#the way he discloses some of his past as part of that apology because he knows he fucked up and needs to offer something

[ingravinoveritas]

Did you see Neil's tumbler post about autism?? I never knew. Did he ever said anything about it before? My son was recently diagnosed, and Neil saying that he's autistic made me feel... I don't know, connection to him in a new way? Recognized? Hopefull? I don't have the words. Just wanted to hear your thoughts on it. I hope i didn't come off as offensive in some way. English is not my native language.

Hi there! I am slightly behind in Asks, so apologies to folks who have been sending them in over the past few days--trying my best to catch up now.

Firstly, you did not come off as offensive at all, so please don't worry! And yes, I did see Neil's Tumblr post (it's here, for those who might have missed it), and it's given me quite a lot of feelings, for reasons that would probably be expected.

I think what immediately came to mind when I read his post was a conversation I had with Neil when I met him back in November at a tribute to Ray Bradbury. I told him how much I was struck by the story he'd read, as it felt very much like an allegory for autism and resonated so much with my own experiences as an autistic person. He seemed to appreciate my comments and agreed with my observation, but never at any point in our conversation mentioned anything about identifying as autistic himself.

Does that necessarily mean anything? Of course not. I know that Neil does not owe me (or anyone else) a disclosure, and the decision to disclose is a very personal one that each person has to make for themselves. But thinking of Neil's post the other day, I'm also reluctant--for a variety of reasons--to say that it is a disclosure, or Neil definitely stating that he is autistic.

When I got your Ask on Friday morning, I was eager to answer it, though I knew I would have to wait because I was at work. Soon after, I had a difficult, emotionally draining meeting with my two supervisors. I ended up crying at work--which I have now realized is a trauma response--and by the time I got home and was starting to process everything, it was difficult not to look at Neil's post and flinch, particularly at the mention of "superpowers." That day, for the first time in a very long time, I could only feel the "kryptonite" part of being autistic. (My personal stance is that I have never considered autism to be a "super power," but something that is neither all good or all bad, and is part of who I am, yet not all of who I am.)

And from the conversation I had with my supervisors, I felt the responsibility and the pressure of other people seeing me in ways that I never intended--and regardless of whether I want to be seen that way. (For context: This was about my work as a professional speaker and people seeing me as an expert in autism/sexuality, when I never use the word "expert" to describe myself and always tell people I don't have all of the answers.)

The reason I mention this is because I feel like people read that post from Neil and--understandably, of course--saw something. They felt the connection that you described, and that sense of recognition. But what concerns me is that it's going to somehow turn Neil into a representative for an entire community, when that may not be something he wants or feels like he can be. If he is on a journey with autism--whether that means self-diagnosis, or a clinical diagnosis, or not having/seeking a diagnosis at all--that's something incredibly personal. As difficult as that journey is for people navigating it privately, myself included, Neil is possibly doing it in the public eye, which means that everything--every achievement and every misstep--is that much more amplified.

To that end, what I often see with Neil and social media is that he is either lavished with praise or torn to shreds (with very little in between). Being autistic means there is another possible dimension to who Neil is, but it can't be the only lens through which we see him. So I'm just hoping fans don't pin all of their dreams and expectations on him--not only for their sake and avoiding potential disappointment, but also for Neil's. To allow him the messiness and imperfection of being human, instead of a perfect role model.

I hope all of this makes sense. I'm still feeling a little raw from this past Friday, but I wanted to be sure I answered your question. Thank you for writing in! x

[hueningshaped]

★ someday | c.yj

▰ genre: angst (they don’t end together)

▰ word count: 2.1k

▰ synopsis: you and yeonjun have a conversation you didn’t think you’d ever have to make or you break up with yeonjun even though he’s doing so well in his career

warnings: break ups, not the healthiest relationship

a/n: randomly wrote this while i was sad and listening to day6. sorry 😢 ily and thank you for still being here.

“what are you doing here?” it’s a question that can’t be helped. the time is past the dead of the night, it’s frigid, but it’s raining lightly, meaning the roads are frozen. beyond all the reasons someone shouldn’t be out, you’re mainly surprised because—

“i’m here to change your mind. well, actually—“ yeonjun stops to chuckle wryly. “i’m here to ask you to reconsider your decision. i-i know i can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. i know that. i know and i respect your decisions. i just want you to decide again…”

yeonjun’s nose is red. his ears, too. his hands are by his side, curled into even redder fists that you’d usually bring into your own lips to blow at in attempts to warm up, but that’s not your place.

“how did you even get here?” you dare to ask another question, in disbelief over how he actually showed up to your door, that he was actually here, that he was really standing in front of you, but with intention to try and win you over—rather, win you back.

he sighs, puff of condensation steaming out, and he shuts his eyes painfully when he blinks, but it quickly goes away when he looks at you again.

“i just wanted to say i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry, y/n. i really am, baby, i swear,” your heart quivers in your chest, but your face doesn’t give that part away. it stays still, save of the reality of how your heart really feels: mangled, broken, like a steel bar relying on the rust that connects it to its other half.

it’s easy to accept his apology, but it still feels like it falls short. it’s the same thing. your relationship with him has been some of the happiest years of your life, but it doesn’t mean they haven’t also been rocky and tiring. it’ll be another year of nonstop schedules for him, who already hardly has any time for himself and his family because he’s an idol.

it was today that you’d come to the decision, which had rested on a fence you’ve been on for a few months, that it was time to take a break and call it off.

the ringing of your phone seemed never ending, your heart in your throat, feet on edge, as you waited and waited and waited for him to pick up. two missed calls jumped to six, and six missed calls jumped to eight, and by then, you’d peeled too far in your cuticles, making yourself bleed.

so, you’d left a voicemail—shakily, quietly disclosing your true feelings.

yeonjun, if you receive this message… i wanted to let you know that i want to break up. this is my decision. my mind’s been made up. sorry, it had to be this way, but it’s just right. take care. goodbye, yeonjun. […] [sniffle] did it send? oh, shoo—

of course, bombarding his phone if he so chose to look at it or not ignore you wasn’t ideal, nor had it been your first plan. in fact, this was done out of a moment of desperation. paranoia and frustration had long been eating away at you. you were overwhelmed, tired of pacing, tired of rowing this boat and pretending, and well…

it was only a matter of time.

a smile squeezes at your lips, pursed with halfheartedness. you nod because—

“i know, yeonjun. i know you’re sorry. i know you don’t mean to do anything bad to me genuinely, i know that you feel terrible, maybe even worse, now that you’re aware of how i feel, but—“ you close your eyes, inhaling sharply, to hide the adrenaline of a cry building up in your chest. with every word you say, his eyebrows become more and more drawn in, dejection and fear becoming of his expression, face still the same beautiful. “all i’m asking is for some time apart. alone, completely. not the fake together that we’ve been and we’re officially going to be with all your…schedules. i know it’s not your fault you’re booked and busy, but ah! this is tiring for me. i’m tired. and i know more than anything that you are, too.”

his eyes glitter with tears. the water pools along his lash line. his bottom lip is curved inwards. yeonjun opens his mouth to let out an exhale wet with tears.

“you can say whatever you want, and i know this is the coldest anyone could be to you, but it has to be done. so, by all means, yeonjun, go ahead. say your part, i’ll listen.” you add again, crossing your arms more to bring yourself further warmth. it doesn’t seem right to invite him inside, even if your heart begs and wails at the highest octave and volume to let him in and let him kiss away all the pain at least for a little while. but you don’t.

“okay… alright, i… thank you, y/n. um, i don’t… i don’t know what to say suddenly, oh, my… what do i do, i’m suddenly speechless,” it becomes clear he’s at a loss of words, he looks around at his surroundings like he just sobered up. maybe you were too harsh. “i just think i’ve fucked up. truly, completely. i’m sorry i finally decided to show up, only at the last second.”

you laugh.

“me, too,” you say with a little smile, facade wrong for the tone in your voice. it betrays each part, just the way your heart feels. he lowers his head.

“i took advantage of you always being there for me, and i wasn’t even there for you, so i’m sorry for that, too. i could have been a hundred times better, like the person i was when we first became a couple. i’m just busy. that’s it. i’m just too busy, and i can’t even do anything better than this. i’m just… really sorry. i can’t even give you anything. i’ve nothing more to offer to you in this moment, and for that and—well—and for everything, i really am sorry. i can’t promise you anything. i just wanted to remind you of how i feel, and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to let go of my love for you.”

you look past him to the dim lit street, black ice leaving the road with a gleam, and the rain picks up, making the sky hazy. he doesn’t belong here. he’s too perfect. he always has been. it’s easy for him to point out all his faults since he begs you to reconsider, but you can admit that you also could have done a bit better, especially for him. he doesn’t need this.

yeonjun’s heart splits in two at the way your own eyes well up, face blank and stony, doing its best to not give away your pain. it’s embarrassing to dismissively wipe away a tear or two that betray your eyes.

“stop beating yourself up, baby,” your voice hitches as you try and reassure him. “i just think we each deserve better. you don’t need to constantly have guilt for being who you are. maybe we aren’t together, but i’ll always be here for you. you know i’m not going anywhere.”

yeonjun grits his teeth and brings a hand to messily wipe away tears you didn’t even know he’d let go.

“don’t say that. i love you, y/n. please,” he pleads, bringing his fists together to his chin.

“just because i’m asking to be apart doesn’t mean i don’t love you,” you take his hands into yours to kiss at them. he sniffles hard, incoherent to the sobs he’s holding back.

he cries too much and hurts too much for someone who will eventually forget that they were even in such a burdensome relationship… he’ll be so busy anyway. he won’t have time to think about this. he has such infinite love for his fans, and his fans love him so infinitely. he’ll be okay in no time, won’t he?

yeonjun’s hands are back by his sides, and so are yours. the wind whistles and your wind chimes ring solemnly. they fill in the silence and the nothing of you two. you know he’s not a mind reader, but you wish he’d ask you how you felt, if it hurt making this decision—because it wasn’t easy. it was painstaking to step up and walk away from this, but you had to. you had to, didn’t you?

“do…you want me to give you a ride? i really don’t know how you got here…” you speak up. your own nose is reddening. he swallows a lump in his throat, hesitating to shake his head.

“my chauffeur parked a few blocks down since the streets are too narrow. i really am sorry, y/n, not only because i feel bad but because i know it’s not fair to you. we… we’ll always be friends, right?” his tone is so fearful, even if he does his best to hide it with hope and liveliness. your face is so still, so blank. you didn’t mean to let him down so coldly.

“of course, jjunbug.” is all you say, and that seems to be enough: enough to keep the heartbreak at bay, enough to soothe yeonjun, your now ex-boyfriend, on the surface at least. it can only be enough. this is as much as you can do. this is as much as he can take.

his smile is wobbly, complementary of the broken light in his eyes that’s so uncharacteristic of him, who is always such a cheerful beam of iridescent light.

“y/n, do you think i could hug you one more time? i know i can’t kiss you or anything, but i’m just… ah, forget about it. it’s stupid i asked…” his tone mirrors his posture; you can tell he feels small. you’ve rarely seen him like that—the few instances he let you mend him when he’d come to you broken, or on the brink of shattering. your yeonjun has always been so strong, even when he was at his weakest.

“sure, yeonjun. we can hug.” you’re in your house slippers, on the frame where your place meets the outdoors. hesitantly, your arm reaches out over the frame where you stand, hand returning to his to bring warmth, and as soon as he feels your touch, knowing it’ll be the last, yeonjun can’t help but come to you, also pulling you more towards him to wrap his arms tightly around you, fisting your clothes and weakly sniffling in your hair.

he smells like home. the pattern of breaths that he takes feel so familiar to you; you missed this background noise. you rest your chin on his shoulder as he does his best to accommodate to your height, your bottom lip wobbles at this realization that you know this’ll be the last.

yeonjun feels your hand come to his nape, lightly and tenderly holding on, playing with his long hair. the faintest of cries makes their way to your ears, and it hurts even more, but you know that this is best. isn’t it?

you stand a little on your tip toes, pulling him down when you can’t stand on them anymore, but he lets you.

minutes pass. the wind whistles, a family or two pass by on the sidewalk despite the frigid breeze piercing the air. his hands rub up and down your arms to bring you warmth, but your senses all come to collect at the hum of his voice, so beautiful and calming, and that scent of his, so rich and comforting. you do your best to savor it to mind, to never ever forget it, and he does the same, feeling the width and softness of your body, your warmth, and your fragrant body that smells like home to him.

after some time and hesitation, he pulls away, hands lingering around your waist before he really is letting go. he smiles, nodding like he understands everything going on in your head, and you nod, the same.

yeonjun takes one step down your small set of steps, looking back one more time, with a sad smile.

“y/n, do you think we could try again in the future?” he asks, words slurring like they always do.

it seems possible, but it also seems like he’s on that path where he’s only going to get busier and busier. and you know you are, too. it’s that point of adulthood where you have to plan weeks in advance to meet with friends. it all seems dismal, but a part of you wants to hold onto that hope, the hope that he would still want you the way he (maybe) wants you now: the way he made an effort to try and win you back. so, all you do is smile and shrug.

“i think so,” even though your heart is breaking, and without a doubt, so is yeonjun’s, you do believe that this isn’t the end for you and him.

for now, you have no idea when you’ll ever see him again, but you still hope.

“maybe.”

[spirit-speaking]

Detachment is an Art Form

The fatigue behind her eyes was damn near relentless and her head pounded soon after waking.

It would have been far less embarrassing to have an excuse that it had been one too many drinks at the Gala, or perhaps that Valeria was even coming down with something instead of admitting to the confusion and frustration that had been exuded the night before. Sleep was never hard to come by, but it wasn’t every night that her mind was wracked with tension and fog.

Forcing herself to remember parts of her past that were riddled with holes did nothing to help her situation and often forcing memories had caused more harm than good.

Perhaps, today was another day in.

Valeria’s bicolored eyes blinked, staring at the ceiling above her as she felt her bones weighing heavy, simply lying within the plush of her bed, feeling debilitated. It seemed she had lost track of time at some point when she saw herself to bed and let her emotions take her adrift.

And drift she did but even the next morning there was no ignoring the subtle ache that swelled within the center of her chest, like a lump she couldn’t swallow down, and the very swift reminder of what had transpired the night previously.

Her frame was much smaller than Ricard and given her frail state it was no wonder Valeria didn’t hurt her hand in the process of striking Ricard as soon as she had seen him. The rest of the party-goers hadn’t noticed the commotion in the back of the room, crowds gathered at the foot of the stairs nearby where cheers and poppers sounded out in celebration. A perfect mask to the slap she had procured towards Ricard’s person, not that it had been planned in the slightest. And even after she had done it, a sliver of her felt regretful and guilty. 

Perhaps it was just as Cordelia said, her emotions ran away with her but she wasn’t about to admit to that. Shamed for feeling the very fire within her that sparked her ire, to begin with. At least…. She was feeling something for the first time in a long while.

Her point barely came across.

It was wasted breath and the end result had come at the cost of her feelings; sans a sincere apology.

‘I shared information that was part of my job.’ Ricard said. ‘Some of that information involved you, but it was not purposely to disclose your personal life, Valeria.’ but it had done just that.

Ricard said he wanted a friendship with her, but she was certainly aware friends didn’t do what he did. Peddling personal information to outside sources because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and it was his job. The statement was self-serving at best and it was right then and there that Valeria had known right away that she was just as much a payout as anyone else to Ricard.

Friends.

The thought played over in her head and she closed her eyes, fingers pinching roughly at the bridge of her nose, willing some measure of sting to avoid the prickle behind her eyes she knew was about to double down into another crying session.

‘I shared information that involved you - no. I’m not going to lie to you.’ he had told her.

But omitting important things such as that was the same thing as telling a lie. Weeks and weeks prior when she had met with him at the Milner estate she asked him about their relationship and further what they had meant to one another. Clearly, outside the scope of her knowledge, everyone else seemed to be aware of their past and the only one omitted from the equation had been Valeria herself -- that was until last night. 

Ricard had aimed a shot at her integrity and it struck. Boy, how it struck. Painfully she carried it with her all the way to her bedroom that night and even still the lingering effects haunted her. It stunted the evening and her time well spent with Damien was nearly overshadowed by the display. She felt horrible.

Condemned as rude, compared to a child, her character called into question, her lack of poise stated from a woman she had never met, and how swiftly she was discarded under the rug by Ricard when she asked him why he had done what he did. 

She couldn’t tell, her mind jumbled and messy, skirting the line between hurt and anger and despite her feeling the myriad of emotions, being caught up in a web she had no part in, she was now just collateral damage. She had said some harsh things in her departure from Ricard and Cordelia she had found in the corner, refusing to let either of them see her cry or what damage they had wrought on her being.

‘I curse you Ricard Blythe. I see now what is before me and I thank the twelve for my injury to rid myself of you. Good luck, one can only hope you don’t find yourself six feet deep and in a box before next year’s end.’

Of course, there was something between Ricard and Cordelia, how could one not see it after seeing the two – strangely enough – in public with one another in the corner of a room? It looked innocent enough but the conversation gave way to several clues, one being that both Cordelia and Ricard looked quite comfortable with one another. And it was all starting to make sense with how Ricard and Cordelia came to the defense of one another. 

There were two sharp knocks on her door and Valeria’s voice crackled gently, “Come in.” she announced and she willed herself to sit up in the bed when Vahalia entered, “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly the 12th bell. Honestly Valeria are you well?” Vahalia skirted over and sat herself at the edge of her sister’s bed, hand moving to place at Valeria’s forehead to check for a fever.

“I’m fine. Just a little tuckered out. I think there was a little bit too much dancing last night, I enjoyed myself, however.”

“Good.” Vahalia quipped and her hand lowered to her lap, “I was beginning to worry when I hadn’t seen you awake and flitting around the house.”

“Just a little bit of fatigue, I’ll be alright.” Val smiled across to Vahalia and she lowered her head to place some attention on her nails as she spoke, “I think I might take the day to rest.”

“As you wish.” Vahalia seemed to study Valeria for a brief moment, The twin’s intuition seemed to probe in silence but Vahalia didn’t press further, “I have some things arriving today, Dawn Aethwyn will be your physician for the time being and that of the House, so do try to familiarize yourself with her. If you feel you need her I can summon her to be here before the evening's supper?” “N-no I’m okay I promise. Just a little tired. I’m not used to as much celebration and joyous holiday festivities. Perhaps that is a sign I am getting old.” she teased with a hint of a smirk nestled into her cheek. The little prod was enough to get a bit of a stern but playful look from Vahalia.

“Well, that aside then I suppose I should tell you a bit of good news.”

“Oh out with it then!” Val turned in the bed and wiggled her way to the edge where Vahalia sat, facing her, “You know I like a bit of harmless gossip. What did you hear?” through everything she endured, she could use all the good news the family could get.

Leaning in, Vahalia opted to whisper into Valeria’s ear, the news itself causing those bicolored eyes of Valeria’s to spark wide, excitement tinged within and a small amount of shock as she pulled away, laughed, and covered her mouth.

“Really?!” she asked, eyes teary for a small moment and Valeria was simply met with a singular, brisk nod from Vahalia. Tears was brimming in Valeria’s eyes once again out of sheer bewilderment and joy as she threw her arms around her kin, finding even the simplest comfort in the scent of her sister’s perfume.

It was here that Vahalia felt Valeria’s hold growing a little tighter and needy, silently desperate for comfort. It was the intuition that had Vahalia holding a little tighter as they sat quietly in an embrace for as long as Valeria might have needed it.

Mention(s): @damien-gray-ffxiv - @ricard-blythe-ffxiv - @promethea-silk - @vahalia-cress-ffxiv

[pixelatedquarter]

Not gonna get too deep into it because these things are way more personal to me so it is a bit disproportionate and were said back in 2006 (which both indicates a pattern in having incredibly imperialist views but also means he could have learnt since then) but not Gabe using his family history as a shield when the next generation over went through a US backed dictatorship that had them actively flee the country and his takeaway from that was (not an actual quote, it's a summary) "socialized heathcare (where his dad worked at before working directly for the military hospital and then having to run away) sucked and fucked dad over, so when we moved he had to study to be a medical doctor all over again because his degree was not recognized" studying also for free mind you, his dad's alma mater is udelar which is a state funded (but in principle independent to state interests) university that's completely free. This is not some deep lore, the population is small enough to justify that there's literally one school of medicine and his dad has spoken about his time there in publications about his mentor, whom he met in an openly zionist high school (soft reminder that i'm speaking about outside the US, so don't use how minorities nucleate in the US as reference. take the relevant part of what things someone may learn at a zionist high school and pass on to new generations though)

You wanna know why the state of socialized healthcare and education on a country undergoing a right wing military coup sponsored by powers who really really really didn't want countries going 'red' sucked? Because the military regime absolutely destroyed those, by defunding but also suppressing anyone who worked or studied there. On the lower end of the scale intimidating and firing people but like, if you walk in the halls of that place or the ones from the next building over you'll find plaques in rememberance of students (some of them highschoolers) taken from those buildings to be disappeared (practice in which the military kidnaps you and then tortures and murders you, hiding the body in communal graves that then were never disclosed. There is significant trauma attached to those people never being found.). He was 4 when they left. But that's no fucking excuse. I wasn't even born, he knows how to read. He even had his time before he started going off on the 'there is no revolution' or however it was he soft launched cobra.

ok this mainly a vent not an informational post on either gabe saporta's views on the dictatorship or the dictatorship itself and it's not relevant to the situation at hand. other than showing that it's far from new behavior in the larger scale of things. i largely do not believe he means shit on his apology, but am at least glad that someone sat his ass down for the past 24 hs and yelled at him for being a walking pr nightmare and maybe maybe just maybe something genuinely stuck. We'll see.

[aot-fan-fic]

Armin x reader 💛

Series content : modern au, wet dreams, horny, sneaky, (sorta cheating but not really?? you’ll get it later), always on each other, pregnancy….

Part 1 : your words speak volumes

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

“Why aren’t you sitting on my lap? Y-you should be.. on my lap..” your drunk boyfriend spills some of his beer on himself as he pats his lap for you to come sit down.

Truth is, he’s disgusting -- he rarely cares for personal hygiene and has gotten fat since he chose to stop going to college and focus solely on drinking and gaming. This choice came after the fact that the two of you had decided to buy a four bedroom house together in a bustling suburb just south of Los Angeles -- you had in mind that he was about to propose, you’d get pregnant, maybe even twins! But instead, he quit his part time job and college simultaneously and didn’t disclose to you prior that the rent would be fully paid for by you.

Because he left that small part out prior, you had to come up with a plan to cover the mortgage every month, and furnishing the extra bedroom and renting it out was the best you could come up with.

“Y’know, babe..” you gag on the word “I think I’ll pass... I need to go meet with the potential new roommate and decided if they’re a good fit. I need help with covering the house so it can’t wait much longer.”

“Bitch.” He whispers under his breath and turns back to his computer.

You shut the door to his gaming room behind you on your way out. It’s 2pm, you’re already running late to meet the potential new roommate for coffee and your sleaze-bag boyfriend is once again completely shitfaced. You look in the mirror briefly, wipe away the little bit of running mascara from under your eyes, straighten out your cute new white tank top that you got this past weekend, and you’re off -- luckily the coffee shop was only a 5 minute drive from your door.

You walk in, look around for a second, and find a guy who matches the description of your new roommate. He’s got shorter blond hair and light blue-ish/gray eyes and a slim jawline. He’s sitting behind a computer at one of the window seats, coffee already in front of him.

Great... another computer... red flag number one.

“Armin?” you peek around the computer shyly. Being social isn’t your strong suit, and it’s painfully obvious.

His blue eyes look back at you from around the computer and he shuts it quickly and stands up to greet you.

“Hey! That’s me.” 

“Sorry I’m late. I really di-” you start to mumble out before he cuts you off.

“Don’t apologize. I’ve already been here for an hour excited to meet someone new. Besides, I’m sure it’s for good reason.”

Oh, Armin, if only you knew...

“Honestly... fuck it. You should probably know anyways before you move in... I’ve got a boyfriend and he’s not exactly all that he used to be. He’s currently at home day drinking and playing video games and probably eating all the food we have left. He can be a dick when he drinks and I just had to put up with a bit of that attitude before I came here.”

Good going, you probably scared him off from wanting to rent a room now that you’ve told him all that -- just look at his face. Fuck being socially awkward.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t realize. So, does he live there too? Or does he just stick around sometimes?”

“We live there together, but this behavior just started when we moved in together two months ago. He used to be fit and only drank on weekends and went to college at LACC. Now he just sits at home all day...”

He seems to genuinely care about the situation, but it feels foreign to open up to someone like this. There’s been no point in talking to your mom about it and there’s rarely a convenient time to tell your boyfriends mom how much of an ass he’s turned out to be.

“Well, he doesn’t hurt you at least, right?” Armin’s voice cracks slightly when he asks this as though somethings happened to him before. This attitude isn’t foreign to him.

Holding your tongue and deciding to not go too far into explaining everything that your boyfriend has done to you, you decide to simply answer with a shake of your head.

You glance down and see his cup of coffee, then realize you got too caught up in finding him and starting a conversation that you never even ordered one.

“I’m gonna go grab a coffee, do you want another?” You nod to the coffee cup sitting in front of him.

“Sure. Actually, I’ll just come up with you and order too that way we can keep talking.” He’s awful perky for having just found out that his new roommate is an ass hat.

“Okay.” you answer him with a simple smile and turn to walk towards the cash register.

“Wow...” he sighs out breathlessly and in amazement.

“What?”

“You just have a really... nice smile.”

Although it was sweet, you never imagined someone could be more socially awkward than yourself, but here he was trailing behind you like a lost puppy on the way to the cash register.

“So what do you do?” you ask, trying to brush the awkward compliment to the side.

“Well, I’m an accountant at a firm in Los Angeles and I also take classes at LACC part time, but that’s mostly for the fun of it. It’s not a necessity.” 

“For the fun of it? College isn’t exactly fun.” you almost laugh at the two words being in the same sentence together.

“True, but I’ve always found it to at least be fairly easy so I take classes to have the proof of a degree for future jobs, not because I necessarily need it.”

Well okay then, Mr. Accountant and College Boy. You’re starting to shape up to be a pretty decent person.

The two of you order your drinks and he insists on paying for you. You thank him and sit down together at the table again.

“So then, how would you describe yourself as a roommate?” This is make or break for your decision on whether or not he should be the one to move in.

“Well, I like to clean and I’m very quiet. I don’t really have friends or a girlfriend so you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone coming over that you don’t know, and I will always pay you for rent a few days ahead of time that way you don’t have to worry about covering for me.”

“That, Armin, is music to my ears. When can you move in?”

“I can move in right now if you’re fine with that. I have everything packed in my trunk just in case you said yes.”

“That’s fine with me, but just know that you’re about to see my boyfriend in a pretty rough state if he comes out of his room.”

“I’d say it’s probably better to meet him at his worst than at his best to get a real feel for what I’m in for.” Armin has a smile on his face and lets out a lighthearted laugh, but heat rushes to your cheeks at the impression you’ve already given him of Jonathan.

“Hey, Armin... there’s one other thing...” although Armin was taller than you, that wasn’t saying much. You reached a soaring 5′1 and Armin was maybe half a foot taller than you with a lean muscular build. Jonathan, on the other hand, was 6′5 and weighed 250lbs -- at this point, his muscle was fading into fat, especially around his growing beer gut. You explain all this to him and he just grabs his keys and laptop and says “I’ll follow you since you’ve got the key.” With another bright smile as he holds the door open for you and walks to his car.

Now that was far from the impression you thought that would leave on him. Although... he did say he thought it was better to meet Jonathan at his worst than at his best... Armin seems smart, and extremely sweet, and doesn’t ask nosy questions... He’s the exact opposite of the sleaze bag he’s about to meet.

You pull into the driveway and find Armin pulling up in front of the house right as you get out of your car. You walk over to him and help with one of the boxes from his trunk and find that it’s filled with various books. 

A fellow book nerd -- maybe he will be willing to trade some from time to time.

He also grabs a box and shuts his trunk.

“I’ll come back for more in a bit. I don’t need it all right now.”

“Okay! Well, follow me then.” You smile at him and get the same breathless reaction from him as you had at the coffee shop.

He follows you up the short driveway and to the front door where you set the box down and fumble to get your keys out of your purse.

Blood rushes to your face, although it’s literally only been seconds you hate how awkward you are about everything. It doesn’t help that you can feel Armin’s eyes on you.

Finally.

You unlock the door, pick the box back up, and walk in.

“Jonathan, I’m home and I brought Armin with me.”

And, right on queue, something from directly upstairs falls, the sound of a bottle breaking ensues, and a loud “SHIT!” wraps up the whole commotion.

Of course... 

“Here, follow me. You don’t need to kick your shoes off. I’ll show you to your new room.” You nod upstairs and hope to God that Jonathan doesn’t choose to walk out of the room now.

Armin’s eyes are still on you while you’re walking up the stairs, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of exactly where he’s looking. Oddly enough though, you don’t mind it. His gaze doesn’t have the same trauma effects on you as Jonathan’s does. Egk... just the thought of him alone makes you shiver --

And of course, right on time, a wobbly Jonathan peers out of his door.

“Where’ve you been I called for-- ‘n I wanted... damn baby you shouldn’ be dressed...”

All his words jumble together, and he’s only cut off from his incoherent rant when Armin peaks around you and says “I’m actually glad she’s dressed, otherwise this would be awkward, don’t you think? I’m Armin Arlet. I’m your new roommate that’s gonna help pay for part of the mortgage.”

“pfft... whatevr..” Jonathan slams the door behind himself as he skulks back into his dingy smelly cave. More clattering of bottles and more drunk slurs and mumbling occur before he seems to finally get comfortable.

“I’m so sorry about that. He’s just had a lot to drink today so on the bright side, he will probably pass out soon and you wont have to interact with him anymore for today.”

“No! Don’t apologize. It’s his choice, not yours. You’re not his mom.” He’s cool with his answer and doesn’t seem fazed in the least about how Jonathan just acted.

“You’ll be right over here.” You signal to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. “It’s on the smaller side, but it’s got a closet and it’s own full bathroom.”

You plop the heavy box of books on his bed and open up the window to let in the evening natural light. When you turn around, Armin is blushing and staring at you, then quickly looks around the room and clears his throat and simply says “It’s perfect, thank you.”

You walk past him and open up the door to show off the full bathroom, then walk out and explain that if he needs anything, you’ll either be in your bedroom or downstairs on the couch or in the kitchen while you’re home.

“Wait... I should probably have your number, right?” His voice cracks slightly. 

“Oh, right. Here, hand me your phone I can put it in!” you respond cheerfully.

You tap in your name and number into his phone, then send yourself a text so you know his number.

Little did you know, that was the start to one of the naughtiest chain of decisions you have ever made...

———————————————————

Part 2????

[kaiticn]

fire starter

There are things that I've kept from C for a very long time, and I never truly understood why that was -- only what it was not: it was not an act of pining for my first relationship; it was not because I missed him; it was not out of love (at least, not anymore).

I held onto some photos, some token notes and drawings, some letters and a handmade rose in a glass vile. I sort through them on occasion, but most recently with the intention to let go.

For the most part, I managed. Although I kept the flower, a love letter, and the final letter: an apology. I realize now the way that, in succession, each represents the beginning, the middle and the end. Interesting.

I had a moment of transparency with M in the day following, disclosing the things I chose to hold onto. He did not condemn nor criticize: with his usual temperament and unconditional curiosity, he only asked why. At first, I told him that I didn't know -- my usual response for the moments I need to buy myself some time to assess causal roots.

I made sense of it all somewhere between Finch & St Patrick.

I realized:

I either have the memories without tangible evidence of it, or what few tokens I have saved are no longer assigned to present company. Regardless, I don't have much to look back on or assurance that I existed prior to where I am right now.

I told M that, without assuring myself of a past, I feel like I am free floating. He asked what was wrong with that. I said it feels really, very lonely.

Then I cried on the subway.

. . .

I've cried about it before, too, in different settings, without entirely understanding what the feeling was.

It's the reason why I'm emotionally overwhelmed when M invites me into a rabbit hole of his endless group photos. It's the reason why I feel a pit in my stomach when his family reminisces over warm childhood memories. It's the reason why I feel a twinge of envy when knowing that, within a moment's notice, he could have any of his friends at his doorstep.

It's because of loneliness. It's because I am a very sad and lonely person. Chronic anxiety; chronic loneliness; chronic yearning for people who share my likeness and abundant memories, equipped with the evidence that it happened.

But my most recent photos with friends come from high school, none after. Stories of my childhood are not at my disposal. I can't think of anyone besides M who would be willing or able to show up within the same day of asking. Besides, he is my emergency contact.

. . .

I decided that what I thought was keeping me grounded was only holding me down. I realized the blatant hypocrisy in being the one who abandons everything but still holds them on a leash; far enough to claim distance yet still within reach for comfort's sake.

I put blockades on either end of a deteriorating bridge rather than burning it and starting anew. That's some real underfunded municipality type behaviour. But I am no GTA -- I am reflective. I am efficient. I am radical.

. . .

It's time to burn some shit

[ptersparkers]

the art of eating pussy (5)

summary: upon realizing you lack skills in the bedroom when a touron asks you out on a date, you turn to jj, a self-proclaimed sexual deviant, for help.

warnings: smut, y’all. 

notes: i haven’t been in the right headspace to right recently and wanted to give my reads something of quality and substance, not something to rush just for satisfaction. behold, chapter five.

co-authored and co-written with @storiesbymads​. SHOW MY WIFE SOME LOVE.

add yourself to my taglist + series masterlist 

JJ’s hung up. 

You’d been spending less time at the Chateau in favor of spending time with Trent since it was the last week that he’d be on the island. His mind was racing, conflicted with the thoughts of your mouth on Trent and his lips on your neck. The night of the party had been the worst moment of the week and his jaw hurt from clenching by the time he ended up crashing out on John B’s couch. JJ always drank to forget and that night wasn’t an exception. 

He knew it wasn’t just about sex with you anymore. It wasn’t about the opportunity for him to get off by the hand of someone else. It wasn’t about him taking advantage of you. There was nothing complicated about the two of you in the bedroom. 

But outside of the bedroom, JJ’s head was spinning every time you said goodbye or forced him out the door because your parents were home. He didn’t have to think when he was with you; JJ knew what you wanted and knew what to expect. He knew that his time alone with you was the product of these lessons but that didn’t mean he had to think of this time as anything but passionate. When his tongue wasn’t down your throat, he was thinking about the tight feeling in his chest that left him wondering what was going to happen once you told him it was over because he didn’t want this to end.

JJ hadn’t thought about the lessons ending until he saw you tucked underneath Trent’s arm at the party. This whole situation wasn’t friends with benefits and he knew it, which is why it messed with his head so much. Yes, there was the whole “no strings attached” ordeal, but this wasn’t just one of you calling the other for sex. This was much more complicated. You were one of JJ’s best friends but the only difference is you’d seen him naked, intentionally. 

His thoughts are preoccupied with the idea that once the lessons end, you might still be with Trent despite him no longer being on the island. JJ would have to go back to being just friends and he’d have to pretend that he never saw you naked. He’d have to pretend he didn’t revel in the thought of you trembling beneath him. The other Pogues, to his knowledge, had no idea that the both of you were fooling around and he didn’t know if it was something he wanted to disclose. On one hand, he wanted a second opinion on whether or not this was something healthy. On the other hand, he knew what they would say; that JJ didn’t care about catching feelings and it was unlikely that he would consider succumbing to being a boyfriend. He knew he’d expressed his disdain for relationships in the past, but now he wasn’t so sure. 

You ended up skipping out on the last two beach sessions in favor of Trent. Pope had decided to stay behind on the sand with JJ while Sarah, Kiara, and John B. enjoyed themselves under the warmth of the sun and the contrasting coolness of the ocean waves. Pope could sense something was amiss when JJ was the first to propose having a relaxing afternoon and hadn’t shown up with his surfboard tucked underneath his arm. 

“Something’s up,” Pope stated. “Something’s been up for a while and I didn’t want to say anything about it until I knew for sure, but something’s definitely up.” JJ shook his head. 

“It’s nothing.” Pope nudged JJ with his shoulder. 

“C’mon, man. You don’t want to surf, your mind is a million miles from where you are, and not to mention, this entire week you’ve been moody.”

“I’m not moody,” JJ muttered with a scowl, flicking at a clump of sand near his foot. Pope’s mouth formed a knowing smile. JJ sighed. “Okay, I’ve been moody.” 

“What’s up? Is it your dad again?” 

“No,” JJ replied softly. “I just think life is bullshit.”

“We all think life is bullshit.” 

“Feelings are bullshit.” Pope’s ears perked with interest. 

“Feelings?” JJ looked at Pope before looking back at the view in front of him, watching as Kiara had playfully splashed Sarah with ocean water. He wished he could feel that carefree. 

“They suck,” he began. “I think it’s stupid that people are allowed to feel something for people and not know if they feel the same.” 

“Are you talking about someone?” JJ paused. 

“No,” he replied. 

“Okay...” Pope trailed off. JJ sighed once more.

“What I’m trying to say, is, I wish we weren’t cursed with not knowing where the lines are blurred and I wish we could all say how we feel without consequence.” 

Pope sensed that JJ was trying to speak metaphorically and project his emotions on a secondary situation. He nodded, trying to follow the blond’s train of thought. He pursed his lips as JJ spoke and wanted to understand what he was saying to the fullest extent, but the boy decided to let JJ talk. 

“Have you ever thought about getting off this island?” JJ asked after a few moments of silence. 

“What kind of question is that?” Pope asked, laughing. “Of course I do.”

“But really,” said JJ. “Not just getting off and seeing what it’s like. I mean, like, what you’re gonna be doing in twenty years and the people who are going to be in your life.”

“Sometimes,” Pope replied with a casual shrug. “I try to take things one day at a time. I never want to overwhelm myself.”

“Lucky you,” JJ muttered. “I see myself off of this stupid fucking island by the time I’m thirty. I don’t want to live in a place where I feel trapped and can’t say what I want to fucking say.”

“I want to be able to forget about the Kooks,” Pope chimed in. JJ nodded. “I kinda want to live in San Francisco.”

“I’d probably live in Europe or something,” JJ said. “Don’t know where but I’d want to experience life as far away from North Carolina as possible.”  

“You sure you’re okay?” Pope asked. He knew he wasn’t. 

“Yeah, man,” JJ replied. “Just got a lot of things on my mind.”

The idea of fooling around with anyone that wasn’t you hadn’t crossed JJ’s mind. He’d been to Boneyard keggers since the lessons began but the notion of flirting and bringing a girl back to the Chateau was way off his radar. The Pogues didn’t take much notice but JJ wondered if they knew something was amiss or if they’d say something about it if they did. If he was able to realize he hadn’t slept with anyone since he began “teaching” you, then they might have. JJ knew their worlds didn’t revolve around him, and the boy was still as goofy and troublesome as ever, but there was a seeded doubt that made him awkward whenever he was around his friends if you happened to be there. 

It wasn’t that his stomach felt queasy or that his heart was racing. He’d be lying to himself if he admitted that. His head was clear when it came to how he felt about you and he wouldn’t hesitate rushing to your house if you called him for another lesson or if you just wanted to kick back with him in your room and jam out to vinyls you pulled out whenever you felt nostalgic. Before, he would never have considered approaching your side of the island but now he didn’t feel as small as he did when he didn’t have a reason to be there. Your parents were familiar with your friends and didn’t mind JJ stopping by, which gave him more of an incentive to visit you when he had had enough of the Chateau and his friends’ loud personalities. 

JJ knew his head was clear when it came to how he was feeling. The only part that clouded his judgement was Trent and dealing with the different friendship he’d have with you. He was sure that if the Touron wasn’t in the picture, things would be much easier for him. Trent’s dark and slick hair reminded him of greed and filth. His boisterous personality reminded JJ of everything he never wanted to be and he couldn’t understand why you’d pay attention to him for longer than a quick glance. The Touron was casually cool, the type of person who wanted to say they were able to rub elbows with the socialites of New York City by posting it on his social media accounts. You, on the other hand, were down to earth and courageous about your future potential. He couldn’t fathom why you were so attracted to someone who was your opposite. 

Your head had been spinning too. Trent was the perfect gentleman and he hadn’t given you a reason to not trust him. And yet, every moment you spent with him reminded you that you weren’t spending it with JJ. You couldn’t understand why you’d been thinking about his shaggy hair when he wakes up or the way his eyes squint when he laughs a little too hard. Trent was giving you his full and undivided attention, and you always felt guilty when you needed to force yourself back into reality because you had been zoning out, daydreaming of being anywhere else. 

But JJ never seemed to be anything other than friendly with you. You opted to disregard how he acted during the lessons, summing that up to pent up sexual frustration and a genuine interest to help you out after years of teasing you. You weren’t completely naive; you knew this was a way for JJ to get himself off, much like it was for you. The only difference between JJ taking advantage of you versus not was the fact that you wanted him to teach you how to make others feel good and how to make yourself feel like a goddess in the bedroom. You weren’t exactly sure why there had been a lack of awkwardness between the both of you despite him being your best friend since birth. There was never a question of doubt from JJ when you asked him to help you learn. There was no laughing when you admitted your lack of knowledge. Perhaps that’s why your initial doubt disappeared the first time he asked you to kiss him.

Trent had apologized for the beach date when he’d gotten startled by strangers parking next to him and promised you he’d make it up to you. He came through on his promise after you got worked up before your dinner date. You arrived at the hotel he was staying at while his father attended an event on the other side of Figure Eight and his hand glided up the side of your dress. Trent wasn’t rough nor was he gentle; he was giving you what you thought you wanted but it didn’t feel as skilled or as tender as when JJ’s fingers were inside of you. With JJ, your orgasm approached as if JJ already knew everything there was to know but Trent took his sweet time making you cum. 

You always cursed yourself for letting your mind wander innocuously to JJ when Trent’s lips were on your neck or when his fingers were toying with the hem of your clothing. There wasn’t much going on between you and Trent, sexually, despite him wanting to take it further. You were lucky enough that Trent verbally expressed his willingness to wait, but you wondered if that wait time had an expiration date. You wanted to make sure if it felt right before you were able to deliver on a promise. You knew that your lessons with the blond would come to an end the moment you two had gone all the way, or until you were ready to experience sex without JJ, and you always moved that thought to the back of your mind to avoid thinking about it. 

By now, you felt guilty for spending the majority of this week with Trent. Kiara had texted you a few times but understood wanting to spend time with him until he left. As far as you could tell, neither John B. nor Pope cared too much because they were happy their youngest friend was happy with someone. JJ, on the other hand, you couldn’t read. You didn’t understand why it was so difficult for you to reach out to him first or comprehend him, which you were usually good at. Suddenly, you were overthinking the way he talked to you and if he chose to sit next to you or someone else. You were overthinking his lingering gaze either on your thighs or some girl who walked past him with a weird knot in the pit of your stomach. 

You kept telling yourself none of that mattered because you had Trent and you were sure you knew how you felt. Trent treated you right, was willing to wait, and never made you feel second best for not being as sexually promiscuous as he was. Yet something was lacking and you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

You tried not to think about it on your way to the Chateau. The screen door slammed shut as you walked into the living room to try and save yourself from the downpour of rain. After Trent had dropped you off when his father had called him during the middle of a movie marathon, you opted to see the Pogues and spend some time with them once you realized how many times you had declined their offer to hang out. You saw JJ already sprawled out on the couch, seemingly all by himself. 

“John B’s out with Sarah,” he said casually, pushing himself up onto his elbows to give you some room to sit down. You nodded a thank you, crossing your arms over your wet torso in an attempt to warm your shivering body as you sat down. Glancing down at your chest, you silently swore as you noticed your red bra was, in fact, very visible under your white shirt. 

“Nice bra,” he chuckled, trying not to ogle too long. JJ hoped his comment didn’t make you feel awkward; he was having a hard time talking to you because he didn’t exactly know where he stood with you. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled but you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks. 

“So…” JJ trailed off. “How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a few days.” 

“I’ve been good,” you nodded. 

“And Trent?” he asked, attempting, and majorly failing, to hide the venom that laced his tongue. You mistook this as annoyance.

“Good,” you said, not wanting to talk about him anymore. JJ cleared his throat, his teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw, as he shifted on the couch so that he was sitting upright and facing you. 

“You've been putting my lessons to good use?” he asked. He didn’t know why he’d asked. He had no desire to hear about you with another guy. 

“You could say that,” you said. Were you really putting them to good use if you weren’t enjoying yourself with Trent nearly as much as you had been with JJ? You couldn’t tell JJ that Trent’s hands on you just sent your mind spiraling back to him or when Trent’s lips were on yours, it reminded you of that first night you started the whole thing. 

“Oh? Does he make you feel good?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Because it’s not worth it if you’re not getting something out of it, too.”

“Uh, well-”

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he asked suddenly. He knew he was asking the question more for himself but he was desperate to have you again. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to show you how a real man treats his girl. 

“What?” you were taken aback by the forwardness of his question. You watched as his eyes dilated, flicking back and forth from your lips to your chest. 

“You know what I mean,” he said. “You need to be shown what it’s like to be taken care of.”

“But you already-”

“Just let me do this for you,” he snapped. “Please.”

“Okay,” you said before turning your body on the couch to face him. You hadn’t stopped shivering since entering the Chateau not too long ago and your goosebumps increased as you watched JJ move closer to you. He used his right hand to pry your knees apart, positioning himself between them. Your heart rate picked up as he leaned forward to press his lips against yours, the cold air hitting your wet skin when JJ pushed the soaked fabric of your t-shirt up so that it rested just under the hemline of your bra. 

“Up,” he mumbled against your lips, the vibrations forcing a soft moan out of you as you broke the kiss to lift your arms above your head. You let out a small laugh when your shirt made a sloshing sound against the ground. It stopped as soon as it started, however, because you felt JJ start applying open-mouthed kisses along your collarbones. 

Feeling his body pressed up against yours stirred up all the daydreams you’d had every time you’d gotten intimate with Trent. You’d been in this position before with him, but somehow it felt better without the pretense of a lesson. You were under the guise that this wasn’t just about teaching you what you liked and what you didn’t. Part of you wanted to believe that this was more than a lesson you’d acquire from JJ’s depth of knowledge. JJ’s kisses trailed lower and lower until his teeth started toying with the waistband of your shorts. The throbbing between your legs was growing steadily and you let out a sigh of relief when he finally dipped his fingers into the waistband and tugged the wet shorts down your legs with effort because of the rain, dropping them on the floor with your shirt. 

“JJ,” you whimpered as he took his time moving down your body. He slipped his hands under your knees so that he could place them on his shoulders delicately before he laid out on the couch with his face centimeters away from your nearly bare pussy. 

He let out a soft laugh in disbelief at how incredibly soaked you already were. It was practically coating your thighs at this point and your cunt was aching in anticipation for his touch. All JJ could think about is how you let another man see you from this point of view, which was enough to give rise to JJ’s ego. His mission was to make you feel so good that you’d think of him the next time Trent put his hands down your pants; he wanted you to remember this moment and know what it was like to be eaten out by someone who was determined to make you orgasm like a holy grail. 

JJ’s jealousy didn’t cause him to act rashly and dominate the situation. He started by pressing fluttering kisses to the side of your knee, his eyes flickering up to see you watching him intently. JJ began by tenderly kissing the inside of your thighs, making comments about how soft you are and how you smelled so sweet. He does all he can to make you squirm underneath his touch, loving that your gaze didn’t leave him even if you tried. JJ pressed a kiss to the waistband of your underwear and you whimpered at the thought of him being so close to you in a way that was more intimate than before. 

He chuckled when he heard you whimper again and moved his mouth to kiss along your clothed entrance. You knew JJ’s game all too well and you knew he’d take his time teasing you until you were begging for it. It took a while to come to this conclusion, but you figured out that you enjoyed the slow pace before the big finish. JJ had taught you that when you reached an orgasm, it was less about the other party getting off by getting you off. The point of your orgasm was to make you feel like a queen in the bedroom, not like a used toy to get someone else off. 

So when JJ used the pad of his index finger to move your underwear aside and toy with your cunt, you didn’t bother begging for his mouth. Instead, you closed your eyes and relished in the feeling of his warm hands on you. JJ looked pleased at your reaction and wanted to make this moment last for as long as he could. His finger moved in slow circles before hitting a sensitive nerve that caused your hips to rise, to which JJ laughed and pinned you down in the cushions. 

JJ pressed two delicate kisses on your entrance. His mouth was being coated in your slick and he licked his lips, closing his eyes to savor the way you tasted. His body inched forward in an attempt to be as close to you as possible before licking a stripe with his tongue pressed flat against you, causing you to let out a deep moan in satisfaction. 

JJ’s tongue worked like magic, as if he already knew all of your weak spots and was discovering the different sounds you could make by his tongue. His hands were gripping your thighs and his eyes would look at his meal before back up at you, and you had taken the liberty to use your hands to tug on his hair when he had hit a pleasure point. 

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered against you to himself, proud of how loud and unapologetic you were being. He swore that if the Pogues had walked in the door, he’d stop eating your pussy and show them how pretty you looked underneath him. But he knew they would all be at Kiara’s until the storm passed. 

His motions were delicate until he recalled the thought of you and Trent together in bed. His tongue began to dart in and out of you at a faster speed with every increasing thought. Giving Trent a handjob. Trent stripping you out of your bra and underwear. His fingers inside of you. His tongue down your throat. His cock in your mouth. His cock in your - JJ’s - pussy. He knew he was irrational and wrong to think that last thought, but in this moment, your pussy was his for the taking and he was going to make your orgasm like your life depended on it. 

JJ’s grip on your thighs became tighter and you felt locked underneath him. Your toes curled and your hips bucked at the pressure and pace at which JJ was eating you out. His head was moving like he was catching every last drop of your wetness before going back for some more. JJ had taken the liberty to lift his head and spit on your entrance before diving back in, his tongue so deep inside of you that you almost considered asking him to use his cock instead. 

“JJ,” you muttered, tugging on his hair. 

“Just cum, baby,” he urged. “I’m ready for you.” 

You obliged and it didn’t take you that long to release. JJ lapped the white pearls that were spilling out of you and his eyes were rolling to the back of his head as he realized this was the first time he was seeing you, and tasting you, from this angle. JJ’s jaw was becoming sore but he paid no attention as your legs spread wider against the couch and your body moved to the rhythm of his tongue. 

When you were coming down from your high, JJ couldn’t have imagined anything hotter than the sight and sound before him, but your fingers reached down to your aching core in oblivion and began toying with your clit as your breathing steadied. JJ watched in awe as your fingers moved in slow, delicate and circular motions, your bottom lip in between your teeth and your eyes shut. His mouth hung open at how totally, completely, and utterly fucked you were in this orgasmic haze and was pulled out of this fantasy when you tugged your hand away and reached for a tissue to clean yourself up. 

JJ couldn't think of anything to say and neither could you. You settled on watching a movie in silence. 

***

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[qingxintea]

heartbreak avenue (3) || albedo x reader

heartbreak avenue (1) heartbreak avenue (2) -- tell me how, do you do this thing called living? when theres nothing more to gain. gn reader -- ignore the link below idk how tf to hyperlink on mobile but that’s ur part 4 ig

damn. imagine missing mond so much that you visit just for the vibes and accidentally become a one time vigilante for dominating over a couple abyss mages

how oddly specific!

you moment.

TO BE FAIR, you didn't mean to and also ur just strong with that 245% crit damage ugh yeah yeah get it ig

it was night time, like, idk 1am and you were in this cloak because idk look swaggy and comfortable

abyss mage went ŏ̸̡̡̹̘͉̫̬̬̭̘̙̝͐͒̆̈́̒̿̄́͠͝ǒ̸̧̺͕̣̬̝̱͈̭̭̻̮̈̏̔͆̑̀̍ǫ̵̡̜̲̭̠̤̰̹͍̣͎̤̈́̓̍͠ḩ̴̡͍̣̹̯̭̩̮̣̩̭́̔̀̍͊̂͒́̆͘͜͝͝ȃ̷̧̡̢̡̨̛̪͓̤̜͕̳̦̼͊̏̃͆̓̈́̈́̽̈́͌͐̋̚ͅh̸̡̩͍̟͕̥͚̰̰̟̮̖̪̉̈́͛͂̍̾a̸̧̢͕̙̞̳̩͈̲͉͕̒̆̎̐̎̍̀͊͘̚͝h̸̡̼͓̝͕̫̤̰̱̬̣̗͚̙̀͜ and you were like "lmao shut up"

and like it did! because you made it shut up and also mans diluc was watching in his dark knight hero thingy

of course you noticed his presence from the beginning, you just wanted to piss him off and act like he wasn't there at all

you walked. straight past him like he was actually on the bridge in the middle and you just w al ked .

i mean ofc he gonna say something. and he did. dude said "who r u"

stared at him directly in the eye and said "the embryo made of chewed bubblegum."

he stared. sh o ck ed . what were you even saying

"jk im a resident of mondstadt, visiting from my liyue trip."

"and how do i know you arent lying?"

you sighed and grabbed your dendro vision, letting him look at the frame. "its incased in a mondstadt styled frame." after a few seconds, you put it back. "if that is all, i'll be going."

"k"

"literally fuck off" you responded and walked inside.

sometimes you forget how rude mondstadt people are lmao loser.

ok so like this donna girl really went up to you like "JFKLSJFLKSDJFL NUMBER ??? HELLO ?? UMM THE WAY YOU SAVED MONDSTADT RLKDFFC" and you resisted every urge to flip her off on the spot.

you just stayed and let her talk, smiling through all of it. your hood was still on but it was quite windy s ooo

its been ten minutes. girl please let us go. you were literally begging for anyone to cut in because ur too nice (or unbothered) to tell her to shut up even though you totally went off on diluc aadahahhshdf

and someone did! not the one you expected though.

"good evening donna, and... oh? who would you be?"

ALBEDO LMAO GET STICKBUGGED? ? ? ?? AH a hjfkahfjah . im so funny .

guys i meant that ironically please

anyway

you got even more uncomfortable lmao and you just looked at him and smiled. what do you respond? "no one of importance."

he heard your voice, saw your eyes and it registered. it was you...

or was that what he wanted to believe?

cause this whole time hes been waiting for you, only using experiments as a thing to pass time. it got... a little more lonelier, because nothing could replace you.

he decided to not believe it. because 1) you knew well they welcomed you with open arms, so there would be no need to hide yourself

(which is also proof of how much the whole situation fucked up your thinking)

a second of silence before he continues on the conversation with normal evening meeting stuff things idk

then ur like "ahhshaaajk i must be taking my leave now for matters i will not disclose ahaha skidoosh"

skidoosh

so you go to the big venti statue next to the cathedral and just stand. stare. yikes

no ones out right now and theres nothing to do. but you remember this place because its where the both of yall would eat together whenever he had free time (which wasnt that often, but he still made the effort)

you look up to the sky, counting all the stars like you used to.

no ones gonna know that you're here, you decided on that. you only visited because you simply missed it, but after this, you were going back to liyue.

no ones gonna know. because no one needs to know. no one needs to know that you were here. that would only cause more trouble to the situation you tried to avoid

albedo ends up catching up to you later, still having some spark of hope left that it really was you

i mean lowkey there isnt really anything saying it wasnt. he wanted to believe that he was just overthinking when he thought it really wasnt you

like you look the same. sound the same. its just the reasoning of you coming here, but he can push that aside

"(y/n)."

you flinch but didnt react with anything else. he doesnt need to know that its you.

"(y/n)?"

you turn around to meet his eyes as he was approaching you. slightly distancing yourself another inch away as you were not used to the proximity, you responded, "i'm afraid i'm not the one you're looking for."

albedo stops for a moment, and was about to apologize,, but then

yknow that wind i mentioned earlier? like right after donna started bothering you

yeah that same wind blew ur hood off! lmao L

okay time to get serious !

you stay composed and sighed, your breath visible in the cold air.

so your features are exposed, and its so obviously you, like theres literally no way it cannot be you

"it really is you..." he doesnt understand why youre not admitting to it. "(y/n), please.."

you shake your head and walk away but mans grabs your wrist gently

"(y/n), whats wr-" he starts, but youre quick to respond

"im not (y/n)." you flat out said it and looked right into his eyes. and you swear there were small tears even if he was deemed nonchalant.

he doesnt understand, its your physical features, and your same energy, there is no other person that completely matches it.

he pulls you closer to examine this black smudge on your hand, a small yelp of surprise coming from you.

"this is... ink," he studied the properties of the substance. "you responded to my letter a day ago. (y/n)... i know by now. there's no reason to hide it."

you step away, freeing your hand from his grasp. your voice broke, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "i'm not... i'm not (y/n). i never will be. i'll never be so vulnerable again, i'll never be so naive again, i'll never be so lonely again, i will never ever be anything like they were again."

your vision blurred, but you werent oblivious to the tears streaming down his face as well. reaching to brush them away, you paused and let it drop to his shoulder instead.

"albedo. i... the (y/n) you knew... they're gone now. and if i could revert back to them any time, i would, i swear, but... i'm al-... they..." you buried your head in your hands. "i'm broken. to the point that i refuse to identify as the (y/n) you know me by."

doesnt know what to say, so he almost pulls you into a hug before you move out of the way. something you never did.

"don't... please. it never works out in the end." you shake your head, facing the other way. "for me at least."

"..we could work together, no?" he tried, still oblivious about your feelings towards him.

"only if you're willing to cross your moral boundaries," you looked back and tilted your head. taking a deep breath, you continued, "but you know that neither of us are willing to do that."

he couldn't say anything, because as much as he hated to admit something for once, you were right about that. at this point, he would've thought that literally any extent would've been fine to reach to bring you back.

yet in multiple situations where he's doubted himself before, theres always a line he will never cross.

"...i wish you the best. treat her well because i worked hard." you walked away without him stopping you this time. i worked hard. not we worked hard.

even if you had honestly felt that way, there was no chance the old you wouldve actually voiced that.

and so he watched you slip from his grasp again, only this time, he stopped himself from holding you back from his own will.

yet he swears- the next time he meets you again, he will bring you back.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

call out my name pt. 2

summary: spencer rushes off to fix things with y/n, but can they really be fixed?

word count: 2,371                                                                                     reading time aprox: 9 mins

a/n: i just wanted to say thank you for all the support and praise i received on here, especially seeing all of my favorite authors comment and reblog my work is so heartening. thank you all so much for the support, you’re the reason why i have the encouragement to continue doing what i love <3

masterlist

part 1

The rain pattered against the window panes, interlocking with the light that shone through the sheer curtains of my apartment. A cold breeze slipped through the crack of the window, letting it venture through the dim room before it graced my skin. Although the sensation hadn’t registered in my mind as the plain beige wall in front of me consumed my attention. 

The hypnotic sound of the rain provided a consistent rhythm that encouraged my introspection. In the entire duration of my break, I’ve let my thoughts filter and organize themselves. I’ve felt powerless against the accusations that my brain has thrown towards me, setting my emotions to the side in a state of suspense. 

My knees were curled up against my chest, my unwashed hair scrunched up against my cheeks, and my sweater was littered with unknown stains and dried tears. Along with the descension of my reasonability, my hygiene followed shortly after. 

I was brought out of my bubble by the buzz of my phone. I turned it off weeks ago from the constant notifications I got from the team, it was only when I received a text message from my mother that I decided to turn it back on for the day. 

I reached over to the side table where my phone laid, feeling my muscles tense up and ache from the lack of movement I’ve done these past weeks. Turning it on, the intense light blinded me, leaving me disoriented. When my eyes finally adjusted to the sudden change of light, I wished that I had been blinded a little longer than I was. 

The notification read ‘New Voicemail: JJ <3’ 

My breath got pushed back in my throat, a wave of discomfort flooding over my entire body as my thumb hesitated over the notification. My lips trembled, swallowing my saliva while a debate ensued between my impulsivity and my timidity. With a numb boost of confidence I hurriedly pressed on the notification, traveling through my phone to hear out her message. 

“Hey Y/N” The message began. “I know that you heard...about what I said to Spence-” Her voice was low and full of penance, although any remorse that I tried to comprehend washed away at her use of Spencer’s nickname. “Gosh, I don’t even - I don’t even know how to begin to apologize for what I said - I - you don’t know how much Spence loves you and how much he talks about you” She sighed, her tone picking up as she praised Spencer. “But what I said was completely inappropriate and I’m so sorry for what I said. Telling Spence that I loved him was way out of line, considering that you’re such a dear friend to me, and especially since things are so complicated with me and Will - I just - I’m so sorry that I told him that I love-” 

The rest of the message was left to the imagination as I forcefully threw my phone against the beige wall, denting it in the process. A flurry of newfound rage clouded my mind, providing a break from the contradicting thoughts that usually engulfed my head. For once, I had directed the emotion towards another individual rather than myself. 

The phone fell with a heavy thud, glass debris flying across the floor, decorating the oak floors with fragments. I could care less about the material expense that I would have to pay; my blind resentment tainting my rationality. 

My chest heaved in exasperation as a novel onslaught of tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Although the quantity of tears were sparse because they were wasted on my self reproach the previous week. I furiously wiped them away, detaching myself from the malicious feeling, a habit I came to develop. 

I adapted to the stupefaction that infiltrated my heart, at times feeling grateful for the ability. The coldness that surrounded my small living room couldn’t compare to the icy innards of my chest. 

Finally collecting my composure, I looked over to a mirror that sat between my bookshelves, taking in my disheveled and ragged appearance. 

JJ wouldn’t look like this

My face contorted into a somber expression, letting my insecurities slip through the hard persona I persisted to instill in myself. I surveyed the filthy environment that surrounded me; the floor was painted with old dirt, the furniture had accumulated colonies of dust, and the roses that sat on the kitchen counters had wilted. 

JJ would never let herself go like this

Who was I kidding? Who was I, Y/N Y/L/N, to compare to a Georgetown graduate, an astounding profiler, and an icon of beauty? 

Well the one thing I had that she didn’t was Spencer

But did I really? 

I was startled out of my grim assessment by a frantic knocking against my front door. I groaned internally, not hesitating to stay where I was situated. I couldn’t handle any human interaction at the moment, frankly I didn’t want any human interaction at all. I’ve learned to love the little cocoon I had built around me, finding serendipity in my self-isolation. 

“Go away!” I attempted to shout, but all that came out was a hoarse whimper that sent a sharp pain to my esophagus. I flinched as the knocking became more frantic, the volume elevating along with the forceful jabs against the wood. 

I felt my ears ring, using my hands to alleviate the pounding that attacked my eardrums. I was about to open my mouth to disclose another warning, but a familiar voice had interrupted me. 

“Y/N! Y/N are you in there!” Spencer yelled, slamming his fists against the door between every phrase. 

I froze in my spot, a wave of mixed emotions coming over me as my cheeks flushed at hearing his voice for the first time in a long time. The familiar sound sent shockwaves down my spine and dread silenced my tongue. It felt like I was on high alert, like an animal paranoid of its prey. 

“Y/N! Just - god please tell me you’re at least okay” He stammered in his fit of hysteria, the bangs on the door slowing in rhythm. 

Silence followed his pleas, instilling a sense of relief that I didn’t know I needed. Movement outside stilled, making me think that he had given up his relentless efforts and went elsewhere. I let out a breath that I held in, alleviating the stress that had accumulated inside of me. 

Although the moment that I began to relax into my seat, two blaring shots rattled through the apartment complex. The scent of gunpowder meshed with the dewy air as I jumped out of my seat, startled and alarmed. I closed my eyes and covered my ears with my palms, the ringing leaving me blindsided. 

“Y/N! Y/N? Are you there?” Spencer rushed in with his gun pointed, his feet clattering against the floor in a haste. 

“What the fuck Spencer” I hoarsely whispered, although the meekly volume of my voice hadn’t penetrated this ears. 

“Y/N!” He called out once again, slowing his movements as his sneakers squeaked with every step he made. 

“I’m here Spencer, I’m here” I repeated, using all my might to push the small phrase off of my tongue. My throat stung at the strain of my voice, a burning feeling eliciting from the back of my throat due to the dryness. This time I had caught his attention.

We locked eyes for a brief moment before I quickly broke our line of sight, insecure about my current appearance; even after a month I still held Spencer’s opinion to the highest magnitude. In the time that I observed him, I noticed that he was drenched in rain water, his hair tangled and strung out from his head while droplets proceeded behind him. 

“I-” He breathed, his words caught in his throat. He dropped his revolver beside him in incredulity, drinking in my battered presence. He didn’t look too well either, his stature was still the same but the bags under his eyes were prominent, his cheeks were puffed from exhaustion, and his posture resembled the hunchback of Notre Dame. 

“W- what are y- you doing here Spencer?” I croaked, rubbing my hands against my arms in an attempt for any type of coverage. 

My senses heightened as I waited for his response. He brought in such a familiar, yet unfamiliar presence with him. It felt like I was home, but so far away from it at the same time. 

Maybe it was the way that I longed for the warmth of his embrace, the calming rhythm of his heart beat while I slept on his chest, and the soothing melody of his voice while he read to me. But maybe it was also the way he hadn’t dared to speak when JJ’s voice was full of love, when he assumed that I hadn’t acknowledged the endearments he received from another woman, and when I became a distant thought in the back of his head. 

I’ve never doubted Spencer’s eidetic memory, but this time I questioned my place in that brilliant mind of his. Maybe for the first time, I was the one thought that had ceased to exist. 

“I - why didn’t you tell me?” He uttered, running his hand over his jaw in grievance. His eyes burned holes into me, the intense glare making me feel small under his scrutiny. 

I couldn’t answer

“God Y/N - I don’t even - why didn’t you even tell me?” 

“I - uh - I don’t” I stuttered, unable to muster the confidence or cognitive ability to speak; it was like my brain had turned into mush. 

“Please talk to me” He pleaded, taking a hesitant step closer to me. 

I stumbled back in a haste like he was some sort of repellent. I felt a constant push and pull in my gut, messing with my innate instincts. 

“Spencer don’t-” I warned, seeing how he had taken a few determined strides towards me. 

“Spence...please don't - p- please” I whimpered, feeling a wet substance slide down the apple of my cheeks. I tasted the crimson blood mix with the salty residue on my lips, unaware of how hard I bit down on the skin. 

Pained tears continued to fall incessantly from my eyes, matching the way the rain ran down my window panes previously. I saw Spencer’s figure slump down in defeat, the helplessness in my words permeating his eardrums. 

“Y/N just - please let me fix - Y/N just please let me fix us” He solicited, looking to me for permission to advance. 

“Spencer there’s no need for fixing anythi-” 

“Yes there is Y/N-” 

“No there isn’t Spencer!” I persisted, convincing myself that I had everything under control. I shut my eyes in frustration, shaking my head in denial while I reminded myself of all the malicious emotions I refused to feel. 

“Y/N please just list-” 

“No Spencer. I know what to do and I know how to deal with-” 

“No Y/N! No you don’t - god you’re so stubborn sometimes -” He imprudently blurted out, pinching at the bridge of his nose to collect his composure. “Y/N - please just…” He sighed, looking deep into my eyes from a distance. “Please just let me in” He begged, a few tears slipping from the corners of his somber irises. His face wore an anguished and desperate expression, an expression that had the ability to end a war. 

My cold exterior shattered instantaneously from the sight of Spencer, feeling my heart being tugged into multiple directions until all that was left was a pained human muscle. As much as I wanted to convince myself of an ardent persona, I knew that Spencer was the only person that could invoke such a visceral reaction from me. Whether I accepted the feeling or not, I knew that Spencer’s effect on me was unmatched to any delusions I made myself to believe. 

My lips trembled uncontrollably as a soft sob rolled off my tongue. I looked to Spencer for aid, feeling my entire facade crash and burn. My knees buckled and weakened from reality coming in all at once. When the first cry fell from my mouth, more followed soon after. 

I became a drenched mess that sat in the middle of the living room. I felt deceived by myself, developing a sense of self resentment as my mindset came into actualization. I grieved for the fragment of myself that I secluded and killed off because of my inability to process my agony, longing for that piece of me back. 

Spencer came to my rescue, engulfing me in his arms and encroaching me with his touch. I leaned into his chest, desperately clutching onto the dress shirt he wore. My tears stained his blazer, leaving puddles along the fabric, but I couldn’t care less. 

I breathed in the sedative scent, feeling it flush through my nostrils, reminding me of home. I held onto his arms tightly, afraid that he would disappear the moment I let go of him. 

Spencer tried to reach down to grab a hold of my cheek, but I nudged his fingers away, climbing into his lap as I buried my face into the crook of his neck. 

He cooed into my hair, stroking my back while he whispered his endearments in my ear. “You’re okay Y/N - we’re going to be okay” He breathed, letting out a staggered exhale as he enunciated his words. 

Light rushed into my chest at that moment, letting it conquer and cut through the caution tape I had wired around my feelings. Shutting my eyes, I relaxed into his love, letting it infiltrate and replace my fears. 

I didn’t doubt that it was going to take time to heal and repair, but at least it was beginning. 

“I love you so so much Y/N - more than you can ever conceive” He declared, pressing a soft kiss on my temple. “And nobody will ever tell me otherwise” 

I knew from that moment that I didn’t have to walk on a tightrope no longer because I knew it was my name that Spencer would be calling out.

-

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[pan-fangirl-345]

Books Bring People Together

Summary: A frustrated and stuck Kaminari comes to you for help, and it somehow blooms into something else along the way.

TW: I made Kaminari ADHD, so I'm sorry if there's anything wrong, I went off what my ADHD friends do and what a medical site told me. I myself am not ADHD, so again, I apologize if there's anything wrong with this. Small swears, and Mineta, which should be a warning in and of itself.

A/N: I have had this half-baked idea stuck in my head for months and I wanted it out, so I am giving you all this!

"Hey, um, (Y/L/N), can I ask you something?" Kaminari asked, sliding into the chair across from you at the common room table.

"Sure, what's up?" you asked, setting your pencil down on the paragraph you were reading.

"Um, this is kind of embarrassing," Kaminari admitted. "But, um, I'm having a really hard time with English right now, and I know that you're right behind Bakugou in grades."

"Where are you going with this Kaminari?" you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

You had heard things about Kaminari, and after meeting Mineta and knowing that Kaminari hung around with him, you didn't have the best impression of him. You had just been placed in Class 2-A, and so far you had mostly hung around with what the other students were calling the 'Dekusquad'.

"I need someone to tutor me," he admitted. "Normally English isn't all that hard for me, but Shakespeare is whack and I don't understand half of it."

"You want me," you started, "to tutor you. Why not ask Bakugou? Isn't he your friend?"

"Yeah, but . . . Bakugou has . . . harsh methods, and I need someone who won't treat me like an idiot," Kaminari confessed.

"Alright," you relented. "Why don't we get started now? Do you have anything going on?"

"No, this takes precedent," Kaminari said, rushing to grab his things.

"Alright, here's my question for you," you said when he propped his book open. "Why don't you understand?" You saw the look on his face change and you winced. "Sorry, sometimes I have a hard time controlling the tone of my voice. Let me rephrase that question." You paused for a moment, thinking of the right words before you said, "What about this don't you understand? What's the one thing about this that trips you up?"

"The formatting for one thing," Kaminari grumbled. "Why the hell is printed like that?"

You chuckled, brushing hair out of your face. You had thought the same thing the first time you had read Shakespeare.

"Alright, how about you just read, and then you can ask me any questions while I work on my own stuff, alright?"

"That sounds like it might work," he admitted.

"If that doesn't work, feel free to let me know," you told him. "This is about what helps you remember the material better."

"No, like I said, normally this is really easy for me," Kaminari said. "Let's try it."

"Alright, and remember, if you have any questions, I'm right here."

"Thanks (Y/L/N)," he mumbled.

"Of course, I wouldn't be much of a hero if I couldn't help people, right?" you mused, smiling at him.

"R-Right!" he chirped, grinning back at you.

You both worked in silence for a little bit before Kaminari leaned back in his chair, rubbing at him eyes.

"You okay?" you asked.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm ADHD, so sitting still and trying to read this is a little hard," he confessed. "And I might be dyslexic, I've never been tested but sometimes reading is hard for me."

You frowned, biting the inside of your lip, running the situation through your head.

"What if I read it to you?" you asked, looking up from your chemistry homework.

"How? It's a play," Kaminari said.

"I used to be in a drama club in middle school," you told him. "It's set up like a script, or if we don't have the energy to act it out, it's not hard to pretend that it's a regular story."

Kaminari stared at you for a moment before he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah I think that might work a little bit better than me staring at the same paragraph for fifteen minutes without actually reading anything."

"What part are you on?" you asked Kaminari, moving to glance over his shoulder at the page.

"Portia is trying to convince Brutus to tell her what's going on in her house. I think."

"Oh, I adore this part," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "Alright, what has you stuck?"

"This part. 'I grant I am a woman; but withal A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter. Think you I am no stronger than my sex, Being so father'd and so husbanded? Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em: I have made strong proof of my constancy, Giving myself a voluntary wound Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience. And not my husband's secrets?' I don't entirely understand what she's saying."

Wow, English must've been his thing, he didn't mess up a single word, and he was able to read it fairly fluently, everything considered. It might have taken him a little longer than normal, but he had nailed it.

"Okay, so she's basically telling Brutus that she won't tell his secrets if he tells her what's going on, it doesn't matter if she's a woman or not."

"What was with the voluntary wound thing?"

"So, it depends. Sometimes, in plays, the women playing Portia will have a fake knife and stab themselves in the thigh, other times they pretend to slice themselves, depends on the director," you told him. "She basically cut herself on the thigh and said, 'If I can handle this I can handle whatever's going on inside your head.' Do you understand?"

"Yeah, but damn, this woman is a badass," Kaminari said, staring down at the pages."

"Right? Some people read that as psychotic, but it's Shakespeare," you told him, "everything in Shakespeare is psychotic to some extent."

"That's fair. Thank you for explaining that to me," he said.

"Of course, that is why you came to me," you replied, laying a hand on his shoulder for a moment before you moved back to your seat.

Kaminari, despite the things you had heard, was actually quite intelligent, it just took him a little longer to get the answer sometimes.

"Thank you so much for helping me," Kaminari murmured. "You were super helpful."

"Of course, I actually enjoyed helping you," you told him. "And if you need any more help, please, let me know."

"I will, thank you so much (Y/L/N)," Kaminari repeated.

"Have a good night Kaminari," you told him.

"You too!" he chirped before he headed up to his room.

You sat down at the table again, staring at the chemical formula in front of you.

So, if zinc only had one charge, positive two, and it was combined with thiosulfate, that meant that there shouldn't be the need for two of the zinc atoms, they would make the charge neutral.

You wrote the answer down, checking the textbook to make sure you were right. Polyatomic ions were a little more complicated than monoatomic ions.

There were only a few more questions, and then you could go to bed too, and you just hoped that there were no trick questions.

You were the last one in the common room, as usual, despite assuring Iida that you were right behind him when he went to bed an hour ago.

"Alright (Y/F/N), time for some good sleep," you muttered, shutting your book and gathering your supplies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been tutoring Kaminari for about six weeks, and he was definitely smarter than people gave him credit for. Sometimes he just needed a few minutes to think, or he needed something explained to him in a different way than everyone else.

Sero had been joining your little tutoring sessions too, and you had started doing them in Sero's room, since there were things Kaminari could mess with while he studied, and it was an environment where he didn't feel the need to prove himself.

"Hey, (Y/L/N), can you help me with this problem?" Sero asked, waving you over.

"Of course, what are we working on?" you inquired.

"Polyatomic ions, again," Sero said. "I need this extra credit."

"Alright, which one are you stuck on?"

"How do I figure out which Roman numeral goes here? Gold has multiple charges."

"You work backwards," you told him. "When you look at the formula, you need to figure out what charge dihydrogen phosphate has."

You gestured to the chemical formula.

"It has a negative one charge. Right?" Sero inquired, checking the list of common ions that the teacher had given them at the beginning of the unit.

"Right, and you have three of those ions, right?"

"Yeah, because there's a subscripted three outside the parentheses."

"So you have three of those, which means that those three together have a negative three charge."

"Right."

"So now you just have to figure out which gold variant has the right charge to cancel that one out."

"Well, there's only one gold atom, so it's gold three right?"

"Bingo, you got it."

"Oh, that makes it so much easier than what I was doing," he muttered, erasing the math he had been doing, writing down the way you had just shown him.

"(Y/L/N), can you come read through this essay for me?" Kaminari asked. "I think it's okay, but I need another eye on this."

"Sure, hand it over," you told him, taking the papers that he had handed to you.

You grabbed one of your signature blue pens and uncapped it, ready to mark anything you thought he could do better.

There wasn't as much as you were expecting. While Kaminari had a hard time interpreting things, once he understood, he was golden. He had a way with words, you noticed as you scanned through the paper he needed to hand in next class. You assumed that it gave him time to think about the right phrasing of things.

Other than a few grammatical and spelling errors, the paper was well written, and there was nothing major that needed fixing.

"Good job Kami, this is really good," you told him, ruffling his hair lightly.

He responded well to physical affection and praise, you had also noticed, and he made it easy.

Once you got past the typical shield he threw up, he was a nice guy with insecurities, just like everyone else.

He chuckled, leaning into your hand.

You noticed that the others didn't touch Kaminari as much as you did, despite having known him for much longer. They were worried about getting shocked, Sero had told you.

"Why though? He's never shocked me," you had told him.

"He can't control it sometimes, it builds up in his body and it needs an out."

"Well, that still no reason to stop touching him," you had mused. "If he shocks me he shocks me, it's really no big deal."

Kaminari had only shocked you once, during a thunderstorm when there had been a lot of lightning outside. He had gotten excited about getting a 90 on one of his tests, and had hugged you, giving you a slight shock.

He had apologized profusely, but you had waved his apologies off.

"It's okay Kaminari," you told him. "It happens to all of us sometimes."

You were finding yourself thinking about him more than you should've. You had become good friends with both him and Sero, and the other students had started coming to you when they had a question, but Kaminari was a little different.

It had started out with the flirty comments, but slowly those had turned into real compliments. He had been keeping Mineta away from you more and more, and he had even started laying off the perving with the grape rat.

He was a good guy, he really was, despite the playboy attitude. He was sweet, and he was just like every other person in the world.

"Thanks for tutoring us both," Kaminari said as the session was coming to a close.

"Yeah, you're really saving our asses," Sero agreed.

"Of course, come to me any time," you told them both, smiling as you made to head back to your own room.

"Hey, um, (Y/L/N), can I ask you something?" Kaminari asked.

"Sure. You know how much I love questions," you teased, smiling at him. Then you noticed his expression. "Kami?"

"Will . . . will you-" he chuckled awkwardly, messing with the seam of his pant leg. "Can you read something to me?"

"Yeah, of course," you said. "What is it?"

He handed you the book, and you smiled.

"My dad used to read this to me when I was little. I think that's why I love books so much," you admitted. "That was before . . . well, it doesn't matter now. Come on, we can head down to the common room if you want. Or your room, it doesn't really matter to me."

You had visited Kaminari's room on more than one occasion to return things to him, he tended to be a little forgetful, and he had often left things with you.

Despite the fact that everything you had learned about society told you that you should avoid being alone in a room with a boy, you trusted Kaminari enough to be alone in a room with him.

"I really like to read too," he confessed. "But sometimes my brain doesn't like to let me do it."

"I understand, it's okay," you told him, touching his arm lightly. "Are you sure that you'll be able to sit still long enough for me to get through any of it?"

Kaminari, after spending so much time with you over the last few weeks, had figured out how your voice worked, and he rarely got offended by your tone of voice anymore, which you were thankful for.

"Yeah, I like the sound of your voice, it helps calm me down. I think I might pay attention more if you read it to me."

"Alright, sure, let's go," you said, holding the book to your chest.

You knew this book like the back of your hand, and you had a feeling that Kaminari was telling the truth when he said he would be able to pay attention.

Kaminari followed you into the common room of the dorms, trailing just slightly behind, but he was in front of you the moment Mineta tried to get to you.

It amazed you how fast he could move sometimes, when he really wanted to.

"Get lost Mineta," you said. "I have nothing to say to you."

Mineta opened his mouth but a raised brow from Kaminari had him shutting it and heading to his own room so he could think his pervy thoughts in peace.

"I can't believe I was ever friends with that perv," Kaminari whispered. "I think I owe a lot of the girls apologies."

Kaminari glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled at him, linking your hands together.

You were proud of him, he had really grown lately, and you were glad that he was seeing how uncomfortable he had made the girls.

"I'm proud of you," you told him, and he beamed.

He responded well to praise, and being told that he had done a good job.

"Come on, we'll have to go to bed soon if we don't want Iida to lecture us again," you said, sitting down on one of the couches.

Kaminari sat down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder as your propped the book open.

You didn't mind the fact that Kaminari was a little clingy, the contact was nice, and he always radiated warmth, though whether that was his normal body temperature or he ran hot because of his quirk, you didn't know.

You started the book off, barely having to look at the words as you read, changing your voice as necessary, stopping every once in a while to explain a word to Kaminari that he didn't understand, or to answer a question that he had.

It was nice, spending time with him like this, simply because he wanted to, not because he was going to fail a subject.

Somehow he had ended up with his head on your thighs, and you had one hand buried in his hair, brushing it away from his face, your fingers carding through it softly.

He was making a content noise in the back of his throat, and you smiled down at him, finishing up a chapter.

"Do you want to go to bed?" you asked softly, not wanting to disturb him too much, he had enough trouble sleeping as it was.

He hummed softly, leaning into your hands, and you smiled down at him softly.

You had never been one for crushes, they had seemed pointless, and there had never been a person who had caught your attention like this.

You had thought about it, of course, what it would be like to be in a relationship, but you had never thought that you would have to worry about it.

Well now you were worrying about it.

That nameless, faceless person that had been with you in those daydreams was starting to look frighteningly like Kaminari.

You had panicked when it had first started happening, until you realized that it would probably fade. You had had a friend in middle school who had a new crush every week, and you had assumed that it would fade with time.

It hadn't. That uneasiness that had popped up around him slowly melted into a nice warmth whenever he was close. You had started to stop worrying about whether he would like this, or hate that, and had started to show your true colors.

He had seemed to like you even more when you had started doing that, and you were glad.

But the only bad thing was that now you were noticing other things. His hands lingered a little longer than necessary when he helped you during training, his smile always seemed brighter when you made him laugh. His eyes always seemed to follow you around the common room, and he sometimes appeared at your side when you walked in.

You weren't sure if you just overthinking things or if he might like you back.

But this wasn't a simple crush anymore. You weren't sure what it was. It was a little too early to be love (even though it was just a rush of chemicals in the brain meant for human survival), but it was way past a simple crush.

Was there another step between a crush and love? Was this going to end with your heart breaking? Was there even a chance that he might like you back?

These were things that you kept in the back of your mind until you were alone in your room. Worrying about them in his presence made him worry about you, and you didn't want him to worry about you if he didn't need to.

"Kami, seriously, you need to go to bed."

"If I do, so do you," he told you, making you chuckle.

"I'll go to bed if you will. You are in my lap after all," you teased, pulling your hands away.

"That's fair," he murmured, stifling a yawn.

"Go to bed Kami," you whispered, standing up as soon as your legs were free.

They had fallen asleep a while ago, but you hadn't had the heart to move him.

"Alright," he mumbled, stumbling towards his dorm room.

You smiled softly, heading for yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren't sure what woke you up hours later. Maybe it was the three glasses of water you had drank before bed, or maybe it was the fact that your brain hated you almost as much as Kaminari's hated him.

You stretched, pulling a hoodie on over the tank top and shorts that you had gone to bed in, heading for the common room.

You weren't going back to bed any time soon, so you might as well get some studying done with a nice cup of tea or something.

You were almost surprised to see Kaminari sitting at the common room table with his books out.

"Denki? What are you doing?" you mumbled, wandering over.

"(Y/L/N)? What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you murmured, plopping into the seat next to him.

"Couldn't sleep, my brain went into overdrive the minute I tried to fall asleep."

"I at least got a good four or five hours in," you replied. "But it's Friday night, I should be sleeping in."

"What woke you up?" he asked, laying a hand on your thigh.

Kaminari, you had noticed, liked having his hands on you.

Not in the perverted way you had expected though. He liked having a hand on your thigh or on the small of your back. He liked an arm around your shoulders or his arm linked with yours when you all took class outings. He liked being close to you.

"No idea. It might've been a nightmare," you admitted. "I remember faint flashes, but it might've been something else."

"Are you going to be able to go back to bed?"

"Nah, I'll be up for a good while," you told him, leaning into his shoulder.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"Can you just . . . talk to me?" you inquired. "I like listening to you talk about things. Calms me down."

"What do you want to know about?"

"Anything. Everything. You."

"Did you know that I have a cat named Marshmellow?"

"What? No," you said, perking up a little bit. You had always been an animal person.

"Yeah. He's the spawn of the devil, but I didn't know that when I named him. All white, pretty blue eyes. Pure fucking evil," Kaminari told you, taking his phone out to show you a photo.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, he absolutely despises me," Kaminari said, handing his phone over to you. "Loves my sister though, so he isn't a complete psychopath."

"He's a cat, can animals even be psychopaths?" you asked, moving your seat closer to his.

"No idea, but it wouldn't surprise me if he is," Kaminari said, chuckling.

"You're right, he is pretty," you murmured, flipping through the photos quickly.

Kaminari hummed, but when you glanced up he was looking at you.

He had that look on his face, the look that he sometimes got when he looked at you. It was one of the reasons you wondered if he liked you or not. He looked like he was in pain when gave you that look.

"Denki?" you inquired softly.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you looking at me like that? Like you're in pain? Like you're hurt?" you asked.

You didn't like the way your voice sounded. That little hint of insecurity snuck in, your voice had that clogged sound it got when you tried not to cry.

You weren't sure whether you could handle his response to that, but you needed to know if being around you caused him pain. You needed to know if there was any chance that he hated being in your presence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Kaminari's POV)

Pain, huh?

Yeah, this was definitely pain, seeing her like this, swaddled in a hoodie he had left in her room accidently a week ago, covering her shorts, making her legs look a mile long.

He had tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the feeling in his chest every time he looked at her, tried to ignore the blatant male pride that came with seeing her draped in his hoodie, but he was only human after all.

Denki, after spending so much time with a girl that didn't tend to pull her punches, he knew how uncomfortable he had made the girls with all of his comments. He now knew how it made them feel when he said some of the things he had.

Denki never wanted her or any of the other girls to feel like that again, and he wanted to ignore some of the things that were running through his head, but she was making it hard when she looked at him like that, when she said his name the way that she just had.

"Denks?" she asked softly, moving to get a better look at his face.

Denki had never had a crush, not a real one anyway. He had had his eyes on Jirou first year, but that had been fleeting.

He was flirty, it was just his nature, but this feeling whenever he looked at her . . . that was completely new on him.

"Denki, are you okay?" she asked, putting her hands on his face lightly, making him look at her.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Denki asked, placing his hands over hers. "I wasn't sure whether you felt the same way and I didn't want to mess anything up."

"Denki? What are you saying?" she asked, eyes bright with hope as she looked at him, running her thumb over his cheek softly, almost absentmindedly.

"I like you, (Y/F/N), I like you a lot, and this isn't some . . . three A.M. spur of the moment confession, but . . . it kind of is. The point is that you're smart, and all kinds of gorgeous, and there's so many things about you I wish I could list, but words aren't my thing, and I know that I'm rambling, but I really can't stop 'cause I'm terrified of what your response is gonna be and I don't want to fuck anything up and-"

"Denki," she cut in, smiling at him the way she did when she was fondly exasperated with him. "You have nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing. I like you too."

"Why?"

Even Denki was surprised by the amount of confusion in his own voice.

"Because you're a dork," she stated. "Because you're smart, even if people don't always see it right away. Because you want to be a hero, because you like to make a difference. Because in the end, you're a good guy, when you get past the playboy attitude and shitty pickup lines. Because you're cute and all kinds of soft. Because apparently I have a thing for hyperactive morons with screwed up hair."

"Rude," he muttered, but she smiled at him even wider, and he knew that it was worth it.

"Am I wrong?" she asked softly, swinging her legs around to get closer to him.

"No, but that doesn't mean that I'm happy about it," he mumbled, pouting slightly.

She gave a small giggle, something that rarely happened, and Denki smiled, wide and unburdened.

"So, what do you say about going on a date?" he asked, tucking her hair behind her ear to get a better look at his face.

"I think that's the smartest thing you've ever said to me," she teased.

Denki pouted again and she touched his nose lightly, making it crinkle in response.

"That wasn't a no," she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck softly.

"You know, this looks good on you," he whispered, touching the hem of the hoodie carefully. "And it looks very familiar."

"It does?" She pulled away to look down at it and her eyes went wide. "I didn't even know it was yours. I just threw it on on my way down here. When did you even . . . .?"

"I left in there like a week ago," Denki informed her. "I thought you had just kept it."

"I didn't know it was in there," she admitted. "But I'm not sorry that I'm in it, it's very comfortable."

"We can share custody," he murmured.

"We'll have to," she agreed. "I don't think I can deal with never wearing this again. You actually have good taste in hoodies."

"Why are you so surprised by this?" he asked.

"Because most of the time your style seems all over the place," she replied. "But that's not a bad thing. It makes you unique."

"Normal is overrated."

"A normal sleep schedule is not," she said, standing up. She grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet. "Come on, we can chill in my room if you want to."

"You aren't nervous about having me in there?" Denki asked.

"No, because I know that if you try anything I can knock you on your ass. I also trust you," she told him, linking their fingers together softly. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay," he breathed, stepping close enough to brush their shoulders together.

He could get used to this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Your POV)

It was a rare day when you and Denki got a day off together. Being heroes was tiring, and schedules were always weird, so when you both got a day off together, you always spent them together.

"You're up early," Denki murmured, slipping in behind you from where you were sitting on the window seat of your apartment.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck.

"The baby woke me up," you said.

Said baby padded into the roof, tail high in the air, a smug look on that cute furry face as he jumped up onto the seat, curling up in your lap.

"Marshmellow, don't lay on my book," you muttered, pulling the book out.

"Told you, he's fuckin' evil," Denki murmured, kissing your shoulder lightly.

His shirt was slipping off your shoulder, and Denki treated uncovered skin like a target, regardless.

"How long have you been up?" he asked.

"Only an hour or two, and you looked so peaceful, I felt bad waking you up. I know that you've been getting more action than I have these last few weeks," you murmured, taking one of his hands, kissing his palms softly, leaning back into his warmth.

"I love you," Denki hummed.

"I love you too Denks," you told him.

"Read to me?" he requested, and you smiled.

"Always," you replied, finding your spot in your book again.

[genshin-impact-writings]

Request for your special event-

Character: Albedo

prompt: 'I love you, my little prince"

Song: Once upon a dream: Lana Del Rey

If it is possible, Can the reader be the one to say the prompt and is a fatui harbinger [or someone that the knights are just wary off] ?? (I am a sucker for forbidden love but the reader is just "screw u, Imma date them anyways) I apologize if this is too specific.

Thank You in advance and Congrats on your milestone!! <3

First of all, thank you very much for your request. I love this song and Albedo, so it really was the perfect combination. Also, this turned out a lot longer than I originally planned, and I really hope you like what I came up with. Have a good day/night and take care! <3

Once upon a dream – Albedo x gn!Fatui!reader

I know you, I’ve walked with you once upon a dream

I know you, the look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you, I know what you’ll do

You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream

Mondstadt was beautiful at night. Although most of the shops were already closed, the streets were still filled with people, sitting in front of the taverns where they enjoyed a few drinks and the balmy breeze that blew gently through the alleyways. Everything was peaceful and somehow quite idyllic, and you stopped in your track to take in all the impressions that rained down on you.

In your life, you had barely experienced moments like this. As a member of the Fatui, you were always on the road, traveling wherever your Archon sent you and fulfilling every mission she gave you. It was a restless life, dangerous too, but you had never been one to complain, especially since you had always dreamed about exploring Teyvat, seeing other cities and meeting new people along the way. Without the Fatui, you probably would still be stuck in Snezhnaya where you would be doing the same things every day, always wondering if this was all life had in store for you.

Needless to say that you still felt incredibly honored that the Tsaritsa had chosen you, alongside with a few other Fatui Diplomats, to accompany Signora, one of the Eleven Harbingers, on her trip to Mondstadt. So far, the trip had been everything but fun, every day filled with work and duties, including spying on the Knights of Favonius that were understandably weary of every Fatui who set foot in their city. Most of them kept their eyes on you twenty-four-seven.

Even now, during your rare free time, you could feel the guards watching you as you made your way back to the market district. A couple of people were standing outside of Cat’s Tail, laughing and joking around, just like they usually did. By now, you recognized most of them since you came by here every day. It was one of the few spots in Mondstadt where nobody payed attention to you because they were too busy with minding their own business to wonder about a Fatui Diplomat passing by, eyeing them curiously before walking on.

Your destination was the upper square, the one with the pretty fountain, right in front of Good Hunter. You had enjoyed a few meals there over the past few days (people where rightfully proud of the restaurant) but at this late hour, the shop was already closed, promotional signs neatly stored away.

You sat down on one of the benches near the fountain and crossed your legs as you let your eyes wander. During the day, this square was a popular meeting spot but now, there were only a few people here. The perfect opportunity to see him again.

During the few meetings with the Knights of Favonius you had attended, he had stayed in the background, only speaking when someone addressed him directly and even then, his answers had been quite brief. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that he preferred to keep to himself, hence why he almost exclusively came here long after dark to inspect the Crafting Bench for any damages and to have a quick conversation with Timaeus, the alchemist who supervised the Crafting Bench throughout the day.

Usually, you kept your distance, admiring him from afar, but today, you had promised yourself to finally introduce yourself to him. Not only because it was rude to stare at someone you barely knew but also because a considerable part of you really wanted to find out who the Chief Alchemist truly was.

You didn’t have to wait long. Propping up your head on your hand, you watched him as he talked to Timaeus. His bright teal eyes almost seemed to glow in the warm light of the street lamps, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It really should be illegal to be that pretty.

About twenty minutes later, Timaeus made his farewells to the Chief Alchemist, leaving him with a bunch of notes. It took you a brief moment to realize that this was the moment you had waited for but then, you jumped to your feet and took a deep breath before walking over to him.

“Excuse me,” you said, your heart starting to beat frantically as he looked at you, a slightly confused expression on his face. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you,” you continued and cleared your throat when you realized how squeaky your voice was sounding. “But I think you might have dropped this.”

You put out your hand, showing him the tiny gemstone you had bought at With wind comes glory a few hours ago. The stone’s color perfectly matched his eyes, the same bright teal that you saw in your dreams sometimes. You were absolutely sure that nobody else on this earth had eyes so pretty that you even thought about them in your sleep.

“No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he replied softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “It’s not mine.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. Well, that didn’t go as planned, you thought and let out a quiet sigh. So, what else could you say to him?

Usually, you had a quick tongue and always managed to figure out a topic to talk about but right now, you felt like every statement that came to your mind was either incredibly stupid or completely irrelevant. Think, you urged yourself, think!

But he had already lost interest in you. His attention was back on the clipboard Timaeus had handed him earlier, his brows slightly furrowed as he studied the notes from his assistant.

“So, um- can I perhaps ask you a few things about alchemy?” you asked when the silence between the two of you got uncomfortable. He didn’t look up from his notes but at least, he nodded which you took as a good sign.

“I mean, not now,” you added, painfully aware that you didn’t even know enough about alchemy to ask him a simple question. It definitely would have been better to prepare for this conversation but now it was too late to turn back. “I just – I wanted to make sure that you’re okay with helping me before I deluge you with my questions.”

Finally, he looked up, his gaze meeting yours for a brief second. “Ah, it’s you. I saw you at the meetings. You’re one of the Fatui Diplomats,” he said but unlike others, he didn’t seem to judge you. He simply stated a fact, nothing more. If anything, he sounded a bit curious.

“My name’s (Y/N),” you replied, in an almost desperate attempt to keep the conversation going because a part of you really didn’t want him to leave. When you saw the small smile that flashed over his face, you felt like your heart stopped for a second.

“I’m Albedo.”

But if I know you, I know what you’ll do

You’ll love me at once, the way you did

Once upon a dream.

That’s when it all had started. Whenever you weren’t busy with your mission or other tasks Signora assigned you to, you spent every minute with Albedo, listening to his musings about alchemy and the secrets of the world he desperately wanted to disclose. You didn’t understand half of the things he was talking about but you didn’t mind. It was enough for you to just listen to him, watching how his eyes lit up whenever he made progress in his research, and every time he sheepishly thanked you for keeping him company, you found yourself falling for him a bit more.

Of course, you knew right from the beginning that it was stupid to develop feelings for him, given the fact that you had to leave Mondstadt at some point to return back to Snezhnaya – but there was nothing you could do to stop it. Everything about Albedo was adorable. He was a gentle soul, curious and kind and so beautiful that it still took your breath away every time you look at him. And you wanted to be with him, against all reason. There was just something about him that seemed so familiar, so wonderfully familiar that you simply didn’t have the power to resist him.

And before you had even fully realized what was happening, you were already head over heels in love with him.

You didn’t tell him, at first. After all, he was still the Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favionius and you were still a member of the Fatui, someone the knights didn’t trust at all, and you didn’t want to spoil the precious time you could spend together.

But eventually, you didn’t want to keep it a secret any longer. You wanted him to know how much he really meant to you. It had been an awkward confession, your face hot from embarrassment when he didn’t respond immediately but as soon as he softly asked if it would be alright to kiss you, you fell in love with him all over again.

I know you, I’ve walked with you once upon a dream

I know you, the look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem

But, just as all good things, your relationship with Albedo came to an end about three months later when new orders from Snezhnaya arrived, recalling you and the other remaining Fatui Diplomats back to your home country immediately. Signora and the vast majority of her team had already left Mondstadt quite a while ago, and it would be a lie if you said that it hadn’t raised your hopes up that you were allowed to stay for a little longer.

Now, all your hopes were shattered to pieces. You could feel tears burning in your eyes as you stared down at the letter in your hand, reading the orders over and over again as you tried to understand that it was really over this time. There was no way you could convince your superior or even the Tsaritsa to prolong your deployment in Mondstadt.

How were you supposed to tell Albedo about this? How were you supposed to say Goodbye to him?

You should have stayed away from him right from the start. Then, you would have been the only one who got his heart broken by your new orders but no, you had decided to drag Albedo into this mess, and now you were forced to leave him.

You buried your face in your hands. This was slowly becoming just one big nightmare, one that threatened the wonderful, silly dream you had about your future. A future you wanted to share with Albedo. But of course, you couldn’t, not as long as you were a Fatui. And you couldn’t leave them either because you had sworn an oath to the Tsaritsa; you had sworn to be true to her and Snezhnaya, no matter what happened, and to break this oath had never been an option for you. Heck, you probably wouldn’t even survive betraying your Archon like that, let alone get the happy ending you wished for.

So, no matter how you put it, you had no other choice than to return to Snezhnaya.

*

You couldn’t sleep, contrary to Albedo who was sound asleep next to you, all snuggled up to you and completely unaware of the emotional rollercoaster you had been experiencing for the past few days. You had waited for the perfect moment to tell him that you had to leave but of course, it never came. There simply was no perfect moment to tell the person you loved that you couldn’t stay with them any longer, that you had no idea when you’d be able to see each other again. If you would ever see each other again.

And with that in mind, you had decided that it was for the best to just leave. Albedo would be heartbroken, yes, but he would be angry, too. And maybe that anger would be enough to make him move on from you. But for now, you wanted to enjoy the time the two of you had still left. The Fatui delegation would leave Mondstadt in the early morning, as agreed with the Acting Grandmaster, so you still had another two, maybe three hours you could spend by Albedo’s side.

You turned your head to press a soft kiss to Albedo’s cheek. He mumbled something in his sleep, and when you heard your name, your heart dropped. He was dreaming about you.

He was dreaming about you and you were about to leave him without even saying Goodbye.

*

Dawn came and with it the moment you had feared for the past few days. But you had made your decision, and it was too late to change your mind.

Carefully, you tried to pull away from Albedo who was still clinging to you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, almost as if he had sensed that this would be the last night you would spend together. You felt terrible as you pushed his arm aside, freeing yourself from his hug, although every part of you screamed to stay here with him.

But you had to leave. And until now, everything went just as you had planned.

Until you accidentally knocked the small lamp on the bedside table over when you gathered the few belongings you hadn’t packed up yet.

Albedo stirred awake, his eyes fluttering open, confusion clouding his eyes.

“(Y/N)?” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Where are you going?”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to fight back the urge to tell him the truth, and leaned back down to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Nowhere,” you reassured him softly. “You’re just dreaming, my love. Go back to sleep.”

Your fingertips caressed his skin, gently tracing the outlines of his face as you watched him slowly drifting off to sleep again.

“I love you, my little prince,” you whispered and pressed a soft kiss to his lips one last time before you turned away and quietly left the room. Please forgive me.

The walk to the town gate gave you enough time to regain your composure. By the time you joined the others, you had carefully locked away your emotions, putting on that blank expression that didn’t show how much it hurt you to leave this city.

Lyudmila, one of the other Diplomats, gave you a brief smile. “Looks like we’re all here,” she said. “Let’s go home. We’ve spent way too much time here already.”

You nodded, although you couldn’t help but flinch at the word home. Snezhnaya would never be your home again, not when Albedo couldn’t be there with you.

Maybe one day, you thought to yourself and granted yourself one more look at Mondstadt and the town walls that almost seemed to glow in the warm light of the rising sun, we will meet again.

But if I know you, I know what you'll do You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.

[thran-duils]

Nowhere to Run (P.1)

Title: Nowhere to Run (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Stony. Reader was caught unknowingly stealing from the capitol harvest and is drug to the capitol for punishment. She is offered an option to go to trial or accept work in the main government building. Upon her tour, she ends up in trouble and catches eyes of two of the Master Council that decide she needs to be broken in by their hands. Words: 1,847 Warnings: Non-con, servitude, forced orgasms, verbal and emotional abuse

Author’s Notes: I don’t intend for this to be a super long series. This chapter is setting up the non-con to come. Read at your own risk, 18+ as always. Also, the picture under the cut is the mood in the world that I am seeing; kind of steam punk? AND, song inspo.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You were being led through the long halls of the capitol building, a collar around your neck. The guards could give you a small shock whenever they so pleased if you tried to run or do anything unsavory.

They had found you stealing fruits off one of the carts in the market. Normally, you would have had your hands whipped and spent a night in jail. But this cart that you had so stupidly failed to see had the symbol of the capitol on it. It had been dark, early morning, and you had failed to see it as you snuck around. The envoy had apparently come to the market as the vendors were arriving to fetch the best of the crops for the council members. Stealing from the capitol meant trial there and you were drug from your mountainous outskirt town to the city with others to face the highest court for your crime.

You were brought to a room and shoved inside; the door closed behind you. A man was sitting behind a desk, waiting patiently.

“Sit,” he invited, gesturing at the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “My name is Tsu. I’ll be your counselor for the day if you decide to utilize my offer.”

Cautiously, you did what he asked, sinking into the chair. He picked up a device — you had only ever seen guards that patrolled through your town with them — and clicked it on. A picture came to life, and you watched with awe as he was able to control it with his movements of his hand in the air.

“I have your basic information that they collected upon your arrest. Name, date of birth, crime. But I need to know what it is you do...”

“‘Do’?”

“Your profession.”

“I don’t have a profession. I’m going to trial.”

“Everyone has a profession.”

You stayed silent, not wanting to give this capitol worker any more information than he already had on you. Your town did well enough staying out of their way and business, keeping to yourselves besides when they demanded crops. Giving away too much about yourself seemed unwise.

Tsu eyed you and asked suspiciously, “Was it a, let’s say, less prestigious profession that you are more inclined to not disclose?”

You saw he was eyeing your arms and then neck causing you to you ask, “What do you mean?”

“Do you know women here in the city — and many other places in the kingdom for that matter — are tattooed?”

“I’ve seen people passing through with them yes.”

“Tattoos are normal, expected even. Your body is a canvas. And having the freedom to do with your skin as you please is a status symbol.” You stared at him dumbly, not picking up what he was trying to get at. He sighed, lowering the technological device and leveled with you, “Ladies of the night do not have tattoos. They’re not free and their skin is kept clear to show that. And to me, you look like ink has never touched your skin. Am I correct?”

Heat came to your cheeks, and you sputtered offended, “I’m not a lady of the night! I worked for the local librarian if you need to know! It just didn’t pay well, and I was hungry!”

So much for not giving him information. But he had provoked you. You were always told you had a temper.

“So, you’re saying yes your skin is clear?”

“Yes it is but I’m not a trollop!”

“It matters not. It will invite unwanted attention from people here in the city. And trust me, the higher up they are in status, the bolder they will be about assuming you are... open.”

Exasperated, you asked, “What does this have to do with my trial?”

Tsu shrugged, “With my help, you may not have to go to trial. You’ll just be sentenced to work in the capitol building. Here. I’m just trying to explain to you briefly how some things work. And I was merely asking what you did so I could better place you. If you were working nights, then, there is a spot for you, despite your immediate disdain for the profession. But, if that’s not the case, then I can find you something else here.”

“For how long?” you asked upset.

Tsu shrugged and said, “The typical time for a crime in your bracket is a year.” Your stomach dropped. An entire year spent here? Wearing a collar? Away from your home. “If you are outstanding — and someone happens to notice, which is rare — you could have a couple months shaved off. The other way, if you are unsuitable or enrage someone, they could seek to extend your sentence.”

“So, I am to be at the mercy of these wealthy, spoiled assholes’ whims?” You demanded before you could stop yourself.

That drew the briefest of smirks out of hum before he cleared his throat and said, “As assuming as it is for me to hear you share that behind closed doors with me, because it is true, I would watch your tongue very closely. That’s something that would most certainly get your sentence extended.”

“Noted,” you muttered, sinking back into your seat.

Tsu turned the tablet towards you and said, “If you would prefer to do what I am offering instead of facing trial and time in a cell, sign here stating you understand the conditions.”

You stared at the tablet, weighing your options. This way, you knew exactly what you were getting into and having knowledge and a plan seemed a comfort than going in blind. Reaching forward, you held out your hand.

“Use your finger. There’s no pen.”

Tracing your name, you watched it appear in gold before solidifying in black in the document.

“Perfect. Let’s get you changed into a servant’s gown. And get that collar off.” The collar was going to come off? He must have seen the shock on your face. “You’ll be given an ankle bracelet. It will look delicate, beautiful even, but trust me, it won’t break. And they’ll get an alert if there’s a lot of pressure aka you trying to do so. And that can also get you added time.”

<><><>

It only took half a day for you to find yourself in more trouble. You had been following Tsu as he gave you a tour around the castle and you had stopped as the two of you crossed a bridge. You had been transfixed by the sight of the city, your hands coming to rest on the balcony as you took it in.

You felt a hand at your ass before it cupped, and breath was hot on your ear.

“My, my, I don’t think I’ve seen you before, lovely,” the man rasped.

“Don’t touch me, you piece of shit!” you exclaimed, whipping around and shoving him. He stumbled back away from you, barely catching his balance having been so caught off guard by your reaction. You doubted the people here ever received pushback from servants. He looked furious.

“What did she just say?” the man demanded, coming for you but someone stepped in his way.

This other man was blonde, short haired. “There’s no need to maim the girl here in public, is there?”

The first man looked ready to explode but he grated, “Did you hear what she said to me, Master Barton? She—"

“I have ears and they’re perfect, so yes I did hear what she said,” Barton replied coolly.

Tsu had come back to your side — how far had he gotten, talking to himself, before he realized you were not behind him? He pulled you a few paces away.

“What’s going on, sir?”

Before Barton could say anything, the man spat, “That little wench shoved me and swore at me!”

Tsu inhaled deeply before hissing in your ear, “Did you hear nothing of what I spoke?” You opened your mouth to protest but he continued on in a hushed whisper, “This whole thing can possibly be fixed if you just go apologize. And if you do this I’m going to have to grab the back of your neck without any resistance from you.”

“Gods,” you breathed.

“I’m serious.”

You gave the slightest of nods before Tsu’s hand was tight around the back of your neck and he walked you past Barton to the man. He was staring at you ferociously, like he wanted to tear you apart.

“She’s just arrived today but that doesn’t excuse her actions. She would like to beg your forgiveness,” Tsu told him, and his fingers flexed, signaling for you to start.

You had dealt with bullies before. You could do this.

Trying to keep the disdain out of your tone, you said, “I’m sorry for being enraged and acting impulsively. It was uncouth of me. I’m new and I am trying to learn how to act respectively with your customs. I beg your forgiveness.” You quickly added, “Sir.”

The man straightened out his shirt before sneering, “These little whores keep getting more brazen. Keep them in line!”

With that he turned on his heel and stormed off.

Tsu let go of your neck and he breathed easier that it had not escalated, and the man had begrudgingly accepted your apology. You caught Barton watching and he winked at you before turning on his heel and leaving as well.

<><><>

Tony was watching the screen of the security footage with arousal swimming in his eyes, his fingers at his lips at the woman. He was insatiable at times with his lust — the whorehouse a place he frequently relished in. He turned his attention to Steve.

Steve was cold at first, displeased by the mountain girl’s behavior towards one of the council members. But upon seeing her come back and apologize, a small smirk broke out.

“Thought you might find that interesting,” Clint commented, leaning against the wall. “Seems there’s a little hellion now in our midst.”

Tony paused the recording on a close up of her face and Steve leaned forward. He studied her for a few moments before telling the guards.

“Send her our way,” he ordered. “We’ve needed a new chambermaid. And I haven’t had to break a new one in in a while.”

“Cause she definitely didn’t mean a word of that apology. Look at that fire in her eyes,” Tony chuckled, strolling closer to the screen, looking at her face on the paused screen. Quietly to himself more than anything, his fingers tapping his lips, he said, “No... no you didn’t, did you, little vixen?” He was drinking the sight of her in, and he adjusted his pants, already titillating himself at the thoughts playing in his mind. Turning away from the screen on one foot, he went back for his goblet, taking a drink. He smacked his lips and vowed, “She’ll mean it when we ask for an apology. Of that I am certain.”

“Whatever she’s been assigned, reassign her to our villa community,” Steve added. “She’ll have plenty work there to learn her manners.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21​ @undecidedsworld​ @holl2712​ @agustdowney​

[eretzyisrael]

Until recently, the hard sciences proved impregnable to political propaganda and to Soviet-style boycotts and censorship. Not anymore.Op-ed.

From college campuses to medical and mental health professionals, people whose careers are rooted in inquiry and fact are falling over each other to condemn Israel for last month's defensive war against Hamas – and in dreadfully uniform language.

I don't know how to stop the lies about Israeli "massacres" when that lie has now been amplified by professors at so many universities, by the media, by students, as well as in medical and scientific journals.

Physicians, both clinicians and scientific researchers, have also become politicized. According to a surgeon-friend: "I had to quit my women physician Facebook group because of rabid antisemitism in the guise of pro-Palestinian humanism. We formed a separate group called 'physicians against antisemitism that quickly got 1,500 members."'

According to Michael Vanyukov, a geneticist and a professor of pharmaceutical sciences, psychiatry, and human genetics at the University of Pittsburgh:

"I left the totalitarian anti-Semitic Soviet Union 30 years ago...little did I know that the scientific society I would soon join in the United States—Behavior Genetics Association (BGA)...would bring back memories of my old unlamented country. I recently learned that the company's executive committee expressed support for BLM. I was shocked. Not only does BGA have no business getting engaged in partisan politics but the BLM attacks on Jewish institutions were not random...unsurprisingly, the BLM leaders also describe themselves as 'trained Marxists.' Endorsing BLM – a racist Jew-hating group – returns genetics to its ugly history page of ignorance."

To his enormous credit, Vanyukov resigned. Makes perfect sense. We are undergoing the most profound degradation of both experts and of expertise.

For example, in 2010, The Lancet, once a premier journal of medicine, blamed Israel for the alleged increase of "wife beating" in Gaza.

These researchers failed to disclose that their study was funded by the Palestinian National Authority and their data was collected by the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics. Further, they establish no baseline comparison with domestic violence in Egypt, Syria, and Saudi Arabia, countries which are not occupied by Israel or the West.

And amid the latest conflict, it published a letter May 19 from Issam Awadallah, of the "Shifa Medical Complex, in Gaza, Palestine." He claims that "this open-air enclave has been under siege for the past 14 years which has left the health system jeopardized by limited resources, failing equipment, and many essential drugs in dangerously low supply."

Blaming Israel for this state of affairs, when fortunes of money are given to Gaza only to disappear into attack tunnel infrastructure while Israel allows all medical imports, is unbalanced and untrue. Every failing in Gaza's infrastructure is due to the Hamas leadership, which has spent 14 years prioritizing its desire to kill Israeli civilians above the basic needs of Palestinian Arabs.

Awadallah repeats Hamas propaganda, including early, inaccurate, and out-of-context Palestinian casualty counts, including children.

The Lancet's role providing a platform for anti-Israel politics is not new. Some Lancet researchers fail to disclose that their funding comes from pro-Palestinian groups, such as Medical Aid for Palestinians and the pro-Palestinian Norwegian Aid Committee, organizations that are hostile to Israel.

What's newsworthy is that, despite pointed rebuttals by the president of the Israel Medical Association and other leading scientists – the Lancet's bias has persisted. Its allegedly "medical" and "scientific" articles routinely cite false information and in a way that conforms to the Hamas-created "lethal narrative" that's been adopted by the Western media.

Even when Lancet's authors are dealing with strictly medical issues in Gaza, they still refer, at least once, to the "oPt," aka, "occupied Palestinian territory" – and this remained true even after Israel unilaterally withdrew from Gaza.

After publishing an article that condemns Israel-only for suffering in Gaza, The Lancet then goes on to publish an equal number of letters which support and oppose said article. The pro-fact articles have often been published after a struggle and a delay.

What can we say about the once reliable Scientific American, which has now published an article which focuses solely on the "raging mental health crisis," but only in Gaza – not in Israel?

The article, written by psychiatrist Yasser Abu Jamei, the director of the Gaza Community Mental Health program, is accompanied by a photo of people amidst rubble, together with civil defense workers, in the "aftermath of an Israeli bombing raid." Abu Jamei refers to post traumatic stress symptomatology among Palestinian children as a result of Israel's "11-day offensive on the people of the Gaza Strip."

Abu Jamei does not mention the number of casualties and trauma created when hundreds of Hamas rockets fell short and landed on top of Gazans. He has not a word for the mental health issues in Israel due to Hamas's shelling (approximately 20,000 rockets since 2004) of Israeli cities, especially in southern Israel. Abu Jamei cites Gazan "children with poor concentration," "bed-wetting," "irritability," and "night terrors." (We know this is true for the children of southern Israel.)

Amazingly, Abu Jamei cites similarly inaccurate figures just as The Lancet did: "At least 242 people were killed in Gaza including 66 children, 38 women (four pregnant), and 17 elderly people." Not a single terrorist-combatant among them! Further, Abu Jamei saw "six hospitals and 11 clinics (that were) damaged." Not a word about whether Hamas had offices or stored weapons there. Not a word about Hamas's refusal to protect its civilians or its penchant for using them as human shields merely for propaganda purposes. In fact, Hamas is not mentioned at all.

But Hamas chief Yahya al-Sinwar admitted that his terrorist organization embedded its command centers and rocket launchers within civilian structures. It, he acknowledged, is "problematic." And as the names of the dead emerge, we find out a significant proportion of them were Hamas fighters. Hamas said it lost 80 fighters. Israel estimates the number as more than 100.

The head of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA), in a striking moment of candor, said Israel's bombings in Gaza were "precise."

For acknowledging this reality, Matthias Schmale had to apologize and was removed from his assignment.

On campus, meanwhile, a wing of the union representing "25,000 faculty and staff at City University of New York" voted last week to "condemn the massacre of Palestinians by the Israeli state" and demand the school "divest from all companies that aid in Israeli colonization, occupation, and war crimes." At Princeton University, dozens of students, faculty, staff and alumni signed onto an "Open Letter in Support for Palestine."

The poisoned propaganda trickles down to public grade and high school teachers. For example, the Los Angeles Teachers Union hopes to vote on a resolution in September that would "urge the U.S. government to end all aid to Israel. As public school educators in the United States have a special responsibility to stand in solidarity with the Palestinian people... because of the $3.8 billion annually that the U.S. government gives to Israel, thus directly using our tax dollars to fund apartheid and war crimes."

Quite ironically, the Los Angeles Board of Education has just made a $30 million deal with Apple to distribute iPads to its students. Yet, a major supplier is using "forced labor from thousands of Uighur (Muslim) workers to make parts for Apple products." Those Uighurs also are subject to torture and held in internment camps where they are "indoctrinated to disavow Islam" by the Chinese government, a new Amnesty International report finds.

No boycott of China is proposed by the union.

The San Francisco teachers union has already called for "essentially the same actions" targeting Israel.

More than 20 years ago, a handful of us saw the tsunami of anti-Israel propaganda coming our way.

We were not heard. Actually, we were heard, and therefore, we were defamed, mocked, censored, and forced to publish in ever-smaller venues, knocked out of the mainstream media. Some of us were fired from our academic jobs.

And now the tsunami is upon us. The incoming president of Psychologists for Social Responsibility of the American Psychological Association is Lara Sheehi. She specializes in "decolonization" and, although she is not an expert in Middle East history, geography, or religion, describes herself as strongly pro-Palestine.

As usual, the propaganda has swiftly unleashed mini-pogroms and major pogroms against Jews around the world. In the diaspora, civilian Jews have no IDF to defend them.

Kathryn Wolf published an article in Tablet in which she eloquently described her "screams" about antisemitism in Durham, N.C. falling "on deaf ears." She concludes, correctly:

"If I have learned anything, it is this: The cavalry is not coming. We are the cavalry."

Phyllis Chesler is an Emerita Professor of Psychology and Women's Studies at the City University of New York (CUNY), and the author of 20 books, including Women and Madness, and A Family Conspiracy: Honor Killings. She is a Senior IPT Fellow, and a Fellow at MEF and ISGAP.

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of My League [Part 2]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: 4.5k (ohohohoho i went OVERBOARD with the dialogue here I am sorry for all the useless exposition)

Summary: Most things have changed in the last 10 years, but it’s safe to say that a few things stayed exactly the same. Mixed POV

Warning(s): Mentions of past bullying, mentions of cheating, mentions of kidnapping, general criminal minds stuff, cursing, VERY VERY BRIEF MENTION of a miscarriage and leukemia like it’s one sentence and that’s all

Author’s Note: The moment yall have been waiting for! They grow up so fast!! I’m going on a quick trip this week and then heading back to school a few days later, so the next part may take a little longer, but I’m super excited to write it!!

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

Las Vegas, Nevada, 2004

(Spencer’s POV)

My first case out on the field was not a pleasant one. Well, it rarely is, that’s what happens when you work for the FBI to catch serial killers. For the first couple of weeks at the BAU, I helped them consult on cases, but they weren’t sure I was ready to go out on the field with them. After I got my weapon certification, Gideon told me he wanted me to come along on the next case because I was familiar with the area. There had been a series of child abductions near Vegas, my hometown. I would have been much more nervous about traveling had I not been able to see my mom while I was there. I hadn’t visited her in a while and the guilt was gnawing at me.

The first day was brutal. Hotch made some of us go back to the hotel late at night, but it was hard for us to sleep. JJ hated working cases about children, so she went to have a quick drink at the hotel bar, where she promptly forgot her purse and had to call me from her room to go get it for her. I had no hope of getting any rest that night, so I figured I’d take a walk down the hall and try to clear my head. 

There was no sign of the purse at first glance, no small black clutch on the bar like JJ said. But there was a woman cleaning glasses behind the counter, maybe she knew where the purse was.

As I approached the bar, the woman’s features took a familiar shape and triggered a distant memory. Seeing her face again was like coming home after a long drive without a map, squinting through the dark and hoping the headlights would get brighter when finally, you’re pulling onto a road that you know by heart. 

I didn’t need to look at her nametag, I already knew who she was, but judging by her polite smile borne solely out of the courtesy required to work in the service industry, she didn’t recognize me. In her defense, I had grown about a foot and a half since the last time she saw me. And I got a freaking haircut. 

“Y-Y/N?” 

She looked up from her rags and scrunched up her face in confusion.

“Okay, so you definitely know me, and I am so sorry about this, but I can’t quite place it. You look so familiar, though, I just… I meet a lot of people with this job, I’m so sorry, I forgot your name.”

I grinned, she still had that same habit of apologizing every five seconds, “I don’t really have that problem, eidetic memory and all.”

Her eyes widened, “Spencer? Spencer Reid!”

I laughed and nodded.

“You’re so tall now! What has it been, like, 10 years? Oh my goodness, come here.” She awkwardly leaned over the bar and hugged me. She still used the same shampoo. 

“How ya been, kid?”

“I’m good! H-How are you?”

“Doing fine, thanks. What brings you back to good ol’ Sin City?”

“I’m here for work.”

“Oh, and what are you doing now?” She leaned on the counter and gazed up with curious eyes, “Helping the doctors at Area 51?”

Good to know she still had jokes, “No actually, I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

“Woah, you’re a fed now?”

“Yeah, we’re investigating a series of--”

“Kidnappings. Yeah. Scary shit. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You close to catching the guy?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Any of the kids turn up?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We found one boy this morning. He… didn’t make it.”

Her face dropped to a look of worry I hadn’t seen since she took off my blindfold that day on the football field, “Name. I need a name,” her voice grew hoarse.

“I can’t really disclose that information.”

“Spencer, please. Every day my kid comes home from school and asks me if I was watching the news.”

I couldn’t deny the way my heart sank at the news, but I could sure as hell ignore it, “Y-You have kids?”

“One. Little Jamie. His best friend, Robbie, is missing.” Robbie Carter, age five, he’s been missing for the past two weeks. He’s likely dead, but we still haven’t found him.

“Every time someone misses school he gets scared they got taken too. Baby Boy doesn’t understand flu season yet.”

“How old is he?” I had to get her mind off of this. I don’t want to worry her.

“Five. Just started kindergarten. Wanna see a picture?” Seems like I succeeded. 

“Sure.”

She whipped out her phone and pulled up a picture of Jamie on his first day of school, backpack far too big for his body. Y/N was posed next to him, the picture too small to show that she was crying ever so slightly.

“Adorable, right?”

I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face, “Cute kid. Looks just like you.”

She looked back at the photo and smiled softly, “Except the eyes. He’s got his dad’s eyes.”

I glanced down at her hand holding the phone and was greeted with a pleasant surprise, “I’m guessing Jamie’s dad isn’t in the picture?”

Offense flickered across her features for a second, her eyebrows twitching and lips pursing, “How’d you know?”

“No ring.”

“You do work for the FBI.”

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

“You know, you’re supposed to be the one spilling your sorrows to the bartender, not the other way around.”

“You don’t have to tell me, just thought we could catch up, I haven’t seen you in ten years.”

She sighed, returning her phone to the front pocket in her apron, “Remember Kyle Brothers?”

“Oh, do I? Yeah, of course, I remember your high school boyfriend, Y/N. What tipped you off, the eidetic memory, or the fact he used to beat me up after gym class?” It was more like the intense rage and jealousy I had when they got back together after football season ended.

“God, see, I always knew he was an asshole, but it never seemed to faze me, I’m so sorry about that.”

“You did what you could. And you apologize too much.”

“Sor--”

She froze mid-word and made a face as she realized once again that she was about to apologize yet again. I stifled a chuckle, but she laughed and grabbed a rag from the counter to finish cleaning the glasses.

“So Kyle?”

“Yes, Kyle. We broke up again before college, I was going out of state and didn’t wanna do long distance, you know all that. I was in a really bad place during my senior year of college, so after graduation, I decided to move back home for a bit, spend some time with my mom--”

“How is she?”

“She’s great! Moved to D.C. with my dad a while back.”

“I should visit her, Quantico isn’t far.” 

She returned a genuine smile, “She would love that.”

“Sorry I interrupted you, keep going.”

“You’re fine. Long story short, moving back home for a few months turned into having a one night stand with my ex. Which turned into us getting engaged nine months later while I’m exhausted and holding my son.”

“Well, that’s a fun birth story for Jamie.”

“Yeah, ‘Happy Birthday, sweetie, your father proposed to me while you were, like, an hour old and then cheated on me six months later.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” She popped the p, “Came home and heard two things: Jamie fussing in his sleep from the playpen and bedsprings squeaking in our room.”

“I’m guessing that you guys were done for good after that?”

“Nice detective work.”

“Technically, I’m a profiler, not a detective, as they typically work in local police departments and I work for the federal government, not a precinct--”

“Jesus, kid, you’re gonna put the poor lil lady to sleep,” I turned around and saw Morgan crossing the lobby to the bar, still in his work clothes.

“If I'm yawning it’s from my double shift, not his rambling. It’s been a while since I heard a good Spencer Reid knowledge dump.”

“You two know each other?” He leaned on the bar and I could sense him turning on the classic Derek Morgan charm.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Uh, Y/N, this is SSA Derek Morgan, we work together, Morgan, this is Y/N L/N, we went to high school together.” The “I had a huge crush on her” was silent.

“Nice to meet you, doll,” he reached out a hand to shake yours. His eyes lingered on you for a bit too long, and I recognized the look in her eyes from the way she talked to Kyle in the halls before our study sessions, and I didn’t like any of that one bit.

Derek turned back to me, “JJ sent you down here a while ago, she’s looking for you.”

I glanced at Y/N and tried to hide the cocktail of emotions in my mind, “I guess I just lost track of time.”

He probably caught onto something because his regular teasing smirk flashed on across his face, “You guess, sure, loverboy, I’ll be in our room. Nice meeting you, Y/N.” He left and she waved, watching him as he left.

“JJ?” She asked, turning back to me.

“Coworker of mine, she left her purse down here and sent me to get it for her.”

“Oh, Blondie from earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“She seemed nice. So pretty!” She reached below the bar and pulled out the small black purse that was left behind about an hour before, holding it up to me and cocking an eyebrow.

“Yep.” 

“How long have you two been working together? Long enough to be more than coworkers?”

I laughed uncomfortably, “Uh, n-no, actually this is actually my first case on the field, before this I only really helped the team consult on cases, but this one was urgent and I wanted to visit my mom so they brought me along.”

“Well, send Diana my love.”

“Of course. And if you hear anything from Jamie about another missing kid, give us a call.” I reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, sliding it to her and leaving with a sympathetic smile, wishing I could say more.

              (Reader POV)

About a week after you ran into Spencer, you were closely following the story as it unfolded on the news. Another kid had gone missing, the second in two weeks. His name was Drew Olson, he was a year older than Jamie. They didn’t find a body yet, so there was still hope. Robbie hadn’t turned up either, which was the best news you had about him. No other bodies have shown up yet, and the cause of death for the boy they found was starvation, so the guy probably didn’t want to hurt these kids.

Regardless of whether or not the situation was actually dangerous, the school still increased security, since two of the victims were students. The pickup line was heavily monitored by teachers and faculty to make sure all students went home with their parents. You had gotten there a bit later than usual, forcing you to the back of the crowd where you couldn’t see the kids as they came out of the building. 

When you finally got up towards the front, there were only a handful of kids left.

And Jamie wasn’t one of them.

Panic started to twist your stomach into knots, but the rational part of your brain clawed at the inside of your skull saying he was just inside, he was waiting in a classroom, he was safe.

You pushed through to the teacher that was keeping track of names on her clipboard. She was younger, just about your age, and wore wire-framed glasses that complimented her dark braids. She gave a warm smile and asked for your child’s name.

“Brothers, Jamie Brothers.”

“Alrighty, let’s see--” she paused as her finger stopped over a name highlighted by a bright green, indicating that the child had been picked up: Jamie Brothers.

“He’s not here.”

“What? What do you mean he’s not here?” The part of your brain that said he was safe fucked right off and left you a shaking mess on the pavement. The teacher reached an arm out and held you by the elbow as your knees buckled beneath you. Other parents’ attention was suddenly directed towards you. 

“Ma’am, the sheet says he was picked up already.”

“But by who? Not me! So who the hell took my son?” All eyes were on you as you didn’t even bother to control the volume of your voice. 

“Mrs. Brothers, please remain calm, I’m sure there’s been a mistake, I can send someone in to find him inside the school.”

“Please…” You whimpered, unable to find your breath.

...Give us a call…

Spencer’s words echoed in your mind and you knew what you had to do, so you scrambled through your bag for the card you were given the week before. You frantically cursed under your breath as you searched for your wallet. You finally found it, taking it out with your phone so you could call the number on the card. It rang once, twice, three times before an unfamiliar voice crackled through on the other side. 

“Agent Hotchner.”

“Are you with the FBI?”

“...Yes, who is this?”

“My name is Y/N L/N, Spencer Reid gave me this number if I knew anything.”

“Do you have information regarding the recent abductions?”

“My son’s been taken.” You could feel the lump in your throat nearly restricting any words from coming out.

“Hold on, ma’am, where are you?”

“I’m at the school, he’s not here. I came to get him and he’s not here, I don’t know what to do!”

“Miss L/N, stay put, we’re on our way.” The call ended with a click and suddenly the world went quiet. There was nothing but the rush of blood pounding in your ears. All you could do was stare blankly at nothing in particular as the phone fell from your hand, hitting the pavement, your knees following quickly behind. You felt the bruises on impact, but you couldn’t care less about how much pain you were in, not when you felt this numb. Your pain didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered was that Jamie was missing and you were powerless to help. The remaining parents surrounded you, all clutching the shoulders of their children, their safe children, the ones they didn’t have to call the fucking FBI to pick up from school today.

When your brain was able to process information again, you noticed the school parking lot had filled with police cars, including two large black SUVs. You squinted through the inappropriately bright sunlight and the bitter tears in your eyes to see a tall man in a dark suit approach you. Behind him, a scrawny young man in a plaid buttondown was following closely.

You recognized him right away this time.

“Spencer,” your voice was barely a whisper as you attempted to stand on your shaking legs. You looked straight past the man in the suit and scrambled over to him. Before you could even reach him, his arms were stretched out to you, enveloping you in a tight hug as soon as you were close enough.

Your heart had to be beating out of your chest, and you were sure he felt it against him. The tears running down your cheeks stained his shirt, soaking him to the skin as he cradled your head against his chest, trying to do whatever he could to make you feel safe again, no matter how scared he was.

The man in the suit was now joined by an older man in a brown jacket and the man you met at the bar the other night, Derek, you think his name was. The suit turned to you and Spencer and introduced himself as Agent Hotchner, the man you spoke to on the phone. He asked you to describe what happened when you arrived, if you saw anyone who looked out of place, if you saw evidence of a struggle. Spencer’s arms never left your frame the whole time you spoke.

“Thank you very much, Miss L/N, I promise we’ll find your son, we have time on our side. Reid, stay with her in the meantime, Morgan, go question the parents, Gideon and I will talk to the monitors and see if they knew who picked Jamie was picked up by.”

“Yes, sir.”

All the men left to complete their tasks except for Spencer, who was supposed to stay put with you. The second you were alone with him once again, your face returned to the spot on his dampened shirt where it had previously been. One of his hands was planted firmly on your upper back, the other stroking your hair between his fingers.

It’s strange, really. Last time you saw him he was just a kid. A brilliant, sweet, small kid. The kid who’s hair you’d fuck with. The kid you held after his bullies hurt him. Then you don’t see him for over a decade and suddenly the roles are reversed. He was tall enough to rest his chin on your head now, which you had mixed feelings about, but you couldn’t deny it calmed you down. Almost as much as his quick yet steady heartbeat drumming right in your ear. The kid was still skinny, but his hugs were still warm. 

“You’re alright, we’re gonna find him,” he whispered into your hair, but you had a feeling those words weren’t only for you. After a few minutes, the three other agents returned to where you and Spencer stood, alerting the two of you that the team would be heading back to the police station where you were welcome to wait with them. Derek figured you were too shaken to drive yourself, so he offered to let you ride along with him and Spencer in the SUV, which you did not hesitate to accept.

Once at the station, you were greeted by the blonde from the bar. What was her name again?

“Jennifer Jareau, I’m the press liaison for the team. You can call me JJ.”

She sat with you while Spencer worked with the others on the case. You wanted to be updated whenever progress was made, but she told you that wasn’t totally possible. Regardless of how against the rules it was, she still gave you the profile. The unsub likely worked with children and knew them and faculty well enough to enter the building and take the kids without being noticed. They may be a parent going through a loss, as no evidence of sexual assault or any physical violence was found on the only body save for light ligature marks on the wrists. Due to the relatively nonviolent nature of the crime, the unsub could be a woman. They likely live alone since they are keeping several young boys in their home. Although this likely wasn’t the work of a pedophile, a trafficking ring could not be ruled out yet.

You suddenly understood why the victims’ families aren’t supposed to know the profile. You thought it would make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse. JJ opened up another box of tissues for you, got you water, and offered you snacks, but there was no way you could get anything down. Every sound, every person that passed the window, every buzz of JJ’s phone sent your stomach plummeting down a death drop. You had just calmed yourself down from yet another panic attack when you saw agents strapping on kevlar vests and putting their guns into their holsters.

They knew where the kids were.

              (Spencer’s POV)

I wasn’t allowed to see her before we left. I couldn’t tell her where I was going, I couldn’t tell her that Jamie would be okay, I couldn’t tell her anything. I barely spoke to her since we got back to the station, and that was hours ago. Now I-- we just have to leave her there again.

This was my first time going out on the field in this capacity. I’d never had to step out of that SUV with my gun out, ready to shoot anyone who threatened the lives of my team or any hostages they may have. I’d never had to strap on a kevlar vest and worry about the potential bruises that may be left behind by being hit with bullets. I’d never had to worry about not coming back before.

“Don’t be worried. If your hands shake you won’t get a clear shot,” Gideon reminded me in the car, as if I’d be able to get a clear shot with a steady hand anyway.

The unsub was a woman named Harriet Yanonovich. According to hospital records pulled by Garcia, our new tech analyst, her son had recently passed after a short and sudden battle against leukemia. This came shortly after Harriet had a miscarriage that triggered a chemical imbalance, degrading her mental health, which resulted in the trigger, losing her job at the elementary school that the boys had each been taken from. I would have felt bad for her if she hadn’t taken my friend’s son away from her.

But she did, and now I just have to hope she didn’t hurt him.

We arrived at Harriet’s house fairly quickly. Hotch sent Morgan and me around the back, he and Gideon would take the front. As we rounded the back of the house, we discovered that she had a storm cellar under her deck. The doors were closed with a heavy padlock. Morgan aimed his gun to shoot it off the chain.

“Don’t do that. The bullet would ricochet and hit you in the knee.”

He lowered his weapon, “You got a better idea, pretty boy?”

“Yes, actually.” I quietly crept onto the deck, lifting the welcome mat from in front of the sliding glass door into the absolute wreck of a kitchen. Under the mat was a simple looking key. 

“She’s a school teacher going through a depressive episode, not a criminal mastermind.”

“Alright then, genius,” he rolled his eyes, “Let’s see if it even works.”

I inserted the key into the lock, hearing a click and turning it with little difficulty. The shackle popped open. I gently removed it from the chains, trying my hardest not to make any noise that would alarm anyone in the cellar. Unwrapping the chains from the handles, I turned back to face Morgan.

“I accept your apology.” I attempted to muster my smuggest smile, but it was hard to mask the dread and worry on my face.

“Yeah, yeah, open up.”

He grabbed one handle and I grabbed the other, sliding the metal doors open and revealing a staircase into a shadowy basement.

“You first.” Morgan nudged my shoulder.

“What? No way! Morgan, this is serious!”

“So go! It’s your girl’s kid!”

He was right. Not about Y/N being my girl, because she wasn’t (though the thought did briefly replace the anxiety in my heart with pure light that I hadn’t felt since I was twelve), but I was still doing this for her. This case wasn’t just a job for me. This was for Y/N. For Jamie. Y/N deserves to see her son again, I owe her that much.

Derek would learn about my fear of the dark much later, but from how fast I jumped down those stairs into that cellar, he’d never been able to tell.

Against the farthest wall, there were four young boys all curled up in a corner. From the limited light, I could see they were all covered in varying levels of filth, the cleanest boy baring the face I had seen on Y/N’s phone screen. The boys all looked terrified, the two dirtiest looking thin and weak against the ties that bound them to a water pipe. I called up to Morgan to come down and lowered my gun.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI, I’m here to help you guys, okay?” The boys all nodded. Morgan helped me untie their wrists.

“Do you know where Mrs. Yanonovich went?”

“She said she was going upstairs, and that we have to be good or else we wouldn’t get any supper,” Jamie piped up.

“How long you been down here, kid?” Morgan asked.

Jamie shrugged, “Couple hours.”

“Did she hurt any of you?” The kids all shook their heads no.

Hotch’s voice crackled over the radio, “We have her in custody, any sign of the kids?”

“Yep, we found them in the cellar. All are alive, but we may need a medic on standby at the station for some of them.”

“Are they hurt?”

“No, just malnourished. Definitely dehydrated.”

Morgan and I led the kids out to the surface, the setting sun creating a glare off of the tin cellar doors. We were greeted by Gideon and police rounding the corner to the backyard. The kids ran out the gate towards the police cars, eager to be home soon. 

               (Reader POV)

“Okay, I’ll let them know.” JJ hung up and turned back to you, a relieved smile gracing her face. You stood up, desperate to hear the news she had.

“They found the kids, Jamie’s safe.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from lunging at the woman you barely knew, wrapping her in a bear hug as delighted laughs left your lungs. You felt tears of pure relief drip down your cheeks as she squeezed you back, also letting out a deep sigh.

You waited impatiently in the bullpen, anxious to see Jamie unharmed and to give the team your gratitude. When they finally arrived, you saw your son walking hand-in-hand with Spencer and the older agent you believed was named Gideon. Spencer pointed over to you with his free hand and smiled, causing Jamie to drop their hands and sprint into your arms crying “Mommy! Mommy!” You immediately lifted him up and covered his face with kisses. The two of you held onto one another so tight, you were surprised either of you could breathe. Spencer came over to you, smiling with eyes you couldn’t quite recognize. 

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“No need, Y/N. I’m glad I could help. I just wish I could have met Jamie here on better terms!”

You adjusted your hold on Jaime to free one hand, stretching it out for Spencer to take it in his own. You squeezed it gently, smiling into those hazel eyes that had somehow never looked warmer before, despite the deep shadows under them.

“Thank you.”

His pursed lips twitched slightly and you noticed the tears brimming his sunken eyes. The poor boy needed sleep and a lot of it soon. He squeezed your hand back, sending shockwaves up your arms straight to your heart, which hadn’t felt this light since you were seventeen years old.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae​ @t0xicllama​ @undeniablyyou​ @staplernpaper​

[silma-words]

Giving in

Choices: Bloodbound

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Ellie)

Genre/topic: Romance/Intimacy

Summary: This short piece takes place between Book 1 and 2, in an alternate version of the story where the MC (Ellie) had never offered Adrian (or anyone else) to drink her blood before they actually started to be a thing. I always felt that things happened too quickly in the book, and out of order, so here is my take on it!

Rating: Mature

Warning: Blood

Word count: 2230

Authors Note: It has been a few years since I have written fanfictions, and this is my first time ever writing about Bloodbound, so apologies if my writing is not so good! I am also very new to Tumblr so sorry if I messed up the tags!

Disclaimer: Characters and background plot are the property of Pixelberry.

~~~~~~~~~~

Giving in

As dawn was setting, Adrian couldn’t ignore the hunger anymore, the thirst in his stomach, as his eyes kept darting between the window and her sleeping form beside him, peaceful, her limbs tangled in the bed sheets with his. After staring one too many times as the veins in her neck, exposed carelessly to the potential predator that he was, Adrian started to shift slowly away from her to make a move out of the bed. He sat on the edge and was about to silently stand up, but was stopped by her hand gently grabbing his wrist, half asleep.

“Is it night already? Do you have to go?”, she mumbled, half asleep, struggling to open her eyelids.

“I…. there are things I need to sort out… in the office”, he simply whispered, placing a gentle hand on her cheek in an attempt to sooth her back to sleep.

Her eyes still closed, Ellie pouted, obviously disappointed to see him go. After a few seconds, she finally opened her eyes, her brow frowning in concern. “Nothing bad happened, I hope?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her concern, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. “No, nothing to be worried about. It’s only… routine stuff that I need to do”.

Her brow relaxed and she slowly raised her chest to rest on her elbows, with a cheeky smirk forming at the corner of her lips. She paused for a moment, and then hauled herself up a little more by grabbing his arm.

“If it’s routine stuff…” she started softly, resting her chin on his arm and looking up to him innocently, “could anyone handle it for once?”.

He couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness to keep him by her side overnight, but quickly looked away as a whiff of her smell made his stomach clutch once more with hunger.

“I’m afraid it’s not the type of business anyone could do for me”, he simply replied, standing up and walking away from her to start dressing up.

Definitely intrigued and clueless about his internal struggle, Ellie sat on the edge of the bed to follow his movements around the room, clutching the bedsheets around her and trying to make eye contact with him.

“Hum… mysterious business… you got me intrigued there” she teased with a cheeky smile.

But when he finally turned back towards her as he was putting his shirt on and her eyes met his, Ellie’s smile fell slightly, the understanding hitting her at the sight of his redden eyes, betraying his thirst.

“Oh…”, she said softly, averting her gaze and blushing a little, as she could now feel the tension in the room.

His feeding habits had not been something they had discussed much, apart from a few inquisitive questions when they had first met, after she had walked in on him and Nicole on her first day as his assistant. While they had now known each other for a few weeks and had spent several nights together, sharing many conversations about their past, Adrian had remained pretty private about his need for blood. All she knew what that he only fed of the willing, or on blood bank supplies if needed. She had never asked much about the logistics, or whether he had fed before they spent time together outside the office. If she had to be honest, she had been avoiding thinking about it most of the time, more particularly because he did not seem to be keen to disclose much about this part of him.

Adrian simply remained quiet, his fingers fumbling to button up his shirt, hid mind torn between his hunger, her smell, and an awkward of mixture of apprehension and embarrassment, knowing this was something they would have had to discuss openly at some point, but unsure how she would feel when facing his true nature up-close. Focused as he was on avoiding her gaze and getting ready to leave, he didn’t realise that she had gotten up until she laid her hand softly on his arm, clutching the bed sheets around her with the other, her eyes locked on his face until he dared looking back at her. Her gaze was hard to decipher, although he could feel from her heartbeat, as intoxicating as it was, that she was a bit afraid. But there was no fear in her eyes. He stared back at her, waiting to hear what she had to say. But she didn’t say anything. She simply slowly pulled him by his arm to lead him towards the window sill, forcing him to sit. But that thirst was getting worse, especially with her being so close.

“I… I really need to go now… I’ll be back quick” he started, making a move to get up, but was stopped immediately by her hand pushing him back against the cushions that were set against the wall, forcing him to sit awkwardly alongside the window, in the spot where she usually sipped quietly her coffee in the morning, staring at whatever was happening outside.

She didn’t say a word, her eyes still locked in his with determination, until she turned around to sit in front of him in the space between his legs, her back to him. She let go of the bed sheets that she had been holding onto all this time, exposing her back, before moving her hair aside to expose her neck. He gulped at the sight of her arteries exposed in the moonlight but made no move towards her, fighting the urge to accept her silent invitation.

“Ellie… you don’t have to… you don’t know what you’re asking…” he started, trying once more to make a run for it and stand up before losing any bit of the self-control he had left. But she wouldn’t let him, pushing her back against his chest until her neck was just right under his nose.

“I trust you”, she simply said, reaching blindly for his arm and wrapping it around her waist.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, drawing a long breath in to attempt clearing his mind to decide what to do, but only making it worse by breathing in more of her scent. When he opened his eyes, they were the bright red eyes of a predator ready to strike, his fangs extended. Moving his left hand to steady her arm, he slowly brough the other one to her face to expose her neck further and prevent her from moving. He could feel her heart race against him and could hear her breath quicken, her smell betraying a mixture of fear and excitement. Unable to hold himself any longer he gently pressed his fangs against the curve of her neck, breaking the skin and sinking into her flesh. He felt her jump slightly, startled by the pain, as he only pulled her closer against him to steady her. When he pulled out she gasped, her heart skipping a beat as he placed his mouth over the wound and started to feed.

Her senses were completely confused, her brain struggling to process the odd mixture of pain, pleasure, fear, trust, apprehension, and excitement. In a weird way, she felt like she had never been so close to him than before this moment, despite all the days and nights they had shared before. She felt that she had never been so close to anyone, at all, before this moment. This feeling of being entirely at his mercy, of completely abandoning herself to a man she trusted so much, was intoxicating. She relaxed her back onto his chest, resigned to let him have anything he wanted from her. As much as he wanted. But after only a few gulps, she felt him stop.

“Is that all? Did you get enough…?” she asked gently, twisting her neck to raise her head towards him. His eyes were still red, but had now turned to a less vibrant gold. He was panting slightly, clearing the edge of his mouth with his thumb to remove any trace of her blood on his lips.

“Yes… It will be enough….” He simply answered, drawing her to him to kiss her softly and hide the lie in his voice. It had taken so much restrain from him to pull away so quickly, but he didn’t want to take the risk to scare her off by losing control completely for the first time she ever volunteered her blood.

Pulling away from his kiss, she quietly stared into his eyes, her gaze inquisitive. She frowned, smirking slightly as she understood.

“No it wasn’t…” she simply said knowingly, kissing him gently before turning her back to him again, reiterating her initial invitation silently. As he was making no immediate move to oblige, she pressed her back harder against his chest, placing one of his hand back on her throat and twisting her neck back to him to taunt him with a searing kiss.

Intoxicated by the passion with which their tongue danced with each other and by the smell of her, he griped her neck a little harder, dragging his mouth from her lips to her chin, then grazing her neck slowly with his fangs. When he started feeding of her once more, he felt freer than he had for a long time, abandoning himself to his thirst and his desire, feeling her shiver in his arms as she gradually let go completely as well. He then felt her start to move ever so slightly against him, moaning lightly, as if melting from his bite in the same way she would usually melt to his touch.

With each swig he took, although he was taking only little at a time, she was losing herself a little deeper in this embrace, forgetting the world around them and whichever rules she had ever been told. Only their tangled bodies mattered. The stiffness of his torso against her back. The warmth of his mouth on her neck. The grip of his hand on her throat. She was completely at his mercy and yet, she wanted to give in even more. She could feel her skin covering in goosebump despite the heat between them, and her stomach clenching deep within, the blood throbbing between her thighs. Her mind fuzzy from all these conflicting sensations and aroused from hearing Adrian groan softly in her hear as he was indulging himself with the most intimate part of her, she blindly reached for his left hand, forcing him to let go of her arm to slowly drag it further down. Along her arm, her chest, until it reached her thighs.

A little startled, Adrian raised his face towards her, blood smearing his lips, his eyes red with lust and longing. When she turned her head back to him and met his gaze, all he could see what a glimpse of that same longing and yearning in her eyes before she reached for his neck with her hand to pull him in a passionate kiss, a silent plead to ask him to give her more. Guided by her hand on his neck and the other further down, he suddenly completely yielded to the palpable tension that had been building between them, crashing his lips onto her artery with less restrain that before, while pressing his other hand between her thighs, making her gasp and arch her back closer to him as he started to pleasure her the way he knew she liked.

Lost in each other’s touch and moans, everything had disappeared around them. The air was electric, hitching their throat every time their tried to catch a breath. He could feel the grip on her hand tighten in his hair as the pleasure was slowly building up inside her, her body trembling against his while his hold on her neck gradually loosened so that he could move his hand slowly back up to her chin, and then cupping the side of her cheek. Knowing she was close, he stopped feeding and slowly dragged his mouth up along her neck, finally bringing her face back to him to kiss her heatedly as her lips parted when she reached her peak.

Still trembling, she felt her body become completely limp as she rested her back against Adrian’s chest, drained both from pleasure and from the blood she had willingly offered to her lover. She barely even noticed when Adrian healed the wound in her neck after drawing blood from his own finger and pressing it gently to her skin. It was only when he covered the spot with light kisses that she drew away from her reverie, turning her head to meet his eyes and see in them the same content and peacefulness than she knew was in hers. The same adoration that made both of their hearts swell and thump faster in their chests.

Although Adrian had had his fair share of erotic feeding episodes in the past, never had it felt this good, this liberating. The way Ellie had offered herself despite her apprehension, to then surrender to him entirely with the most candid trust and abandon herself to his touch was unlike anything else he had experienced. For the first time in decades, he felt that he could share every single aspect of himself with someone, without the need to hold anything back or pretend. For the first time in decades, he felt completely free.

[pietropatrol]

Păpuşă (Part 3)

Read Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Fic Friday is back! 

Pietro Maximoff liked to get on your nerves and he was good at it because you were annoyed simply at his mere presence. Now Steve has sent the pair of you on an undercover mission as husband and wife. But the mission may have been more complicated then intended, for more than one reason.

Pairing: Pietro x Reader Warnings: language, angst, kidnap Words: 1,800

3 years ago

Pietro Maximoff was accustomed to attractive women, but something felt different about the one who glided across his line of sight. Y/H/C peaked out from your winter hat, tendrils framing your face. A look of ease in your eyes as you changed direction in a split second, weaving in and out of other not so graceful skaters.

"Piet," the voice of his twin sister pulling his eyes away from you. Wanda struggled to stay upright on the ice.

"You know, for someone with superpowers, you can't skate to save your life." Pietro closed the few feet between them and steadied her. She narrowed his eyes at him.

"And you can?"

"I can at least stand, dear sister. Where did Vision go?" Pietro took her hands and pulled her with him around the rink.

"To get hot chocolate, I'm afraid the line is probably long. He's already been gone for ten minutes."

"He'll be fine, he is the most patient of us all." He reassured Wanda in their native tongue.

You skated into his vision once again, accelerating across open space before throwing yourself into the air and landing perfectly on one foot.

Pietro halted and Wanda stumbled back into you.

You quickly caught her and flashed her a sheepish smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to invade your space. I get carried away on the ice."

"No, no. It was my idiot brother's fault, he should be the one to apologize." Wanda gave Pietro a withering look.

Your Y/E/C landed on the speedster for the first time and a small breath caught in your throat. The smirk that seemed to be at home on his face invited you in as he regarded you with intrigue.

"I'm Wanda, and this is Pietro." Wanda stepped to the side to allow Pietro into the conversation, leaving the space in between the pair of you open. He offered out his hand.

"I'm Y/N." You took it, his hand engulfing your own.

“It is… nice to me you, Y/N.” Your name rolling off his tongue sent a thrill through you.

“Hot chocolate?” Vision floated into the group, balancing 3 Styrofoam cups in hand. You recognized the android.

Adrenaline shot through you when you realized who the siblings were associated with. You had been careless coming to New York City. The Avengers had been beginning to target your assignment when you had escaped. They must have known you worked for the Rambovas. Now they were here to get you.

“Long line?” Wand inquired as she plucked the cup from the top.

“I probably could have gone to your favorite coffee shop on the other side of town and it would have been quicker.” Vision passed another cup to Pietro. Vision’s attention turned to you, literally frozen on the spot. You had iced yourself into the skates and onto the rink. “Um, sorry, my apologies. I’m Vision.” He gave an awkward wave.

“I-I ha-have to go.” Maybe they weren’t here for you, but you weren’t going to stick around to find out. There was a loud shatter as you yanked yourself of the rink, cracking the ice around you.

“Wait!“ Pietro made to dart after you, but Wanda held him back. She looked from the fractured ice to Vision.

“That’s not normal.”

Vision frowned. “Indeed, we will bring it up with the team as soon as we get back. We should be able to track her down.”

****

Now

A neat stack of books on your desk by the same author piqued Pietro’s interest. The spines were cracked and frayed like you had read them a million times. Pietro knew you liked to read, but he had never seen you read this series.

He glanced behind his shoulder to your sleeping form, counting your deep breaths to make sure you were not pretending to get out having to explain your past to Pietro. He had pushed you for more information, but you insisted you needed to sleep off whatever they had injected the pair of you with.

“I have nothing else better to do,” he murmured to himself. Pietro grabbed the book off the top, he knew you would have put them in order. The memory of you moving into his room and meticulously organizing your bookshelf was bittersweet. You had trusted him completely and the way you openly adored him made his stomach churn with regret. The past year had only been scowls and annoyance. But it was an improvement from your empty eyes.  

Pietro sat on the floor in a corner of the room, keeping you in his line of sight. With a heavy sigh at yours and his predicament, he opened the book to try and not think about it for the time being.

It was an easy read, even for Pietro whose English reading skills still weren’t the greatest. The books seemed to be written for young teen girls, that was what he could glean from the first few chapters. The main character was a 16-year-old girl pulled into a world of teens with special abilities being used as spies. The fifth chapter had him physically pause.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” he traced your name with his finger, trying to make sense of it. Your name was a character in the book. He read further. She was a 16-year-old, experienced spy for the Government, abilities she would not disclose, and closed off to the main character. Suspicion wormed into Pietro’s brain. What was the likelihood you coincidently shared a name with a character in the book who was almost the equivalent of your real life? You weren’t closed off, at least when you and Pietro were speaking terms, and he was very much aware of your abilities. From both a positive and negative receiving end. But you had abilities and worked for someone before the Avengers. Was Y/N even your name? Why had you never told him about any of this?

The suspicion only grew the more he read on. Personality-wise, as Pietro knew you, you didn’t share much in common with the character. But stylistically as she was described and some of her common phrases were too familiar.

You began to stir, still feeling a slight numbness from the sedative. A groan escaped your lips as you pushed yourself up, they had not been gentle transporting your body.

“Piet…ro?” You silently cussed yourself out for almost using his pet name, but not seeing him upon waking up stoked a level of concern you had suppressed.

“Down here.” His tone was flat and clipped. You looked over to the corner of your room by your closet. He met your eyes with a level gaze and he frowned at you. “Care to explain something to me?” He held up a book, his thumb holding his place in the book. He had already read about half of it.

Dread washed over you, but you kept a calm demeanor. “My favorite book as a kid? What about it?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. If that’s even your name.” He dog eared his page, you had to stop from yelling at him for doing that, because that was not an argument he would want to entertain. Pietro’s eyes had narrowed in on you and he was going to focus on what he wanted to.

“Y/N is my name. It’s the only name I’ve known.” That wasn’t a lie.

“You’re omitting, omitting is lying, remember?” Pietro used your own words against you. Goddammit, sometimes he was too good at reading you.

“Oh, I remember. You want to bring that up, right now?” You rose an eyebrow, you didn’t want to bring it up either, but if it distracted from the line of questioning you would stomach it.

“Something tells me you have been hiding something bigger since I met you on day one.” He threw the book back on your desk and closed the distance between you.

“Bigger than you sticking your—” You started to snark.  

“Y/N! I am not having this conversation again. I’ve profusely apologized for it and admitted my mistake. We’re talking about you, not me, right now.”

“I don’t know what you want to know!”

Pietro threw his arms up and gestured wildly around the room. “Everything! What have you not told me? What have you not told the team?”

“I didn’t think it mattered!” You defended yourself.

“Didn’t think it mattered? It got us captured. You said you went to boarding school.”

“Technically it is a school and everyone boards here at one point or another.”

“Wow, so I get my ass chewed out by you for omitting, but this whole time y—” Pietro was interrupted by the beeping of your door.

You tensed as Moreau stepped into the room. “Trouble in paradise?” He smirked at you. “You didn’t tell your poor hubby about your accomplishments here at the academy? You’re not ashamed of your family, now are you?”

“You are not my family,” you hissed.

“Tsk-tsk, that’s not a nice thing to say. We grew up together.” Moreau tossed a bag of clothes at you. “Get changed, both of you. The Baroness would like to meet you, Mr. Maximoff.”

Moreau turned on his heel to leave but paused in the doorway. “You better hope she’s in a good mood.”

He just the door, leaving a small crack and you pulled Pietro to you. Your lips hovering near his.

“Y/N, what are—”

“Sh,” you whispered as quiet as you possibly could, “Moreau is probably listening in, possibly spying. Go along with whatever I say from now on. We are married, we met when you were still with Hydra undergoing experimentation, you proposed at the Rockefeller center when we were ice skating—”

“That’s where we met—”

“I know, I know, just…trust me. Okay? Can you do that? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You don’t?” A small smirk appeared on his.

“Not the right time. Do you trust me?”

“I always have until now. But yes,” he nodded and gently kissed you. “We got married on my parents’ anniversary, October twenty-third, in Central Park with just the team around. The leaves were changing, the air was crisp, and you looked beautiful in your dress, sexy even. Goosebumps covered your skin, not from your exposed back and cold, of course, but from the rush of getting to marry me—”

“Slightly smug, but I will let it pass,” you murmured, “Continue?”

“We held a dinner at that hipster Biergarten you love, drank hot apple cider mixed with whiskey, and instead of wedding cake, we had donuts. As we danced, I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have married a woman as beautiful, smart, and cunning as you.”

You sucked in a shaky breath; his words had brought life to a film in your head. Pietro had thought about this before, and it hurt that it had never gotten to be his reality.  

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