’s better to be honest, right? You compose your thoughts long enough to will yourself out of the car into the rain, taking your first step through the doors to the coffee shop.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Yoongi stretches, rising from his bed as the expected second group chat begins, this time without you or Namjoon.

Hoseok: The Java Stop. Where’s that?

Yoongi: It’s not far from here. I worked there last summer remember?

Hoseok: I don’t think I can make it in this traffic

Tae: I’m a couple hours out for a gallery opening… Sorry guys

Hoseok: So who’s running surveillance?

Seokjin: I can step out for a break

Yoongi: I’ll go. It’s right here

Jimin: I wish I could. I’d love to see how it goes T_T But I’m stuck working late with no way out

Yoongi: See you at the cafe then

Yoongi: Please don’t look suspicious

Seokjin: Ha! No worries. I am a master of hiding in plain sight

Jungkook: Sorry was in the middle of a game but it looks like you got it figured out lol

Hoseok: Jungkookie you’re on duty next time >:(

Jungkook: Huh? Why me?

Hoseok: You play too many video games!!!

Jungkook: what? Oh no i can’t hear you you’re breaking up

Jungkook leaves the group chat just as a text flies in from Namjoon, addressed to the six of them.

Namjoon: Don’t get involved and mess up her date. She deserves to have something good. Stay out of it please, all of you.

Yoongi reads the message and chooses to ignore it. He pulls a hoodie over himself and pops a baseball cap on before heading out the door. The warning from Namjoon does nothing to dissuade him from his mission; it’s harmless really if they’re just watching. Boy, did he plan to watch this trainwreck.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The trek is damp and slightly miserable, but he doesn’t mind. It’s familiar. He thinks of all the days he spent walking to work from the apartment when finances were tight. In his recollection he finds a new appreciation for his car and the extra time he’s able to spend sleeping. While he works a lot now, it’s by choice and not circumstance. His charm, good looks, and ability to concoct beverages that are deceptively strong have built him somewhat of a fan following and reputation as an excellent bartender. The tips are good, too good to pass up on a Friday night, but there’s plenty of time until his shift starts.

It’s no trouble to enter the busy coffee shop unnoticed; the swarm of people seeking shelter from the muggy rain provides enough cover for his tiny frame. He places his order, offering a boxy smile to the barista before sneaking inconspicuous glances around the room.

His eyes settle on your familiar form but his features twist in displeasure as he scrutinizes your choice in attire. You definitely should have changed your clothes given how close the apartment is to this area. He finds a table across the room to watch you from, tonguing the straw to his drink.

A shadow clouds the table as he places his phone down on its glossy surface. Jin towers over him before sitting in the adjacent seat. Yoongi takes in the sight of his friend’s aviator sunglasses and hideous brown fedora before grimacing. “Ew.”

“Ew, yourself. At least I’m in disguise,” he says, flippantly opening a large newspaper and ducking down behind it as if engrossed in the copy at its center.

Yoongi blinks at him. “You’re right. No one would want to look at such a disaster.” He takes a sip of his coffee, shifting his focus back to you.

Jin drops the paper onto the table, glaring from over the rim of his glasses. “I had to go deep undercover because women are always coming up to me telling me how handsome I am. Do you know what it’s like?” He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms with a scoff. “What am I saying, of course you don’t.”

Yoongi sports a cocked smile. “You’re right. People must be able to tell I don’t need constant validation.”

“Woooooow.” Jin holds his hand over his heart, bowing his head forward. “Who do you think I am: Jimin? Y/N?”

“Y/N is right there, aren’t you watching?” With a subtle nod of his head, Yoongi tips Jin off to your position across the room.

“Oh.” His broad shoulders instantly relax, perking up at the sight of your smiling face. “Ah, how do you think it’s going then?”

“Look at her. How do you think it’s going?” Yoongi takes another sip of his coffee and casually scrolls through his twitter feed.

“She’s smiling, that’s good, right?” Jin pulls his glasses down a bit further to get a better look.

“Oh wait, what is she doing with her cup? Why is she sliding it back and forth like that? She’s going to spill it.”

“Well…” Yoongi begins, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek before shifting his attention to his friend. “She’s already done that twice. I don’t think she noticed the second time since it’s still on her shirt.”

“Okay. Did she get a real coffee this time?”

“No... It looks like pure sugar. She was sucking whipped cream off her fingers before you got here.” He squints. “She still has some on her nose.”

Jin’s mouth twists in disgust for half a second, but then he shrugs and raises his eyebrows. “It can be hot if done right.”

“It wasn’t,” Yoongi responds plainly, stealing another glance in your direction.

Jin follows suit, pulling the newspaper up to cover his nose. He watches you excessively wave your hands as you speak, your own gaze downcast. “Is the table her date? Eye contact is important you know.”

“She must be nervous,” Yoongi guesses, casting his attention back to the screen at his fingertips.

“Her hands are all over the place. I feel like she’s going to knock him out… Oh great, now she’s slouching too.” Jin clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Such bad posture.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows and nods his head in agreement, despite the fact that he has the exact same slumped shoulders and arch in his back as he leans over his phone.

Jin watches you fumble your way through attempted conversation. You smile and nod as your date talks to you, keeping your gaze affixed elsewhere at all times. The conversation appears to go dead and you both sip your drinks. “He’s pretty good-looking actually, don’t you think?”

“Are you surprised?” There’s a hint of movement in his eyebrow, but the rest of Yoongi’s face remains unchanged.

“Ha, a little actually,” Jin admits, leaning forward across the table and sliding the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I mean no one is going to measure up to this face.” He pauses to gesture around himself before he rests his chin in his hands. He peers across the cafe, a distant silence overtaking him. “But…”

Yoongi side-eyes him without moving, waiting for the rest of Seokjin’s objection. When the word is left trailing on its own for too long he finally pushes his friend’s arm, causing his elbow to slip out from beneath the weight of his head. Fortunately for Jin, he’s able to catch himself before his chin collides with the gloss of the table, and he shifts his hidden accusatory gaze onto the man beside him.

With a simple shrug, Yoongi goes back to looking at his phone. “Continue.”

He grumbles in response. “I think she can do better.”

“No shit.” With a scoff, Yoongi lets his eyes wander across to you. Have you ever looked so miserable in your life? There was a smile on your lips, but no joy came from the motion. A stranger might not know the difference, but he had shared enough genuine laughter with you in the last year to spot the phoniness within it.

You don’t look all that interested and neither does your date. The conversation keeps flickering out, but both of you are struggling to rekindle whatever sad spark of it there is. Is sparing a stranger’s feelings worth hours of agonizing moments like these? He would tell you no until he’s blue in the face, but you’d be there trying to convince him of the opposite for just as long.

You care about even the most negligible things. You expend so much energy trying to do the right thing, even when it doesn’t matter. You negotiate and mediate every escalating situation, like a control freak. It’s exhausting. It’s frustrating. It’s maddening. The fact that you’re able to somehow survive like this is perplexing to say the least. It’s also incredibly endearing; no wonder Namjoon is absolutely head-over-heels for you. He gets it.

But this guy sitting across from you? He doesn’t.

He looks older than what Yoongi pegged you for, older than Seokjin, and definitely older than you. Maybe you really are getting this desperate? Or maybe your date lied. It’s easy enough to do when you don’t have to advertise in person. Whoever this guy is in reality, he’s probably just an empty promise an online personality sold you on. That’s why these stupid apps don’t work for people like you. But if you wanted to try, well fuck if he wasn’t going to let you fail and make fun of you for it later. He smacks his lips loudly and gulps down a good portion of his americano.

Jin lifts his fedora and rubs his temple with both hands. “We have to do something. I can’t keep watching this.”

Just as he’s about to stand, Yoongi reaches out to grasp his shirt. “Don’t make a big scene. You’ll only make things worse.” Jin slumps back in his chair with a pout as he continues, “I know your break is almost up. Let’s meet her at her apartment later. I’m closing tonight, but I can at least start to talk her through some confidence building before you get there. I’ll keep an eye on things here and let you know if there’s anything going on. But this one’s obviously a dud.”

Reluctantly, Jin takes his newspaper and stands. “Okay, but if anything changes, you let us know what we’re in for.”

Yoongi nods, swirling the straw in his iced coffee. An afterthought hits him and he perks up. “Oh, could you do something before you come over though?”

“What? Do you need me to bring something?” Seokjin asks earnestly, leaning over his shoulder. “What do you need?”

“Burn the hat,” he replies with a deadpan expression.

Seokjin stands up straight, lip curling in disgust. “This is my coworker’s hat. I’ll tell him you said that.”

“He should know the truth.”

The bell on the cafe door rings and Yoongi now sits alone, slumping further down in his chair. Honestly, he’d rather set himself on fire than keep watching this sad display. But he only has to wait it out a little bit longer.

At least that’s what he tells himself before another thirty minutes pass of this awkward situation. You’ve given your straw a flat edge, biting down on it whenever you feel nervous since the drink has long been emptied. Clearly you’re both unable to end this disaster and he’s already exhausted his twitter feed multiple times.

Yoongi: Hey are you back yet? Hobi said he needs something that might have rolled under your couch? He wouldn’t say what…. Figured I’d warn you he’s trying to get in...

Total bullshit but still plausible. You’re already looking down at your phone and rising from your seat, ending the date just like that --much to everyone’s relief. You all but practically run from the cafe and Yoongi pauses before making a move, waiting for your date to leave as well.

A family happens to be leaving the shop and he puts his hood up to blend in as he exits, trying to remain inconspicuous as he looks for your car. It doesn’t take long before he picks it out in the thinning parking lot. Even in the rain, he can make out your form at the dashboard, hunched over and sobbing.

His heart drops into a pit in his stomach as you sit there with your face pressed into the vinyl of the steering wheel. Every swipe the wipers make against your windshield is an opportunity to glean more information on the state of your distress. The faint glow of the cellphone in your hand illuminates the tears on your cheeks and it drives a stake of guilt through him. There goes that gloating opportunity.

He lets the rain beat down on his hoodie as he continues walking towards the apartment, trying to scratch away the image of your puffy, tear streaked face. But it clings to him like a stubborn leech, threatening to steal every last positive vibe for the day.

He beelines for the convenience store across the street.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You’re already tearing up your living room, looking for anything that Hobi might have left. Anything to distract yourself from that disaster of a date is a blessing. He didn’t answer the door when you knocked and neither did Yoongi. Part of you is grateful; the last thing you want right now is to face any of your friends after being so cocksure you were about to have an excellent time.

Regardless, you text them both to try to clarify what it is that Hobi thinks he lost at your apartment. You don’t have time to properly interpret his confused reaction as a loud knock sounds from across the room. Frustrated and upset at the way things have played out tonight, you jerk the door open, too far gone in self-pity to care who could be on the other side.

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you as he stands near the door frame, plastic bag hanging from his arm. He wordlessly struts across the threshold. Stunned into silence, you let the door close of its own accord. He extends the bag out to you, droplets of water rolling off its surface and pooling on the carpet below. You hesitantly accept the gift, wondering what might warrant such a kind gesture from Yoongi.

Then you remember the text that acted as a convenient excuse. The timing was good, too good to be coincidence. Hoseok’s confusion begins to make sense as you piece it together in your brain. You don’t know what to be more embarrassed about: the date itself or the fact that Yoongi had watched at least part of that train wreck.

“Thought you could use some ice cream. I don’t know what flavor you liked so I picked up a few,” he says as he flops onto your couch. “Maybe you’ll like one. If not just leave them in your freezer and I’ll eat them later.”

He declares the act is a selfish one, so he won’t feel quite so bad when he leaves for his shift. But he knows there’s something more at play; your kindness is contagious.

“Yoongi? Why would I…?” You finally separate the handles and peer inside the bag and the rest of the feigned words trail off.

A few is an understatement. There must be at least fifteen pints, if not more. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out from your chest. “Wow! What did you do, clean out the 7-Eleven?”

He does his best to hide his embarrassment, but you still catch the way his posture bristles at your joke, reminiscent of a cat before it swipes its claw at a perceived threat. “Like I said, if you don’t want them I’ll take them off your hands.”

You possessively cling the treats close to your chest. “No! They’re mine. You said so. But I’m not hungry right now… Hold, please!”

As you disappear into the kitchen to put them away, he smirks. “Hey. Geek. Squad,” he calls, the nickname sounding awkward on his tongue as he kicks his shoes across the room.

The thud of his sneakers hitting the floor makes you peek your head around the corner, crinkling your nose at him. “Don’t you start on that too.”

“What? Only Namjoonie can use that one?” he snickers, resting his feet up on the cushions. He only has to bend his knees a little to fully recline on the little loveseat.

Your face flushes with heat. Why do you let him call you that? It’s insulting, really. And yet there’s something endearing about the way he says it. “No,” you spit as you finish up. Instead of pestering him to move, you glide past his feet and find a place on the floor to sit comfortably. There’s still an uneasiness in your stomach. “He’s not allowed to either. He’s just a dick.”

“Okay,” he teases in a doubtful tone. He exhales, turning his head toward you. The darkness in his eyes causes you to shiver and avert your gaze. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in response.

“So I’m guessing I should thank you for saving me,” you say quietly, staring at the peacock pattern on the sofa. “How long were you watching?”

“Long enough.”

You purse your lips together and hold back the tears building heat behind your eyes. “So are you gonna get it over with and make fun of me? Please stop drawing it out.”

He shifts his body to fully lay on his side and lazily extends his arm out to pat you on the head a few times. Keeping his palm pressed on your forehead, he mumbles, “It’s okay. Even though it was bad, I’m sure you did your best.”

You look up and shift your jaw back and forth, trying not to expel the tears you’ve been holding. He’s trying to be nice at the very least, trying being the keyword.

“I just never want to see something so pathetic again. You need confidence. That’s why I’m here,” he explains casually, dropping his arm and letting his knuckles graze the floor. “We both know the reason you won’t look me in the eyes…” he pauses, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips when you tense up. “But why did you avoid looking at the guy in the coffee shop? You were there to see him weren’t you?”

You feel yourself shrink back, shoulders raising as you shake your head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He raises his eyebrows and keeps his gaze fixed ahead as he bounces a foot on the armrest. “Try me.”

“Do you know what it’s like to meet someone for the first time and immediately be able to see their disappointment?”

The response is quiet. “Yes.”

You furrow your brow and look up at him. Could he really understand?

“But so what? They don’t like you? Fuck ‘em. They don’t know you,” he declares, eyes locking with yours.

Instead of recoiling and searching for a new target to focus on, you stare into those dark pools twinkling in the dim light. “So, what, just don’t worry about it?”

“Can you change their preconceptions? You can’t make someone think differently than they do. All you can control is yourself, your own thoughts, and how you approach the situation.”

You ponder his words for a moment. “But…What if I could show them that I’m not this mess that I come off as? What if I can change their mind?”

“Maybe you could. But you’d expend so much energy and time into someone that wouldn’t do the same. The world is already unfair. You don’t have to bring more injustice down on yourself.”

“But… I know I’m not good enough for a lot of people. I need to prove that I can make up for my shortcomings. If I can just highlight the good things--Ow!”

Yoongi interrupts you with a flick to the forehead. “Stop. You’re good as you are. Everyone has their flaws, but it’s part of a bigger package. There shouldn’t be a need for you to justify that. You don’t need to say your smile makes up for your clumsiness, or that your anxious behaviors are made up for by your kindness. When you care about someone enough, everything becomes endearing in its own fucked up way.”

You sit there quietly, scanning his expressionless features for any hint of deceit.

“Not to mention people are attracted to different things. Even what you think are terrible traits probably turn someone on.” He laughs. “Everyone’s into something…”

You swallow, mulling over his words as you search his eyes for some excuse to doubt him. “Yeah…” A laugh falls from your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

“Hey. You just looked at my eyes when you talked to me.” He clicks his tongue and chuckles. “Looks like you’ll be fine on any date, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

The blush that creeps across your cheeks doesn’t deter your gaze, and you manage to hold eye contact with him for most of the following hour as he tries to teach you how to be a little more blunt. Of course with your personality there’s only so much he can do, especially in such a short amount of time.

You find yourself disappointed when he tells you he’s got to get ready for his shift and heads for the door. “Remember, if all else fails and you need a way out: believable bullshit.” But before he’s taken the final step out he motions at the coffee stains on your shirt. “Oh you should probably wash that by the way.”

You let out a sound that’s half a groan and half a sigh. It wouldn’t be Yoongi if he didn’t leave you feeling bittersweet at the end of your conversation. “Thanks.”

As you close the door and give your work shirt a disgusted once-over, your phone starts buzzing, cross-eyed photo of Namjoon lighting up the screen. Oh, shit I forgot to check in.

“Namjoon I’m so sorry!” you answer quickly, beginning to pace around your living room.

“Well, you’re not dead so there’s that. It’s been a few hours and you didn’t respond to my texts. You good?”

I haven’t even looked. Wow I’m a terrible fucking friend.

Opening the freezer, you grab one of the pints of ice cream. You can’t go wrong with cookie dough. You bob your head back and forth as you try to come up with a lie that will sound convincing. “Yeah...Yeah! Everything is totally fine. Better than fine actually. It was good, so, so good. I can’t even believe how good it went. Whew!”

Good. Believable bullshit. Isn’t that what Yoongi had just talked about?

“Really…? That’s--”

Your mind is racing and you cut Namjoon’s response short. “But you-you know, I-I-I don’t think he had the right… mmm--noodle.”

“What.”

ABORT. Abort. Stop talking please.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, just gonna keep my options open. You know what they say. Plenty of other noodles out there… You know, for the sucking.”

Holy fucking shit. Stop talking.

“Wow.” He’s quiet for a few seconds before he chokes back a fit of laughter. “You’re a shitty actress you know but that was… something else. Just how bad was it?”

You groan as you stick a spoonful of cookie dough chunks into your mouth. “Bad enough that Yoongi had to end the date for me. He must have been watching.”

Hopefully he understood that. You never used to talk with your mouth full, but hanging around with these particular men has changed your habits; almost every one of them chew with their mouths wide open. You’ve given up on trying to correct the habit for them or yourself at this point.

You hear a frustrated sigh on the receiver. “I told them not to get involved. Sorry.”

“No, no. I’m grateful. I have a freezer full of ice cream now.”

“Oof. You that upset about it?”

You laugh, taking another spoonful of ice cream into you mouth. “Actually I didn’t buy it, Yoongi did. No way I can eat it all though. He came over after and gave some advice to go with it. You know, he’s a lot nicer than he lets on. Maybe I should just give up and date him instead.”

The comment takes him by surprise and he forces a laugh from his throat that comes out like a snort.

Sensing the stiffness on the other end of the line, you laugh awkwardly. “That was a joke, no worries. Firewall is still in full effect. Besides, if it were anybody you know it would be Jimin and I goin hard.”

His relieved sigh is concealed by the sound of his heart breaking. That and the clearing of his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Want me to come over?”

“Nah, I don’t want to make you Uber it all the way here just because I’m a dumb bitch.”

Honestly you’d rather be by yourself because it feels like you’re about to start crying again, and god knows Namjoon has seen enough of your tears to be drowned in them by now. Why subject him to that? You’re still genuinely bummed out about the date. Via text Chul seemed really cool, but he was insanely boring and rigid in person; he was also way older looking than the photos indicated.

Yoongi did some damage control for your ego, but if even so you feel loneliness tugging at your heart strings. As soon as you get off the phone, you’re going to cry and eat ice cream all night. Is it healthy? Not at all. Is there anything good about it? Well, the ice cream was free.

“I don’t mind. Come on, we can watch some kung-fu movies and make fun of the villains,” he insists. “I understand if you want to be alone but you sound kind of sad. And I don’t want you to get drunk and mope about some fool.”

Oh right I have alcohol! Ice cream and liquor. What could be a better dinner for a sad adult with excellent decision making skills?

As though he’s reading your mind, he sighs. “And you need something more substantial for dinner than ice cream and whatever sugary garbage you had at the coffee shop.”

“Hmm. Kung-fu movies and dinner. Tempting…But I’m sure I have something in here.” You put the pint on the counter and open the refrigerator. All that remains is some chicken in a tupperware container which looks like it’s growing mold. You cringe as you toss the entire thing in the garbage.

“Bullshit. It’s payday, which means you’ve been stretching your meals all week and you haven’t been grocery shopping yet because you had a date tonight.”

No way, motherfucker.

You open your cabinets in search of some hidden morsel to prove him wrong, but instead a pile of discount ramen greets you. It can only be appealing for so many dinners in a row.

“And I know you ain’t gonna be going tonight because you’ve started tearing into that ice cream,” he continues. “But you have that hang-up about delivery fees and only tip with cash, which we both know you don’t have on you, so…”

“I hate you,” you groan, slamming the cabinet shut.

“Because I’m right?”

You roll your eyes at the accuracy of his question. “Because you’re a know-it-all.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing. I know if I came over right now with pork skewers and fried rice, you’d demolish that shit in a second. But if you don’t want to vent about your date and sit on that terrible thing you call a couch while you eat free food and watch Bruce Lee kick some ass, then alright. That’s cool too, I guess.”

Your stomach growls loudly at the thought of actual food touching your tongue. “Well, when you put it like that…”

He laughs. “I’m just presenting an alternative for you. You don’t have to take it.”

Heat gathers in your cheeks as pieces of last weekend resurface in your mind: Namjoon in your bed, pressed against you and tracing lines up your arms with soft fingertips. You shiver as you remember his touch. It felt so good to curl up with another human being in such a vulnerable state. It was probably a one-time only thing, but you’re hopeful that a repeat of the interaction is in your near future. Something. Anything to fight this feeling aching in your chest.

“Geeksquad? You there?”

You snap out of your memory fog. “Mmm. Bring me some food, Namjoonie?”

“Well now I don’t know,” he scoffs. You can practically see his smirk through the phone.

“Please, Namjoonie?” you pout, pressing your forehead against the cabinet. “I don’t want to eat ramen again this week. I’ll pay you back.”

And there it is: the begging tone that sets him on edge. He’d do anything to hear you say his name like that once more.

“Aight. Gimme like half an hour?”

You look over at the clock on the microwave and grumble. It’ll be eight by the time he gets here. “Ugh so long.”

“You’ll live. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

The receiver goes dead and you stare at the remainder of the ice cream on the counter. “Yeah I’m not waiting that long.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

By the time he arrives, you’ve been mixing your ice cream and rum for some time. You’re not sure if it’s good or bad, but it sure is getting you drunk fast. Soon you don’t even remember why you were sad in the first place. Then you open tinder and immediately remember.

The buzzer near the door rings and you stand there a moment, petrified of what someone might want to contact you for. You press the “TALK” button as you try to gather your nerves.

“H-Hello?”

You hit “LISTEN” immediately after, repressing the urge to turn off the lights and pretend you’re not home.

“Delivery,” Namjoon’s voice booms through the speaker; it sounds like he’s trying to disguise it with either a British or New York accent, but the sound falls somewhere between the two. You exhale a relieved breath and laugh as you press the button to allow him through the building entrance. You hold the door to your apartment open as you wait for him to round the corner. He’s got a big smile on his face and paper bags tucked under each arm. He’s sporting a white t-shirt, baseball cap, and sweats. He wasted no time in making his transformation from professor to lazy bum. You’re glad you’ve already changed into your own comfy shorts and baggy t-shirt, so there’s nothing to remind either of you about work.

“You took so long I forgot you were coming,” you tease as the door closes behind him.

As he sets the food down on the counter his eyebrows raise at the glass nearby, which is filled with melting chocolate ice cream and rum. “Clearly… Ah.” The smile on his face remains as he reaches behind his back. “I got you this.”

“Whoa, what are you pulling out of your pants?” You eye him suspiciously, blinking rapidly in anticipation. You give yourself a double chin and make a gross teeth-baring grin, dropping the octave of your voice as you repeat the question. “What are you pulling out of your pants Namjoon?”

“Don’t get it twisted. I’m flattered you think my dick is big enough to wrap around my legs. But...” He scrunches his face and sucks his teeth. “I only had so much room in my hands and I wanted it to be a surprise.”

He extends his arm. Pressed between his thumb and forefinger is the carefully trimmed stem of a beautiful red rose. Your face relaxes and your lips part, trying to find something to say as your eyes dart from the rose to his face. You try to hide the pleasantly surprised smile threatening to break through your confusion.

“Na…” You’re frozen in place, stunned as your buzzed mind tries to piece together a sound as simple as his name.

Butterflies swirl in your stomach and your heart feels like it’s beating a mile a minute. You’ve never gotten a single flower from someone else in your goddamn life. At your high school prom you bought your own corsage. High school and college graduation? Bought your own flowers and teddy bear. Valentine’s Day? Chocolate and flowers shipped from you to you. Be your own damn hero, right? But now your mind practically melts at the prospect of receiving something as beautiful and symbolic as a red rose that you completely forget the donor is Namjoon.

“I thought it might cheer you up since your date was lame. I’m sorry. It was a dumb idea. You don’t have to take it.” The hand holding the rose drops to his side and you can’t help but catch the crestfallen expression staining his features.

You snatch the flower from his grasp. “No, it’s perfect! I--Thank you so much!”

Your brain finally processes the grateful smile dancing around the corners of your mouth, allowing it to fully form. He visibly perks up at the response and grins so wide his eyes nearly close. You know you’re on the road to being drunk, but the gesture has tears welling up in your eyes. He’s always so thoughtful and kind, despite being a thorn in your side and the butt of your jokes. He’s become this pillar that you don’t know what you would do without.

“Thank you,” you repeat softly. You nervously spin the flower with both hands, trying to quash the tears before they start. “This is so nice. I --Ow!”

The sharp prick at your fingertip catches you by surprise. Immediately Namjoon steps forward, eyebrows knotting together in concern. “Are you okay?”

You blink a few times as you wiggle your injured finger. Upon inspection, a small amount of blood sits on the tip of the puncture. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just pricked my finger.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I trimmed them all off.” He moves closer, one arm cradling your back and the other turning your barely injured hand around in his palm.

Your eyes travel across his concentrated gaze, noting the damp, overgrown hair poking out from the sides of his hat. Goosebumps begin to colonize your forearm and your body rolls with the electric tingle his feathery hold sends up your spine. He seems oblivious as his sweaty palm searches your own for further signs of damage. The warmth of his body mingling with yours is a comfort you subconsciously lean towards.

Maybe it’s the rose. Maybe it’s the alcohol. But the sight of his profile quickly becomes increasingly fascinating. You scan every mole on his sun-kissed skin, hyperfocusing on every mark as though you’re seeing them for the first time. Your eyes dance around the contours of his features, drinking in every last detail of compassion until he turns to meet them.

The moment seems to stretch on forever, both of you doe-eyed and caught in the trap of one another’s light. The butterflies in your stomach are still wreaking havoc, flapping a heat up into your chest that makes you tense up. You feel like there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you now, but you can’t say for sure what it might be. All you know is that your chest is tight, scorching your insides with the flames of anxiety as he holds your limp hand in his.

“What?” he croaks out, heart pounding. Is now the right time? He tortures himself with the thought for a second too long.

The sound is enough to make you jump and you laugh at yourself as you shake your head. “Nothing. I’m just spacing out.” You bring your forehead to his chest and inhale through your nose in an attempt to compose yourself, inadvertently taking in his scent and soothing the ache in your gut for a moment before breathing out.

“Thank you, Joonie,” you mumble into his shirt, forehead pressed into the moisture of the fabric. You’re careful to keep your bad finger folded into the meat of your palm as you wrap your arms across his back.

He smiles and exhales softly, reciprocating with a tight hug of his own from beneath your arms. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

Why does he have to smell so damn good all the time? As you pull away, his hands linger on your shoulder blades a moment longer than expected and you stiffen as he begins sliding two slow paths down either side of your spine. When they come to rest at the small of your back, you can’t help but sigh, hoping the butterflies inside will flee with your breath. Why can’t you just pull it together like a normal human?

“What am I supposed to do with this now, hmm?” The rose in your hand rises to tap his face twice as a thinly veiled attempt to distract from the shakiness of your voice. “I... don’t think I have a vase.”

“I should have known,” he nearly groans as you wave the flower in front of his nose. “Give it here. I’m surprised all the petals haven’t dropped off with the way you’re handling it.” He drops his hold on your waist to take the rose from your clumsy fingers.

“I’m gonna go take care of this.” You gesture to your pointer, a bubble of blood sitting perfectly on its tip. “If you wanna find something for that to go in?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. We both know you’d find a way to kill it immediately if I let you do it. Don’t worry I’ll find something.”

You spin on your heels, heading for the bathroom and eager to get away from the man making your stomach feel like gelatin. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“You killed a cactus!” he argues from the kitchen.

You hum in response; it’s not that you didn’t try to take proper care of his birthday gift to you, but you may have accidentally drowned it in an effort to compensate for your forgetfulness. Your mind wanders as you rummage through the medicine cabinet for a simple band-aid, recalling the look on his face when you brought him the blackened remains of “Needles.” He had told you it would be great to name your plant, but it felt that much worse when you weren’t able to save it.

By the time you’ve applied the band-aid, the rose is sitting in your favorite drinking glass on the small dining room table. You walk over to it and inspect how nicely he’s trimmed it up.

“Oh you removed the last thorn,” you say, unable to hide your disappointment.

“Did you not want me to?” he asks confusedly as he removes the pints of noodles from the bag on the counter, not finding what he’s looking for. “I figured less risk of you poking yourself again.”

You shake your head. “No. It’s not that… Ah, sorry. It’s stupid.”

He turns his head in your direction, already sliding pork off a skewer with his teeth. “What is?” he asks as he begins to loudly chew with his mouth open.

You sit in the chair across from it and lay your arm down on the table, resting your head on the inside of your arm as you look up at it. “Well, now it’s beautiful and perfect. I liked it when it was beautiful and still had a flaw. Kind of poetic, you know? Now it just seems unfair.”

He thinks on what you’ve said and quickly nods as he draws the comparison. Seeing that your attention is engrossed elsewhere, he swallows what’s in his mouth, sets the skewer down on the counter, and wipes his hands on his pants before making his way over. “What makes you think it’s without flaws?”

Your gaze is fixed on the flush petals in full bloom. “It smells good. It looks beautiful. The color is so vibrant… Its stem is smooth and safe now... It’s got the perfect amount of leaves on both sides… There’s nothing bad about it, Joonie. It’s just... perfect.”

You reach your fingers out to touch the velvety texture of the petals as he sits in the chair beside yours. “I chose the best one I could find, but if you look hard enough, I’m sure you’ll find some flaws. Nothing’s perfect.”

He pauses for you to find them on your own, but continues when you don’t say anything. “The edges are a little frayed, some of them are a little darker underneath, a little dried.” He points to a section that your eyes glossed over before. “There’s even a hole in one of the petals over here.”

You tilt your head, resting your chin on the hard surface of the table with your brows furrowed. Hazy eyes hone in on bits that have dried out and edges that are cracked and torn. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s clear now that you’ve said something.”

“Now that you’ve seen what’s wrong with it, do you still like it?”

Even in a half-sober state you realize when you’re being psychoanalyzed. “Hmmm. I don’t know. It’s all I can think about now. I’m gonna focus on the hole. And the dry bits.” You crack a smile and bite your lip at the dumb innuendo.

He chokes back a pitying laugh and rolls his eyes. “But you thought it was perfect before I pointed out all those things. It’s amazing how perspective can change when you accentuate the negative, huh?”

You sigh loudly and groan, rolling your head around to catch the shit-eating grin on his face. “I get it. Your brain is so big.”

He shivers, shimmying his shoulders just a bit. “Mmm I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

He slams down a pint of food before you, effectively blocking your view. You scrunch your nose at him as you rise from the table to tease him back. “Like, oh em gee. No problem Professor Kim.”

“Ugh. Stop. I’m about to lose my appetite if you keep that shit up.”

You grab the pint and open it enough to inhale the sweet scent of fried rice. It smells like heaven. “Oops. Sorry, Mr. Joonie.”

“Ew. Y/N...I am going to take all this food to Hoseok’s,” he warns.

“But he’s not even home,” you whine, digging a mushroom out of the container with your fingers. “And Yoongi’s working so it’s not like you can get in.”

“I’ll eat it outside then,” he counters, raising both eyebrows at you

You pop the mushroom in your mouth and stand, making your way over to the kitchen. “Okay, fine. Have it your way... professor.”

As he bolts from his seat, you’re already across the room with the two bags of food. You spin on the ball of your foot to taunt him before you reach the couch, but he trips on his way over. You shut your eyes tightly as solid mass of his body collides with yours.

The impact sends your knees into the corner of the sofa, causing your stance to give way as he comes crashing down on top of you. The food, which you have saved by clutching to your chest, is now sandwiched between the two of you and you’re sure it’s about to explode all over you. Unable to hide from the panic in your mind, your eyes open to overlook the fiasco, but you’re still dry. He catches himself in an awkward lunge to spare the bags from being completely squashed. He hovers over you with a sheepish grin, fighting the blush at his cheeks as best he can. An elbow digs into the back of the couch as his other hand sinks into the cushion beside you.

“This is really hot,” you mumble.

“Hmm?” His eyebrows raise up towards his hairline. There’s no way he heard you correctly.

You wiggle beneath him and look down, doing your best to quietly indicate one of the paper bags is boring a hole through your shirt and searing straight into your skin. He carefully moves the bags over the side of the couch and places them safely on the floor.

“You’re so clumsy,” you chide as you push against his chest with tented fingers.

“Hah. Maybe it’s all part of my plan. Maybe I’ve got you right where I want you.”

The words shed light on your position and send a new wave of butterflies into your stomach. You fight through the flutter building in your chest, cutting through them with your snark. “What, so you can lecture me to death?”

“Or maybe I know you’re ticklish,” he suggests casually, leaning down towards your face with a devilish smirk. “And you have nowhere to go.”

“I’m not,” you lie, eyes narrowing.

He adjusts his stance, bringing a knee onto the cushion beside your hips so he can dangle his fingers above your waist. When they tap lightly against your side, you manage to choke back the giggle in your throat, but your body quivers and gives away your bluff, causing your shirt to rise just enough to expose a bit of skin.

He silently challenges you by quirking an eyebrow, maintaining eye contact as he hovers just inches above you. Something new stirs deep in your abdomen, a prickling heat that mixes with the butterflies that have apparently turned your belly into their domicile. Can you blame all of this on the booze?

When his fingers prod your side again, he stills at the unexpected contact with your flesh. You weakly jerk away with a soft whimper that discloses the faintest undertone of delight. His eyes drag over the shame hidden beneath the mask of surprise in your features. It’s a sign, albeit a small one, but still a sign that you enjoyed that more than you should have.

He speaks in a low voice, barely above a whisper, but with a hint of that familiar bass. “I think you are.”

It’s not so much the words, but the tone in which he says them that sends a wave of guilty anticipation through your spine. What was once a simple closing of your thighs has become a vice-grip tension that you would need human-sized pliers to separate. You’re not eager to admit there is a wetness in your panties that has brought a discomfort that makes you ache in all the ways you never thought possible by this man. You barely catch the subtle wag of his tongue across the edge of his teeth and it causes the muscles in your pussy to helplessly spasm with need. You want to turn your head away, feeling like he can hear the blood pumping through your ears, but you find yourself trapped beneath his gaze.

His heart is pounding and he can’t seem to stop himself from reaching out to your side again. Your chest rises and falls with apprehension of the impending touch. His fingers play across your side with hard jabs and it rips laughter from your throat.

“Stop! Stop! I’m sorry!” You wheeze between the hysterical noises pouring out of you. He shows no signs of letting up, a huge grin plastered on his face. “Namjoon!” You wiggle beneath his touch, careful to keep your legs shut as your own hands jump to his ribs, trying to give him a taste of his own medicine.

He rounds his back a moment and twitches as a goofy laugh escapes him; you know for a fact he’s just as ticklish, if not more. But not about to be defeated, he moves his hand further up your waist, snaking his arm beneath your shirt. The tap of his fingers rising up your body has you shuddering and the gentle nudges you’ve been dishing back with your fingers quickly turns into a sturdy, unmoving clamp of your palms around his side. Entwined with your laughter is a needy whine that spills out from your lips and threatens to drive him insane.

His contented sigh is drowned out by the sound of your labored breathing. He moves his hand further and further up, absolutely intoxicated by the noises he’s managed to pull from you, but he wants more. His hand glides across the lace of your bra and brushes across the contour of your breast and he stills. It’s your loungewear bra for comfortable nights of staying in and doing nothing since it offers no actual support for the weights fixed to your torso; there’s no underwire and there’s almost nothing to the material itself. He might as well have touched your bare boob.

You both blink at each other for a moment as you catch your breath. He slowly slides his hand down your side and out from beneath your shirt as he looks away apologetically. There are tears in your eyes from laughing so hard, but you’re internally weeping at the loss of his touch. You don’t remember the last time someone got so close to feeling you up and then stopped like that--Jimin excluded of course because your games with him could hardly count as anything but mutual teasing. But this?

Your chest rises and falls in large, slow movements. Before you can consult your brain, your hand makes the decision to grab his wrist and drag his palm back beneath your shirt, resting it just below your ribs. His jaw falls open and you look up at him with a bashful smile and eyes that hunger for more. Your eyelids flutter as he accepts the invitation to slide his palm further up your side once more, adrenalin destroying any shakiness in his touch.

The hand that was guiding his wrist lazily wraps itself around the firm forearm supporting his weight as he leans above you, your fingernails lightly digging into the muscle. His own breathing has become shallow and messy, like he can’t believe that he’s seeing you like this beneath him anywhere other than his dreams. His gentle fingers brush against the outer edge of lace as he searches your eyes with need, desperate for permission to go further.

God, this is fucking unbearable. Your other hand glides from his side to the back of his neck, willing him to come down to meet you. Just as he lowers himself, eager to meet your lips for the first time, his fingers dip beneath the band at your chest and barely graze the soft flesh you desperately want him to grab.

This is it. This is the moment. He can’t stop his breath from hitching as your noses caress one another.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. “Y/N?”

The sound of the door opening has you both flying towards opposite sides of the room. You’ve never seen Joon move so fast in your life. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall with his cheeks puffed out. You swing your legs off the side of the sofa and plant them on the floor, pursing your lips as you bend down to pick up the bags of food beside them.

Jin looks like a parent who just walked in on a couple of horny teenagers. His eyes go wide and his eyebrows furrow, but an excited smile plays just below the surface of his shock. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” you grumble as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and look into the bag closest to your feet

“Hyung, what’s the point of knocking if you’re just going to walk in a second later?” Namjoon asks in a huff as his eyes stare at the carpet. He’s got his arms crossed over his lap, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible while concealing the raging boner he didn’t have time to tuck beneath the band of his sweatpants.

“Lock your door next time if you’ve got something to hide,” Jin says accusingly as he plants himself beside you, looking down into the bag of food. “Ooh what are we having? Do I smell meat?”

Your lips are pressed into a thin line, the color fading from them with how much pressure you’re applying. You scold yourself for being disappointed with the fact that Namjoon did not feel you up. Wow. This alcohol must have hit harder than you thought. Maybe just water for the rest of the night.

“I came because of that disaster of a date. Yoongi and I were going to help you fix your habits. Namjoon, are you going to help too?” he asks as he bites into a chunk of pork.

You spare a guilty glance at Namjoon as Jin starts further digging into the food. He looks back at you and exhales softly, a warm smile on his lips that fills you with hope that maybe you can pretend like that didn’t just happen.

“Seokjin, I don’t need any help. I’m fine, really,” you argue, reaching into the bag for a pork skewer of your own.

“Oh, Y/N, honey. You need all the help you can get. Trust me.”

[angelkurenai]

Hurricane - Dean Winchester x Reader (Detective AU) - Part 6

Title: Hurricane

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 5,061

Warnings: None

Summary: With one of the most dangerous serial killers on the loose and in your tracks you have no choice but to rely on the help of the police to ansure your safety. It doesn’t hurt that the detective in charge is the one of the most skilled there is and probably, well, definitely the most charming one you have ever seen. Or that his flirting with you takes your mind off the danger waiting for you right around the corner. & Based on: Imagine detective Dean Winchester flirting with you while working on your case.

Read Part 1 here! l Read Part 2 here! l Read Part 3 here! l Read Part 4 here! l Read Part 5 here!

“Dean?” you whispered, a frown settling on your face soon afterwards.

“What the-” he blinked several times, looking between you and his brother before realization flashed through his eyes and his fists clenched along with his jaw. His eyes hardened as he looked at you but you kept frowning as you couldn't now realize what he thought of the situation.

“Sam” you said softly, nudging your friend and trying to push him slightly away. But it really did feel like having to wake up a moose like him was going to take so much more than a small push.

“Sammy” you said softly again. You managed to wiggle a little bit out of his grasp and rest your back against the headboard as you shook his shoulder. Sam didn't seem to have any of it, only cuddled more with you and letting a small sigh you sneaked a glance at the clearly pissed off man on the doorway. You couldn't exactly understand his reasons. Finding you in bed with his little brother was one thing, sure, but you had known Sam for very long and been great friends with him. On top of that, Dean was not your boyfriend or anything so what right did he even have to be this mad at you?

“Damn it, Sam. Wake up.” you hissed although you couldn't blame him. You knew he had stayed up till very late at night, watching over you to make sure no nightmares would disturb you. You thought you had seen a dream when once or twice had opened your eyes to see him awake but you realize you didn't. You doubted he'd had more than three hours of sleep so far.

He let a small groan and moan of protest. You almost felt bad about him, you still couldn't help but blame yourself for all of this, and instead of shaking him you tucked a few strands out of his face. His eyes fluttered under your touch but he didn't proceed to open them until-

“Sam!” Dean's voice roared and it made both you and Dean jumped. You had never heard or seen him this angry – and possibly jealous? - before, but here he was. However, it got Sam to open his eyes, his hand that were around your waist went to his eyes as he rubbed the sleep out of them.

“Wh-what?” he asked groggily, slowly getting up, as with a sigh you started moving away from him.

“D?” Sam asked sleepily, smoothing his hair as he got up “What are you doin' here?” he asked with a small yawn as you ran your hands down your face. You lifted the blanket off of you and turned so that your feet could touch the floor. You didn't get up, though, only stood there looking at the ground.

You didn't hear say a thing and as you looked at him for a moment you could see him glaring at his brother harder than you had ever seen him before. You kept on a stoic expression, showing just how numb you felt after everything that had happened. You almost made it look as if him walking in on you and Sam – even if nothing ever happened or would happen – didn't mean a thing to you, it looked as if it didn't matter and as if it hadn't even happened. As if he wasn't there for you. He snarled at his brother just as Sam spoke “Dean?”

“You and me.” he growled at Sam and you narrowed your eyes at him as you frowned deeply “Living room.” he looked at you, hell almost glared but not as hard as it was when he looked at his brother “Now” he sounded almost like an angry animal, voice rough and dangerously low, and your eyes did widen when he turned around and slammed the door behind him, making you jump.

“What...” you breathed out, blinking before you looked back at Sam “What was that?” you whispered as he shook his head with a heavy sigh.

He ran his hands through his hair before getting up “I forgot to call him and tell him what happened. Shit, he's gonna pissed.”

“He already is.” you sighed, your fingers running subconsciously over the bandages on your arm.

“Yeah, well wait till he finds out you got hurt and I didn't inform him.” he shook his head “We're gonna have to look into that soon, alright?” he looked at you as you bit your lip.

“Yeah, Sammy don't worry about it.” you gave him a sweet but almost forced smile.

“Just take some rest, small. I- I better get going, the more I make him wait the more angry he'll get.” he smoothed his hair with both his hands.

“And why is he here?” you asked almost having ignored what he said, your voice more serious and the look on your face harder as you spoke about the older Winchester.

Sam raised an eyebrow at your reaction but decided to shake his head “Don't know, honestly. I'll ask him, you can-”

“I'll stay here.” you cut him off before he could say anything else. He gave you a look but decided to shake his head.

“Alright, if you want to.” he gave you a tight smile, not wanting to question why you acted so cold at the mere mention of his brother's name.

“Are you hungry? Because Dean won't let me hear the end of it, so I am not going to be sleeping anytime soon.” he told as he walked towards you, holding the back of your neck before leaning down to kiss your forehead as you nodded at his words “I'll make some breakfast, sounds good?”

“Sounds amazing.” you whispered, giving him a weak nod.

“Alright, I'll...” he trailed off, letting go of you and exiting the room, closing it softly behind him. You didn't even care to listen to what they could be saying, although at some point you could hear Dean's voice raise dangerously so.

~In the meanwhile~

“No, I am not going to calm the fuck down.” Dean growled, eyes fiercely glaring at his little brother “And you better give me a damn good excuse as to why I saw that!” his voice rose again as he pointed upstairs.

“Gosh, Dean.” Sam sighed, rolling his eyes “How many times do I have to tell you nothing happened between us?! (Y/n) and I are friends!” he emphasized.

“You sure? 'Cause it seemed far from that to me. You were getting really cozy right there, huh Sammy?” Dean scoffed, full sarcasm and venom lacing his voice.

“For the love of, Dean! Enough alright?” Sam shook his head in frustration “You ask me to tell you why she was there but you keep acting like a stubborn five-year-old, interrupting me all the time because he can't fucking contain his jealousy.”

Dean growled, but instead of denying he was being irrationally because of his jealousy he glared at his brother harder than before “I am acting like a freaking five-year-old because just ten minutes ago I walked in on my brother in his bed, sleeping with the girl that-” he cut himself off, running a frustrated hand down his face.

“Dean, please.” Sam almost felt bad at the moment, even if knew none of Dean's fears were true he couldn't help but want his brother to realize how much he really meant to you “That's not what it looked like.” he added with a sigh and Dean let out a humorless laugh that made him cringe.

“Not what it looks like? Really? You're going to tell me that?!” his voice went from sarcastic to straightforward angry “She's wearing your fucking clothes! She's wearing your flannel, Sam!” he roared “Sleeping in your bed, with you all over her and you're gonna tell me it's not what it looks like?!”

“She came to me, Dean what was I supposed to do?!” Sam shrugged, but tried to keep his voice low. The moment the words left his lips though he regretted everything because Dean's eyes widened and before the younger Winchester could say anything more he had grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him on the wall, glaring hard up at him in a way it made Sam's skin crawl. Mostly because he remembered this look on him a long time before, before all of this Amara-drama hit the fan.

“You knew how I feel about her.” his voice was low and dangerous, trying to hide mostly how hurt he was but Sam could see it in his brother's eyes “You knew. You knew how I-” he stopped himself, pursing his lips as he looked at his brothers with all kinds of emotions flashing through his eyes.

“No, Dean. No!” Sam said a little breathlessly “She- I didn't mean it like that, gosh no. (Y/n) just- just needed my help. Please, just try to hear me out.” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat but failed as he saw Dean look harshly at him. Dean let go fo Sam a little too rough but the younger man didn't question it, if anything it made him smile just slightly as Dean continued pacing around angrily.

“Didn't know you took this so seriously.” the words left Sam's lips before he could stop them. But how could he? He had never seen his brother act this way for another woman and he would probably never say it out loud, not yet anyway, but Sam knew it was deep.

Dean's head snapped in Sam's direction as he gave his brother a cold glare and Sam quickly raised his hands “Sorry” he said softly and Dean let out an angry huff.

“Speak” he said in a rough voice, fists on the kitchen table as he prefered to stare down at his tie than his brother.

“She- she came here because she needed my help. She couldn't go back home and that's why she slept here. But that's all.” Sam said as fast as he could, trying to explain everything.

“Still don't understand why the hell would she sleep in your bed with you while wearing your clothes?” Dean said through gritted teeth.

“It's because she had no other choice, Dean. I swear, nothing happened. Nor will ever happen. Come on, man. I'm your brother, I know that she means a lot to you and that you-” he sighed when Dean gave him a warning look to now say the word “Care about her. A lot. An awful lot. Seriously Dean, I would never do such a thing knowing your feelings for her. It's just- It was- what happened- she couldn't-” Sam stuttered, not knowing what was the best way to bring it to his brother.

“If she needed help so bad she could have called me! Me, Sam! I asked her to.” Dean's voice rose dangerously so “I told her I would be there for her any moment she asked me to!”

“But this time she couldn't, Dean. She wanted to, I know she did.” Sam let a soft sigh, seeing that his brother had started believing him but still was hurt you chose to go to Sam before him – not to mention that he still had no idea when Sam knew everything – and Sam could definitely understand him “She called out your name in her sleep.” he said much more softly.

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he slowly raised his head to look at his brother, but didn't say a word. He didn't need to.

“I don't know why she didn't call you, that she can only tell you but I know that she wanted to. She wanted you to bethere, maybe more than me.” he breathed out a soft laugh “She called out your name in her sleep. It was adorable to behonest.” he laughed lightly “I'll admit to be jealous of that but only in a good way. I am mostly really happy about the two of you, to be honest.”

“Sam” Dean's face held no smile, although he'd really want to “What happened?” he asked in a low voice and Sam sighedin defeat.

“I don't know if I- I can tell or she should do so.” Sam mumbled but Dean only clenched his jaw.

“(Y/n)'s under my protection, Sam. I swore I wasn't going to anything happen to here as long as I am alive, tell me.” his eyes held no longer the previous anger and jealousy but mostly worry and fear.

Sam run his fingers through his hair, pursing his lips for a moment “It was Amara, Dean.” he breathed out, his own voice rough “She went after (Y/n) after her shift ended. (Y/n) was gonna go home and she- she was waiting for her there.”

Dean's shoulders fell but his back straightened. His lips parted as his heart practically leapt to his throat “Son of a bitch.” he said in a grave voice.

“Ye-yeah” Sam whispered “And (Y/n)- she tried to fight her off but, well, she got hurt real bad. Amara shot her in the arm. She was bleeding very much and she came here because she couldn't return home nor could go to a hospital, so I stitched her up. She was on the point of breaking down, Dean. It was... terrible.” he knew that he should chose his words more carefully, because he knew how his brother would react, but he had to be honest at the same time.

Sam watched his brother carefully, waiting for a reaction. He saw his expression turn from worried, to slightly scared to that of pure rage as he knocked off a few things from the table, managing to break them. But Sam continued anyway “She was in pain, so much pain. Both emotional and physical. I gave her pain killers, I saw her drink some whiskey too but she just looked so exhausted, so worn out it scared me to see her like that. And on top of that she- She couldn't stop crying, Dean. In her sleep everything just got worse and I don't know if she remembers any of the nightmares but- but she was shaking from the sobs, uncontrollably so.”

“Damn it, Sam. Damn it.” Dean gritted his teeth, running a hand down his face.

“I'm- I'm sorry I didn't call you at first, Dean.” Sam sighed, looking down for a second “I just- I forgot all about it when I saw her all- trembling, barely hanging onto Liz for support in a way it showed how she fought to keep herself from passing out. She could barely utter a word, she was in pai and so bloody- her clothes were stained from-”

“Enough.” Dean growled, eyes shut tightly as he held onto a chair for support; his cnuckles having turned white “Enough, Sam.” his voice cracked in the end and Sam felt even worse for not letting him know a thing, even if he had simply forgotten.

“I really- I know how it for you to hear this, Dean. I really do.” he sighed “But you have to know that (Y/n) fought back. She really did put up a fight. When Liz found her she had managed to knock her gun out and actually catch and point it at her before she could do anything else. She didn't just accept her fate and for that... you really are the one to thank for.”

“Yeah, as if that's fucking supposed to make things easier.” Dean growled, shaking his head “Amara went after her, Sam! And this time she got real close to finally getting her and what the hell was I doing? I wasn't there to protect her! I wasn't even fucking there for her to come to. I was stuck in a freaking office working on some stupid different case!”

“Dean” Sam sighed “You could have still not been able to do something about it. Even if (Y/n) got the chance to call you, you'd have to drive all the way to the restaurant and not get there in time at that. It's not your fault.”

“The hell it is, Sam!” Dean roared “I should be there to pick her up from work but I let myself get distracted and she had to leave all on her own!”

“Dean, she's a grown woman. I don't think she expected you to pick her up in the first place, much let you do so if you insisted.” he shook his head “Just listen, don't beat yourself up for this. You have to stay focused on this, Amara got dangerously close this time and we both have to be very careful from now. I know that you think (Y/n) got hurt because of you but this... it's the last thing we can afford to think of right now.”

“It fucking is.” Dean growled, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Sam knew that no matter what he said, his brother was not going to forgive himself that you got hurt. If anything, he probably felt like he was the one to pull the trigger at you and he knew that that very thought was going to hunt him in his dreams. Just the fact that he could have been there to prevent all of it, to prevent you getting hurt and to prevent all the emotional pain, and in the end wasn't hurt him more than it would have if it was any other case. To Dean, and of course to Sam, helping you with all of this was not them doing their job, it was them protecting someone they cared for. But Sam had long ago realized that for Dean this had become so much more personal than it should, considering that it was Amara they were dealing with.

If anything worse happened to you - Sam couldn't even think of the word death at this point - he knew Dean would lose it all over again, and so much worse than any time before.

“Dean” Sam started, watching his brother mutter things to himself with his eyes fixed on the floor almost glaring at nothing in particular. He was furious, maybe more than before, but now it was all with himself. He was beating himself up for it and it was so much obvious.

Sam wanted to speak again, to stop him from doing this to himself but Dean's pacing was cut short when he let a low “Damn it.” and turned around, storming upstairs.

The younger Winchester didn't try to stop him, he knew the two of you needed this time together and not just from Dean's side but also yours. He was worried, Sam could clearly understand that, and he wanted to make sure you were alright himself. So Sam let him be, hoping that maybe you'd tell the older Winchester more about your feelings and finally let it all out. With a last shake of his head the taller man decided to focus on making something for you to eat.

~*~

Dean stood outside the door hesitating to knock. You didn't understand why exactly, although you weren't really ready to face him just yet. You'd heard him come upstairs, of course, considering how heavy his pacing seemed though you didn't know what to tell him per say. You shook your head and with a sigh made your way to the door, opening it right in his face.

He was stunned for a moment, his eyes widening before roaming all over your body. You decided not let any kid of emotion show on your face as you spoke “Yes?” it sounded a little more harsh and cold than you planned and you winced on the inside.

Dean's eyebrows shot up for a moment and he cleared his throat, feeling awkward as if he had been caught on act. You couldn't see it but he still felt bothered by seeing you in his brother's place like this, not to mention seeking refuge in his arms but not Dean's. He wasn't selfish, or at least he tried not to be because he knew how good friends you and Sam were, but it bothered him when he had asked you to call for him in case a single thing happened. He wanted to be your shelter during such times but... last night he wasn't.The mere thought made him feel as if he had been stabbed to the chest.

“I-” he started, shaking his head to try and gather his thoughts because there were more important things to think of “How are you?” he ended up whispering in a rough voice.

You let a small sigh, looking down at your bare feet “Alright, I guess.” you mumbled.

You almost jumped when you felt his fingers brush past your arm and your wide eyes locked with his instantly “I just-” he started “I need to take a look.”

“It's fine, you don't have to.” you wanted to retreat from him, take a step back hopefully have the courage to close the door right in his face but you couldn't. You were too frozen as when you looked back at him Amara's words would echo in your mind.

“Come on, (Y/n). Just a look.” he said with a frown, getting closer.

“It's alright, Dean.” the way you said his name wasn't the heartwarming way you usually would “Sam took care of it, don't worry.”

Dean clenched his jaw but tried to fight the feeling off “(Y/n).” he said your name more firmly, catching your attention “Please” you had never asked him say this word and in such a way and despite everything you gave in and let him take hold of your hand. Goosebumps formed all over your skin as his fingers ran over your skin but you tried to bottle it all up.

He checked on your arm, slightly pulling the bandages away to look at your wound and you tried so hard not to get carried away by his proximity. He let a small sigh once he had examined it properly before starting to check you out for any other wounds. You cleared your throat after a few touches and pulled away from him as he let his hands drop. He frowned at you, almost looking hurt for a moment, before clenching his jaw.

“(Y/n)” his voice was rough “What happened with Amara?”

The mere mention of her name from him made your body stiffen “Why don't you ask her?” you probably sounded like a jealous girlfriend but you didn't care.

“...Come again?” he blinked and you pursed your lips, shrugging casually.

“You heard me.” you licked your lips, staring dead into his eyes “Last I hear, you two are best buddies so I'm sure if you ask her, all it will take is a charming smile, and she'll tell you everything. I bet she wouldn't say no to your pretty eyes, after all. I mean she did tell me plenty of things and it wasn't that hard.”

“What are you talking about?”his voice was significantly deeper and you saw him clench his fists.

“Oh and by all means, I'm sorry if I've offended your girlfriend. Kinda hard to be nice to her when she's tried killing me on so many occasions.” you gave him a tight sarcastic smile but he didn't seem to really appreciate it, and he shouldn't.

“What are you talking about?” he almost growled this time and your smile fluttered altogether.

“Don't you know detective?” you crossed your arms over your chest “I'll tell you then. See this time, I must have made her a little bit jealous cause she decided to let out on a couple more details than last time that helped me see clear. Details about you, detective Winchester.”

“(Y/n), what did she-”

“How much of a great kisser you are for example!”you said bitterly, cutting him off.

“What?” he breathed out in shock but also a hint of realization laced his features.

“You're not denying it, yet, I guess that's good hm? Being honest with me for at least once.” you nodded your head with a bitter smile “It was about time, wasn't it detective? I must admit you were pretty good at it, lying directly to my face about how much you wanted to get this criminal, to save me and protect me, to help me when in reality you were always helping only one person. Her. I mean-” you laughed bitterly “I almost believed you, I did believe you, and I put all of my faith in you. I put everything I had in you but I guess... your eyes were a little too pretty that I got carried away I guess.”

“(Y/n), I-” he took a step forward, extending a hand towards you, but when you took one back he froze in his place, a heartbroken look forming on his face. He clenched his jaw, nodding his head as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Alright.” he looked down “I don't know what she told you but it's all-”

“What? A lie? Are you going to insist on that now, Dean? And I should believe you because she's the bad guy and you're the detective, isn't that what you are going to ask of me now? Because she's a stranger and you are not?” you scoffed, shaking your head “You were a stranger to me at first too, Dean. But I put all of my faith in you because I needed someone to help me. Guess I needed to realize the hard way that the only person that can help me is myself.”

“Listen to me here, I don't know what the hell she told you, but I'd be fucking damned if I ever allowed myself to let anything happen to you.” he growled, green eyes fierce like a fire, as he pointed a finger at you “Don't you ever think that there is anything, anything in this damn world that I'd put before saving you! Hell, even my own life, much less that bitch.”

“And you still... are not denying it.” you breathed out bitterly, nodding your head “Do you know why I trusted you Dean? Do you know why I let myself believe all of this? Because I needed to! Because I- I felt so alone that having someone closemade even dying worth it!”

“(Y/n)” he shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I came to you because I trusted you. I said this is Sam's brother, the brother he looks up to so much, the brother he admires more than anyone and the brother he trusts with his life. There is nobody else I can trust my life with other than Dean Winchester. There is nobody else that can help me with this case better than him. I knew I should trust you. And I did- I almost did.”

“Don't say that.” he growled but he wasn't angry with you, more like hurt by your words “I may have... kept the wholetruth from you but I never, not one single time did I lie to you about-” he stopped himself, his throat feeling tight as if he couldn't speak or breathe.

“About what?” you challenged him “You say you were honest about one thing but can't tell me what that is? How do you expect m to have even a little faith in you? How do you expect me to not believe her even in the least bit when you hesitate to say this? How do you expect me to-”

“My feelings for you!” he couldn't keep himself from raising his voice, surprising the both of you and not just from his outburst but more of what he said for you “I never lied to you about how I felt for you.” he said firmly, taking a deepbreath as his chest puffed out “I know I kept some parts hidden for your own good but I was always honest about my feelings and my intentions. I am doing everything I can to keep you safe from her and there is no way I would ever want to help her do any more harm to you!”

If you could be honest with yourself you couldn't think straight from how fast your heart was beating. It wasn't really a confession, but your own feelings for the man made you weak, and hearing him say this just made you want to give in back again. But the doubt in your heart had set deep and as much as you wanted to fight you, you simply couldn't.

“I know that but-”

“But you still chose to believe her.” he growled “The one that actually tried to kill you. Why? Just why?!”

“Because I'm too emotionally hurt, maybe a little jealous, but mostly feel so unworthy of you.”

“I haven't yet, but until I find out the whole truth, and of course I can't ask you, I think I'd much rather... take some time on my own.” you sighed and he frowned deeply.

“What do you mean?”

“I-” you locked your eyes with his “I appreciate what you did, or at least what I believe you did, for my protection detective but I won't be needing your help from now on. Whether you are innocent or not, which you confessed to not be, I... can't trust you anymore.” the words hurt you just as much as him, and it was obvious on his face “I can't trust you for my protection or to-” you blinked the tears from your eyes “To even be close to me, again.”

“Wh-what?”

“I know you might say this is her way to get what she wants, to get me alone, make me weak but- it is the only way I know how to be able to fight her. And apparently I need to fight her alone, after all-” you shrugged numbly “It seems that I've been alone all along.”

“(Y/n), please don't-”

“I would please ask you to... never contact me again, Mr Winchester.” you breathed out, despite everything “I的t was, I guess, nice meeting you. And don't worry, I won't come looking for you.”

“No, (Y/n)-”

“Goodbye.” and you closed the door before he had the chance to say another word.

~~~

A/N: And chapter 6 is here, allthough a bit late. I’ve decided to only update the story these days that I have studying to do. As always, would love to read your feedback and if you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

@jaylarkson @cookiechipdough @alltimekp @a-dorky-book-keeper @givemebooksorgivemedeath @skeletoresinthebasement @sammy201d @akshi8278 @amandamdiehl @hobby27 @deans-baby-momma @musiclover1263 @feelmyroarrrr @sofreddie @skymoonandstardust @babygabrielle-blog @woodworthti666 @gunpowder-and-smoke-inofficial @erule @lizwinchester16 @itslunabitches @itsquies @justkending @fiftyshadesofrebel @love-my-not-natural-babies @outsider-underwater @deanmonandnegansbitch @kaylinfayezink @x-waywardaf-x @keshaia @moonlight-on-her-skin @happy-little-marvel

[daddycardan]

Hi, could you please write some jealous cardan hc. Like somebody was hitting on Jude and he got very mad ;)

omg i’m sorry this took me fucking ages to respond to and it turned out to be incredibly long i got a lil carried away hehe, but here you go my dear cardan being the jealous slut that he naturally is

they’ve been—

well, not together

but they’ve been regularly hooking up during the past few months

sometimes it was messy and rushed, full of harsh words, urging themselves to finish

and other times it was slow and lazy, with long kisses, lingering touches, and soft, drunken whispers

they’ve never actually admitted, but they were kind of together

at least, Cardan liked to think it this way

he liked to think that Jude was his

that she belonged to him

and he hated that Jude so obviously disagreed

because

Jude picked up the habit of making scandalous appearances

at revels, she would wear short dresses that show the whole length of her legs

she would flash side boobs

she would paint her lips blood red, just to attract attention

she would drink and dance and laugh with the wildest group

she would even flirt with them

that shit made Cardan  r a g e

of course, if you asked Jude she would say she was just having a conversation

but Cardan knew better

and the worst part is that he can’t even tell her to stop

because then he would also have to admit that they are together

and that is a no no

so this time Cardan was lounging on his throne in his usual manner, resting his chin in his palm, eyelids slowly lowering as he was about to fall asleep

he was drunk, really drunk

and Jude hasn’t made her appearance yet

this made Cardan wonder what was she doing

is she staying away because she wants to annoy him?

or is she occupied with something or… someone?

or maybe she is just late for some other reason that he was too drunk to figure out?

he leaned back and closed his eyes, imagining a naked Jude sitting on his lap

he had to swallow back a sigh

he was just about to drift off when the constant murmur of the revellers somewhat changed

he opened his eyes again and he immediately noticed Jude, as she was making her way to the tables through the crowd, not even bothering to spare a look at her king

what was she—

Cardan stared at her, wide-eyed, not even believing what he saw

she was wearing nothing but a fine silky fabric wrapped around her body

the whole thing was so thin that her nipples were visible underneath the transparent layers

Cardan instantly felt the effect, mostly on his racing heart and hardening cock

“What the fuck,” he muttered to himself

Jude caught his eyes and her lips curled into a small, wicked smile

she is just playing, Cardan told himself

she just wants to provoke reaction

but when she sat down and started talking to a handsome, blue-skinned faerie boy, Cardan couldn’t think clearly anymore

he tried

he tried really hard not to give her any attention

but he couldn’t stop gawking at them

he noticed that the boy was basically talking to her boobs, not even looking at Jude’s face

he swallowed his anger and jealousy and turned back to his goblet of wine, slowly sipping on it

after ten minutes of sulking and an internal self-pitying monologue, he decided that this just cannot continue anymore

Jude isn’t the only one who can play games

oh no, he will show her

he hopped down from the dais and surrounded by a cloud of courtiers, he joined the twirling dance of the revellers

he hasn’t been with anyone but Jude in the past few months, but now

now, he was intentionally trying to get close to as many people as possible

just to get on Jude’s nerves a little

he was already drunk off his ass, so it didn’t really matter

after fondling at least a dozen boys and girls and making out with just as many, he withdrew from the dancing crowd and sat back on his throne with a satisfied look on his face

his lips were swollen from kissing and his fancy robes of state slightly disarranged

he tried to look for Jude, to see her reaction, to see how jealous he made her

but—

she was gone

and so was the blue boy

Cardan’s heart dropped, heavy ice-cold dread filling his veins

oh, no no no no, not that

he waved his guards away and frantically left the revel through a hidden side door

he rushed towards Jude’s chambers, as fast and quiet as he could

high-pitched laughter rang from somewhere just a few corners away and the realization that it belongs to Jude scared him so much that he almost tripped over in his own robe

he quickly slid behind a marble statue when Jude and the blue boy turned onto the hallway

“You are the most beautiful human being I’ve ever laid my eyes upon,” whispered the boy with a low, dreamy voice

Cardan had to stop himself from scoffing

ridiculous

but when he heard Jude’s giggle

Jude’s giggle

that sound kicked hard in the stomach

Jude never ever giggles

Cardan peered out from behind the statue and could see that the boy is leaning in, presumably with the intention of kissing her

“May I—”

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” he roared and revealing himself, he dashed towards them and shoved the boy away from her

“Cardan, what are you—Have you been following us?” Jude snapped, visibly stunned with surprise. But then surprise vanished and with a dangerous spark in her eyes, she bowed her head with false humility. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, how can I be for your service?”

“Oh, for my service?” Cardan’s voice was full of sour, acidic sarcasm. He could barely keep his temper in check. “Let me think… what about you send this little whore away?”

there was a long silence

the boy blinked at him a few times and when he comprehended, his face twisted into an ugly grimace

“Please forgive us, he didn’t mean—” Jude started pleading to him, but the boy turned on his heels and left, clearly offended

Cardan sighed in relief, but Jude looked furious

for no logical reason, really

like, this little bitch just finally left, she should be glad

“What were you even—AAARGH CARDAN, I could literally strangle you right now!” Jude groaned, clawing her fingers in frustration, staring at Cardan’s throat as though she was seriously considering the idea. “You stupid, stupid creature! Do you have any idea who were you talking to?”

Cardan shrugged

“Some disgusting little slut who was trying to seduce you but fortunately I stopped him before he could do any more harm? Yes, I saved you, your welcome, Jude.”

Jude buried her face in her hands, trying not to lose the remainings of her sanity

“That man was the Ambassador of the Undersea, Orlagh’s ward, from the Court of Pearls. He is the son of one of the most powerful lords of the Undersea.” She exhaled sharply. “You ought to know this, Cardan, for gods’ sake. I was trying to seduce him, to finally get Orlgah’s strategy out of him. Everything was going just perfectly. But thanks to your helpful assistance, now he is never going to talk to us ever again. He might even convince Orlagh to break faith with us and that could lead to open war. Do you understand this?”

Cardan pouted his lips, gaze drifting off, seemingly considering what Jude was saying, but without the slightest sense of guilt whatsoever

“I have a question,” he said finally, suddenly serious

“Yes?” Jude sighed

“Why do you show off your breasts though?”

Jude made a sharp half-laugh half-scoff

“Why do you act like an ignorant jerk though?”

“This is no joke, Jude, it’s really no good when you dress like this.” Cardan sounded like a concerned child, but Jude just sneered at him

“Good to know, next time I’m gonna show up naked.”

Cardan could sense that Jude was just joking, but he was past the point of caring or understanding

“People can’t see you like this,” he insisted, his gaze constantly shifting downwards, without his realizing

“Oh, really? Why?” Jude lifted her chin

“Because… um, because they might find it disturbing,” he blurted. “The Folk doesn’t much like humans. And… their bodies.”

Jude gazed at Cardan with a strange little smile on her face

“Oh, why, for me it looks like some particular Folk is very quite fond of my body.”

“Who could that be?” Cardan wondered

“I don’t know,” Jude stepped closer, so close that he could smell her sweet scent, that he could clearly see the adorable freckles sprayed on the bridge of her nose. “We should find out.”

the look on her face

her dangerous eyes

that little challenging smirk on her lips

that shit is what turns him on

she slowly reached for the edge of the silky, transparent fabric she was wearing, looking him deeply in the eyes

she loosened it enough to fall off, letting the fabric gather on the floor around her ankles

she was standing stark naked in front of him in the middle of the deserted, cold hallway

Cardan felt a jolt of guilty, hot lust spreading through his body as blood rushed into his cock

Jude tilted her head as if she were contemplating something

her palm pressed against his bulge, feeling his hardness

she looked up at his face, a dirty smirk pulling her lips

“You still can’t resist me, do you, little jealous bastard?”

no, he couldn’t

and he couldn’t resist grinning either when they headed to the bedroom

[woodlandpoetic]

One-Shot RQ. {Savior}

@ininteligibleart asked:

Idk if you still doing request but here comes one, ¿what about a Kidnaped Reader who's beign saved by Leon, Ada, Claire and Chris, bc they are friends of reader? Srry for my english im from latam, greetings from Chile ¡I love your work! Keep going            

Pairing: None

Fandom: Resident Evil

Based around: RE4

Theme: Action

Warnings: Cussing

Writer’s Note: I’m so SO sorry this is beyond overdue!! Life’s gotten in the way of my writings and it’s frustrating, but sitting as a draft for a bit I FINALLY got it done!! This was actually super fun to write and I loved every part of it! Thank you for requesting from me love! ♡

Your eyes slowly flutter open, feeling your head dangle from your neck like a grapevine you feel panic quickly settle into you. The room is barely lit from where you sat, till about a few inches in front of you— gloomy red lights hung over your head. ‘Don’t panic,’ you attempt to pull your arms back forward to only feel zip ties tightly cuffed around your wrists and chair, causing you to shift harshly back and forth in hopes they’d snap. Nothing. You don’t remember how you ended up here, where you were, all you could get a glimpse of was being sent on this mission and arriving on sight. That’s it. Everything beyond that was a blur, causing a massive headache to wash over you, your head hanging once again wincing in pain. Your arms tugged relentlessly at the tightened zip ties, feeling the chair shift creek beneath you. Shit wooden chair, this should be easier than it’s portrayed to you— although deep down you were hoping your group would find you. The eerie lighting covering the room didn’t help in settling your nerves to concentrate, lifting your head again to peer around.

“Ah, Miss {Y/N}.” A voice spoke deeply through a muffled speakers above you, echoing through the room you had been enclosed in. Your head snapped to the right of you in response to the muffled voice, “Bastard.” You growled. A deep, static laugh skidded out from the speakers in response to your bottled anger.

“For such a strong, stealthy woman, you really let yourself slip this time.” The unknown male voice scoffed, “Pathetic.” Your head lazily flicked itself back with a smirk on your face, staring at the ceiling. The red lights barely skimmed the ceiling, faintly outlining the speakers lined vertical across it.

“A woman doesn’t let herself slip.” You scoffed, “Its a little disappointing it took you *this long* to get me at this mercy state.” Sarcasm escapes your tone, the voice chuckling in response. You kept tugging your arms outwards, though, the creaking and splitting of wood began to loosen the two arms of the chair behind you.

“Well, with you, it’s a different story.”

“Ohhh, still mad about that night, huh?” You laughed in response, “Don’t you worry, I know you’re angry with me. So sorry I had to dip like that.”

An irritable grunt came from the speakers, if you learned anything from Ada— it was the stealth and persuasive/sarcastic tone. Heading the wood crack, you chuckled under your breaths.

“I’m a little disappointed in you, as well.” His voice bellowed over the speakers, “{Y/N.}” Dragging our your name, you responded in a disgusted tone.

“And why’s that, Rac?” You chided, although getting sick of the small talk he was prolonging on. You wondered if your team was coming after you, although you should be more aware they need you on this team.

“You joined Redfield’s rambunctious team, although I offered you this more... luxurious high-end job.” He denounced, you shake your head with a prolonged, sarcastic sigh.

“I don’t join teams, love, I play solo on my missions. They needed me, I took the job for now. You sound disgustingly jealous, Rac, that’s not like you.” Reassuring his jealousy in dragged out sarcasm, you hear a sigh, then beeping across the room. Your smirk instantly fades as your head snaps forward, seeing a bright flashing red light about six feet in front of you. Groans of the undead stumble out from the sliding doors,

“You fucking..REALLY.”

“You should learn to behave yourself, {Y/N.} Or, at most, who you come into contact with.” You hear the speakers click off, staring at the undead quickly making their way to you as they notice you sitting away from them.

“At least make it interesting and get a metal chair next time, Rac.” Lifting up from the chair, breaking the two pegs off from the seat of the chair. Pressing the back part of the chair against your back, you harshly ripped your arms forward— snapping the back into two pieces.

“Okay, not what I wanted. But it works.”

The herd quickly made their way to you, god these things moved like hell-hounds. Swinging your left arm in front of them, you threw your other arm up as your melee defense against them. Puncturing the zombie’s skull with the sharpened end by your elbow, pushing yourself through the semi-big herd. You kept going, these stakes of the chair worked good as a defense from the herd biting you. Practically shoving your elbow into the nasty fucks, you found the door, the opening you gave yourself provided a brief minute to get through the door and quickly smash the button on the other side to close it. You hit the other side of the hall, catching your breath and gathering your now—new surroundings. Lifting up your right leg, you pulled out a pocket knife from your boot— flicking it open as you sliced the zip ties off of your wrists.

“Fucking zip ties.” Rubbing your wrists as you pushed yourself up away from the wall, you were in a testing—lab of some sort. White walls with black lined bottoms dividing the wall straight across, heavy duty metal doors lined down the left side from where yours stood. A glass rounded window peeked at the corner of your door, wrapping around, causing you to round the corner to see where you just were.

“Still has to find a way to see me.” You shook your head, suddenly the halls went dark, those familiar red lights lining the halls now.

Building on lock-down, staff must respond to their safety lined departure rooms.

“Of course. Never this easy for me.” The voice repeated in the background several times as you made your way down the maze like halls, the lights have the building a more eerie like tone to it. Not like seeing the, infected bodies in the glass water-casing, or in plexi-glass casing just staring at you. Seeing someone round the other corner about a foot away from you, your back quickly hit the other side from where you stood.

“And all I got is a knife.. great.” Peering the corner to check your surroundings, you feel a hand grab your upper arm. Habitual instinct, you slam your gripped arm into, who you assumed was either Rac or his men, into the wall as you swing your body and other knife-gripped hand up to the person’s neck. Using your knee to pin one of their legs to the wall, it took you a brief second to recognize who it was.

He didn’t even seem to budge or be inflicted by your response, he just stared at you.

“Well, at least you picked up on my techniques the most.”

Sighing, you released him from the wall as you backed up.

“I have my own techniques, Leon, don’t give yourself too much credit. Hm?”

Going to turn away from him to find a way out, he hands you one of his pistols. Confused, you looked back up from the pistol to look at him.

“Really? You, carrying multiple guns?” You remarked, he half smiled at you in response.

“And the sarcasm?” Taking the pistol from him, you cocked it back.

“Again, my own tone Leon. I just know your personality.” Returning the half smile, your eyes shifted back to the eerily lit hallways that spread like a maze. Leon steps in front of you, holding his pistol in front of him, gripped with both hands as he turned his head to the side as a way to talk to you from behind him.

“Stay close.”

Nodding, you two took off down the maze-like hallways as you rounded every corner skidding of your shoes against the floor as you rounded corners. You wondered if the others came along with Leon, or if it was just him alone. Either way, it wouldn’t surprise you as you turned off from the another corner—

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Seeing Leon stop dead in his tracks, you come up from his side to see a line of men blocking the way into the main hall. Guns pointed directly in our direction, you stood your ground as you held your pistol up to them glancing over at Leon.

“Any bright ideas now, genius?” You huffed, watching him side glance over to you in irritation.

“Stand behind me, we’ll move in unison.” Sighing, again you move close behind him as you shifted your pistol pointing past the right side of his neck as you started moving forward. Hearing their guns clock, you swallowed down the slight choked up fear you felt.

“Leon maybe we sh—“

Loud blasts of guns came from the other side of men, watching them drop to the ground like a line of dominoes. You threw yourself off of Leon’s back side as you stepped past him, seeing past the smoke you notice three other figures.

Claire? Ada?! Chris?!

“How in the ever-loving fuck—“ You topple over your words as they quickly approach you two with relief streamed across their faces, Ada and Claire coming to your general direction.

“{Y/N}!” Claire greeted you with a bear hug before letting go, you smiled in relief to see them both. Ada smiles faintly at you, she wasn’t much of an emotional woman but that fit well with your personality.

“I was hoping you guys were with Leon,” You breathed from the panic, Ada shook her head as she stepped forward.

“Seeing as how somebody had to go solo, the three of us stuck together.”

Looking over to see Leon finding his response, the red lights began flashing repeatedly. All of you instantly looked at one another, as if you predicted what was about to be said.

Self destruct sequence activated, all personal and staff must exit immediately.

Repeating itself in the background, loud alarms began ringing and echoing throughout the halls.

“Could’ve expected that.” Leon spoke up, all of you turned towards the direction of the main hall.

“Follow me,” Chris steps forward in front of your group, “but stay close.” One after another, again you took off into the hallway through the flashing red lights, sirens and slight panic you all felt. Leon stayed in back while Chris took the lead of you three, accepting the fact they were both protecting you, Ada and Claire from any possible threats blocking your way out. Closing in on the exit door to the roof, a large metal door quickly begins descending, then another behind you.

Chris skids to a stop, quickly ushering the three of you to get past the metal door.

“Go!”

You managed to slide past the quickly closing in metal door, then Claire and Ada quickly following behind. Watching in panic as Chris and Leon barely make it fully past the metal door as it slams to the ground— locking itself in place. Watching Chris dart to the front he ushers you all to start running up the roof door, watching him kick it down without hesitation. Stepping back as you three nearly flew up the stairs, Claire kicking down the other door.

You’re greeted with a loud helicopter-military like aircraft, heavy winds circling it as you’re forced to cover half your face with your arm. Feeling someone press on your back and assuringly pushing you towards the aircraft, you notice it’s Leon quickly pacing beside you as you all make it onto the back. Chris stepping on quickly at first with Claire and Ada following close behind,

“Let’s go! Move!” He shouted, the pilot responding as they quickly lifted the craft off the landing pad as it shot across the sky. Watching the back of the caboose close, you didn’t get to see the building itself self-combust, but for now you were alright with that.

“Next time, take one of us with you.” Leon commented to you, leaning forward off of one of the seats in the back. Ada smacks his arm in response, glaring at one another before she looks over to you.

“Don’t listen to his arrogance, you’ll catch on soon enough.” She stood up from her seat, approaching you as you stayed standing up for now.

“Besides, I see potential in you, so does Claire and Chris.”

“I never said—“ Ada points back at him, as if shushing him from where she stood.

“I didn’t ask.”

Claire laughed, smiling as she shook her head.

“Ada’s right, it takes time. Besides, when you were captured we were on our feet within seconds.”

You smile in response to their kind words, nodding at Ada as she went to go sit back down beside Leon.

“Glad to have teammates like you four.” They all faintly smile at you as the copter flew away from the scene itself, your eyes wandered to the large windows in the front as you finally catch your breath.

It’s good to be back home.

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 5

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected. Katarina/Swain 

The mood around me is celebratory, Noxus has new friends in the north. The Warmother Ashe has seen the benefits of our offered alliance. In time we’ll help to strengthen the Avarosans and then we’ll absorb them into the Empire. Everything had fallen quite nicely into place, well except for a small objective I’d had my sights on. Pity, that girl is rather fetching. Perhaps it’s for the best though since I find myself in a rather black mood.

Katarina still hasn’t returned from the assignment I’d sent her on. I expected her back some time ago and left word with the guards to inform as soon as she returned. That’s all I need is for that girl to get herself caught spying on our new allies and ruin everything that’s been done here.

I’d had to play host to the raucous feast to commemorate this momentous occasion, our guests more than happy to indulge in the stores we’d brought with from the capital. I’d watched the feasting and drinking as night unfurled around us, feigning interest in several conversations, my patience growing ever thinner.

I see one of the guards from the rear gate approaching. I wave him over and he leans in. “She’s returned, Sir. I’ve sent her to your room as requested.”

About time. “Very well.” He nods and fades into the background. I should make her wait for me. She’d taken an inordinate amount of time out there, it would only be fair. But I’ve grown tired of the drunken debauchery around me and would prefer some solitude.

I rise a few heads turn towards me, I put my hand up. “I need to attend to a small matter.” Most are too far into their drink to even notice. Behind me someone starts singing, my exit was well timed at least. As I make my way upstairs I plan to let her know just how irritated I am with her.

“Katarina you’d better an explanation for this.” I snarl as I fling the door open and storm in. I stop short when I see her. She’s at the wash basin, cleaning a small wound on her throat. My irritation melts away, perhaps I was a bit hasty with it anyway.

She turns to fix a significant glare in my direction, behind it though she looks tired and frustrated. “Oh please forgive me for my late return from the nonsense you sent me out to do.” The sarcasm drips drips from her words. She goes back to dabbing at the wound.

I sigh and make my way over to her. “It had to be you, I trust you more than anyone else here.” It’s the truth, I hadn’t thought about how she’d perceive things though, the amount of offense she’d take. I reach out and tuck my fingers under her chin, tilting it upwards to get a look at her neck.

I reach towards the rag in her hand but she yanks it back from my grasp. “Don’t.” She hisses through her teeth. She is definitely more than irritated with me.

“Sh, let me take care of it.” I pry the rag from her and finish cleaning the wound before letting go of her. It’s not terribly deep, dark bruising around it making it look worse than it is. “There, it’s not bad, but watch it for infection.”

“I know that.” She snaps at me. I ignore it and wrap my arms around her, feeling the cold lingering on her. I want to diffuse her anger but she pulls away from me. “Do you want to hear what you sent me out there for or not?”

I don’t though, all I want right now is her in my arms, her lips on mine, the feel of her body pressed against mine. “It can wait, why don’t you let me get you warmed up first.” I reach out again, this time she doesn’t pull away but closes her eyes and leans against me. The mood shift is almost tangible, I kiss the top of head and she sighs softly. My hands move to the heavy coat she’s wearing, undoing it and casting it aside. I pull her shirt over her head and run my hands down her back. “My poor little frozen Kitten.”

“Why are you so irritating?” She reaches up and pushes my coat off my shoulders, her voice now practically a purr.

“You seem to find me charming enough.” Her hands tangle in my shirt, pulling it off, before wrapping around my neck. She presses her lips to mine, the soft curve of her breasts pushing against my chest. I scoop her legs out from under her and carry her to the bed.

“I hate it when you do that.” She kicks off her boots.

“You enjoy it.” I finish undressing and push her down onto her back. I listen to her breath accelerate while I remove her pants. I think I’ll make her pay a little bit for her attitude earlier.

I push her legs apart and lean down between her thighs. I run my tongue over her, just barely tasting her. She hisses and her hands grip the blankets. I tease her outside, feeling how wet she’s getting. I barely penetrate her with the tip of my tongue. “Damn.” She whispers.

I keep lightly licking her, listening to her moans, getting her close but careful not to take her all the way. She tastes so incredibly sweet. Finally I run my tongue over her clit before taking it between my teeth and sucking lightly. “Fuck.” She shouts just as I pull away leaving her again at the edge.

I move up and kiss her deeply, driving my tongue into her mouth, I want her to taste herself on me. I keep my cock just outside her, letting her feel what she does to me. She whimpers and bucks her hips a bit. I pull out of the kiss but don’t give her what she wants.

She sits up on her elbows, her skin flushed and her eyes glazed. “What are you waiting for?”

“I think because of your reticence earlier you’re going to have to ask me very nicely for what you want, Kitten.” I can tell she contemplates killing me for a moment.

“You can’t be serious.” I reach out and grasp one of her hardened nipples and give it a light pinch.

“I am. And apologize for your attitude earlier.” She grits her teeth but a small moan escapes her. I pinch a little harder, prodding her on.

“I’m sorry for being ill tempered.”

“And…”

“And please fuck me…Sir.” The little addition of Sir makes me fight to not just bury myself in her. And she knows it. But I’m not done with her.

“I think I’d prefer you got on your hands and knees to show me how sorry you are.”

She gives me a wicked smile, throwing herself into this little game. She does as I ask. “Does my apology please you? ” Her voice soft and alluring.

I don’t answer but drive myself inside her, feeling her tight warmth surround me, listening to her moan as I take her. It’s not long before she’s near screaming with every thrust before finally calling my name as she tightens around me. I follow soon after, gripping her hips tightly, burying myself as deep as possible as I spend myself inside her.

I fall back onto the bed, pulling her to me. Suddenly I can’t stand the thought of her leaving and going off to her own bed. She doesn’t fight it, her back against my chest, her breathing slowing. She does look tired, perhaps I should’ve just let her rest.

“So you were saying about the encampment of our new friends.” She makes an irritated noise and I kiss her shoulder lightly.

“Definitely not enough of them to withstand an invasion. If they could be focused on without contending with every other tribe. But it’s a start for a decent foothold up here.” She stretches a bit, I know she’s about to try to leave.

I could ask her to stay again, she likely wouldn’t refuse. She moves to get out of my arms but I don’t let go. I kiss the back of her neck. “Don’t leave.”

“No.” She sits up, I’m too stung by her rejection to resist. “You’re an ass in the morning when I stay.”

“I promise it won’t happen this time. I enjoy having you here.” I reach and put my hand over hers, trying to convince her.

There’s ice in her voice. “We have a rule, remember. You said before we left there shouldn’t be me anymore indiscretions. And look what happened this morning.” She snatches her hand out from under mine.

“Well then I’m changing the rules.” She narrows her eyes at me.

“No, you don’t get to keep changing the terms. And I still wouldn’t trust you to not be insufferable.” She’s actually raising her voice at this point. Are we having an argument?

She gets up to start leaving again. “They are my terms and I’ll change them as I please. If you don’t like it you can move out of my house when we return. Figure out your life without my terms.”

I don’t know why I say it, other than desperation to win this stupid arguement. I don’t mean it all and I regret it as soon as it’s said. An unpleasant tightness suddenly constricting my chest.

“Fine, fuck you.” She huffs and gets under the covers, back to me, as far across the bed as she can get.

“Fine” I spit back, getting up to extinguish the candles. I join her under the covers facing away from her. Minutes pass that seem to stretch into hours. I know I went too far and laying here in angry silence makes me worry she’ll act on what I said. I don’t know why it matters, just that it does. It’s a strange feeling of vulnerability that I’m neither used to nor care for. Finally I give in. “Kat?”

“What.” That one word is as sharp as any of her daggers.

“I didn’t mean that.” She doesn’t respond. I turn over to face her. “Really, I’m sorry.” I reach out to touch her shoulder. I just want her to know that I’m sincere, to forgive me.

But as my hand brushes her skin, the sound of ravens cawing fills the room. My vision begins to blur as a red eyed spectral bird lands between us. Pain erupts behind my left eye as the vision takes me.

As it usually is, I see as through a mist: a cage of stone, an ancient magic called forth. A gathering of followers surround a hooded man. He turns a blade on one of them, his form reflects Du Couteau’s training. Ah, the foundling Talon. I hear a familiar female voice in the distance. “We must do what is best for Noxus.”

And then I awaken. Kat is sitting next to me, gently running her hand down my back. Why? I know it’s kindness I didn’t earn tonight.

“Are they always like that?” She’s never been present during a vision before, not many have.

“Not always.” I roll away from her. I don’t want her to be kind to me right now. “How long was I out?”

“Half an hour, maybe.” She settles back down and pulls the covers up around us. Her arm wraps around my waist, her body warm against my back. I feel myself relaxing, the pain in my head fading.

“I’m sorry about before, you can leave if you want.”

She exhales loudly. “Don’t worry about it.” I feel her kiss between my shoulder blades.

It’s not quite forgiveness but at least I know she’s not going to leave. There’s clearly work to be done when we return home.

[writevswrong]

Eris Fanfic * When The Last Ember Falls * Chapter Twenty-Four

**In case you’re wondering how I picture Eris. Here he is (Alex MacKenzie, he’s a Canadian model and absolutely beautiful). :) And if you’re wondering why I keep choosing gifs of Rollo from Vikings (not a redhead)...he just captures a lot of the angst. haha. Anyways...Enjoy! 

 When The Last Ember Falls by L.J. LaFleur

Eris:

“Anything?” I asked, focusing on the maps strewn across my desk. After a moment of silence, I glanced up to my guardian.

Cindra shook her head, unable to report that they’ve captured Bronwynn yet again.

I knew she was just as frustrated as me. It had been weeks since Nesta left, even longer since we saw Bronwynn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he returned to Hybern. I also wouldn’t be surprised if he was just waiting for the right time strike. It was better to expect every possibility than only one.

I returned to the layer of maps, taking notes of the different territories within this court that have already been searched. I even gave warnings to the surrounding courts of Bronwynn’s deception. He would try and charm them, form an alliance if he wanted a shot at this throne. It’s what I would do.

Accidentally, I knocked over a stack of half written letters. I leaned over, picking up the parchments addressed to Nesta. I couldn’t bring myself to finish or send any.

“How are you?” Cindra asked, eyeing one of the letters in my hand. She scooted a plate of spiced apples towards me.

I shuffled the papers, glowering at the plate of food, “what’s this?”

“Believe it or not, those are apples,” she sarcastically replied. “You haven’t eaten in a while,” she stated with a heavy sigh, chastising me just as badly as my mother. No wonder they were getting along so well these days.  

Using the same excuse as always, I pushed the plate back to her, “I’ve just been busy. That���s all, Cindra.” In truth, I haven’t felt like eating.

Cindra snorted, shaking her head in exasperation, “I don’t believe you.”

I let out a frustrated exhale; I was trying to do better with my emotions. Peeking up at her, she gave me a knowing look. Yes, this was about Nesta.

Biting down on the inside of my lip, I debated what to say. How to say it. Feelings could be so tedious, no wonder my father and brothers never bothered with them.

Cindra leaned against the wall, checking that her nails were sharpened accordingly. “If I have to wait all day, I will. I’ll even have Mikayl stop by. Maybe force him to strong hold you into speaking.”

“Mikayl would not go against orders, he wouldn’t risk the death sentence,” I laughed half-heartedly. He would, for her. I knew of his feelings, of her feelings—they would both defy whatever orders necessary to save one another. It was a good thing I didn’t need much protecting.  

“I don’t know,” she sung, a smirk in place, “I think I’m worth dying for.”

“I’m sure he agrees,” I acknowledged, examining the pile of letters and maps. No matter how busy I had become, I never stopped thinking of her. I never stopped wondering what would have happened if she stayed. “I did find—”

Cindra didn’t let me switch subjects. She walked over, nudging the plate closer. The cool porcelain touched my elbow. I could just imagine her trying to force me to eat. Her hands holding my jaw open as Mikayl shoves a spoonful of gods know what into my mouth.  

Getting the hint, I took a bite of the largest slice. Crunching down on the juicy fruit, enjoying the rich cinnamon on top. Fine, she wins. It was delicious.

She waited and waited until I ate the entire plate of apple slices. I have never felt more like a child. Wait, I have. When she, Mikayl and my mother at one point all had to dress me due to my injury. Cindra looked satisfied at the empty plate but now she wanted me to talk—to express my feelings.

Inhaling deeply, I opened my mouth to let the words pour out, “I miss her. And everyday it should be getting easier but it’s not. I miss her wit, her presence—”

“—that body, am I right?” Cindra interrupted, her brows wiggling up and down.

“Cindra,” I scolded, not disagreeing with her.

“Sorry...”

I thought it would be easier with time. That I would be able to move past whatever happened. To let go. “As ridiculous as it sounds, most days I wish to be stabbed again so she’ll come back.”

Cindra pointed to the stack of unfinished letters, “I’m sure if you just sent her one of those, she would.”

I shook my head, it was best I not interfered with her and the bastard commander. “I…I wish she could be here for the ceremony tonight. I’m supposed to invite close friends and I don’t believe I have any besides you and her.”

“The High Lord of Spring?” she questioned, noticing my uneasy expression and quickly moving on. “You have Mikayl. Oh! The kids from the village. They would love to see you be officially crowned as their High Lord.” She smiled brightly as her ideas unfolded, “there’s still enough time. Let’s winnow to the Night Court and get our girl back!”

I fell back in my chair, losing what straight posture I had, “I appreciate your enthusiasm but it’s not that simple, Cindra. We can’t barge into another court like that.”

If we did, then it would look just as bad as Rhysand interrupting Feyre and Tamlin’s wedding. Despite his honorable intentions, there are still laws in Prythian. Not that I mind breaking laws for good reason but going against the strongest High Lord in Prythian’s history is a death wish.

“Then maybe tell her you’re in love with her,” Cindra shot back, her hands pressing into the desk as she glared at me.

“I think it might be too late for that.”

She bit her tongue, forcing herself to keep quiet. “Well, High Lord, I suggest you clean yourself up then. Tonight, you’ll wear the official crown. You’ll bear an even heavier weight on your shoulders as if you didn’t have enough. No big deal or anything.” Cindra turned on her heel, yelling over her shoulder, “send her an invitation, at least.”

“It’s last minute,” I argued, dipping my quill in red ink so I can tally up the known supporters of Bronwynn.

Cindra playfully snapped back, “so was getting stabbed.” She flipped her braid over her shoulder, emphasizing her point.

“I’d rather be stabbed than endure any more of this conversation.”

“It’s because I’m right!” she shouted as she shut the door behind her.  

She was. She was absolutely right.

 Cindra:

So, things escalated pretty quickly I’d say. Just before my lord was to swear his oath and recite the family mantra, guess who barged in through the copper doors? White cloak and all?

“Bronwynn, what are you doing here?” The Lady of Autumn stood up, her hand on my lord’s shoulder, a sign for him not to speak.

I think she believed that their exchange would only make matters worse. I wouldn’t doubt it.  

The traitor walked down the aisle of crimson, his hands raising towards the gossiping crowd, “did you think I wouldn’t fight for the crown, mother?”

The High Lord stood up, his height even more intimidating on the throne. “Are you challenging me?” he inquired, straight faced and even-tempered.

Bronwynn laughed, his silver speckled teeth shinning beneath the faelights as he ascended the dais. “To the death, brother,” he answered with a gravelly voice.

I leaned into the Lady of Autumn’s arm, “is this possible?” I mumbled. I couldn’t remember the last time this happened. Maybe it was before my lifetime?  

Without looking to me, she nodded as confirmation.  

My lord wasn’t fazed by Bronwynn’s scare tactics. Instead he lifted his chin, his voice colder than the Winter Court, “so be it…”  

 Hundreds of people were stuffed inside the throne room, all awaiting to see which Vanserra would live and who would fall. The crowd grew louder, a deafening noise as bets were placed and alliances were being formed.  

The High Lord and I winnowed to his room, each competitor given thirty minutes to make any final arrangements that were needed. I paced by his desk, unable to believe this was actually happening, “are you sure he can do this?”

“Yes,” the High Lord replied, wrapping his knuckles with white cloth. His auburn hair looked just like his flames, untamed. Amber eyes focusing on the stack of letters he never sent.  

“What of your injuries?” I asked; how could I protect him in this fight? How could he fight if he were still healing? He must be, he had to be.

He glanced up, smirking at my frightened expression, “which ones?”

“Exactly! Which ones??” I snapped, my armor clanking as I helped him tie the cloth around his wrist. The knot was tight, probably too tight. I didn’t mean to make it that way but when you’re mad, you’re mad.  

The High Lord started on his other hand, his focus now on the stars, “my leg is better. My chest, well it can’t be ripped open again. That wound has finally healed over.”

“And your heart?”

“It’s beating.”

“He will try and get into your head. You can’t let him,” I cautioned and lectured and cautioned again. I didn’t want to watch him die. I would lose much more than a High Lord, I would lose one of my closest friends.

He stopped winding the cloth, his eyes meeting mine, “I know, Cindra. You have nothing to worry about. You will not have to be his guardian if he wins.”

My eyes bulged, my stomach sank. I sure as fuck am not going to be Bronwynn’s guardian. I would slit his throat. “I don’t want to be…”

“Good,” he smiled, lifting his hand for me to secure the other wrap, “because he’ll probably kill us both.”

“Oh, wonderful,” I responded with little sarcasm, focusing on the second knot. Our laughter was not there, no humor was allowed in this moment. I wouldn’t let it. I couldn’t. There were bigger things at risk here.

The High Lord clenched his knuckles, checking the tightness. He focused his gaze back on the stars, “if I die…”

“—I won’t hear it,” I stopped him. I won’t listen to his stupid speech of what should happen if he failed tonight. Died tonight.  

He raised a brow, his voice dropping, “you will. As your High Lord, I am commanding you.”

I crossed my arms, swiftly releasing them since I probably looked like a damn child. I couldn’t help it in the moment. I never gave Mikayl a speech before my last fight. But then again, I didn’t think I was gonna die.

Did he think he was going to die??

“Take my mother, head to the Night Court,” he said, untying his boots and pulling off his socks.

“Why there? Wouldn’t she be safe here? That’s his mother.”

“Bronwynn was much closer to my father. Respecting women, even his own mother, will not happen if he becomes High Lord.” He stuffed the socks into the leather straps, putting the boots to the side, “despite Rhysand being a prick at times, he is one of the only faes that I trust.”

“And Nesta is there,” I added, knowing that she would be soul-crushed if he died. She would storm the castle, rip Bronwynn to ribbons, and burn him to ash. I would help her.  

“Yes…” his thoughts trailing off. Amber eyes flared as he regarded me, “she will protect you two.”

“What about her? What am I supposed to tell her if…?”

He remained quiet, sadness touching his eyes. A sadness I had never seen before. No, that was a memory—like he already knew what life would be like on the other side without her.

“Now that you’ve given me your death instructions, here’s my advice…” I stated, clutching my hand around the hilt of my blade. A common habit for when I needed strength, “don’t fucking die.”

“I’ll try my best,” he nodded, the corner of his lips struggling to form a smile.  

[kitsunebellproductions]

Thoughts on Voltron Season 7

SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY! Things that annoyed/angered/saddened/frustrated me: *Kuron still being treated as though he was nothing more than some evil monster and convenient spare parts for Shiro. I am still nauseated by the whole thing. This poor precious baby boy deserved so much better. *Shiro’s hair -I mean come on, his fringe was pure white before but now it’s grey? What, did the whole process leach colour from the rest of his hair yet restore some to his fringe?! I will just assume it’s meant to be white but they felt this particular shade of white/grey worked best aesthetically with his outfits etc. *Too little Shiro for too many episodes. *Too much Keef. (Sorry, fandom has completely ruined this character for me, he’s not a bad character but I am repulsed by his mere name thanks to the toxicity in this fandom. I wish I could go back to the beginning of watching Voltron when he was just another decent character that I felt neither yay nor nay about, but it is what it is.) *That weird game show -if it was some magical space mage mumbo jumbo thingy that just transported their consciousness, why wasn’t Shiro there? And the whole ‘comedy family’ shtick with the Galra... I mean, it was a bit funny but... mostly weird tbh. The funniest parts were the commercials. *Way too little background/interaction with Shiro and Adam. *Also Adam’s design -like, why do you make an entirely new character that looks a lot like a mix of two other characters who are father and son (Matt and Sam)? You could have done literally anything to his design but you went safe and way too familiar? I mean holy moly did you see Kinkade? Fuck yeah what a gorgeous design, that is exactly what my hopeful heart pictured for Shiro’s boyfriend but nope. Give us generic floppy-hair glasses boy with a generic medium brown palette, it’s so fresh and new and interesting. Not. *Adam FUCKING DYING before Shiro even got back to Earth. You could have at least let the poor boy have a reunion with someone waiting for him on Earth before burying some more gays, but no. He must suffer. *Shiro getting like three seconds to mourn Adam. 

*Speaking of burying your gays... (not to mention a delightful dash of the ‘evil lesbians’ trope): Ezor and Zethrid. Yayy on their relationship, nay on them being presumably killed off (I mean killing 3 out of 4 queer characters while keeping the straight characters safe is not a good way to show how queer friendly your show is. And no the ‘we had to show how dark and dangerous war is’ excuse doesn’t work when the only characters you kill are the queer ones. There were plenty of characters back on Earth we’d have felt just as deeply about -or more even- considering we’ve heard about the other paladins’ families back on Earth but we’d never heard of Adam until now. Just imagine if Veronica had died -that would have been intensely emotional and really had gone to show all that you wanted about the dangers of war -especially as I don’t doubt for a second that Lance would have gotten an entire episode at least to mourn her while Shiro got like three seconds. Because Shiro is apparently not allowed to mourn). *And isn’t it funny how the most alien-looking Galra women are the evil ones, while the ‘good’ ones look more or less like lavender-skinned human women (and are also very pretty, petite and with slender, ‘sexy’ bodies.) Like, seriously... *Not to mention how creepy it is that Keef’s Galra mom and the other ‘good’ Galra woman (Acxa, who for whatever reason the show tried to force some out-of-the-blue yucky heteromance together with Keef) look disturbingly much alike (and they look to be the same age too more or less. So sick and tired of the ‘hot young-looking mom’ trope in media but especially animated shows. And especially when the kids end up banging girls looking to be more or less the same age as their mom). *Shiro not reacting when Ezor and Zethrid went for Pidge -he’s consistently been shown to be very protective and self-sacrificing, yet here he barely bats an eye. I get it was a scene framed to lift Lance, but it felt extremely ooc for Shiro to not at least try to help. *Ezor and Zethrid’s relationship being honestly way more explicitly stated than Shiro and Adam’s (which was the relationship hailed as the big lgbtq+ rep for this season). No, they definitely didn’t need to get back together for Shiro to still be considered lgbtq+ rep -you don’t need a partner to be lgbtq+! But when you wave a specific relationship around as a big banner of glorious lgbtq+ rep to come and then barely even hint at it in the show... well... not so much of a rep then, is it? *Not showing Shiro in that worldwide message of ‘these are our beloved brave heroes from Earth’. Like, this boy was kidnapped by aliens, spent a year being tortured, brainwashed, cloned, dismembered, pretty much violated in every concievable way, then immediately after escaping (with a shitload of PTSD in the baggage) he was sent back out into space and chosen to lead some war against seemingly impossible odds, a war that really wasn’t his war to fight, a war he still fought bravely and selflessly despite his physical and mental issues, a war he died in, but meh I guess he wasn’t worthy of mention. (And I don’t know why Keef wasn’t mentioned either, but maybe being half Galra makes you too much alien to be considered part of the world you were born and grew up in *heavy sarcasm*). *Shiro’s bond with the Black Lion and his role as the Black Paladin being pretty much erased/retconned -it’s like Keef gets to sit his ass comfortably down in the seat Shiro shed blood sweat and tears for and struggled so hard for, easily just gliding along on what Shiro has paved the road for but without acknowledging the huge role Shiro had in it all. Shiro was the one who brought out the wings for Keef in the end of the last season because Keef was unable to do it himself, because Keef had never bonded with her the way Shiro did -Shiro and the Black Lion found and saved each other in so many ways, and the Black Lion loved Shiro so much she saved his ‘essence’ inside herself, yet now we’re supposed to just accept that Shiro is old news and no longer worthy of being considered part of the ‘mighty Paladins of Voltron’. Myeah, did not like the feeling I got of this saturating this entire season. Keef can still be a big hero -or even your new main character- without grinding Shiro down into the dirt on the way. *That arm... it’s so big and clumsy-looking it makes him look weirdly lopsided. The comically large arm works for Sendak, considering his ‘evil sadist who loves crushing people with his alien prosthetic’ shtick, but for Shiro it just looks too big to be practical. If it was intentionally meant to imply that Allura just grabbed a prosthetic modelled after someone bigger than Shiro and remade it, and that’s why it’s so big on Shiro, that’s fine. But it feels impractical for anything other than fighting evil alien generals. *Shiro not getting to fulfil his arc as the abused victim and underdog by overcoming and defeating the evils pushing him down, but instead being forced to take the backset to a character forced into a leadership role for what seems like nothing more than a desperate clinging to nostalgia. It is mindboggling that everything Shiro has worked so incredibly hard for, everything he’s struggled and fought for is being taken from him and he’s supposed to be satisfied with a consolation prize. Yeah, Shiro going full Magical Girl Princess was amazing but he didn’t even get to deliver the final blow in any fight -not even his personal fight with Sendak- because apparently Shiro is not allowed any victories at all. *The whole sense of Shiro being punished for choosing his life’s dream over becoming the obedient house wife of his ex -he had only a short few years left to fulfil his dreams, and yet he’s painted as the bad guy for ‘abandoning’ his boyfriend (who was the one that left Shiro, actually). Yes, Adam had the right to choose to not want to separate for so long -during what was likely the last few years Shiro had enough mobility to do all the fun things couples dream of doing together- he had the right to say ‘I’m sorry but I can’t put my life on hold, and I wasn’t really prepared to go straight to caring for someone with a debilitating disease without a few more years of fun in between, I want to break up’. That still doesn’t make Shiro’s choice to follow his dreams any less valid than Adam’s choice to not wait for him. I bet Adam had an exciting bucket list waiting to start ticking off as a consolation when Shiro was denied the role of pilot for the Kerberos mission -I doubt he’d expected Shiro to actually be allowed to go and that probably seriously stumped him- but it’s incredibly cruel and selfish (and ableist) to expect a person to sacrifice their last few years of being able to fulfil their dreams just so their able-bodied partner can fulfil their small dreams and wishes of things they want to do for the last few of that person’s fully mobile years. And yet everything about Shiro’s arc paints a very very grim and ableist story of ‘you chose your own dreams over bending to your partner’s will, now let us show you what a horrible decision that was by torturing you relentlessly throughout the rest of this series without ever letting up. You will never be allowed happiness again because this is your punishment.’ I agree with other people that the way Shiro’s been treated throughout this series -constantly tormented without ever getting a single break or getting a real chance to fight and overcome his demons- seems way too much like torture porn. *The feeling that Shiro’s Magical Girl Moment was only there to blind us to the fact that him being probably the only one able to transform the Atlas means he’ll be conveniently grounded next season, forced to stay on Earth to ‘protect his home’ while the rest of them get to go off being the ‘amazing Defenders of the Universe’, leaving both Shiro and his legacy behind, unsung. I hope I’m wrong, but I get an overwhelming feeling that Shiro is being pushed into the background because they never intended for him to be the hero of the series but by the time they realised that’s exactly what they’d created with him it was too late to take it back, so now they’re trying their hardest to push him back into some mentor/backseat role in a sneaky enough way that they hope people won’t notice because they’ll be dazzled by the shine of his ‘new role’. ... Things that made me happy/excited/pleased: *The animation level. I mean holy mamacita Shiro is so beautiful he glows in like every single frame. *HUNK. Love this big gentle boy and love that he got to show more of who he is and what he has to give this season. *Seeing the families we’ve heard so much of. Seeing them reunited. Seeing flashbacks to happier times with the families. *Pidge finally getting her entire family back together. *The designs of all the alien/Earth tech. Gorgeous. *The design of some of the new characters <3 *So many new Galra characters with faces and personalities even if we only saw them for a few seconds. *All the ‘Earth preparing for alien invasion’ scenes/episodes. *Finally getting to know more about Iverson and who he is as a person. *Sam and Colleen. *Shiro being the new Princess of the new Castle ship. *Shiro fucking transcending being the Princess and transforming the entire Castle ship Atlas into a new Voltron type battle robot. *The Atlas being this beefy paladin type knight on top but t h i c c femme legs on tippy toes/high heels on the bottom. 10/10 what a beauty. *White Lion Shiro... I mean, I’m certainly not the only one thinking it, right? *Just Shiro. Wow. What a strong, beautiful, good person who cares about everybody else above himself. Someone give this poor traumatised boy hero a fucking vacation with the softest bed surrounded by therapy animals. Perfect cinnamonroll too pure for this world. *Shiro fighting Sendak hand-to-hand on top of a fucking space ship free-falling (read: CRASHING) to Earth instead of trying to escape I mean this boy *Keef fucking anime-slicing Sendak in twaine for daring to try to hurt the person he loves like a brother (bloodless and nice for the young’uns of course, but still). *Hunk carrying Shiro. *@ anyone claiming Lance ‘never gets screentime or development’ -fuck you. Look at this brave, strong boy who started out as a self-centered antagonistic jerk yet has grown into such a good and mature person. I may loathe the Lance I see portrayed in the fandom, but in the show he’s still such a good character. *Coran, Coran, the gorgeous man <3 *The mice and Kosmo the space wolf for MVP *Kaltenecker, most chill character in the entire universe. *Shiro’s prosthetic not being attached -at first I was like ‘noooo’, but then I realised... fuck yeah this is exactly what people in fandom need to stop erasing disabled characters. It is way too common for people in fandoms to claim that a person having any kind of high-tech or magical prosthetic that makes their disability less visible (For example Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist) isn’t actually disabled at all ‘because it’s like they have normal limbs’. Having a prosthetic arm that has a big void between itself and the shoulder attachment makes it impossible to ignore the fact that Shiro is missing a whole arm. (And maybe, just maybe, people will finally stop with the shitty ‘he’s got a full sleeve of tattoos instead of a missing arm in this AU fanfic because erasing disabilities is super cool’ trope.) *The entire Shiro/Atlas transformation scene -ugh so beautiful <3 ... Phew, that got long! (=A=;;) I’ve probably forgotten a lot of things -but it’s been a few days since I watched it so it isn’t as fresh in my mind as I’d have liked, however I don’t have the time to rewatch it right now to refresh my memory so it’ll have to do. These are just my personal thoughts -things I found negative might be things someone else found positive, and things I found positive might be things someone else found negative. This isn’t meant to be a debate or attack -just a way for me to put my thoughts down and remember them for the future. And one last thing -please remember to be kind to each other -and don’t go attacking cast or crew -most of them have no real say in what happens on the show anyway, and harrassing and threatening castmembers to the point where they’re scared to even show up at cons is not the way to make the higher-ups listen to your complaints -however legitimate they might be. Now I guess we’ll just have to brace ourselves for season 8...